by thedoctor
Dirk Bell wandered in between the states of consciousness and dreaming. This plane ride was always a long one, and the adjusting to time zones was always hell. His eyes took in the glistening ocean waters that rolled several thousand feet below them.
It had been over a year since he and his group had been taken off of McKnight's trail. The incident in the barn was the deciding factor. Though the lieutenant and his men wanted to stay on the case, Pierce thought it better to use them in other areas. Since that time, they had been moving in and out of third world nations. They were deployed and used like skilled surgeons to cut out the cancers that dominated those countries. And they performed like surgeons. The evil cancers were removed, and the nations were left to themselves. It might not have been the best thing for them, but it was better than what was going on before.
Intel had claimed that most of McKnight's labs and personnel had been eliminated. The strain was gone, and the world had one less problem to worry about. The lieutenant and his crew had doubted the information. Apparently, so had Pierce. They had received the call not more than three hours ago. Orders: Come back to the States immediately. The plane takes off in thirty minutes. Be on it.
Beau Pierce's face puckered up as though he had just gotten the taste of something sour. Wallace had just handed him a report that stated McKnight was now out of the picture permanently. A car bomb in Paris had taken him and his bodyguards out. How convenient.
The lieutenant came into the office, followed by Thomas, Jackson, Bell, and Rogers. Without dispensing of the formalities of offering the men seats, Pierce went straight to business.
"No one knows you're here, men, no one but the people in this room. This needs to stay with just us. Seems we have a few moles in our garden." He picked up the report and waved it in the air.
"I think we all know what this is about. McKnight is reported dead. Frankly, I just don't buy it. He's too smart. No one could get to him with a mere car bomb. It just doesn't hold water. I've kept you Dogs from his trail for one good reason. He thinks you're off his ass. And, with this, he thinks that we believe he's dead. If not, what was the point of him going through the trouble, anyway? We're the only ones who know what he is and what he's doing. No one else has any idea how much of a danger he is.
"I suspect the labs are still going. This past year has given him enough time to perfect the strain. He probably even has a target by now, also. It's crunch time, men. I want the Big Dogs back on his ass, and I want you to bite the damn thing off this time. You've got the clearance. Do what you have to do. Shut Victor McKnight down once and for all."
Without another word, the men turned and walked out of the office. Each had a smile on his face. This was the moment that they had been thinking about for the past year. While their bellies dragged across the sand and clay of several nations, when they were submersed in the freezing waters off the coasts of countless troubled countries, while dodging bullets of foreign militias, the thought of putting it to the man that had gotten the better of them and caused the death of one of their own stayed in their minds. It was party time.