The Last Patriot

EPILOGUE

Andrew Salam and his dog stepped inside from the rain, and he searched through his coat closet for the ratty old towel he used to clean the dog’s paws. Once all the mud was gone, he kicked off his running shoes and followed his dog into the kitchen where he filled his bowls with food and fresh water.

Grabbing a bottle of Evian from the fridge for himself, he spun off its cap and chugged half of it down in one long swallow. It was good to be home and even better now that his life was starting to get back to normal.

The FBI had asked him to come to work for them, but Salam’s heart wasn’t in it. Not right now at least.

Picking up the remote, he turned on the kitchen television set and tuned to one of the cable news channels. Some political pundit was droning on about “change” and the upcoming presidential elections. Salam paid no attention to it. He just liked having the TV on for background noise.

Taking his bottle with him, he walked over and sat down at his kitchen table. He had a stack of mail he’d yet to go through that had been growing higher with each passing day. Most of it was junk mail, but there were probably bills in there too, and he prided himself on settling his debts on time.

As he began sifting his way through, a very unusual envelope caught his attention. It bore the return address of a hotel he’d never heard of along with a postmark from the British Virgin Islands.

Carefully, Salam opened the envelope and removed a piece of paper. Taped to the center was some sort of locker key and below it a note. The handwriting was familiar and as he read the words, his heart stopped in his chest.