Chapter ONE<\/h4>\n

The Corsican wanted him dead.<\/p>\n

Of that James Flynn was certain.<\/p>\n

Somehow, the assassin had infiltrated Her Majesty\u2019s Secret Service as a security officer. Flynn didn\u2019t recognize him at first. The killer had put on a few pounds and likely had plastic surgery, but what he couldn\u2019t disguise were his eyes. His cold, dark, pitiless eyes. The eyes of a sociopath. The eyes of an executioner. <\/p>\n

The only question was when. <\/p>\n

When would the Corsican come for him?<\/p>\n

He told his colleagues what he suspected, but they refused to believe him. They claimed his name was Thomas Hernandez and that someone else on the security team had recommended him. They also said they fully vetted him. But Flynn wasn\u2019t fooled. He tangled with the Corsican before. The man was relentless. A cold-blooded enforcer who started with the Corsican mafia but went on to do contract hits for the Sicilians, the Albanians, the Serbians, and the Russians.<\/p>\n

Instead of waiting for the Corsican to come to him, Flynn decided to flush him out. Force his hand. Expose him for who he was and why he was there.<\/p>\n

Flynn dressed in black denim and a black turtleneck and waited until 2 a.m. to make his move. He kept to the shadows as he trod the deserted corridors. He had no weapon since lethal weapons of any kind were now forbidden at headquarters. A foolish rule put in place by sheltered bureaucrats who had no clue. Luckily, not even security could carry a firearm at headquarters. All the Corsican had was an expandable baton and a Taser. Even so, the man was lethal enough with just his hands and feet.<\/p>\n

But then, so was Flynn.<\/p>\n

Flynn heard footsteps ahead and ducked into a conference room. He waited and listened as the footsteps drew closer. As they passed the doorway, Flynn peered into the corridor to see the Corsican lumbering forward, quietly peering in room after room. Suddenly, he stopped. Flynn felt a jolt of adrenaline. The air was electric. The silence palpable. Could the Corsican feel Flynn\u2019s eyes on him? Flynn knew that scientists have identified a specialized group of neurons in the primate brain that fire specifically when a monkey is under the direct gaze of another. Humans also appear to be wired for that kind of gaze perception. Predators like Flynn and the Corsican can also be prey and have developed a sixth sense to alert them to danger.<\/p>\n

The Corsican turned and he and Flynn locked eyes for a moment. Before the hit man could take a step, Flynn took off down the hall in the opposite direction. He heard the footfalls of the Corsican as he chased after him. Flynn had his route all mapped out. Darting down one corridor. Then another. Running until he arrived at a door that led down to the basement and the guts of the building. Flynn had picked the lock after dinner, knowing that this was the night he would lure the Corsican to his end. He had a license to kill and could have used it anytime, but Flynn didn\u2019t exercise that power willy-nilly. Only as a last resort. He didn\u2019t want the Corsican dead. He needed to know who put the price on his head. Otherwise who ever hired the killer would continue to send hitters until finally one succeeded.<\/p>\n

The building that housed HMSS was huge and had a substantial infrastructure. The basement utility plant had mechanical, electrical, HVAC, and plumbing systems that fed water, air, and electricity all through the facility. Flynn moved from massive room to massive room, staying just ahead of the Corsican. He needed to lose him and lay in wait. Flynn was confident in his abilities, but to come at a killer like that head-on didn\u2019t make much sense. Why give your opponents any edge at all? <\/p>\n

Flynn ducked into a room that housed all the electrical panels, distribution boards, and circuit breakers. Conduit snaked everywhere and Flynn found a metal door secured with a heavy padlock. Using two straightened paper clips, he quickly picked the lock. The door led to an outside area protected by a chain-link fence topped with razor wire. The security fence surrounded three giant transformers and two massive backup generators the size of semi-trailers.<\/p>\n

