Mason's POV
The stun batons crackled. The blue light reflected in the glass eyes of the dead animals.
Mason didn't move. His back was to the two guards. Senator Sterling stood in front of him, sipping his drink, waiting for him to beg.
Mason's mind was clear. Calm. This was just another room. Another mission. Two hostiles behind. One hostile in front. A wall of windows to the right.
He looked at the Senator. "You're right," Mason said, his voice quiet. "I understand sacrifice."
He saw a flicker of triumph in the Senator's eyes. He thought Mason was giving up.
Mason moved.
He didn't turn to face the guards. He dropped straight down, like a stone. The stun baton meant for his back sliced through empty air.
On the floor, Mason kicked out with both legs. His boots slammed into the shins of the guard closest to him. Bone cracked. The man screamed, stumbling forward.
Mason was already rolling. He rolled right under the massive head of the elephant trophy. The second guard lunged, jabbing his baton. It hit the wooden mounting plaque with a ZZZT of sparks.
Mason came up on the other side of the elephant. He grabbed one of the long, gleaming ivory tusks. It was solid, heavy. He yanked down with all his weight.
The entire elephant head, all two hundred pounds of it, tore free from the wall. It crashed down on top of the second guard. There was a sickening thud. The guard didn't get up.
The first guard, hobbling on a broken leg, raised his baton. Mason was already there. He caught the man's wrist, twisted, and drove the crackling baton into the guard's own chest.
ZZZZAP! The man convulsed and dropped.
It had taken seven seconds.
Senator Sterling stood frozen, his drink halfway to his lips, his eyes wide with shock. The polite mask was gone, replaced by raw fear.
Mason stepped over the unconscious guards. He walked toward the Senator. He didn't run. His footsteps echoed in the quiet room.
"Stay back!" the Senator yelled, his voice shrill. He fumbled inside his tuxedo jacket. He pulled out a small, silver pistol. His hands shook. "I'll shoot! I'll do it!"
Mason kept walking. He looked at the gun, then at the Senator's terrified face. "You won't," Mason said, his voice cold. "The sound would bring everyone running. And then they'd see you shoot an unarmed veteran in front of your daughter's picture. Even your friends couldn't cover that up."
The Senator's arm wavered. He was a man who gave orders, who covered up crimes in quiet rooms. He wasn't a killer in the light.
Mason was now an arm's length away. He reached out, slow and deliberate. He wrapped his fingers around the barrel of the pistol.
The Senator didn't resist. He let go, the gun clattering to the floor.
Mason looked past him, at Tessa's photo on the wall. He reached out and gently, carefully, lifted the framed picture from its hook. He held it against his chest.
He turned his eyes back to the Senator. "You're going to confess. Tonight. In front of everyone."
"You're insane," the Senator whispered. "No one will believe you. You have no proof."
"I have the video," Mason said. "The one Tessa took. Of you. On the ridge."
The Senator's face went gray. He hadn't known about the video. His knees buckled, and he caught himself on a display case. The reality of his defeat hit him like a truck.
The servants' door burst open.
Bear filled the doorway, his suit jacket straining over his shoulders. He took in the scene: the two downed guards, the wrecked elephant head, the Senator cowering, Mason holding the photo.
"Party's getting loud out there, Mace," Bear grunted. "Victor's panicking. He's telling everyone you're a thief, that you attacked him. He's calling the police."
"Good," Mason said. "Let them come." He looked at the Senator. "You're coming with me."
He grabbed the Senator's arm and pulled him toward the servants' door. The man stumbled, offering no resistance. He was broken.
They moved down a narrow, plain hallway the backstage of the mansion. The sounds of the confused, excited party were muffled here.
Doc and Jinx were waiting at a junction. Doc had a small tablet in his hand. "Local police are five minutes out. Staties are ten. Victor's private security is locking down the main exits."
"Front door?" Mason asked.
"Covered by four guys with a 'shoot-first' look in their eyes," Jinx said, her voice calm. "But they're expecting us to run. Not to walk back into the party."
Mason nodded. That was the plan. "Is it ready?"
Doc showed him the tablet screen. It was linked to the mansion's main security system, which Jinx had hacked an hour ago. On the screen was a feed of the main ballroom. On every wall were huge screens meant to show beautiful nature scenes for the "Conservation Gala."
