Chapter Seven #3
That was something the US government would offer up for terrorists. That the bounty in that amount was being put on his head…
“The FBI must really want him,” a reporter offered.
She didn’t mince words.
Since he’d put information on the Dark Web, she had her people do the same against him. Someone wouldn’t be able to contact anyone else, or he’d be turned in for that handsome reward.
Checkmate.
“This is my own money. I’m offering it to anyone who calls the number we are going to give you with viable information that pans out. I will personally hand this person a check for helping if it leads to his arrest.”
There were whispers in the crowd, so she went there.
“Yesterday, Devon Slater caused the death of one of my security guards. He was shot in the head while transporting me. I take that VERY seriously. Devon Slater is now public enemy one, and I’m asking the good citizens of this country to help me bring him in.
He’s killed a nun. He’s killed innocent people by making it look like accidents, only to dig them up and rape them.
We do NOT need that kind of garbage running amuck in our country.
If you hand me Devon Slater, I’ll hand you a boatload of money. ”
No one argued that.
“So, starting now, the clock is ticking. Devon, you have three hours to turn yourself in before every single person in this country begins looking for you. If you don’t, at that time, the phone number will go up, and may God have mercy on your soul because I won’t. The US government won’t.”
And with that, both Elizabeth and Kate walked away, going back inside. They heard the reporters first shouting questions at them, and then talking about them as the new power in DC.
Oh, and how Devon Slater was a marked man.
As for the money?
Oh, she’d make good on it, even though she knew Devon wasn’t making it to trial. She’d pay whoever got her intel, regardless.
This was a new age of the FBI—one where she and Kate didn’t play games with the bad guys.
Fuck the patriarchy.
There were new badasses in town.
The Matriarchy.
As they opened the door, Kate laughed her ass off, knowing the can of worms they’d just opened.
“He’s going to be so angry. A million dollars is very motivating. Every single person in this country, and outside of it, is going to try to get rich quick.”
Oh, she was aware.
That had been the plan.
Now, Devon Slater would know what it was like to be hunted and unable to peek his head out of the hole. He couldn’t leave wherever he was by plane now, and he couldn’t hire anyone to do his dirty work without risking being ratted out.
Turnabout was fair play.
Her hope was that the people who worked for him would rat him out.
When she said she was going to fuck around and find out, she also meant so was he.
The game was definitely afoot.
Bet.
On.
It.
* * * The Blackhawks * * *
Damascus
Same Time
Across The Country
When he woke an hour ago, Devon immediately went to work on the next part of his plan.
By now, Elizabeth was figuring out where he’d left her the next set of clues.
Not people.
Not remains.
CLUES.
In this game, it all came down to how smart she was, and if she could figure it out before he got to one of her loved ones.
When he saw that someone had died on the expressway into DC, his hopes had been up. While he wanted to play a game, if Fate took her out…
Who was he to question it?
Then, word came back that it wasn’t the director, but instead some worthless Marine.
Someone was a cat with nine lives.
That was for damn sure.
Apparently, the Russian had missed.
Well, that was misfortunate.
While he loved playing a game, he wasn’t a fool. His saintly father had warned him about the woman.
In fact, he’d had a profile done of her many years ago. A private therapist who had been paid a lot of money was given her FBI files, thanks to some clever thievery.
That profile said a lot about Elizabeth and little did she know, but that was the foundation on which all of this was based. So far, the doctor had been right with her assessment.
Unfortunately, though, he’d killed her when she’d finished so there were no loose ends, and now, he couldn’t ask her more questions, or to update her profile.
His father also taught him that.
Why risk getting caught?
With that document, he’d been afforded an inside look into the woman’s psyche, and it had been money worth spent.
Her mother’s early death.
Her father’s demise.
It painted a pretty picture of the equally pretty woman. What he knew was she was super smart. He knew she was damn good at languages and spoke many.
He was tickled pink to go up against an Ivy League scholar, so he could prove himself smarter.
It told him all he needed to know about her propensity to fight for justice and to always do the right thing.
How predictable.
Well, it also told him how she’d react to just about everything he threw at her.
Oh, and he had plenty to throw at her. In a matter of a couple of days, he’d have her lock, stock, and barrel. All it would take was getting leverage over her.
That was why he was in Utah.
