I follow Chuck Wendig’s blog- Terribleminds.com -because its an awesome place for writers and really anybody that likes fiction. Occasionally he throws out writing challenges and ‘hey, post what you’re working on’ kinds of things. That’s what this is. So, here is the most recent chapter from Unveiled: Paragons Book Three:

Charlie Palmer Steak

Washington, D.C.

March 12

1:27 P.M.

Senator Phillip Braxton took the last bite of his Scottish Salmon and took a moment to enjoy the faint tang of citrus that accompanied the fish’s smooth texture. He closed his eyes, doing his best to enjoy every moment and flavor, but was interrupted by his lunch companion’s south Texas twang.

“Senator, due respect and all, but I can’t for the life of me figure why a man would come to one of the best steak houses in the country and order fish.”

Braxton let his eyes open slowly as he swallowed and regarded the man sitting across from him. Executive Special Agent Hiro Namura was a contrast in sound and appearance. His voice was deep, with an accent that would have been called cliche’ if it had showed up on television. It brought to mind barreled chested men from the era of John Wayne and James Arness, but physically the man was more Bruce Lee than Gary Cooper.

The Senator from Missouri flicked a glance down at the enormous, half eaten steak on Namura’s plate and then back to the operative from the Department of Genetic Research and Investigation. He could never decide if he liked the man or not, but he was useful more often than he wasn’t. Tolerating that irritating accent long enough to treat the man to a high profile lunch always kept him that way. “Hiro,” Braxton said, “I lunch here two or three times a week. I’ve had every steak on the menu and a few that weren’t. I like to stretch my palette when I can.”

Namura nodded. “Well, I reckon I understand that. You and your palette can keep on stretching, that just leaves more cow for me.”

They were seated at an isolated table in the restaurant’s Landscape Room- named for the large landscape painting that dominated the back wall – and Braxton looked past Namura at the painting and the dwindling number of fellow diners while the agent devoured his steak like he was afraid it was going to get up and run away. He smiled and nodded at a pair of fellow senators as they left the room and then looked back to Namura. The steak was nearly gone, but Braxton decided he was tired of waiting.

“So what did you have for me?” he asked.

Namura finished chewing, washed the bite down with a long pull of iced tea, and then said, “Sentry says they’re willing to give us a hand with the Wainwright problem, but they want something in return.”

“Such as?”

“Trent wants a sit down with Jordan Screed.”

Senator Braxton picked up his own glass of iced tea and sipped at it thoughtfully. He wished it was two or three fingers of Johnnie Walker, but pushed the notion aside. He never drank when he was working. After a moment he said, “You think they mean it or are they just playing us?”

Namura shrugged. “I think they’d help us find him but that would be it. I can’t see Trent or any of the rest of them being of a mind to put him down.”

“Is that your plan for Wainwright? To put him down?”

Namura shrugged. “He’s was a Marine. Scout Sniper. He’s got the right kind of resume for recruitment and Lord knows I’d love to have somebody with that kind of power on the payroll.”

“But?”

“But I read his jacket. He was an exceptional Marine. Wasn’t even old enough to drink legally when he put boot to sand in Operation Iraqi Freedom in ‘03. Did three tours over the next ten years. Thing is, he had some experiences during that last rotation that soured him on the whole ‘follow orders and don’t ask questions’ mind set. Reads to me like he developed some real trust issues with the command structure. Double that down with the note he left on the Jasper Island Sheriff’s body and I don’t think he’s going to be too receptive to job offers.”

Braxton nodded. He’d seen pictures of the note Namura was talking about. It was a simple page from a police officer’s notepad with three words scrawled on it; No More Secrets. Since then, Justin Wainwright had shown up on social media more than once fully manifesting his Seraphim abilities. It was all the DGRI could do to keep the story out of the mainstream and in the realm of urban legend. He had yet to show himself in a venue that couldn’t be contained by strolling onto the set of Good Morning America or the Today show- which would seem to be the most logical choice if he really wanted to reveal himself to the world -and Senator Braxton sometimes lost sleep trying to figure out why.

“You really need Sentry’s help bringing him in?” he asked Namura.

