*~*~*~*~*
To sleep: perchance to dream: aye, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil…
--Shakespeare Hamlet, Act 3
*~*~*~*~*
1720 Zulu
Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary
Leavenworth, Kansas
Lieutenant Commander
William Johnson looked up at the ceiling of his cell and scowled. Twenty years in prison.Twenty years in a hellhole.And it was all that
damn lawyer's fault. He'd heard that the
man was now the Admiral in charge of the JAG corps and had been for a few years.He smiled, happy that he was finally being
released in the morning.He had nothing
on the outside now.His family wasn't
speaking to him since his incarceration.
He was an embarrassment to them now.His career was over--he might as well be dead.The only thought that kept him going was
revenge.
It wouldn't be hard--a single gunshot wound, properly placed, would end that meddling lawyer's life. But a gunshot wound wasn't good enough.He needed to see the SOB suffer, just as he had.Bill closed his eyes and let himself drift into his favorite daydream. The old West and a necktie party with Lieutenant Chegwidden as the guest of honor. The sound of the bars on his cell rattling jarred him out of his reverie. He smiled.Perhaps his fondest dream could come true, after all.
~*~*~*~*~
1445 Zulu
Admiral
Chegwidden's House
MacLean, Virginia
Admiral Chegwidden opened his door and walked into his house.It had been a long day, and he was tired. With Harm gone, everything at the office just seemed harder.Things weren't running quite as smoothly as they had when he was there. Added to the problem was Sturgis's new hard-nosed attitude. He sighed, and ran his hand over his scalp. He hoped that things would settle down soon. With the news report he'd seen of Harm yesterday, he knew that Harm's CIA career was effectively over, but he knew that Harm could find another career. The boy had an uncanny knack for landing on his feet.
He'd been right in turning in the resignation. The boy just had to learn that his actions had consequences, and that he couldn't just go off half-cocked when fancy struck him. Chegwidden dropped his briefcase, shrugged out of his coat, and hung it in the closet. He walked over to his favorite chair and sat down, relaxing into its comforting embrace. His fiancée was out of town at a conference, so he had the house to himself. He closed his eyes, rubbed his temples tiredly, and started to doze off.
~*~*~*~*~
1510 Zulu
Admiral
Chegwidden's House
MacLean, Virginia
Bill snuck up behind the napping man and placed a cloth over his mouth and nose.“That's it, Lieutenant,” he whispered. “Breathe deeply.” He smiled as his nemesis's breathing deepened. He stuck the cloth in his pocket, adjusted the gloves on his hands, walked around to the other side of the armchair, picked up the admiral, and slung him over his back. He had considered making it look like a suicide, but there were too many dangers of being caught in that. He had even typed out a suicide note on Chegwidden's computer and saved it before discarding the idea.
Bill propped the man up on a chair, tossed a noose over his enemy's head, and tightened it. He threw the loose end of the rope over a beam, tied it off with sailor's knots, and manhandled the admiral into a standing position. With a well-placed kick, he got rid of the chair and watched his nemesis's final moments. He laughed at the man's struggles and smiled in relief when Chegwidden finally stopped breathing. It was almost over.
Bill walked into the kitchen, blew out the pilot light on the oven, turned on the gas, and lit some candles. He left the house the way he'd entered--through an unlocked window. By the time the firemen arrived at the house, he was on a plane to Cuba. Revenge tasted sweet to him, and the man responsible for his dishonor was finally dead.
