Page 95 of PSYCHOlogical

Chapter Forty-One

Vincent Allen Briggs

It wasn’t over, but we were close enough that I could see the finish line. A decent night of sleep at a hotel in Washington, D.C did wonders for both of us. I took one last look at myself in the mirror. My reflection winked at me.

I winked back.

“You look nice,” Val said as I walked into the bedroom.

I grinned in appreciation. “Thank you.”

She sat up in bed, bringing the bedsheet with her. “Do you really think I’m going to be safe here?”

“I’m sure of it.” I grabbed my jacket off the back of the chair. “All the threats are dead.”

“All the threats except for whoever this Intelligence Branch FBI agent is.”

“I don’t think there’s an FBI intelligence agent that we need to be worried about,” I said. “That’s nothing more than paranoid people expressing their fears. It’s over. I’m sure of it.”

“You don’t think I need to go with you?” She brushed her hair away from her face, only to have it fall back into place. Frustrated, she twisted it into a bun. “Wouldn’t it be more believable if I was?”

“This meeting isn’t about convincing them of what happened. It’s a negotiation for our freedom. Securing our future. Our release from their grasp.”

Her eyes expressed concern. Not fear, or anxiety. It was simply a hint of concern. “And, you think you can do that?”

I leaned over the bed and gave her a kiss. “I do.”

She wiped her lip with the tip of her index finger. The slight creases in the corners of her eyes revealed themselves, which was common when she was happy. I hoped they’d be more prevalent in the future.

“Call me as soon as you’re done?” she asked.

I turned toward the door. “I sure will.”

“Good luck, Briggs.”

I glanced over my shoulder and grinned. “Vincent.”

“Good luck, Vincent.”

* * *

The Uniformed Division officer handed me my ID. “Please maintain the posted speed, Mister Briggs.”

I gave a sharp nod. “Will do.”

He nodded in return. “Have a good day.”

“You do the same.”

I drove up the long drive feeling prideful and guilty at the same time. The events—and my actions—of the past three years were necessary steps in making certain the 301,000,000 residents of the United States were able to live their lives without constant fear of a terroristic act being committed on American soil.

Few would understand my actions, and even fewer would embrace my system of beliefs. They would, however, sleep soundly at night while denying that people like me were a necessary evil that was required in exchange for the blanket of freedom that they slept so safely beneath.

I parked the truck and walked to the side entrance.

The two guards positioned at either side of the door stood statue-still with their eyes fixed dead ahead. I draped the identification lanyard around my neck and proceeded up the concrete walk.

Upon reaching the guards, they both snapped to attention.