Eleanor lifted herself from the floor and waited anxiously as the call went through. She cast a look at the fugitive holding her at gunpoint. “Why are you doing this?”

Ignoring her question, he said, “If he picks up tell him he needs to come home. It’s urgent and a matter of life and death.”

Eleanor snapped, “He’s not going to buy it.”

Ethan raised his gun to her head. “It’s up to you to make it believable. After all, this is a matter of life and death.”

The threat served its purpose well. When Peterson answered the call, Eleanor put on a falsetto, said, “Darling, where are you?” and started pacing the room. Ethan trailed behind to make sure she didn’t send the wrong signal.

Peterson told her something he didn’t hear and in response, she murmured, “You need to come home. I don’t feel so well. I’ve taken the medication, but the pains keep getting worse.” She let out a low moan in pain so he would believe her.

“All right, honey. Take a nap. I will be there in a while.”

She choked back a sob. “Thanks. Don’t keep long.” She wanted to tip him off about the imminent threat in the house, but it was impossible to do so when he was hovering around her and holding his gun to her head. Hopes shattered, Eleanor hung up and replaced the phone on the nightstand.

“That was great,” Ethan said, “if you continue cooperating nobody will get hurt.”

She wanted to tell him to go to hell, but she didn’t. “What now?”

He directed his gun at the door. “Now we wait for the Admiral to show.”

She took the lead to the door. Ethan followed her, his gun at her skull. She had become used to his threatening presence that she didn’t shake when he put the gun so close to her head.

Halfway downstairs, she said, “I don’t even know your name.”

“You would if you watch the news.”

Her plan to engage him was failing. She shouldn’t have asked him that.

“Did you kill those men in the storehouse?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I didn’t?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“What you tell me.”

It was his first time meeting someone who was ready to listen to his side of the story. Most people would jump to conclusions and start creating a scene at his sight.

“I didn’t kill those men. I was framed.”

“Framed? Right.”

They didn’t talk until they reached the living room. “You’ve got duct tape?”

She wondered why he’d need that, then she realized he intended to tie her up.

“There’s one in the kitchen.” For a moment, she stopped to wonder why she was cooperating with his nonsense. Realizing that was what hadn’t compelled him to shoot her, she decided to obey his instructions.

“Get it for me.”

Taking her at gunpoint, they walked into the kitchen. She moved to a table, opened the drawer, and took out the duct tape. He opened his palm and she placed the tape in it.

He directed her back to the living room and instructed her to sit on the wooden chair. She did that. Putting the gun aside, Ethan unwound the tape, went down to his knees, and started binding her slender legs.

Eleanor’s eyes were on the gun on the couch. She could jerk forward, grab it, and shoot the fugitive. She had some expertise in handling firearms. All she had to do was place a finger on the trigger, squeeze it, and a bullet should emanate from the muzzle and hit her intended target which was the fugitive busily tying her up.

Peterson had taught her that several years ago. She had argued with him it was a moot lesson because she never thought she’d be in a situation where she would need a gun. But Peterson had taught her anywhere.

She was glad she listened and paid attention during their lessons. Now was the time to put those lessons into practical use. She readied her hands to go for the gun, but stopped when she realized it was a dangerous move.

In case her plan went sideways, the fugitive would get pissed and decide to end everything there. She’d lose her life for a stupid cause. The fugitive had made it clear that as long as she cooperated he wouldn’t harm her. And she didn’t doubt it.

She shut the thoughts up, and instead, gave him her full cooperation in binding her. He successfully tied her to the chair, went for the gun on the couch, and rose.

Eleanor sat still, making no attempts to free herself. She watched him pace down the floor, ran his hand through his hair several times, and toyed with the gun. It was clear he was getting impatient waiting for Peterson. She studied his gaits for all the time they spent waiting for the main target.

“You don’t look like a bad guy,” Eleanor said, and he glanced at her. Ethan wished she would stop talking and let him focus.

“What do I look like?”

“That’s what I’m figuring out. If you wanted to kill me, you’d have done it the moment I let you inside. You’re not a killer. I see a killer when I see one.”

“Just keep quiet, okay?”

She didn’t. “Why are you doing this?”

Ethan ignored her.

“Perhaps if you tell me I could help you. Your plan isn’t going to work. Peterson is an admiral. He’s not going to give you whatever you want without putting up a fight. You should know that.”

“That’s why I’ve got you. Leverage.”

She nodded when she connected the dots.

“Judge Terry,” Eleanor said, “she’s my friend. What did you do to her?”

His mind went to yesterday morning when he had shown up at her house and taken her to his cabin at gunpoint. He had scared her to death, but eventually she was safe, and that was all that mattered.

“What do you think I would do to her?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know unless you tell me.”

He shifted his eyes from her and continued pacing the floor at short intervals between where she sat and the couch. Peterson was taking too long and he was beginning to lose patience.

“Why are you doing any of this?” she asked again, and Ethan was fed up with her incessant intrusion.

“Peterson is a good man. Whatever trap you’ve set up for him, he isn’t going to fall for it.”

For the first time since he came here, he scoffed. “Bullshit!”

“What?”

“It’s crap. What you’re saying about him.”

She said defensively, “You don’t know the first thing about him.”

He glared at her. “And you think you do?”

She didn’t talk and he continued, “Your darling husband is a criminal and a murderer.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I know.”

