by Alex Howell
22
Feeling the Verne
A T AN UNDISCLOSED LOCATION IN THE PENTAGON. General Thomson is wrapping up a debriefing in front of the President of the United States—Verne Landers. The General standing in front of a desk the President was seated at, informed him, “Although the worst of the crisis in New York had been averted, unfortunately the suspects still remain at large.”
After thinking about it for a moment, President Landers asked, “And what does the media know?”
Thomson answered, “Not much. They just know that someone released some kind of deadly virus at the Little Italy festival resulting in a couple of casualties.”
Gazing up at the General, Landers remarked, “So they don’t know that it involves international terrorism?”
The General shook his head, “No—they don’t know that for sure, but since a very similar attack occurred just a few days prior in Italy its not hard for them to connect the dots.”
Upon hearing this, Verne Lander’s eyes rolled back in his grey head as he slammed his fist on his desk, “Damn it! Just what I needed!”
General Thomson carefully inquired, “I beg your pardon sir?”
Landers sighed, “I’m only a few months into my presidency and a bunch of freaking terrorists decide to break loose all over the place.”
Landers let out a dry, abrasive laugh, “Ha! So much for a smooth transition.” Landers shook his head, “I can see tomorrow’s headlines now, ‘The avowed socialist Verne Landers soft on terrorism.’”
Thomson unsure how to respond simply stared quietly at Landers and let him vent his frustration. Finally, Landers sighed, “Okay—so who do you have on the case.”
Thomson getting a little anxious, then had to admit, “Well—about that. I’m in the process of reshuffling some of the counterterrorism agents involved.”
This was the wrong thing to say to Verne Landers however as he gave the General a hard stare. Causing the General to nervously swallow as he stood transfixed under the glare of the President’s ire.
Although President Landers was a grey haired, slightly bent over old man pushing 80, he really knew how to put people in the hot seat. Staring the General down, Landers anger was already rising to the surface as he seethed, “You mean to tell me—at a crucial juncture like this, you decide to clean house? Is that what you are telling me?”
Having finally met his match in Verne Landers wizened, but steely eyed gaze, Thomson sputtered, “Well uh—sir, you don’t understand. I was having some pretty serious personnel issues that I’ve been dealing with.”
Upon hearing this, President Verne Landers slowly clasped his wrinkled old hands in front of himself, and looking up from the rims of his glasses, demanded, “Personnel issues—like what? I’m all ears general.”
General Thomson wasn’t prepared for this onslaught. He thought he had good reason to suspend Onyx, but now that he had Verne’s withering attention, he was now not so sure. He needed to explain his actions, but they proved to be a stumbling block.
Thomson struggled, “Well—although the team managed to stop the main attack, some of the virus escaped.”
Verne inquired, “And you hold the agents involved responsible?”
Thomson nodded, “I do...”
Landers paused, before reasoning, “But without the work of those agents how many people do you think would have died that day general?”
General Thomson sputtered, “Um—without their work? You mean if no one was on the case?”
President Landers, with an excited wave of his hand, responded, “Yes! Exactly! What would have happened without those men and women working the case that day during the attack?”
Thomson paused, and swallowing hard, finally answered, “Potentially hundreds of thousands of lives sir…”
President Landers knowingly nodded, “I see…”
He then paused as he thought it over, before stating, “So—basically your telling me that the group of brave men and women you fired from the job potentially saved hundreds of thousands of lives yet you fault them for the deaths of two people? You fault them so much to cast them to the side?”
General Thomson realizing where the President was going with his argument, grew silent, “Sir…”
Verne without missing a beat then asked, “And what else I ask you—upon what other criteria do you base your decision general?”
Thomson didn’t like the way that Verne kept calling him “general” after every single inquiry he made. Verne’s questions felt like hand grenades lobbed in his direction, and the utterance of general at the end of them was like the pin being pulled from the bomb before the explosion.
Thomson struggled to answer, “Well sir—the only other thing is. Some of the team members assigned to this case just tend to play a little too rough…”
Verne Landers eyes widened as he raised his voice, “They play a little too rough? Did I just hear you correctly general?”
Thomson suddenly wishing he could take back his own words, had no choice but to admit, “Yes—yes you did.”
The reaction Landers had next caught Thomson completely off guard, as he broke into uproarious laughter. After a moment he stopped and muttered to his chief of staff seated next to him, “What a freaking moron… I can’t believe this guy… I really can’t…”
Even though Thomson knew that Verne Landers was talking about him, he wasn’t sure how to respond to his vague, almost inaudible mutterings so he had no choice but to remain uncomfortably silent until Landers brought on a more direct attack.
Landers cleared his throat and looked the General right in the eyes as he remarked, “Let me get this straight general. Do you penalize your troops for being too rough?”
