FICTION
The Final Mission Part 1
A Sunny Alexander-Johnson and Henry James Series By P.G. & Sharon Barnett
My name is Sunny Alexander-Johnson. And I’m Henry James, and we’re writers for Dark Sides of the Truth magazine.
It was Saturday morning, a crisp October Saturday morning. The kind of day to be out of the house enjoying the wondrous sights of multi-colored leaves in the trees heralding the beginning of fall. The type of day to be out on walking trails, enjoying the beauty of nature.
Except that wasn’t happening at the Alexander-James mansion. We were sitting in the largest living room in the house staring at a man we thought we knew waiting for him to untangle a horrible twisted mess of facts and suspicions this last story of ours had uncovered.
We sat around sipping coffee and serving up idle chit chat waiting for Donnie Sullivan, a family friend, and assistant to Cynthia to gather up the twins, Dante and Alicia, for an outing at the park. After quick kisses and hugs from the children, they left. The second we all heard the door to the garage open and shut, the mood immediately shifted.
“Alright, Mr. whoever you are. Spill it, and this better be good.”
“Shaundrika, please. Your tone.”
“Mother? Did you know about this? Did you know this man’s not who he says he is? How the hell could you do this?”
“Sunny. Calm down.”
“I will not calm down, Robert. Mother, I want an answer now!”
The angered tone surprised all of us, but then considering we’d seen him kill a woman with his bare hands and learned of his true identity, it stood to reason, we’d be a bit uncomfortable. But this sudden outpouring of rage wasn’t helping.
“Shaundrika. You will not talk to me like that in my own house. I’d suggest you either change your tone or leave.”
When Sunny stood, we thought she would do just that. She stared at all of us, tears of frustration brimming in her eyes, both hands balled into fists. Then she stalked out of the living room. Seconds later, we heard one of the bedroom doors slam.
“Wow. Look, Rick, or David or whoever you are. This shit is tearing our family apart. I think you need to come clean, brother.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do, Henry. First thing. Cynthia had no idea about my past. This was a straight-up hire on her part. She hired Rick Mcdonnell in good faith. Cynthia?”
“Yes, Rick?”
“I’m willing to step down and walk away if that’s what it takes.”
“You’ll do no such thing. Whatever name you choose to go by, you’ve amassed the finest group of writers in the nation. Subscriptions to Dark Sides have gone through the roof. In fact, our analysis is showing the magazine to be in the top five in the country. Why would I want to spoil all that? All we want is the truth. Then we can all go forward.”
The man we all knew as Rick McDonnell nodded and drew in a large breath, then sat his coffee mug down and individually gazed at each of us.
“Okay, so this is going to be a long story. I’d suggest you all get comfortable.”
For the next hour, we all sat quietly as he poured out his life, his life before Dark Sides. None of us even moved in our seats, captivated by a story of intrigue and danger of the likes of a Robert Ludlum novel. At one time, this man had been David Anthony Armstrong.
His friend Daryl Hoenig and he had gone to college together along with Darla Hardcastle. The same Darla Hardcastle he’d been recently forced to kill. They’d all reunited after college in the military, each of them assigned to a special operations force known as SF496DF.
Each member had undergone rigorous training in martial arts, survival tactics weapons, and combat. But one aspect of their training set them apart from all of the others. They’d been taught to kill without compassion or reservation. If the mission required it, they did so, ruthlessly and without remorse.
This one particular mission was to be an incursion into the compound of one Enrique Escobar, a noted drug lord. Darla Hardcastle’s job had been to make her way into Enrique’s inner circle.
She was to be the eyes and ears of the team.
Although placing herself in a dangerous position, she managed over several months to feed the team valuable information on drug routes and cartel members whereabouts.
“So hang on. You’re saying this Pamela, uh Darla Hardcastle was on the inside?”
“Yes, Henry. And that’s when the shit went south. Only three people knew the day and time of our incursion, but Escobar and his people were waiting for us. Somehow he knew. He and his people let us in. We ended up having to fight our way out. Daryl and I were the only two who managed to get out and make our way into the jungle. I was shot up pretty bad, and Daryl wasn’t in much better shape.”
“They didn’t come after you two?”
“If they had, we’d have made sure they never made it back.”
“Rick. Who were the three?”
“Darla Hardcastle, myself, and one other Robert.”
“Daryl Hoenig?”
“No, Henry. Daryl was following my orders. This person was the head of the operation. The man pulling all of the strings. It wasn’t until much later I discovered he and Darla never intended for our team to extract Escobar.”
“So, you and your team were set up?”
“Yes, Henry, and not only that, but I later learned millions of dollars had changed hands.”
“That’s why you mentioned the money?”
“Yes, she, Escobar, and this person were all in on this. We were never meant to take Escobar, but it put this guy in the clear. He got the money with the intention of letting Escobar take care of loose ends.”
“In other words, kill Darla, you, and the team. A failed mission, everything swept under the rug, and he made a fortune.”
“Exactly, Cynthia. What this man didn’t count on was me, Daryl, and Hardcastle, making it out alive. And what I didn’t count on was discovering Darla had been part of his plan the entire time.”
“So you were David Armstrong then. I supposed you changed your looks and identity because you knew too much, and this mystery man would come looking for you?”
Rick Mcdonnell nodded and then dropped his head and stared at the floor for several moments. When he raised his head, his eyes glistened.
“Yes, Robert. And I met Mary, and we got married. I thought I’d done enough, but somehow Darla found out where I was. Henry, when you and Sunny did the Lover’s Cross piece, she knew she’d found me. She was hoping it would be me coming to investigate instead of you and Sunny. I’m sure she tortured Daryl until he told her what he knew about my whereabouts.”
“And she knew you’d used Doctor Hickom many years ago to make the change from David Armstrong to Rick McDonnell.”
“Yes, Henry, she knew. And she told the head honcho, who sent me a message.”
“What kind of message, Rick?”
“He had my family killed Robert. This man has unbelievable power, and he’s in a position that if word ever got out, he’d be ruined. If I don’t stop him, none of us are safe. He had my family killed. I have no doubt he’ll gladly have anybody close to me killed if it means he can get to me.”
“So who the hell is this guy?”
“Samual Donaldson, assistant director of the FBI.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me, Rick. You want to go after an upper-echelon member of the freaking FBI?”
“Not just me. All of us.”
“What did you just say?”
We all turned and stared in the direction of the voice. Sunny was standing at the entrance, her arms folded in front of her, her facial expression twisted into a scowl.
“What did you just fucking say?”
Read On — The Final Mission Part 2
Let’s s keep in touch: P.G. & Sharon Barnett ([email protected]) © P.G. Barnett, 2020. All Rights Reserved.