The Secret Service agents had whisked him to a helicopter with no markings at the helipad behind the White House. The chopper was waiting for them, blades turning. The smirker had shoved Brennan, still cuffed, out the door, causing him to fall facedown on the concrete. Two contractors, black balaclavas covering their faces, picked him up and tossed him in the back of the chopper. It lifted off immediately. That was his first hint he was in more serious trouble than Debbie knowing about the blowjob he’d gotten from Mary McCarthy in the chem lab. He started to beg and they gagged him and put a black hood over his head. They were speaking to each other in some language he could only guess at but remembered from the interrogation room. They were on the radio and seemed concerned about something they were hearing. After a flight of indeterminate length, but not overly long, during which Brennan’s mind kept replaying over and over all the many mistakes he’d made and people he’d harmed, the helicopter landed.
