'That message has dripped down steadily from the misguided governments of the world. It pervades global society. It has corrupted the human cause as it always has, yet we never learn from our mistakes, the lure of wealth is just too difficult to resist.'
'- but we do have choice, we do have accountability,' Dale rasped exasperatedly, 'alright so it's not perfect but your way is no better! Who are you accountable to?'
Jackson shook his head irritably, ignoring the question.
'All men may be born equal but we have idly sat by as societies evolve that by their very nature create division and segregation, differentiating their peoples based on monetary attributes, rewarding one just as it disenfranchises another. We have not created a garden paradise, we have just allowed the weeds to choke the symmetry and order that nature itself craves. Even after ten thousand years of the development of civilisation we're still no better than the monkeys shaking sticks at each other from the tree tops!'
'You're fucking crazy,' Dale spat, emphasising the profanity with a disbelieving shake of his head.
'I may be crazy,' Jackson grinned, 'perhaps that is what comes from spending over thirty years leading a double life, but I'm the one holding the gun and we're the ones that have the power to change all of these things.'
'Enough!' shouted Jolene. 'That's enough.'
The wood of the door suddenly splintered inward and a barrage of gun fire started to rip through the panels around the lock. Jolene leapt away from it and Dale automatically ducked, but Jackson held his aim steady.
The door burst open and rattled on its hinges and a balaclava clad figure appeared in the entrance, a smoking pistol in his hand.
'I guess that is my taxi!' Jackson beamed.
Dale looked at the door, at the exit route that awaited Jackson, but he inwardly fumed at the thought that such a traitor would get away. A rush of adrenalin surged through him and without further regard to consequences he rushed at the CIA Librarian who had betrayed them all, his team and his country.
His action immediately elicited a cry from Jolene.
'No Dale, let him go, we can catch him later!' she shouted as she darted around the table, trying to grab at his shoulders to pull him back.
She was too slow and the momentum of Dale's rush ensured that he bowled toward Jackson, dragging all three of them to crash into the wall of the staff room. A momentary tussle quickly ensued but Jackson managed to free himself of the entanglement, shoving with all his might against the duo fumbling for him. He leapt back a few feet and scurried to the door well away from them but Dale was still maddened with anger and from behind Jolene he grabbed one of the coffee cups from the table and threw it at Jackson's head.
To fend off the projectile, Jackson immediately thrust up the hand in which he held the pistol but all of the former comrades were stunned into shock and silence by the sudden deafening discharge of the Desert Eagle, accidentally fired as the cup smashed into Jackson's hand.
Dale leapt back and looked down at himself, his mind instantly acknowledging and relieved that he had not been shot. In the second it took him to recover he looked back up at Jackson and recognised a look of horror spreading across his face. Jolene was standing in front of Dale and facing away to the door, and although his view of the exit was partially obscured it was clear that the pistol had been aimed right at her stomach and that she had shielded him from the possibility of being hit.
He watched as she tilted her head to one side and then she slowly started to turn around, a pained expression of surprise on her face. She grimaced with anger before exclaiming a grunt, dropping to her knees and grasping her side, wrapping the thick sheepskin of her flying jacket tight to her waist.
Taking in the enormity of what appeared to have just happened, Jackson stood open mouthed, dropping the gun to the floor.
'I'm sorry,' he whispered, 'I didn't mean to -'
The balaclava clad man grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away, coarsely urging him to run from the scene.
Dale dropped to Jolene's side and held her shoulders, gently helping her up and propping her up to rest against the wall.
'You fucking idiot!' she grimaced. 'You could have gotten me killed. Next time you throw something make sure I'm not standing in front of you!'
Dale was frozen in shock, not quite knowing whether to help her to apply pressure to the wound hidden beneath her jacket or to race after the escaping traitor that he had formerly thought of as a friend.
In spite of her wound, Jolene grasped out and grabbed the pistol discarded by Jackson. She listened to the sounds of the footsteps echoing away along the hall and checked the weapon, ensuring that it was properly loaded after having clattered to the floor.
'Here, take this, don't be a hero, just fire off a few shots before they get right away.'
She thrust the gun into Dale's hand and nodded before she exclaimed a sharp intake of breath, breaking him from his moment of indecision.
'Go!'
