Corps Justice Boxed Set: Books 1-3: Back to War, Council of Patriots, Prime Asset - Military Thrillers

by C. G. Cooper

  REDNECK #1: …three…two…

  Dunn kept his eye on the man’s trigger finger and, just as the man started to say ONE, he started to pull back the trigger, fully intending to shoot the dazed soldier in the head. Dunn reacted on instinct and double-tapped the huge man in the face. Instead of waiting to see the result, he turned slightly left and double-tapped the other two armed men center-mass. Within a split second, the place was pandemonium again. The black soldier was covered in the now dead leader’s blood and gazed up blankly at Dunn. The other two men whom he’d just shot were now writhing on the ground, surrounded by security and being stripped of their weapons. The only redneck without a gun quickly dropped his knife in horror and threw up his hands.

  The aftermath of the incident confounded and confused Dunn. Instead of being hailed a hero, Dunn was treated like a criminal. With two men dead and another two in the hospital, the local authorities had no choice but to fully investigate the situation.

  Despite eyewitness accounts of all the club employees, the authorities could not prove that Dunn was justified in killing the man. He still remembered asking the police about it in the following days.

  TODD: Would it have been better if I’d let the guy shoot a man in the head BEFORE I shot him?

  The system was suddenly against him and the interrogator said as much. The police officer told Dunn that if that had been the case, they wouldn’t be having this conversation.

  DETECTIVE: Look, kid, we don’t make up the rules, but the law is pretty clear. If this thing goes to court, they can paint you into a cold-blooded killer. I already heard that the leader of those redneck boys came from some rich family. They’re pretty connected around here and are already raising holy hell to get you the chair.

  TODD: But these guys were gonna kill. I could see it in their eyes!

  DETECTIVE: I hear what you’re saying, kid, but I don’t make the laws.

  That same police station was where Todd Dunn first met the CEO of SSI. Travis was in Ft. Bragg visiting some contacts and got a whiff of the incident through friends in the Ranger battalion. After making a few inquiries, Travis decided to intervene. He made the visit under the guise of an attorney to gauge Dunn’s personality. He walked out of the station knowing he’d just found a diamond in the rough.

  Days later, Dunn found himself in a private jet being swept up to some campus in Charlottesville, VA. Apparently this company, SSI, had pulled a few strings and he’d been honorably discharged AND all charges had been dropped. As he stepped off the plane in Charlottesville, he was met by Travis, now in his casual SSI clothing: outdoor gear and hiking boots.

  Travis had apologized for the ruse in the police station and went on to explain what SSI was and to find out whether Dunn might be looking for a new job. After coming to the realization that his career in the Army was over, Dunn was quietly overjoyed at the opportunity.

  One last piece finalized the deal and Dunn’s undying loyalty to SSI and Travis Haden. Not only did SSI welcome Dunn into their family, Travis also made sure that Dunn’s father’s hospital bills were paid off completely and that he received follow-up care from the top cancer specialists in the world. Eight years later, Dunn’s father was still in remission.

  + + +

  Needless to say, Todd Dunn was a fierce defender of SSI’s family and a perfect fit as its head of security. He was known throughout SSI as a stickler for security procedure, but a thoroughly approachable friend.

  CAL: So where do we stand?

  TRAVIS: No blowback from the authorities. No one even knew you were there.

  CAL: How about that reporter? Did you get him off my ass?

  TRAVIS: We’re still working on that. In fact, it was The Hammer that came up with a rabbit trail for him. It’s a good one.

  Haines glared at Travis for using her nickname. She was a modest woman despite her fiery spirit and having a nickname like The Hammer didn’t help her sense of propriety. Luckily, she and Travis were good friends (and rumored at times to be lovers) and the comments usually rolled off her back.

  HAINES: Let’s just say I threw the guy a bone through an anonymous source and he might be pursuing another more lucrative news story.

  CAL: I’m not following you, Marge.

  HAINES: It’s another operation we’re running. Let’s just say it won’t hurt our cause to have a reporter snooping around. It might actually help us flush a couple of bad guys out.

  CAL: So you’re not gonna tell me?

  HAINES (grinning): Not yet. You haven’t been officially sworn in or given us your blood brother handshake.

  Cal shook his head. He always felt one step behind dealing with The Hammer.

  TRAVIS: All right, allright. Let’s leave Little Cal alone. Todd, any inkling about where this West guy ran off to?

  TODD: Nope. Once the cops lost him, he did a pretty good job digging another hole to hide in. I’m thinking he’s probably got safe houses all over town.

  TRAVIS: So you’re saying we’ve got nothing.

  TODD: Sorry, boss.

  TRAVIS: OK. So what’s our next move? Any ideas, Cal?

  Cal thought it over for a moment. He didn’t really have anything concrete. Maybe thinking out loud would help.

  CAL: This last lead was all because of Top Trent. I guess we could send him out again and get him digging. Do we have any other guys that fit into that part of town?

