SAFE HAVENS: Shadow Masters (A Sean Havens Black Ops Novel Book 1) by J.T. Patten Page B

handler who asked him if he was going soft. The handler had scolded him telling him to act like a soldier. To act in accordance of a man who had been given a new family and a new chance at avenging his family’s murder without fear of reprisals. Who else would be given such an opportunity in a similar situation? How could he think there could be no innocent lives taken for the greater good to get after the heads of the snake? Who else could still be doing all this good for the public and still be working for the United States government?
    It shut the cleaner up for a time, but as a lifelong Marine who had done some covert ops work in the past, he knew this was not the work of the United States government. Policy would never allow it. He knew, despite not yet fully coming to terms with reality, that he was being exploited by someone in the military or intelligence apparatus who had some temporary relief from oversight and accountability. He would have to find out who that was. His boss knew he wasn’t happy. And that didn’t make the boss happy.
    Donald’s car was now in sight as it pulled into the dimly lit neighborhood on the South Side of Chicago. The cleaner pulled up just behind and to the left next to Donald, who still looked a bit jittery walking to the trunk. He glanced up at his front porch to see under the dim lighting the bullet pock marks in the wood that had trailed to the living room window and killed little Darnell.
    The cleaner lowered his glasses. “Get the trunk open and start cleaning the car.”
    Not recognizing the cleaner initially from the change of hair and latex prosthetics, Donald recognized the eyes and did as he was told despite fumbling a few times for the keys. He popped the trunk.
    “Huh? What is this?”
    Donald reached for the brick-like plastic-wrapped bundles in the trunk. There were five of them. There were no cleaning supplies.
    Donald turned towards the cleaner who was still in the car with the passenger window rolled down.
    Drugs. “Is this what I think it is?”
    The impact of the shotgun pellets hitting Donald in the chest knocked him halfway into the trunk. The second impact to his torso created less dramatic movement but misted the trunk with blood. The houses would bear witness to yet another violent neighborhood fatality but would remain silent. Such was the code of this neighborhood too, but as a matter of survival.
    The cleaner drove away. It was time to ditch this final car and report in. The cleaner called a number.
    “Is it all taken care of now?”
    The cleaner replied in the affirmative.
    “Where are you heading now? Are you certain you have not been followed?”
    “Yes, I’m certain,” the cleaner said smugly. “I’ll run another SDR just in case.”
    “Good. Excellent work.”
    “You know you have to find someone else on this block to take out?”
    “Who? That was it for the assets I’m tracking and running.”
    “Think. You freed Donald and shot the cop. That makes three. Finish the story. Tie up all loose ends to make the story connect to a typical pattern and end it.”
    My God this doesn’t stop. “You are right. Sorry. I should have thought of that.”
    “Yes, you should have. If you want to stay a trigger puller all your life you won’t need to think like I am trying to train you to think. It is your choice. Remember, I am here for you and we have been here for you the whole time.”
    “Hey, thanks for the Hallmark card. I’m a big boy.” The cleaner felt like he was being scolded by a parent. His smart ass remark received the same reaction that his father gave when he was little. Silence.
    “Fine, I will take care of it now.”
    It was resolved with the cleaner as if he were just told to go upstairs and clean his room.
    “I have someone in my sights now. Approaching to assess viability as surrogate tie-in.”
    “Good, copy.”
    “One last thing. Are we still going to meet this week? I have something I would like to discuss.”
    “Sure.