Day of Reckoning Read Online Free Page B

declaring Code MAGI—there’s been an attempt on the life of the DCIA. I’ll have security escort you back to your office, sir .”
    “Wait— what’s going on?” Ellsworth demanded, but Harry didn’t answer. Grabbing his shirt from the rack by the door, he moved to the security panel and tapped in the code he had watched Ellsworth enter earlier in the morning.
    And then he was out, in the corridor, buttoning his shirt as he headed for the stairs. Crisis mode…
     
    5:07 A.M. Mountain Time
    Apache Reservation
    New Mexico
     
    The morning was cool, a chill breeze blowing as he walked out into the desert, stealing glances at the horizon as if he awaited the coming of the sun.
    Jack Richards pulled his Stetson down over his forehead, his hands jammed deep into the pockets of his overcoat. He’d been colder. The big man could still remember the mountains of Afghanistan, the intense cold. The snow. He’d been in the Corps then, Marine Force Recon. A demolitions specialist.
    “Thanks for coming,” the man at his side remarked, and he turned to look down into the face of his half-brother. “I wasn’t sure you were going to.”
    Jack, or “Tex” as most of his friends called him, acknowledged the comment with a silent nod. He wasn’t given to talking any more than necessary.
    And he nearly hadn’t come, but there were ties that were stronger than blood. “How did Manny die?” he asked, looking down at the fresh-dug grave, the small veterans marker bearing the name Emmanuel Gutierrez stabbed into the earth just above the mound marking the grave of a lifelong friend, a man who had once been closer to Richards than most of his own family.
    “His patrol went missing in Big Bend three weeks ago. He and one other agent—their bodies were finally found on the 8 th . Shot dead. They’re investigating…but everyone’s money is on the cartels.”
    Summers on the reservation…Richards thought, his coal-black eyes gazing out across the desert. Remembering the long days, the games of football, Manny’s face shining bright as he reached into the air for a pass.
    Golden days. Before he had moved to Texas in his mid-teens. Long before they both went off to war.
    “I’m sorry,” he whispered, kicking at the loose dirt with a booted foot. The funeral had been the day before, a gathering of family and friends, but he had been unavoidably detained. Business .
    Richards was Mescalero only through his maternal grandfather, his half-brother the son of his mother and the full-blooded Apache she had married after his father’s death. Still, he had spent the best part of his teens on this very reservation. The best part…
    “How much time do you have off?” came his half-brother’s voice, his eyes searching Tex’s face.
    So many unspoken questions there…so much unsaid.
    “Two days,” he replied, lifting his eyes from Manny’s grave to look out over the desert. Remembering a similar morning, from so long ago—his coming-of-age, a journey out into the desert to meet the spirit which would guide his life. What exactly he had encountered out there he would never know. What he did know is that he hadn’t found God until years later.
    The distracting buzz of his satellite phone erupted from his pocket and he pulled the TACSAT out, glancing idly at the screen.
    “I have to take this,” he whispered, placing a hand on his half-brother’s shoulder. The Texan stepped a few feet away and flipped it open. “Richards.”
    From the first words, he knew. His vacation was over…
     
    7:13 A.M. Eastern Time
    NCS Operations Center
    Langley, Virginia
     
    “What do you mean we don’t know?” Bernard Kranemeyer demanded, glaring across the conference table in Ron Carter’s direction.
    Now in his early fifties, the Director of the Clandestine Service still had the commanding presence of the Delta Force sergeant major he had once been. Along with the voice. And the acerbic temperament. It was no accident that members of the