Free All Necessary Force by Brad Taylor

to say to you. Good-bye.”
    “Wait! Okay, so we can skip the small talk. I saw you found some sort of temple last year. Made a little money.”
    “Yes. So what.”
    “Well, I was hoping you’d be willing to share a little of your good fortune with me. Not a lot. Just enough to get your ex back on his feet.”
    She couldn’t believe the audacity. “Chase, forget it. Forget this number and forget we were ever married. You’re not getting a dime.”
    His voice went from silky to rabid. “You little bitch! I’m just asking for a little help. Consider it payback for all of my money you spent when we were married. It’s only fair.”
    “I hear you, and I’m hanging up. Stay away.”
    She cut off his screaming and threw the phone in the passenger seat, shaking. The voice of her ex-husband had released a kaleidoscope of images and feelings, all competing for attention in her mind. The beating, the blood and vomit. But mostly the terror. Something she’d run from and thought she’d left behind, but his voice was enough to take her back.
    It dawned on her that she had felt this same way in the saloon. Not as extreme, but a knife edge of terror facing a roomful of men all intent on beating her. Just like her ex-husband. Maybe even taking joy in it like her ex-husband. The difference had been that she had learned how to fight back. She’d been so intent on survival, she hadn’t made the connection. Now it left her a little disgusted.
    The Taskforce was supposed to be made of heroes. Pure, with her being Tonto to the Taskforce Lone Ranger, both only doing what was necessary for the defense of the nation. She’d seen Pike’s selfless side but had also seen him act in ways that were borderline homicidal. She’d put it down to the torture of his past. Now, she wasn’t so sure. Maybe the difference between the black hats and the white hats was simply the interpretation of the artist.
Maybe they’re all like my ex-husband, but they’ve just found an outlet for the violence.
    She wondered again if she’d made the right choice.

10
     
    I

t was a little bit early, but Congressman Ellis told his secretary good-bye and left the Hart Office Building. He still needed to pack for tomorrow’s travel to the international trade fair in Cairo, Egypt, and the hearings had worn him out.
    He strolled at a leisurely pace up Delaware Avenue, away from the Capitol. When he reached Union Station, his heart picked up a bit. He’d either see that his instructions had been passed, and the meeting in Cairo was set, or he’d see that he’d wasted six months’ worth of work.
    While in D.C., he lived in a luxury condominium complex at Judiciary Square, just inside Interstate 395 on Massachusetts Avenue. It had taken quite a while to find a location close enough to a Metro station that allowed him to walk to work, and he’d looked hard. His business had to be put on hold until he could, which was a distinct motivator. There was no way he was going to attempt contact with a driver watching his every move, and going out for a walk every day would have raised someone’s suspicions.
    Walking home from work, however, was just a congressman judiciously using the taxpayers’ money. No driver for him. No, sir. He’d rather use his God-given legs.
    He went straight through the station and took the escalator down to the food court. Walking toward the Union Station Metro stop, he scanned the wall of the up escalator. There were three food-court tables against the wall, and between the second and third table, both occupied with tired tourists eating a hasty meal, he saw a Chinese character scribbledin chalk. He recognized it as the character for victory, and felt the tension leave his body. The transfer was a go.
    If he’d seen the character for fail, he would have known the transfer was off. No character at all meant his Chinese contacts hadn’t gotten the instructions.
    He had worked for the Chinese for close to forty years, and found them just