Flynn stood next to the door and strained his ears to hear approaching footsteps over the electrical buzz of the transformers. Faint at first, they moved closer. Careful. Slow. Stealthy. He saw a shoe as someone came through and Flynn took them from behind, using jiu-jitsu to slam them into the ground.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhoa, whoa, whoa,\u201d said the man Flynn had face down in the gravel.<\/p>\n

\u201cSancho?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGet off me, man.\u201d<\/p>\n

Flynn released his comrade-in-arms and helped him to his feet. Bits of gravel still clung to his face. \u201cI thought you were the Corsican.\u201d Flynn\u2019s British accent had a touch of Scottish burr.<\/p>\n

\u201cHis name is Hernandez,\u201d Sancho said.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not his real name.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd I\u2019m telling you, he\u2019s not the Corsican.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t let him fool you, my friend. He\u2019s not who he says he is.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen why\u2019d he call me? He knows I know you. He knows we\u2019re friends. He asked me to find you. Talk to you. Calm you down.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPerhaps he wants to take care of you too.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTake care of me<\/i>?\u201d<\/p>\n

Flynn heard the Corsican call to them, his voice deep and resonant. \u201cYou okay in there, brother?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re good,\u201d Sancho said.<\/p>\n

The Corsican walked in with two other men. All three wore the blue security uniform issued to those who guard HMSS. The Corsican looked at Flynn with his dark, merciless eyes. \u201cYou okay, Mr. Flynn?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTell them who you are,\u201d Flynn demanded.<\/p>\n

\u201cThomas Hernandez.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho you really<\/i> are.\u201d<\/p>\n

The Corsican rolled his eyes and sighed. \u201cThat\u2019s who I really am.\u201d<\/p>\n

Flynn aimed an accusatory finger. \u201cI know<\/i> who you are. Born Stefanu Perrina in Porto, Corsica. Contract killer for the Unione Corse, the Cosa Nostra, and the Russian mafia. Wanted by Interpol for fifty-two confirmed kills.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI was born in Hacienda Heights.\u201d<\/p>\n

Flynn glanced at Sancho. \u201cThe man is a master of deception. It\u2019s kill or be killed with men like him.\u201d<\/p>\n

The Corsican drew his Taser and the other two guards followed suit.<\/p>\n

Sancho raised his hands. \u201cWhoa, come on now. Easy.\u201d He stepped in front of Flynn as the Corsican fired. The Taser darts caught Sancho in the shoulder and socked him with fifty thousand volts. He screamed in agony as his whole body seized up and shook. His legs gave out and he fell on his side, helpless and twitching. <\/p>\n

Flynn dove behind a generator before the other two guards could fire. Each guard stalked him from a different side. Flynn clambered up over the top and launched himself from above, tackling the Corsican. He wrenched away his reloaded Taser and shot one of the guards in the crotch. The man went down with a shriek as the other guard fired on him. Flynn fell to his knees and the darts parted his hair before hitting the Corsican in the chest. The killer crumpled as Flynn sprang to his feet and pulled the Corsican\u2019s expandable baton out of its holster. Flicking his wrist, Flynn fully extended the menacing club and turned to confront the last standing guard.<\/p>\n

Someone grabbed Flynn by the arm and Flynn elbowed him in the face. Sancho staggered back, holding his bloody nose. \u201cWhat the hell, man?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry, mate.\u201d<\/p>\n

Flynn heard a Taser fire and an instant later, two darts hit him in the side. Fifty thousand volts took him to his knees as another guard fired another Taser. Those two darts hit him in the stomach. Flynn lost control of every muscle in his body. And then he saw the Corsican looming over him with his own weapon. He shot the darts directly into Flynn\u2019s chest. Right over his heart. Now all three lit him up with electricity. One hundred and fifty thousand volts rocked Flynn as they shocked him with charge after charge until the world faded into a tiny aperture that slowly began to close. <\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Excerpt from Goldhammer<\/i> by Haris Orkin. Copyright 2022 by Haris Orkin. Reproduced with permission from Haris Orkin. All rights reserved.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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