Love Is For Tomorrow

Chapter One - Fallen Heroes: Washington DC

CHAPTER ONE

FALLEN HEROES

"And you shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free." (John 8:32) - CIA Motto

Washington, D.C., The United States of America

Don stood drenched in a place you never wanted to be; Arlington National Cemetery. It was a place of fallen heroes; heroes who took their secrets with them to the grave. Sunlight shone down through the light rain. Willow trees formed huge umbrellas that sheltered the gathered mourners. As the chaplain's blessing faded, Don sunk deeper into thought. Hat in hand, he walked to the grave.

Section Chief Brenneman looked pissed. Don had never seen his superior so personally involved in any other mission at Langley. He stood in the rain, his hands shoved tightly in his pockets and enduring the cold wind. Brenneman stepped forward and rested a hand on the coffin. His face relaxed for a moment.

Don knew the dead man, fresh from the farm, like the two other colleagues they'd buried earlier today. The fiction doled out by Brenneman made sure that no one would ever know what really happened that night in Paris on the Champs-Elysees. So much for the truth about the mission they were on.

But Don knew. He was in the car, when the shots were fired. These now decorated heroes had been pulled out of the Seine days later, bloated and pale. His stomach clenched.

The mission, Don thought, would lead to them hunting the prey. Now he wasn't sure if they were the hunters or the hunted. He dreaded to think of what would happen next. What if the one who killed his team members wasn't done and would come here to erase anyone connected with his case? Were they all lined up? Apart from the section chief, who else might be targeted?

Shots nearby tearing the air startled him. The honor guard gave their salute. Birds flew up. Three shots for each of them, just like that night in Paris. The mourners dropped handfuls of earth onto the casket as it sank into the grave. A wife wept. A mother cried. A son stared in silence.

"God damn it," Brenneman said.

The chaplain cleared his throat.

"Language, Colonel," Don murmured.

Brenneman lowered his voice to a whisper that only Don and the priest could hear.

"Sorry Father, but I will let this murderer burn in hell", he said. "You might say prayers of forgiveness and may God be the one who judges every man's deeds when he meets him. But I am going to be the one that sends him there."

Brenneman stepped closer to Don, so close that he could see the wrinkles under the chief's silvery hair.

"Did we get anything new on the bullets? Fingerprints? DNA? Camera footage? Give me something. Was it Dwayne?"

Don let out a sigh. This was the reason he had hoped not to be here. Three weeks on and not a step closer. For all he knew Dwayne Carter was long dead, buried somewhere in the Mexican desert. Yet, his boss was relentlessly obsessed with the idea that these killings were connected to him.

"Whoever did this is working against us," Don said. "He is... thoughtful in his approach. But it seems like we're missing something. We need to slow down." Our men aren't even buried but we're already planning to follow them. "Give it time... After all, revenge is a dish best served cold."

"As cold as their bodies?" Brenneman said. He gestured toward the graves with a weak smile that turned into a frown. "Look, this isn't about revenge. It's about survival. We kill him or he kills us. It's that simple."

The bitterness of Brenneman's words made Don pause. Someone wanted them dead and Don had no idea why.

***