Dale Mallory raced out of the staff room and darted along the corridor to the main stairwell. He could not help but notice both Sergeant Stanley and Private Oliver lying sprawled on the wooden floor, potent red stains seeping out from wounds that they had sustained during their attempt to prevent the terrorists from storming the building. He saw Stanley turn his head as a gurgle escaped his lips, but Dale could not stop, a reverberating boom had signified that the heavy main door to the castle had just banged shut.
Tearing away from the side of the Marines that had been gunned down, he jumped two or three steps at a time, practically hurdling the journey down to the ground floor and skidding at the last step, sliding into the entrance hall and trying to ready himself for bursting out into the inner courtyard.
Even as he threw open the main door, he was conscious of a diesel engine coughing into life and the ratcheting howl of revs being applied, ready for speedy acceleration. As he barrelled out, he was confronted by the image of Jackson Revere being helped into the rear of a large van, ducking down as he clambered inside.
The reaction that gripped Dale was instantaneous and he levelled the big pistol, jabbing the trigger back again and again and sending a volley of shots towards the rear doors of the van. At the first boom of gunfire, Jackson swung round and in that moment he met Dale's aim with a baleful stare, one single instant before he was suddenly and violently thrown back onto the floor of the cargo bay as the next shot blasted out.
There were a couple of men in the back of the van with Jackson and one of them immediately assumed a crouched position and aimed a pistol back, firing a couple of shots even as the other man reached down to pull Jackson into a sitting position, slapping a hand against his chest and the middle of his back to heave him upright.
A punch like a hammer smashing against an anvil drove into Dale's shoulder, suddenly spinning him about as a searing red hot pain burst through his pectoral and deltoid muscles. He twirled like a child's top before collapsing to the ground and rolling onto his back, his mind scarcely able to conceive that he had just been shot. A furious pain already screamed out from the bullet wound he had just sustained and he stared straight up into the sky as his head began to swim, the last image he had seen burning into his mind and gradually becoming the sole consolation of his blurring vision.
As consciousness faded for Dale, the only thing he could think of was his former comrade collapsed in the van with a large red stain spreading across his chest, his face no longer expressed of anger and resentment, the mouth just a gaping hole and the eyes just lolling back in their sockets.
Jackson Revere was dead.
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori
Jolene opened her eyes with a start to see Dale sitting on the edge of her bed, idly flicking through a magazine as he waited for her to come around from her deep sleep. They were in a ballistic trauma ward of the Department of Surgery operated by Rhenish-Westphalian Technical University Hospital and had been rushed there in the helicopter of the Special Forces team that Jolene had called in to arrest Jackson.
'Hey, how are you feeling?' grinned Dale.
It seemed to take a moment for Jolene to collect her thoughts and she struggled to prop herself up in bed.
'Terrible, what happened?'
'We were both shot back at the castle and when Special Forces found us they decided to rush us here to Aachen by helicopter. They put you under because you were in so much pain, I guess that it is still making you a bit groggy.'
Jolene dragged herself up and sighed, rubbing her face and stimulating her thoughts.
'I'm OK, just a bit dazed. How long have we been here? What happened to Jackson?'
'About eight hours,' said Dale nodding, 'and Jackson is dead. I shot him as he tried to escape from the castle. I suppose that is one consolation.'
The denouement gave Jolene pause for though.
'You shot him? He was definitely dead?'
'Oh yes,' smirked Dale, remembering his satisfaction at seeing the red stain spread across the chest of Jackson, 'he's dead, I used your pistol, remember?'
A smile flashed across her face but she quickly grew serious again.
'What about Stanley and Oliver?'
Dale paused before answering, dropping his head down as he spoke.
'Stanley was badly wounded, but he'll make it. They have him under observation but he is stable. Unfortunately, Private Oliver died at the scene.'
Jolene frowned slightly.
'Did you bring the gun back with you? We can't have news of this leaking out, it is still top secret.'
'Don't I know it,' Dale harrumphed, rolling his eyes, 'the last thing I remember after I'd shot Jackson was the van skidding off, I was unconscious for a short while but came round again for just a second or two to see you staggering out of the castle, then I blacked out completely. When I came round again I was still in the courtyard, Special Forces had loaded you into their helicopter, cleaned up the scene a bit and were then helping me. They even collected my cartridge cases, can you believe that?'
Jolene smiled widely as a realisation hit her.
'Nice to see they had their priorities right!'
'Oh yeah!' Dale laughed in agreement. 'Mind you, I have your pistol safe and sound!'
