The Retirement

“And Miss Monroe—is she here to help you maintain your restraint as well?” The lieutenant pointed to the reporter standing behind Kingston.

She answered for herself. “Lieutenant, I’m kind of their prisoner, because I know too many of the players in this little drama. For example, Mr. Kingston here is the son of the man who made all this possible. But don’t worry, he’s really one of the good guys. He’s here to get his mother out, nothing more. The whole alphabet soup of government agencies is here, and they want your team to make sure these Navy SEALs don’t get overzealous. Lieutenant, I don’t envy your job.”

The state policeman looked at Kingston, who just smiled weakly.

At this point, Smith added, “Our job, Lieutenant, is to land you and these other teams on the island and take off any hostages who’ve already been freed.”

“Freed? By whom? What about Sheriff James and Deputy Crogan? They wouldn’t let us go back to get them and—”

Kingston held up his hand, stopping the man. “They were freed about an hour ago, and Sheriff James is wounded. We have two doctors on the island, however, and he’s in good hands. Deputy Crogan will join you when you land. Some old friends are on the island and have made all this possible.”

“Old friends?”

“Commander Smith and I met most of them when we went through the Naval Academy together.”

“Then they’re military,” he deduced, clearly skeptical.

“Not anymore,” answered Smith.

The lieutenant raised his brows. “Mercenary then?”

Kingston shook his head. “Retired.”

“What the . . .”

“Oh, you have no idea, Lieutenant,” said Monroe, laughing. “These guys are the ones who bring a whole new meaning to the word nightmare. They’re ghosts come back to haunt these would-be hostage takers. Men long thought dead—or hoped to be, by their enemies—including Richard Kingston. I could tell you stories.”

“Most of which never took place,” said Smith, chastising Monroe with a look.