Free Monster Hunter Nemesis by Larry Correia

we’ll listen to what Special Agent Myers has to say when he returns tomorrow. In the meantime this is an internal MCB matter, so let the record show that Director Stark was in command the entire time.”
    Franks was not amused. “So the MCB is a sock puppet for Stricken’s murder squad now?”
    Though most of the room were still in the dark, there were a lot of uncomfortable glances shared around the Subcommittee’s table. One of the congressmen hurried and grabbed his microphone. “Let’s have Agent Franks write up a statement for us pertaining to any sensitive information, then we’ll reconvene this hearing tomorrow.” He banged his gavel.
    “He went nuts and tried to kill me!” Director Stark shouted. Double table pound. They’d worked together before, so Franks knew Stark had always been a fake, hiding his cowardice behind a wall of bluster and bravado. When the shit got real, Stark could be counted on to fold, but right now they were in his element, where talking about actions meant more than the actions themselves. “What are you waiting for? I demand that Franks be locked up!”
    Franks rested his big hands on the table. “Try it.”
    Stark shut his mouth.
    “That will not be necessary,” said one of the congressmen.
    The MCB security force breathed a collective sigh of relief.
    * * *
    “They named you in the Subcommittee hearing, right in front of everybody. They talked about the Task Force and said that Myers had evidence, the works.”
    Stricken listened carefully as his source continued describing the testimony. It matched almost exactly what another source from the same secret meeting had supplied a few minutes earlier. It was nice to have multiple moles. It kept everyone honest.
    “Thank you, Elwood. I’ll remember the favor.” Stricken hung up on the congressman, then tossed the iPhone to one of his subordinates, who immediately sealed it into a bag. There were protocols in place for anything that might prove useful for future blackmail purposes.
    A different man handed him another phone. “It’s Director Stark.”
    Now that was one particular puppet whose annoyance was quickly outweighing his continued usefulness. Stricken took the phone. “What, Doug?”
    “I tried to give the order to have Franks arrested, but the committee—”
    “I already know. While you were taking your sweet time somebody else informed me about how you sat there like a moron while Myers’ golden boy spouted off about my secret organization. Way to go, champ.”
    The line went quiet for a long time. Stark knew he was in trouble. They both knew the only reason he’d gotten the directorship was because of Stricken’s string-pulling. “I tried to call as soon as—”
    “Make sure Franks stays put. Don’t go near him. I’ll be in touch.” He ended the call, then handed the phone back. This one didn’t get bagged. He had so much dirt on Stark that it didn’t matter at this point. “Myers, you clever bastard. What are you up to?”
    They were supposed to have ruled Franks a menace. The MCB should have detained him. The President’s hands would be clean. Everyone would be happy. There were only a couple of facilities in the country that could hold something like Franks, and Stricken had already made arrangements at both of them for Franks to get obliterated trying to escape . But Myers was good . . . He’d moved first and spooked the Subcommittee members who were in Stricken’s pocket. Word was that Myers was getting Las Vegas under control surprisingly fast, which meant he would rush back to the action to really try to screw Stricken over.
    It had been a long time since he’d so enjoyed a game of chess like this.
    They were a lot alike, and both of them knew how to play the system, but the difference between him and Myers was that Myers still had faith in the system actually working as designed, checks and balances and whatnot. He would expect Stricken to run for cover and start doing damage control.