  TRAVIS: We do, but from what you’re telling me about this guy, I don’t think he’ll make the same mistake twice. What do you think, Todd?

  TODD: I agree. I’ll bet he made some quick calls to his network and told them to be on the lookout and armor up. I think if we send Willy and some more men up there they might be easy targets.

  HAINES: What about your link to his cell phone, Neil?

  NEIL: Looks like he dumped it. He knew that’s how we got a lock on him. That’s a dead end now.

  Just then the door opened and Dr. Higgins waddled into the room.

  DR. HIGGINS (in a subtle British accent): Sorry I’m late, everyone. I wanted to make sure the file was ready to scan. Oh hello there, Calvin.

  CAL: Hey, Doc! What file are you talking about?

  DR. HIGGINS: Ever since your attack, our fearless leader over there (pointing with a pudgy finger at Travis) has had me building a dossier on Mr. Dante West. Neil, can you pull up the file on this computer?

  NEIL: No problem.

  Neil walked over to the 52 inch touch screen panel on the office wall and started tapping and scrolling.

  NEIL (over his shoulder): Is it in the usual place?

  DR. HIGGINS: It is. So what Neil is about to pull up is not only all the police records we could find, but also my analysis of the man’s mental abilities and motivations along with some video surveillance Neil uncovered.

  CAL: Video surveillance?

  DR. HIGGINS: Yes. Our resident wonder boy Neil was able to hack into some kind of database down in New Orleans and we found a thoroughly entertaining video of Mr. West robbing a local bank.

  TRAVIS (impatiently): What are we supposed to get from that?

  DR. HIGGINS: I don’t know what you’ll get from it, but I was able to determine a lot about our adversary. I won’t spoil it for you.

  Travis rolled his eyes and looked back to the screen. Neil pulled up the main file. The first image showed a worn file folder with an old photo of West. He looked to be in his teens.

  DR. HIGGINS: This, ladies and gentleman, was Mr. West at age fourteen. It was his first formal arrest. From what we could gather, he was implicated in numerous other crimes since the age of ten but had never been caught or arrested. This tells me that Dante West is no fool. Even at a young age, the man was smart and cunning. Apparently the only reason he was arrested in this instance was because one of his accomplices identified West as being the ring leader. As you’ll see on the next page, the boy that snitched was later found brutally beaten in the juvenile detention facility. The informer ended up being paralyzed from the neck do
wn as a result. It was assumed, naturally, that West was the culprit. Once again, the assault charge wouldn’t stick to West. We can only assume that the incident taught the assaulted boy a lesson.

  TRAVIS: Great story, Doc, but what does this have to do with finding the guy?

  DR. HIGGINS: Patience, my dear boy. As I was saying, West seems to have a knack for staying under the radar. I looked back through his grade school records and found that in his early years he excelled in academic studies. One report even suggested he had an extremely high IQ, although his school did not have the means to test for it at the time.

  HAINES (intrigued): So what changed?

  DR. HIGGINS: His father was killed when Dante was nine. It looks like his mother turned to drugs and prostitution shortly after. The state soon took Dante out of the home and placed him in a foster facility. It was apparently in that facility that he had his first taste of gang life. The reports from the foster home staff read like a novel. Good kid gone bad. They all talk about how smart he was; a natural leader. He used his authority with the kids to set up his own little gang. They started by stealing food from the kitchen at night and soon escalated to armed robbery. At the age of eleven, he ran away from the facility and never came back.

  From the age of twelve on, he was often brought in for questioning but, believe it or not, they could never charge him with anything. All the police reports detail the fact that he was always respectful, unlike so many of the other young toughs they’d interview. I got a laugh from one entry made by a detective who’d had the opportunity to interrogate West on more than one occasion. This detective actually recommended that the department stop bringing West in for questioning because the young man was, and I quote, ‘A squared away young man with communication skills far beyond the usual perps.’ This officer actually submitted the recommendation to the D.A. The whole time they had no idea who they were dealing with.

  CAL (almost accusingly): Sounds like you’re starting to admire the guy, Doc.

  DR. HIGGINS (nodding): Professionally, I do admire him. He is probably a borderline genius with the skill and cunning to elude the authorities. Over the years, I’ve only found top adversaries have such characteristics. Anywho, back to the story. He moved up through the ranks in New Orleans and, by his mid-twenties was a top Lieutenant. When Hurricane Katrina hit in 2005, all the local gangs scrambled to claim territory. West’s gang came out on top with no small help from West himself. It was never substantiated, but I found two gang task force reports that alluded to West’s part in the land grab. Then, all of a sudden, West was gone. Vanished. Through inside sources, the task force pieced together that, as a result of his success in the post-Katrina operation, West was given a promotion. He was tapped to expand the gang’s influence to Nashville with the backing of his old gang. Think of it as franchising for gangs. For the last couple years he’s been growing a lucrative trade here in Nashville.

