Page 6 of Defender

Curtis Harper was a means to an end, nothing more.Omega Sector agent Ashton Fitzgerald wouldn’t survive the next week, but then again, neither would Harper.

They shook hands and Harper left.Damien turned and walked back into the building.

“Curtis Harper is not the type of person we’re looking for to further the revolution,” Red Tie said.“He’s filthy and sloppy.”

Damien shrugged.“Not everybody can be a general in the war.You need foot soldiers also.Expendablefoot soldiers.”

That seemed to appease the other man.

“Attacking one person isn’t going to bring Omega down.”Red Tie began his pacing again.“It’s not going to change the status quo within law enforcement.I’ve got no beef with Fitzgerald in particular.”

“No.”Damien held himself perfectly still in direct opposition to the other man’s pacing.“But attacking one person will split Omega’s focus.Then the next hit will split their focus more.And the one after that, et cetera, et cetera.”

Red Tie stopped his pacing.“But eventually we have to hit them hard.Not little hits.One giant strike with great force.I’ve already got something in the beginning stages.”

Damien smiled, showing just the right amount of teeth to make it look authentic.“To begin the revolution.”

“Exactly.”

“Be patient.We’ll make our most deadly strike once everything is in place.Until then, we just continue to wound them—both people inside Omega and those connected to them—without them realizing how much they’re bleeding out.Omega will limp along until it’s time for you to make your move.Bring the whole organization down for good.”

A huge grin spread over Red Tie’s face.“They’ve always underestimated me.They’ll never see it coming.”

So Red Tie wasn’t truly about the revolution after all.He’d been slighted and wanted personal revenge.Of course, he probably couldn’t see that in himself, had convinced himself of his visionary status.

Damien didn’t care either way.He would use whatever tools became available to him in his fight to take apart Omega Sector.Whether they thought of themselves as visionaries or just wanted payback, Damien didn’t care.

He would use them all.And when they were no longer useful to him, he would discard them all.

“Are you going to tell me your name?”Damien finally asked the man.

He tilted his head in suspicion.“I don’t think so.I’m not sure I can trust you.”

The first intelligent thing that had been said all day.

“Shall I just address you as ‘hey you’?”Damien crossed his arms over his chest.He didn’t really need the man’s name.Honestly, at this point he didn’t care.

“You can call me Fawkes.”

Damien gave a short bark of laughter.“As in, Guy Fawkes, the man who tried to blow up the British Parliament?Okay, Mr.Fawkes, let me know when you want to meet again.”Damien turned to leave.

“Wait, that’s it?What about planning the attack?The big one.”

Damien turned back around.“It’s not time yet.If we strike now, we’ll fail.We weaken Omega Sector one little piece at a time.And when they’re hollowed out?That’s when we strike.”

Damien was nothing if not a master planner.He’d always excelled at chess because he played four moves ahead of where the pieces currently sat on the table.

Fawkes didn’t looked pleased.“Maybe you’re afraid.Maybe I’ve come to the wrong person.”

Damien didn’t rise to the bait.Wasn’t even tempted.He walked closer to Fawkes and touched his tie, waiting to see if the action would spur Fawkes to violence.Fawkes tensed but didn’t do anything.

Good.More self-control than Damien had given him credit for.Fawkes would need it in the weeks ahead.

“You’ll have your revolution when the time is right, Mr.Fawkes.Be patient.Continue gathering your intel, both on those inside the organization and those connected to it.Finding vulnerable spots we can stab quickly, retreating before they know they’re wounded.Never knowing the largest wound is yet to come.”

The younger man still didn’t like it.But he nodded.Damien smiled and slapped him on his shoulder.“Good.Then, until we meet again, Mr.Fawkes.”

He turned to leave but then stopped at Fawkes’ final words.

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