Trying To Heal

Chapter Fifty

Derek

The fifteen minutes launched havoc and hysteria. Sweat agitated the guards in the room, much like their peers in the corridors and rooms in this building.

Luciana May dubiously scrutinised Anthony Dickinson. "Is it true?"

Dickinson grated, "For fuck's sake, May. Don't tell me you believe him. He's lying to get into your damn head. He's a manipulator!"

"Is it true?"

Fourteen minutes.

"No." The director swivels to the men. "I never laid a finger on a fucking child. On anyone. Not like that."

"Really?" Mandal turns his phone. "Then what is this?"

The monitor plays a minute-long video. There is the Director of the FBI, fucking a paralysed, teenage black boy. Lounged on the bed, is President John Roderick jerking his egg-shaped cock as he watches.

May stare at the video. Mandal shows the other guards the evidence.

Twelve minutes.

"That is not me," protests Dickinson. "Christ, you lot are supposed to be the smartest people in the country. Have you ever heard of those videos photoshopping faces? It is not me." He upraises me. "I'm sure Spade won't mind me leaving a present, eh?"

The click of a gun.

Mandal directs his pistol at his boss.

Involuntarily, the guards boosted their arm-length weapons at their associate.

"He sent me that video three days ago," grits the agent. "He told me what happened to my wife. You sent her on that mission to get the Head Killer. But she never found the Head Killer, did she? Spade found her body in a lake. She has been dead for two months. She knew what you did, sir. She confronted you about it. She even told me, but I —" His gaze waters. " — I never believed her. I never thought it was possible."

Eleven minutes.

"Mandal," says May cautiously, "put the gun down." To the others, "All of you, lower them."

Frail, Mandal whispers, "You took my wife."

Dickinson was focused on one aspect. "Her body is in Nebraska. If he found her, how is he here so soon?" The fact smacks his receding hairline further back. "He has people working for him."

There were CCTV cameras at the orgy party. The CIA hoped to watch what Spade would do, but the Cyber Team distorted their network.

"My son is a fan of this rapper," continues Mandal. "He went missing in May. Because he knew what was happening, right? You had someone go after him and fake suicide."

Ten minutes.

The agent clocks the gun.

"Mandal!" screams May. She quickly stood in between the agent and the others, unarmed and extremely vulnerable, as if that could protect him.

"I don't agree with Spade's methods," admits Mandal. Tears of blameworthiness drop. "I don't agree he should take lives for the crimes they have done. But you killed my fucking wife!" To his coworkers, "Spade is not the enemy. He's been trying to help us. I have spent months searching for her, and he found her within days after I asked him to." He closes his eyes. "She was pregnant."

The tension in one of his friend's aura intensified.

"I didn't know," sobbed Mandal. "She didn't know."