"On your word," Doc said.
Mason looked at the Senator, who was shaking, his head down. "Look at me."
The Senator looked up, his eyes empty.
"You have one chance to do the right thing," Mason said. "One chance to be something other than a monster. Walk out there with me. Tell the truth."
"And if I don't?" the Senator mumbled.
"Then I show the video anyway," Mason said. "And you spend the rest of your life in prison as the man who helped murder his daughter. Your choice."
The Senator closed his eyes. A single, miserable tear traced through his makeup. He nodded.
"Good. Bear, Jinx flank us. Doc, get to the van. We'll need a fast exit."
They moved. Mason kept a firm grip on the Senator's arm, Tessa's photo tucked under his other arm. They pushed through a swinging door and were suddenly back in the noise and light of the main ballroom.
The party had soured. The elegant music had stopped. Guests huddled in nervous groups, whispering. Victor stood on a small stage near the quartet, his face purple with rage, talking frantically into a phone.
"…yes, armed and dangerous! He assaulted my guests! He's holding a United States Senator hostage!"
Then Victor saw them. His mouth hung open. He slowly lowered the phone.
Every head in the room turned. A hundred pairs of eyes locked onto Mason, the grim soldier, and Senator Sterling, the broken old man being led like a prisoner.
A path cleared through the crowd. No one dared to move.
Mason walked Senator Sterling right to the center of the room, beneath the giant chandelier. He stopped. The room was silent enough to hear the ice melting in abandoned glasses.
Victor found his voice. "Security! Seize that man! He's kidnapped the Senator!"
But the security guards at the doors hesitated. They saw the look on Mason's face. They saw the Senator wasn't fighting. They saw Bear and Jinx, two more serious-looking professionals, standing at the edges of the crowd, watching them.
Mason let go of the Senator's arm. He gave him a small push forward.
The Senator stumbled one step. He looked out at the sea of faces his colleagues, his donors, the press. He saw his legacy, his power, crumbling away.
He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
Victor jumped down from the stage, pushing people aside. "Conrad! Don't say a word! This is a trick! He's brainwashed you!" He pointed a furious finger at Mason. "This criminal has nothing! No proof of his crazy story!"
Mason looked past Victor, to Doc's hidden camera in the ceiling. He gave a single, sharp nod.
On every giant screen in the ballroom, the beautiful mountain vistas winked out.
And the video began to play.
Tessa's shaky footage filled the wall-sized screens. Her voice, strong and clear. "You can't bury this forever, Victor." The argument on the ridge. Victor's lunge. The struggle.
The room gasped as one.
Then the gunshot.
The final image froze on the screen: Senator Conrad Sterling's face, looking down at his fallen daughter with cold satisfaction.
A woman screamed. Glasses smashed on the floor.
Victor Sterling stared up at his own crime, magnified fifty feet tall, for all his friends to see. His whole body began to shake.
Senator Sterling finally found his voice. It was a broken whisper, picked up by the room's perfect acoustics. "It's true," he said. Then louder, a sob tearing from his throat. "IT'S TRUE! SHE WAS MY DAUGHTER AND I LET HIM KILL HER!"
Chaos erupted.
People shouted, cried, scrambled for the doors. Cameras flashed. Victor screamed at his guards, but they were backing away, wanting no part of this.
Through the chaos, Mason saw Victor make a decision. The billionaire's eyes, wild with panic, darted to a side exit a door marked Private to Terrace.
Victor turned and ran.
Mason moved to follow, but a wall of panicked guests blocked his way. He lost sight of Victor.
He pushed through, finally making it to the terrace door and bursting outside onto a wide, stone balcony overlooking the dark mountains.
The terrace was empty. The wind howled.
Then he heard it the quick, rhythmic thump-thump-thump of helicopter blades starting to spin.
He looked up. On the mansion's flat, helipad roof, a sleek, black helicopter's blades were beginning to turn, its navigation lights blinking red and green against the night.
Victor was escaping.
Mason saw a metal maintenance ladder bolted to the side of the mansion, leading up to the roof. It was thirty feet of sheer climb in freezing wind.
