Brute Force

Chapter 61

McKeon leaned against the leather headrest and closed his eyes. It was only a matter of minutes now until his father’s plan would finally come to fruition. In the span of a breath, the course of the world would change irrevocably, ridding the Middle East of the American pests and ushering in a caliphate that could sweep across Europe unimpeded. There were only last-minute details that he would have to clear up. Not the least of which was the Japanese woman sitting next to him. McKeon’s wife knew about her, of course. Ran Kimura was a necessary, and, though he did not go into detail with his wife, an exquisite evil. He would not likely have made it this far without her protection. But his wife was a good Muslim woman, devoted enough to allow him the latitude to accomplish what his father had begun — and devout enough to follow him through Hell.

“And what of tomorrow?” Ran asked, running her fingers over his knee, as if she were reading his mind.

“Tomorrow?” he asked, trying to gain time. A consummate politician, he was rarely caught flatfooted with a question. “Tomorrow, Hartman Drake will be nothing but a greasy blot of memory and I will be President of a nation at war.”

“Of course, my love.” Her fingers worked their way up his thigh. “I know all that. But what of your wife? What of me?”

McKeon forced a chuckle. “My wife is still in Oregon. We will have plenty to keep us busy, my dear.”

“Do you know the last words you spoke to Drake?”

McKeon shook his head. “I really don’t remember.” Something about the way Ran looked at him made his blood run cold. He was suddenly taken back to the night they’d first met, when she stood over him naked, killing sword in hand.

“I remember them clearly,” she said, withdrawing her hand. “You said ‘things will work out as they must,’ the same thing you said to me when I asked about your wife.”

Ran leaned back against the seat, letting her head fall sideways so she was looking him directly in the eye from just inches away. “And how must they work out, my love? Tell me now, for I fear your life depends on your answer.”

McKeon fumbled in his pocket for the key fob panic button, hoping to activate it before Ran knew what he’d done. The privacy screen was up between the front and the backseats — and the agents were used to a certain amount of noise when Ran accompanied him. If he banged on the partition, she’d kill him before anyone had a chance to respond.

“Looking for this,” Ran said, opening her hand to reveal the panic button. Her lips turned down in a stoic frown. “I suppose that is all the answer I needed.”

“Please,” McKeon said, casting his eyes around the backseat for some avenue of escape, something he might say to change her mind.

“Please?” Ran said, her eyes closing to narrow black lines. Her head still lolled against the seat, but that only made her all the more terrifying. “I thought a man of your talent would come up with something better than that.”