  HAINES: What do you mean by lucrative trade?

  DR. HIGGINS: It appears that West set up more of a business than other typical gangs. He essentially uses the gang to protect his assets: drugs, prostitutes, protection, et cetera. In another life, Dante West might well have been a very successful businessman.

  CAL (getting angry): Well that’s not how he ended up, Doc, so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t talk about him with such reverence.

  TRAVIS (calmingly): He didn’t mean anything by it, Cal. You know how Doc is. He looks at all these targets like an author treats a new novel.

  CAL (apologetically): I’m sorry, Dr. Higgins. I didn’t mean any disrespect.

  DR. HIGGINS: It’s okay, Calvin. We’ll do our best to make sure we find Mr. West.

  After the visible tension left the room, Higgins continued.

  DR. HIGGINS: So now the question is ‘What will Dante West do next?’

  CAL: Any ideas, Doc?

  DR. HIGGINS: West is a very capable leader and strategist. Looking back on his record, he’s never made the same mistake twice. I think he’s trying to figure out how to stay out of the hands of the local authorities while at the same time trying to hold his organization together. It’s my professional opinion that Dante West is trapped and needs to do something audacious to break out or just sit back and wait. The problem with waiting is that he’ll risk losing his associates and possibly lose a lot of his street business. No, I think he’ll try to make a move.

  TRAVIS: What kind of a move will he make?

  DR. HIGGINS: Something that will solve his problems, get the police off his track, and get his business back. Maybe an assault on a rival gang? I just can’t say for certain. What I can say is that Mr. West is not one to sit back and wait. He is a man of action. He is a man who’s built his own destiny. He will not wait to see what happens. I think we need to monitor the police scanners and look into any turf wars or gang violence we might hear about.

  CAL: So more waiting around.

  DR. HIGGINS: Yes, more waiting. I suggest you all read his dossier and digest what you can. I am good at what I do, but you may find something I didn’t. It’s all I can think to do for now.

  Cal nodded and moved to shake Dr. Higgins’s hand.

  CAL: Thanks for your help, Doc. I appreciate your insight.

  DR. HIGGINS: Not at all, Calvin. I’ll continue my analysis and let you all know if I find anything new.

  With that, Higgins waved farewell and left the room. Cal and the others had no doubt that SSI’s resident mind specialist would spend many sleepless nights analyzing and reanalyzing West’s file. Once on the trail, Dr. Higgins was a true bloodhound. He wouldn’t stop until his quarry was found.

  Cal turned back to the others.

  CAL: Any other thoughts?

  TODD: I’ll do some digging too. Maybe my contacts within the police department and FBI can help. Couldn’t hurt.

  HAINES: I’ll run some checks through my court contacts. See if we can’t run down some of his associates and squeeze some intel out of them.

  TRAVIS: I’ll reach out to some of my contacts too. Let’s all remember to be discreet about this. The last thing we need is that reporter catching wind of this.

  The small group dispersed and Travis followed Cal out.

  TRAVIS: Hey, Cal. Got a minute?

  Cal nodded and led the way to his father’s office two doors down. Even though it’d been years since his parents’ deaths, the office was still in the same state that Cal Sr. had left it in 2001. The office was cleaned daily by a crusty old Marine who’d served with Cal Sr. in the early 1970s. Although now technically retired, the old Marine came in every weekday to reverently dust and vacuum “The Colonel’s Office.”

  Chapter 16

  Camp Spartan, Arrington, TN

  Cal remembered first meeting the man years ago. He’d left the Marine Corps after serving in Vietnam. Totally coincidentally, he’d been a machine gunner in (then) Capt. Stokes’s company. Back in those days, the military wasn’t given the same place of honor as in the post-9/11 days. The proud Marine returned home to find protesters spitting at him and calling him names. Worst of all, upon returning to his family he found that his twin sister (the two had been inseparable from birth) now dressed in hippy garb and spewed the same propaganda he’d heard debarking the airplane ride home. Even after repeated attempts to make peace with his sister, he finally gave up.

  Unable to reacclimatize or even find a job, he learned to cope through drugs and alcohol. Instead of dealing with the pain and emotional grief, he internalized his pain and went into a quick downward spiral. Within a year, the poor man was living on the streets begging for money so he could buy a hit or swig. He spent the rest of the 1970s and 1980s bouncing from shelter to shelter and bottle to bottle.

  In the mid-‘90s the man had somehow wandered to the Nashville area. By that time, the Stokes family was back in Nashville and Cal Sr. was reestablishing his roots and expanding his business. One weekend as father and son were volunteering at a local shelter handing out food, Cal Sr. spied th
e man in the line. Now hunched, his body ravaged and aged by years of abuse, he shuffled forward in his oversized winter coat. On his left arm he’d sewn on an old tattered Marine Corps emblem. Cal Sr. liked to chat with the people they volunteered to help and used the patch as his introduction.