Chapter 43

43

“Lord, give me strength,” Jason whispered, his words carried away by the hot night wind. “Guide my actions and protect my team.”

Hot night wind in his face, he squared off against the general, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like a physical force. The decrepit Tunnel of Love loomed behind them, its peeling cherubs a mockery of the situation. The trigger switch in the man’s hand glinted menacingly in the moonlight.

Barely above a whisper, Cody’s voice crackled in his ear. “The team’s located three IEDs in the underground area. It’ll take time to disarm them, and we can’t be sure we’ve found them all. Munisinger’s got the trigger, but Tai says it’ll be programmed to signal a main detonator capable of activating multiple explosives. It’s probably in a central location. If we can locate it, the trigger will be useless.”

Jason’s eyes flickered to Alex, a minuscule nod passing between them. Keep the old man talking. Buy time. It was the only plan they had.

“So, sir,” Jason drawled, injecting a casualness he didn’t feel into his voice. “Why don’t you tell us what this is really all about? The lies, Seven-Five, all of it.”

“You wouldn’t understand, boy.”

“Try me.”

Munsinger’s eyes narrowed. “It’s about having the power to reshape the world as it should be.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alex slide a hand into her pocket. Her voice, barely audible in his ear, confirmed she was recording. Smart woman.

“Oh, I think we understand plenty,” she chimed in, her tone deceptively light. “Why don’t you enlighten us? After all, we’re a captive audience.”

The man’s eyes gleamed with a terrifying intensity. As he launched into a diatribe about shadowy government conspiracies and Seven-Five’s grand vision, Jason fought to keep his expression neutral. Each revelation was more shocking than the last, painting a picture of corruption that went deeper than he’d ever imagined.

Jason nodded, pretending to listen to the man’s deranged ranting. Inside, he was frantic to come up with a way out of this. Where was that detonator? And how long could they keep this dangerous dance going before Munsinger realized he was being played?

In his earpiece, Cody and Tai were reasoning through the detonator’s likely locations, their logic a lifeline in this tense standoff.

“... can’t be anywhere that blocks radio waves,” Cody murmured. “And it’s gotta be hardwired.”

“The old control room,” Tai insisted. “By the Ferris wheel. It’s the only spot that makes sense.”

Jason fought to keep his expression neutral, even as relief washed over him. He locked eyes with Munsinger, whose monologue had taken a sharp turn into paranoid territory.

“So you’re saying,” Jason interjected, careful to keep his tone curious rather than accusatory, “that Seven-Five has been manipulating global events for decades?”

The general’s eyes glinted with fanatical pride. “Manipulating? No. Guiding. Shaping the world as it should be.”

A shadow flitted past. Tai, sneaking out of the basement. Crouched low, with the general’s back to him, he slipped into the shadows.

Alex must have seen him, too. She gestured at Munsinger. “And how exactly does one go about shaping the world, General?”

“It’s all about money,” the man insisted. “We bolster regimes friendly to our philosophies and starve the others.”

As the old man launched into another tirade, Jason caught her eye. A subtle nod passed between them. They were on the same page—keep him talking, keep him distracted.

Tai’s breathing quickened over the comms. “Found it,” Tai’s whisper sent a jolt through Jason’s system. “In the control room. Just like we thought.”

Cody’s voice, steady and reassuring, guided Tai through the disarming process. Jason’s heart pounded, each second stretching into eternity as he maintained his facade of rapt attention to the general’s ravings.

Suddenly, Munsinger’s eyes narrowed. He glanced between Jason and Alex, suspicion dawning on his weathered face.

“You’re stalling,” he growled, his finger pressing harder on the dead man’s switch. “This has a three-mile range. I’ll take the woman with me just to make sure you don’t try to interrupt my get away.”

Jason’s muscles tensed, ready to spring into action. The comms remained agonizingly silent. Had Tai succeeded?

Time slowed, each second stretching into eternity.

“Detonator neutralized,” Cody’s voice crackled in his ear, a lifeline in the chaos.

With one last silent prayer, Jason lunged, fist cocked. The general’s eyes widened in surprise as Jason’s fist connected with his jaw, sending the man staggering backwards. The useless switch clattered to the ground.

Hands up ready to fight, Munsinger came straight at him. They grappled, a deadly dance of fists and feet. Jason dodged a vicious right hook, countering with a swift kick to the general’s midsection. But the man blocked him. The old man was good. And shockingly fit. Every move Jason made was met with equal force and skill.

A groan from nearby caught Jason’s attention for a split second. Gravy staggered toward them. The distraction cost him as the general’s elbow slammed into his injured side, sending a stab of pain straight down his leg and driving the air from his lungs.

Jason stumbled back, gasping. The older man advanced, a predatory gleam in his eye. But before he could press his advantage, a blur of motion erupted from the shadows.

Gravy, his face a mask of anguish and determination, barreled into his father. They went down in a tangle of limbs, rolling across the dusty ground of the abandoned park.

A glint of metal caught the moonlight. The general had pulled a concealed weapon.

The crack of a gunshot split the night air.

For a heartbeat, the world stood still. Then the general slumped forward, collapsing at Gravy’s side, his face a mix of shock and something almost like pride.

“Son ...” he wheezed, his voice barely audible.

Gravy cradled his father, conflicting emotions warring across his face. Anger, grief, and a terrible, aching loss.

Jason approached cautiously, Alex at his side.

Gravy laid his father gently on the ground. A dark stain spread across the man’s chest. Way too much blood.

Jason kicked the gun away, though it was clear the threat had passed. Munsinger’s eyes were already growing dim, fixed on his son’s face in his final moments.