He slung Tessa's photo carefully inside his jacket, zipped it up, and jumped for the ladder.
His hands caught the cold rungs. He started to climb.
Below him, police sirens wailed as they finally arrived at the mansion. Above him, the helicopter engine roared to full power.
He reached the roof just as the helicopter's skids lifted off the concrete.
Victor was in the passenger seat, frantically buckling his seatbelt. He saw Mason and his eyes went wide with terror. He yelled at the pilot, pointing upward.
The helicopter rose straight up, ten feet, twenty feet, out of reach.
Mason stood alone on the windy roof. Victor was getting away.
Then a headset, dangling from the helicopter's open door, swung wildly in the rotor wash. The pilot's headset. The cord was plugged into the console inside.
A crazy idea hit him.
Mason pulled the pistol from his waist the Senator's small silver gun. He didn't aim at Victor. He didn't aim at the pilot.
He aimed at the thin, dangling cord of the headset.
He fired.
The bullet snapped the cord in two. The headset went dead.
In the cockpit, the pilot would have just lost all communication. He'd also lost the audio for his navigation system. In the dark, in the mountains, in a panic, he was blind and deaf.
The helicopter wobbled violently. It stopped climbing. It hovered, unsure.
Victor was screaming inside, pointing down toward the mountain road, not up into the dangerous dark sky.
The pilot, confused and cut off from his instruments, made a choice. He couldn't talk to air traffic control. He couldn't follow his planned route. He had to land.
The helicopter began to descend not back to the mansion roof, but toward the long, winding private road that led down the mountain.
Mason watched it go. He pulled Tessa's photo from his jacket. He looked at her smiling face, then at the fleeing helicopter.
"He's not getting away, Tess," he whispered to the wind.
He turned and ran back to the ladder. He had to get to the road. He had to reach the helicopter before Victor found another way to escape.
He slid down the ladder, his hands burning. He hit the ground running.
But as he rounded the corner of the mansion, sprinting for the driveway where Bear would have the van ready, a police car skidded to a halt right in front of him, lights flashing.
A sheriff's deputy jumped out, his gun drawn. It wasn't one of Victor's men. It was a young, scared-looking county deputy.
"FREEZE! HANDS IN THE AIR!" the deputy yelled, his voice cracking.
Mason stopped. He slowly raised his hands. He could see the van just past the police car. Bear was at the wheel, waiting.
"Officer, listen to me," Mason said, keeping his voice calm. "Victor Sterling is in a helicopter trying to escape down the mountain road. The man who killed my wife. You have to stop him."
The deputy's gun wavered. He'd seen the chaos inside. He'd heard the rumors. He was confused.
Behind the deputy, another figure stepped out of the shadows. It was Sheriff Grant. His face was bruised, but his jaw was set. He looked at the young deputy.
"Lower your weapon, son," Grant said, his voice firm. "He's telling the truth."
The deputy hesitated, then lowered his gun.
Mason didn't wait. He ran for the van, yanking the door open.
"Go!" he yelled at Bear. "Follow that helicopter!"
Bear slammed the van into gear. They peeled out, leaving the flashing police lights behind.
They sped down the dark, winding mountain road, chasing the blinking red lights of the helicopter that was now flying low, just above the treetops, searching for a place to land.
Mason's blood was up. The finish line was in sight.
But in the back of the van, Jinx was staring at a laptop, her face lit by the screen. "Mason," she said, her voice tense. "I'm monitoring police radio. They just found something. At the north ridge. Where Tessa died."
Mason turned from the windshield. "What?"
"Another body," Jinx said, her eyes meeting his in the dark. "Buried in a shallow grave near the crime scene. They just dug it up."
Mason's heart stopped. "Who?"
Jinx's voice was grim. "They don't have an ID yet. But the initial report… it's a man. Wearing a deputy's uniform."
The honest deputy. The one Professor Vance told him to find. The one who took the real crime scene photos.
Victor hadn't just tried to buy Mason's silence.
He had already killed to protect his secret. And Mason had just sent the police right to the proof.
Mason escaped the trophy room and exposed the Senator.
There was a discovery of the deputy's body, proving Victor will kill anyone in his way. The chase for the helicopter continues.