Five months later:
On the island of Oahu Island in Hawaii, an SUV blasted along a narrow gravel driveway on its way to a palatial oceanfront estate. As the vehicle drew near the massive iron gates, they had the initials R.W. on them. It was abbreviated for Robin Rosewood, best-time author, ex-CIA, and estate owner. The gates opened for the vehicle, and the driver drove through as the gates closed behind it.
The SUV pulls up to the impressive home, and climbing out the back is one of CIA'S biggest contractors, Annie Walker McQuaid: older from the last time she accepted Joan's offer joining her Task force, but still ambitious and beautiful but no longer an CIA agent. Walker no longer works in the field due to heart condition, increasing her ability to handle her duties. After making a tough decision on her career she retires from the CIA and starts her own outfit. Annie is now head over her husband's security firm Subsidiaries. Cerberus security.
Walker is greeted by a short lady who is the curator of the estate. She escorts her onto the sun-dappled estate where you can see the magnificent ocean. She leaves her alone as she waits to lead him to the guest house.
Walker looks at the framed photographs of Rosewood's family, primarily relatives. Others were of friends and colleagues, and none of the pictures indicated he had a wife or kids. She notices an archery target with arrows stuck in it. Walker reaches out, and that's when she hears a voice behind her.
"It's not polite to go through people's things," Walker turns to see Hammer, with several months of beard and grey temples. He's tired, beaten down, and at wit's end. He stared unblinkingly at Walker. "CIA must be desperate to send your skinny ass."
Annie, smirks. "I didn't mean to intrude. And unfortunately, I come on my own accord… I heard about Wilson… I'm sorry."
"Wasn't just Wilson. Innocent people too. Not to mention his son is fatherless. And for what? Because a couple of congressmen changed their minds?"
"I understand your anger, your grief. You have every right to feel the way you do. But you can't just ignore them."
"I told them I was out. That's not ignoring them."
Walker nodded. "I get it. I really do. When the agency first learned of my heart condition they reassigned me to a desk. I was furious. There was so much more I felt like I could do."
"So that leads to the next question," asked Hammer. "Why are you here, Mrs. Walker?"
"I'm here to offer you a job, Mr. Hammer. Retribution, a golden ticket per se."
"I'm not sure I follow."
"I think we could help each other. You see, I don't think you need a psychiatrist. Or a support group. Or pills."
"Yea? What do I need?"
"You need a purpose. More specifically, you need a job."
Hammer considers this and looks away.
"I told them I was done with the CIA," said Hammer.
"That's where you're wrong Mathus. I'm no longer with the CIA. These days I'm under my own umbrella. A Subsidiaries private security firm from my husband's company."
"Dealing with trust funds and high profile celebrates," Hammer laughs. "No thanks, I'll pass."
"It's more than just that. What I've established and what we do is on so many levels. My security firm works as the Department of external services or prestige intelligence. We are tasked with defending the U.S. national interest at home and abroad. We work in the grey, taking on sensitive cases other agencies pass on. We masquerade working in the private sector working as a private security firm. Protecting people of important regardless of if they are spoiled or not. Everyone is relevant."
Hammer didn't respond to that. He said, "I think McQuaid has given you more money than you know what to do with. With."
"I assure you Ryan's agenda is not based on ego. Neither is mine. No, I can provide unlimited resources, working with highly field agents I recruited from every U.S. armed force branch. As well as the intelligence agencies and operatives. Most important, no red tape. The people who have the research are still out there. And the ramifications of it being out there in the world is cathartic," Walker reaches into her pocket and hands Hammer an envelope. "Mr. Wilson was of my recruits. He was waiting for the right moment to tell you. If I had to guess, I would say he would inform you of his decision after the mission in Turkey."
Hammer opens the envelope and takes a minute to absorb the news. "What is this?"
"His letter of acceptance to work with my firm. It's not fabricated or a manipulation tactic to pursue you. Mr. Wilson wanted a change and saw the work and the good we did. I'm sure he would have wanted you to use your skills to save lives instead of them wilting away doing security for this lovely estate. No, Mr. Wilson would want you back in the fight," Walker reached into her pocket and handed Hammer a card. "If you change your mind, Mr. Hammer, I'll be at Hickam Air Force base."
Annie leaves Hammer alone to stew in his thoughts. His skepticism then starts to feel guilty if there was one thing about Justice, the guy elevated everything to a T. If he considered working for Annie Walker, it was a damn good reason. Hammer owed it to his late friend to at least try and find the one responsible for his death and finish their last assignment.
An hour later, traffic is thin on Kamehameha highway, and on the horizon, the sky and ocean meet, a stunning never-ending expanse of azure. It's Hawaii. Every scenario is a postcard picture.
Hammer cruises to the North Shore in a Sebring Orange Metallic Chevy Corvette C7 and arrives at a private airstrip. He pulled up to the front of the hangar, where he saw a private jet.
He climbs out with a clean shave, freshly tailored clothes, haircut and is greeted by Annie.
"Mr. Hammer, I see you changed your mind."
"Justice always saw the good in people and their causes…I admit your work is admirable if your reputation has proceeded you. I owe it to Justice to see this through. Let's see what you got."
Walker nodded. "Very well then. I will explain more on the way."
"Where to?"
"Albuquerque, New Mexico. Time is of the essence."
Hammer places his aviator shades on and follows Miles to his private jet.