PROJECT SPARTA

CHAPTER 47

WASHINGTON, DC

2016

"Ezra..." Xander's voice trailed, as his throat closed up. Jooles struggled but lightly, not wanting to detonate the fifty pounds of C4 strapped to her captor's chest. Xander didn't know what to do but play the game that was intended to be played all along.

"Thought I was dead?" Ezra although much older had kept the same crazy look in his eye that he always had, but it had somehow transformed to a deranged grin on his face.

"I saw your body burning." Xander searched for answers.

"You don't think they can get a dead body... That was a terrorist they had in the other hangar."

"But... I saw your house blow up. You were in that house..." Xander's mind continued to race trying to connect the dots. The dots were too scattered, though.

"No. I wasn't but I was watching." Ezra flashed a wild smile. The image of the silhouette he saw at the high observation window surfaced.

"The silhouette I saw that night... was you? But how?" And then it dawned on Xander. He remembered the underground tunnels the crates with the odds and ends on it – a wad of clothes, a lantern, and a scribbled on newspaper. Upon closer inspection, the scribbles were answers to the crossword section of the newspaper.

That was Ezra's... he left them behind before leaving the Compound.

Hardy's voice echoed through his head.

Tunnels within Tunnels...

"Extraction..." he said. The bookshelf couldn't be opened from the Spartan side without a keycard; Xander remembered tilting every book to no avail.

It had to be opened from the other side. But who would extract him?

And then again the next puzzle piece fell into place. He remembered Bashfield's offer to him to get out of Project Sparta.

"Bashfield?" Xander asked to verify the story developing in his head. Ezra nodded.

"Did she offer you the gig first?" Ezra knew exactly how to stand behind a body shield, though. "Of course, she did. You were always their Golden Boy... Xander, I couldn't stay trapped in the Compound anymore, are you kidding me? So to extract me we had to stage my death... Death is the only discharge..."

"What'd she have you do?" Xander asked still trying to make sense of it all.

"They needed a Spartan to go deep undercover in Afghanistan. I was a beggar for three years, living off of scraps and only reporting to Bashfield once a month. Eating dirt and freezing through night after night all for the good of my country," Ezra explained.

"Why are you doing this, Ezra? Why don't you put the detonator down?" Xander asked him.

"Listen carefully, Xander and Jooles." It was the voice of Ashton in his ear. "I do not have a shot; I repeat I do not have a shot. We can try the countdown shot." Xander shifted his feet again as if to say, 'okay'.

"Because my government took everything from me! Hardy plucked me from my perfect life and stole my youth! I gave them everything and they just used me as a pawn in their messed up war games."

As Ezra grew comfortable in his explanation, his eyes came off Xander from time to time. With one quick nod of his head over his right shoulder, Jooles eyes slowly raised to the heights of the Washington Monument. A gentle nod confirmed the message was received.

"And so you want to exact your revenge on Colonel Hardy?" Ezra nodded in reply. "You had no identity, so you had to strike a deal with Bashfield, so you could get back into the States, so you got here and hired your band of mercenaries...I understand now..."