Reaching behind his back to the foot of the bed, he grabbed a holster with the Desert Eagle in it, holding it up as he beamed.
'After they brought us in they dealt with your wound and then gave you a sedative to you let you sleep. I was shot in the shoulder but it wasn't as bad as it felt at the time. Special Forces pulled a few strings back at Wiesbaden and it was explained that we were operating on behalf of the US Government and so they kept all of our personal belongings together, including the weapons, although they asked us to be discrete about them.'
Jolene chuckled at the suggestion just as a short rap of knuckles on the ward door made them both turn and as it swung open a female doctor dressed in a white coat and carrying a small tray of dressings and medical supplies peeped into the room.
'Hi,' she beamed with only a trace of accent, 'I'm glad I caught you Mr. Mallory, I thought that I saw you wander in here and I just wanted to check out your dressing and see how your wound is. We don't want you getting infected do we?'
She sidled in and walked towards the bed grinning widely and rattling the tray to illustrate her intent.
Looking up at Dale, Jolene gave a lopsided grin of collusion.
'You'd better go then, doctor's orders and all that, we can't have you dropping dead with septicaemia can we? You're a hero now, after all.'
Dale sighed exaggeratedly to show his resignation and stood up.
'Really Doc, I'm fine, I can feel that it is healing even now.'
'Come now Mr. Mallory,' the doctor cajoled, 'it won't take two minutes, we'll pop behind the cubicle curtain next door, I'm sure Miss Lovell won't mind, unless you're shy about being examined by a female physician of course?'
The doctor turned and started to swish the large drapes closed around the empty bed space next to Jolene's.
Grinning back at Jolene, Dale held out the holster.
'Captain, would you mind looking after this for a moment? I'm sure you wouldn't like it to get dusty on the floor, there must be a Marine Corps rule about that sort of thing!'
Nodding in amused agreement, Jolene took the leather holster and started to wrap the straps together.
'Thank-you Dale,' she said earnestly.
'Come along Mr Mallory,' urged the voice from behind the curtain, 'shirt off! I'm sure you haven't got anything that I haven't seen before!'
As Dale winced, the doctor smiled as she peeled back the dressing covering the bullet wound that stood out bloated and puffy from rest of the flesh, gently pressing with her fingertips around the inflammation.
'Ohh, now this is looking good'.
'Yeah?' queried Dale. 'It doesn't feel too good when you poke it like that I can tell you.'
'Awww, come along now Mr. Mallory,' the doctor replied, laughing, 'it isn't so bad, I thought that you military men took pride in shrugging off bullet wounds?'
'You're probably thinking of the Marines,' Dale drolly observed, inhaling sharply as a sudden sharp pain ensued from the examination. 'My life is nowhere near as gung-ho and I certainly don't mind admitting that getting shot hurts like hell.'
The doctor peered in closer.
'Well, even if it does still hurt, yours looks a lot better than Miss Lovell's, her powder burns are quite nasty and almost cauterised her wound, we had to slice it open again to dress the flesh. Yours is just a clean through and through.'
Dale had not really heard the doctor's full statement; he had temporarily been distracted by a thought that was even then beginning to distil.
'Sorry Doc, what did you say?'
The doctor stood up.
'Powder burns. I was just saying that you're luckier than Miss Lovell, your bullet went straight through nice and cleanly.'
She leaned down again and started to redress the wound.
'You'll be fine, it is already showing signs of healing and you'll be back in the gym in no time at all, but you'll have a small scar to be proud of.'
Dale was still distracted.
'Thanks Doc!'
As the door to the ward room swung closed after the departure of the doctor, Jolene watched Dale fumbling with the holster that she had handed back to him. His lateral vision just caught her leaning back and sliding her hands under her pillows to support her weight as she gazed at him.
Within tenths of a second, Dale had pulled the Desert Eagle semi-automatic pistol from his holster, flipping the safety and cocking the hammer on the heavy gun in one fluid motion as he aimed at Jolene's chest. His whole reflexive action had been precipitated by a semi-rational instant of unconscious decision, but as he levelled his gun he was aware that Jolene had already slipped out a silenced pistol from underneath her pillow and was now aiming directly at his head.
'Well done Dale. You were right!'
'I guess so,' he replied unsurely, 'after all, you are pointing that gun at me aren't you?'
'Yes,' Jolene nodded matter of factly. 'I woke up a while ago and made sure that I was armed. I was only relaxing when you came in and pretended to be asleep just to be sure as to whether you had suspected anything.'