Namura’s expression soured. “Yeah, dammit to hell, I do. We’ve lost three drones trying to track the bastard and the one time we got close enough to engage with him, some rookie jumped the gun and fired on him before we could even open a dialog. He put a half a dozen professional ass-kickers in the hospital and then just flew away. He never stays in the air long enough to capture him on satellite and once he’s on the ground he disappears like the sniper he is. He’s smart, skilled, and we can’t touch or track him. I’m of a mind that Simms and Trent might change that.”

Braxton nodded as Namura voiced what he had been thinking. “There’s a lot of logistics to getting Screed into an interrogation room.”

Namura half smiled. “Yeah, there are. You actually thinking about letting that happen?”

“Maybe. I don’t want them in the Facility, if that’s what you mean. It would have to be off site from the prison. Wait; is it just Trent or do they want Simms in the room too?”

“She wasn’t mentioned, but they’re pretty much a matched set. I figure since Trent trusts us about as far as I can sling a Longhorn he wants her there for backup and a quick getaway if we decide to get tricky.”

“And who’s fault is that, Hiro? You’ve been gunning for him since day one.”

Namura dropped his fork onto the plate with a clatter. He fixed the Senator with a hard gaze and said, “That hombre is a straight up threat, Senator, whether he means to be or not. Jasper Island proved that, I just can’t see why no one else gets it.”

“Sentry stopped what was happening, and Trent wasn’t responsible, Carmine Screed was. I saw the photos, I know-”

“You weren’t there, Senator. You didn’t clean it up. You didn’t smell it or have to scrape it off your boots. You’re right in saying that Screed caused it, but he did it with just a tiny bit of Trent’s DNA. Just a few drops of half corrupted genetic material. Now, if we lost nearly two and half thousand citizens in a weekend from a small sample of Trent’s blood or whatever, what do you think will happen if he loses it and goes loco in the middle of a major population center? Forget Islamic extremists and home grown terrorists. Hell, forget China; the biggest threat to this nation’s well being is Israel Trent and he’s walking around just as free as you please.”

Braxton watched as the frustration slowly vented from the man’s face. They sat like that for a moment, studying one another, before he said, “You know as well as I do that Warburton is the reason he’s protected and, like it or not, he and Sentry have saved a lot of lives since he came on the scene.”

“And if he was any other kind of Paragon, I wouldn’t have the least bit of a problem leaving him alone to keep doing what he’s been doing- hell, I’d be trying to poach him from Sentry -but the fact is that he’s a Necrophage. He is the walking, talking patient zero of the God damned undead apocalypse and he’s not so much as tagged for tracking.”

Braxton nodded. “I’m not saying you don’t have a point. I’m just saying that he’s got a big shield against us so long as he stays with Sentry. Warburton’s word carries a lot of weight in this city, especially with those of us in the know about the Veil.”

“Since when does that have anything to do with national security?”

Braxton fought back the urge to roll his eyes. “Stop it, Hiro, we both know you’re not that naive. Money and influence are the lifeblood and the nervous system of this government and you damn well know it. Warburton has more than her fair share of both. She’s got skin in this game older than both of us and on both sides of the Veil to boot. If we decide to tangle with her, we’d better be ready to risk it all.”

“Then I guess we ain’t tangling with her. We just don’t have the guns for that fight.”

Braxton said nothing. He let his eyes meet Namura’s for moment before the hint of a smile touched the corner of his lips.

Namura saw it and said, “Or do we? You holding out on me, Senator?”

Braxton let the smile widen a bit. “Always.”

“Do tell.”

“I’ve got an asset in place with the Sentry group-”

“Wait,” Namura said, “you have an asset in place? Since when do sitting senators run undercover operations?”

“Since your boy Brindley outed every one of your moles within The Sentry Group trying to bring in Trent back when all this started. You think Sentry isn’t vetting and triple vetting anybody that comes through the door now? Besides, it’s hardly an ‘operation’. I just have a trusted ally who brings things to my attention if they seem important. One such thing crossed my desk this morning. I still have an expert looking it over, but I think it might be the gun we need.”

Namura took a moment and processed the information in silence. Braxton waited him out.

“All right,” Namura said, leaning forward, “let’s say you’ve got something. What’s the play?”

“First, I think we need to go back to Sentry with a counteroffer,” Braxton said and then laid out his plan.

By the time he was done, Agent Namura was grinning.

Intrigued? You can check out the first two books here:  Amazon