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“John, put the gun down.” Kaiser stepped forward, but Jack grabbed his arm to keep him from getting between Benson and Rhett. “Hell, let go of me.”
“Absolutely do not let go of him, Jack.” Benson’s voice was cold steel. He could already feel himself separating from his body, his soul preparing to exit the arena. He was a single trigger-pull away from the end of the line. Sure, there’d be a host of formalities once he was arrested. Maybe a plea down from first-degree capital murder, death penalty taken off the table in consideration for his years of service or some nonsense like that. Or maybe they'd just send him to Gitmo. The details didn’t matter. What mattered was that half the Agency already considered Benson to be a wacko, unhinged, off the rails. This would only confirm what many already believed. And with both Rhett and Benson off the board, Kaiser had a damn good chance of hanging on to the job. The stain on Kaiser’s reputation would eventually wash off.
And Darkwater would survive.
That’s all that mattered anymore.
After all, Darkwater was Benson’s baby, wasn’t it?
“They’re on their way, you know. Ice and Indy.” Jack’s voice cut through the cold shroud falling over Benson’s consciousness. “They’ll be here any minute.”
Benson shook his head even as Jack’s words sent the tingle of a thought down his spine, a thought that pushed him to double-down on this move.
A move that Benson suddenly realized just might call forth the emotions that he thought had slipped out of reach.
“Won’t matter now,” Benson grunted, trying to be cold and convincing even though the excitement was starting to burn hot. “That play is dead. This is the only way now.” He glanced at Rhett, gestured towards the door with the gun. “Come on, Rhett. Downstairs. Now.”
Rhett didn’t move. He stood his ground, met Benson’s gaze, held his arms out wide, exposing his broad chest. “Do it here. In front of Kaiser and Jack. Make them cover for you. Bring them down with your double-crossing backstabbing ass.”
Benson shrugged coolly. “They won’t need to cover for me. I’ll be turning myself in. Everyone’s time comes sooner or later. This is my time. Yours too, Rhett. You had a good run. We both did. Now move it so we don’t get blood and brains all over Delilah’s clean bedspread.”
“John, listen to me, damn it!” Kaiser was shouting now as Jack held him away from the line of fire. “You aren’t thinking straight. Put the fucking gun down and let him walk away. It’s not worth it.”
Benson cast a sharp glance at Kaiser, gun still aimed squarely at Rhett. “Damn right it’s worth it. This is bigger than just us, Martin. You need to take this thing forward after I’m gone. Take Darkwater forward. See where it goes once Robinson and Delilah get to the White House.”
Kaiser stared, then shook his head and mouthed a silent expletive. “This is mind-numbingly insane even for you, John.”
Benson chuckled. “Nah, this is textbook CIA. How many times have we eliminated someone and set up a patsy to take the fall? Well, this time I’m the fall-guy in my own damn scheme. You’ve got to appreciate the irony, Martin. What about you, Rhett? You like the twist in our dark tale?”
Now real fear flickered in Rhett’s eyes.
Exactly what Benson wanted to see.
Exactly what Benson was gambling on.
That it wasn’t the darkness of death that Rhett really feared.
It was missing out on the solitary flicker of light in his life.
A candle he’d tried to extinguish but somehow still burned, casting a sliver of heavenly light in the darkness of Rhett’s shadow.
“Let me see her first,” Rhett suddenly blurted out. “Jack said she’s on her way. Let me see her first.”
Benson did his best to mask a smile. He glowered down the sights of his raised weapon, then huffed out an impatient breath, flicked a harsh gaze in Jack’s direction, then gestured towards the door.
“All right,” he said gruffly. “We’ll wait for them downstairs.”
Rhett nodded, walking slowly out the door. Benson followed, flashing a knowing look at Kaiser, whose taut face relaxed immediately with crushing relief.
“You two stay here,” Benson said, trying to maintain his cold composure even though his insides were sparkling and streaming like the skies on the Fourth of July.
And it had all been sparked by Benson’s genuine threat to kill Rhett in cold blood.
Benson saw it now, and it almost brought him to his knees when he realized how close he’d come to pulling that trigger.
But the irony was that hehadto come this close to really doing it,hadto convince himself that it was the only way,hadto be so far gone that he almost toppled over that razor’s edge between good and evil, right and wrong, morality and murder.
Because that was the only way to generate authentic emotion in himself.