Dale wavered for a moment, his aim shaking slightly as he noted the snubbed nose of the silencer pointing at him with absolute rigidity.
'Your powder burns came from a muzzle flash right next to your skin,' he said smoothly. 'Jackson was on the other side of the room to us when he fired so his shot couldn't have done that, not through your heavy jacket. You shot yourself, back at Krefeld. You shot yourself because you needed a plausible wound to make it look as though you were in as much danger as me and that was the only way you could have received powder burns, being shot at close range.'
Jolene smiled widely but her eyes blazed.
'When you threw that cup and Jackson accidentally fired, well, it was obvious that he was aiming directly at me so I couldn't just pretend that he'd missed. I had to think quickly and just went along with it. Once you had chased out of the door after him I had to give myself a real wound. If I'd have walked out of there without a scratch there would have been some residual suspicions, especially since Jackson and I worked so closely, so I didn't really have a choice. We had to place the threat of a double-agent fairly and squarely at Jackson's door.'
She thought for a moment, disappointed and surprised that her ruse had not been entirely successfully.
'If it is any consolation Dale, I always thought that you could have moments of brilliant intuition during the investigation, just like this one right now in fact. I'm not lying when I say that I really did enjoy working with you; you were a good team member although prone to churlish behaviour it has to be said.'
Dale's jaw clenched tight and his cheeks became taut.
'Well Jolene, with all due respect to your attempt at flattery, I always thought that you were a complete bitch.'
She smiled lightly at the insult but her eyes never blinked.
'You're entitled to your opinion.'
Tilting her head slightly as she thought, Jolene continued in a matter of fact tone.
'Of course, capable as I know you can be, when I overheard the doctor telling you about the powder burns I guessed that you might put two and two together - and here we are.'
'You shot yourself at Krefeld to hide the fact that you were in league with Jackson and the team that came to help him, with the team that killed Oliver -'
'Yes, it was a pity about Oliver, I understand that our team did its best to simply disarm them both. Jackson didn't mean to fire at me but I had to pretend to be hit and, as I said, I shot myself when you ran after him. Powder burns. The doctor didn't think twice, but you are obviously much more astute. The calibre of the bullets in a Desert Eagle is completely different to the .38 that I shot myself with, but who was going to check? Well done. It takes you a little time to get there sometimes but you do have good instincts. It seemed like such a small detail at the time, but, none of that matters now does it?'
'No,' Dale whispered, understanding the double meaning of Jolene's last statement and suddenly feeling very tired as he tried to ignore the fatalistic shadow of expectation that was creeping over him.
Smiling benignly, Jolene's tone became sincere and almost empathetic.
'You know what I'm talking about don't you? You're trying to ignore it, hoping that you're wrong, but now that you're thinking about it, you'll know deep down inside that your pistol is feeling a little light.'
Dale did not shift the aim of his gun but a smirk slowly appeared at the corner of his mouth.
'You're right Jolene, I had noticed as soon as I drew, but as you know, I haven't really had the opportunity to do anything about it.'
There was no malice in Jolene's voice, she was almost reassuring in her manner.
'You know what it means though, don't you?'
'You emptied my magazine when I was getting checked over by the Doc just now. I'm pointing an empty gun at you.'
'Yes. I'm sorry.'
Jolene meant it.
'How will you explain it all?' Dale asked, surprised that he felt so conversational. He was not just trying to buy time, he really wanted to know, but he considered that she had been right when she had said that none of it mattered now.
'Well Dale, I admit, I am going to have to improvise but it shouldn't be too much of a chore, after all, those Sun of the Sleepless people get everywhere and you never know where they are going to pop up next, I mean, I'm living proof of that.'
'Just like Jackson I suppose? How long had he been a traitor?'
Jolene's expression became quizzical.
'A traitor? Jackson has never been a traitor as far as we are concerned; he has always been with the Sun of the Sleepless from practically the day he was born. His parents were killed in an automotive accident when he was very young and he was adopted into our Order using the guise of one of his grandparents. He has been on active duty since before I was even born and is one of our most respected Brothers in the Holy Order of Cherubim. Admittedly, I only became aware of his existence just after being assigned to this case, but everything has been engineered to allow me to take over the reigns after his retirement, after all, three decades is a long time to spend under cover.'
Dale shook his head with some mark of disdain.
'How are you going to get into his department? You don't exactly strike me as an academic type.'