He had to be close to her family in order to make her pay. It was only a matter of grabbing one person, and it would all fall into place.
Who would it be?
It didn’t matter.
All he needed was for her to make one mistake, and the game would be his.
Truthfully, Devon was highly annoyed that she was playing so very well. All of her children were hidden, and likely being moved around just out of his control.
Honestly, hurting children wasn’t his thing.
Oh, don’t get him wrong…
He’d do it, but he wouldn’t enjoy it like he would taking her apart.
He wanted one of her husbands, but as of yet, they’d not been out in the open. When they came out, so would he.
So, for now, it was a waiting game.
Luckily, he’d set the scene in DC, and it would take another day or two for the remains to be discovered and for her to use the clues to find him.
So, he had time.
At that moment, he was considering the next three victims, and where he wanted to leave them.
As he was strolling around his hidey-hole, a place he’d had for a very long time under a slew of names that were not connected to him, he poured himself some coffee.
There was no doubt he was safe.
Out of sight.
Out of mind.
If this place was burned, he had a few others that they wouldn’t think to look for elsewhere. When you played a game, and prepared as long as he had, then, you took precautions.
Only hire the best, when you wanted to be the best.
That was his motto.
Would they find him here?
Likely not.
Elizabeth played by the rules, and in order for her to locate him, she’d have to break the law.
Her profile said she’d never do that.
Her cop father would disapprove, and there was no doubt that he’d been her idol. Word had it that the man had even helped her on her cases as she was climbing the ladder to the top.
It figured.
A man always did the work, while the woman coasted to adoration. Look at his mother.
She’d been nothing until his father married her.
His saintly father deserved better.
Moving around his place, what Devon needed was a really strong coffee. He’d been up planning and plotting, and this morning was about regrouping.
Or this afternoon.
When she found those remains, on Wednesday, she’d start the next part of this and work her way right into his hands.
Yes, he was such a cruel and sick bastard.
Never let that be doubted.
EVER.
Only, this had been his father’s dying wish. Well, that and to put his name on buildings so he would have his legacy.
As he sat down with his coffee, he picked up the remote to his entertainment system. Turning the TV on, he relaxed to decompress for a few hours.
And that’s when he saw it.
Well, not IT.
HER.
On the screen, on every single news station he flipped to, Elizabeth Blackhawk’s face was there.
Talking.
About.
HIM.
What the fuck?
As he listened to her, talking about his victims, he was proud to have made her go to the media.
She hated them.
It gave him a little giggle and the desire to kick his feet in amusement as she was forced to grovel to the public.
It was when she was asking for help in finding him that he knew it wouldn’t work.
People simply didn’t want to get involved.
She was begging to deaf ears.
Sipping from his cup, when she held up the paper check, he started choking on his coffee.
So, he rewound the footage back further.
That’s when he heard her plea in its entirety. That bitch wanted companies to take his father’s name off of buildings and ruin the legacy he’d created for the greatest man ever?
WAS?
SHE?
KIDDING?
That rage filled him as it continued to play, and he’d reached the spot where he’d stopped it.
What came next horrified him.
‘ONE MILLION DOLLARS.’
What the hell?
He stared at the screen, and he’d not been expecting that. Oh, he’d made a contingency plan if she found the bodies early, and he’d made a plan to protect himself, but he’d not made a plan if she unraveled years of work.
How had she gotten the FBI to authorize that kind of money?
Then, she said the words that pissed him off.
‘My own money.’
And that hit him like a ton of bricks.
That was a lot of money to throw to someone, anyone who wanted to get paid.
It was problematic.
Now, he couldn’t ask for additional help. Now, he couldn’t risk hiring anyone new to assist him with the dirty work, and he’d be restricted to the fools he’d already been in contact with to help. She’d effectively tied his hands, and he did not like that.
Not.
At.
All.
Oh, the Director was a clever, clever woman. She’d pulled a trick out of her books on this one.
Now, everyone would be looking for him.
Damn her.
That made him so angry that he only had one thing on his mind.
REVENGE.
So much for the next part of his plan. Instead, he was going to have to pay her back on this one.
Well, this was a problem.
This demanded a response.
There had been a trick he’d been planning when she got to Damascus, but instead, he’d have to show her who was boss. Someone had crossed the line.
His face was everywhere.
His assets were being frozen.