Eleanor looked askance at him, then turned her eyes elsewhere. She was starting to dislike his presence. A short while later, they heard a car pulling up. Ethan rushed to the nearest window and peered out. He looked at Eleanor and she muttered, “It’s not going to work.”

“I doubt that.”

The front door slid open. Light footsteps echoed in the room and there was Peterson, holding a gun at different angles. He stepped inside the living room, found Eleanor tied up in the chair and he ran to her side. He dropped the gun, started unbinding her only for her to yell, “It’s a trap!”

Quickly, he sprang up and was about to grab the gun when Ethan appeared, said, “Don’t touch it,” and directed his gun at him.

He stiffened and looked at him. He noticed Ethan had changed since the time he last saw him. His eyes were filled with hate and it spoke volumes to him.

Ethan stepped forward, his gun aimed at his head. “This is how we’re going to do it. You will give me what I came here for and I’m not going to hurt her or you.”

“I don’t know what you came here for.”

“Don’t try to play dumb with me. I don’t want to hurt you, but if you push me to the wall, I will have no choice.”

Peterson stifled the urge to smirk. “You don’t have the heart to pull that trigger.”

“Don’t underestimate me. You and Clinton killed my friends and maimed Ted Bundy and didn’t think twice. I’m also going to do the same if you play games with me without thinking twice.”

Eleanor was just looking at the two men, trying to make sense of what they were talking about. From the looks on her husband’s face, it was a sure thing he knew what the fugitive was talking about. Anxiously she said, “What’s he saying?”

Ethan looked at his face. “Tell her. Tell her the kind of monster you are.”

Peterson stared daggers at him.

“Honey, what’s he talking about?”

“He’s crazy, darling. Don’t pay any attention to him.”

“Well, he doesn’t look crazy to me. What are you not telling me?” Her voice was demanding now and her face was puckering into a frown.

He leaned down and said, “Nothing. I will tell you everything you need to know after he’s out of here. Just trust me.”

He started stroking her hair with one hand and tried to snatch the gun with the other. Ethan figured out his move, and no sooner had he jerked the other hand to the floor than he fired a shot. The bullet struck his arm, blood gushed out, and he quickly withdrew.

Eleanor’s eyes widened. Almost jumping out of her skin, she cried, “Are you all right, darling?”

“And the next one will be inserted right into your heart if you continue to play games with me.”

Peterson stanched the bullet wound and slowly lifted himself from the floor. He told Eleanor he was all right but she doubted it.

He put on a scowl and said to Ethan, “Come with me.”

At gunpoint, Peterson led Ethan upstairs and into the bedroom. As they passed across the enormous room, he said, “If you do this you’d be waging war against the Russian Mafia. The consequence will be dire.”

He shoved him forward in the back. “Shut up!”

“It was my idea to frame you.”

Ethan didn’t expect he would admit to his crimes so easily. “Do you know why?”

He didn’t, and he wanted to know why. Why they had framed him and jeopardized his life. But he didn’t want to listen to him. Hearing his side of the story felt like listening to the devil talking, and he wasn’t ready to hear anything from the devil. It would corrupt his mind and let him lose focus.

“Because I didn’t want you dead. It may seem false, but I care about you. You were a good commander. It’d have been sad if you died just like your friends. That’s why I convinced Clinton to frame you instead.”

He didn’t want to engage him, but he lost restraint of himself. “That was worse than death. Now my face is all over the newspapers and TV screens. People think I’m a mass murderer and I can’t even go out without a disguise. Thanks for the favor.”

“You’re alive because of me.”

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear a word from your mouth. Now move it!”

He stepped into the closet. Ethan followed him. Peterson stopped behind a wardrobe and looked at Ethan.

“Could you push this?”

Ethan looked suspiciously at him, then hesitated.

“I would if you hadn’t shot my arm.”

He stepped in front of him and used his back to push the wardrobe. His gun was still pointed at him.

“Thanks,” Peterson said and Ethan frowned at him.

He moved to the vault. Instead of a standard keypad, it had a retina scan. Peterson leaned forward and looked into the mechanism. After the device captured a match, it beeped, then creaked open. Ethan watched him as he took out a folder from the vault and gave it to him which he snatched from his hand.

“It contains all the evidence you need to prove your innocence.”

His gun facing him, he used his other hand to open the folder and check the content to verify what he’d said. He brought out the files and scanned them. True indeed, the files contained evidence of their illicit business transactions with the Russian Mafia. And even the assassination of the two top CIA agents that were investigating the bombing in Langley.

Satisfied, Ethan packed the files back into the folder.

“If this information gets out, people are going to get hurt. Innocent people. The Russian Mafia, they’re dangerous and they don’t care who they kill to protect their secret.”

“Well, tell them to get ready because I’m coming for them.” He backed away.

“Ethan, don’t do this. I could put in a good word for you and all the accusations against you would be dropped. You could go back to your normal life and your reputation would be restored.”

“For you and Clinton to get away with all the evil deeds you’ve done? No. Peterson. Goodbye.”

He ran out of the room. Peterson hurried into the bedroom and placed a call. Clinton’s voice came on the line.

“He’s got the evidence.”

“What! How?”

“Long story. He used Eleanor to get to me. We don’t have time. It’s time to activate plan B.”

“It’s already in motion.”