The General seeing where the President was going, tried to backpedal, “Uh—that’s not what I mean sir... I’m talking about when it comes to operating in civilian centers…”
President Verne Landers wasn’t listening however as he steamrolled ahead, “You don’t want them to be rough and hard—you like the softer approach I take it?”
Verne snorted, “What about your troops on the battlefield? Maybe this pertains to them too.”
Looking over to his Chief of Staff, seated on his right, the President sarcastically quipped, “He wants a softer approach!”
President Verne Landers then offered, “I know! Perhaps the next time you send a division to Iraq you could replace their guns with flowers and chocolates, and outfit their humvees with murals of puppy dogs instead of camouflage.”
Thomson seeing his professional life flash before his eyes, tried again to explain, “With all due respect sir, I think you are misunderstanding me…”
Verne raising up in his chair rebutted him, “Oh no. I think I understand you loud and clear general.”
Before Thomson could even get a word in, he challenged him, “I understand that you have a crack group of veteran counter terrorism agents—good people—who have risked their lives on several occasions to foil terror plots and you want to put them out to pasture when we need them most.”
Verne stared down General Thomson as he bluntly asked, “Just what are you trying to do here—you nitwit?”
The General not at all used to being talked down to like this, visibly flinched, as he protested “But Mr. President!”
President Landers was relentless however, as he suggested, “What’s really going on here Thomson? Do you have some friends you want to give positions to? Are you doing this to please a meddling wife or girlfriend? Or is it all simply old-fashioned nepotism at work?”
Landers raised an eyebrow, “Is that it? Do you have a son or daughter you want to promote into a cushy role somewhere? Is that why your cleaning house like this? Or is it just some kind of petty personal vendetta run amuck?”
Thomson remembering Mason’s own stinging rebuke, struggled to reply, “No! It’s none of those!”
Landers then erupted, “Well regardless of your faulty reasoning process—I’m telling you right no
w that there is no way in hell I’m starting over when it comes to methods and personnel in counter terrorism at this critical point in my presidency “
Landers proclaimed, “If it ain’t broke general, then I certainly don’t expect you to try and fix it!” Things were working out just fine before, so whoever it is that you thought to dismiss you better bring them right back. And don’t even talk to me until you do so.”
Thomson realizing the humiliation he was about to undergo crawling back to the Onyx team members, felt his stomach churn, as he weakly muttered, “Sir…”
Landers only response left was to shout, “Now go! Get out of my face!”
As a stunned Thomson turned around and crept out of the President’s Pentagon office, he could clearly hear Verne’s young chief of staff quote what had been a catch phrase during the then Senator Verne Landers campaign.
Verne was known for frequently burning down his enemies, but instead of saying “Feel the burn.” It became common parlance to shout in triumph over the political opponents he had decimated, “Feel the Verne!” Just as the chief of staff could be heard joyfully proclaiming as Thomson shut the door behind him.
Epilogue
Weathering the Storm
D uring his time off from Onyx, Mason was able to catch up with Raina like never before. She had told him that his suspension was a blessing in disguise and now he truly believed that to be the case. The rest of the summer consisted of a routine that Mason wasn’t at all used to, but one that he sorely needed all the same. His days were filled with walks on the beach and his nights consisted of relaxing dinners with Raina at his side.
Mason used to believe that he needed the adrenaline and intensity of energy that went along with participating in high risk missions. But the past few weeks he had learned to purposefully go at a slower pace and he felt the better for it. Clara meanwhile was finishing up her summer session, and promising to come back home to visit with him as soon as she was finished.
Mason viewed this as the perfect time to get Raina and Clara better acquainted. They already liked each other, but he figured spending a couple of uninhibited weeks together would further seal that bond. As they took this time out, the other members of Onyx had been vigorously fighting to have their uniquely dispositioned team of contractors reinstated.
At first it looked like Thomson’s old boy network in the Pentagon would be able to effectively blockade the progress of anyone Thomson didn’t agree with. But upon receiving pressure from the President of the United States, Verne Landers himself—Thomson was finally forced to back down.
As summer drew to a close, General Thomson ultimately convened an emergency meeting of Onyx in which he reactivated all members of the team, no questions asked. At least Thomson hoped that no questions would be asked . But Mason couldn’t let him off the hook quite so easily.
On the day of their reinstatement, Mason sat right across from the General at the conference table in Onyx HQ and demanded to know, “So what caused your sudden change of heart General?”
Thomson attempting to be as smug as ever however, brusquely replied, “We just thought that we would give you guys another chance that’s all.”
Mason looked over to Raina who was seated next to him and then back to the General as he sarcastically quipped, “Just out of the kindness of your own heart you wanted to put us back on the payroll huh?”
Thomson wasn’t going to take the bait however, as he snapped, “You heard me. And I really don’t think that there is anything else here to say. So, if you don’t mind—I’m going to go ahead and declare this meeting officially adjourned.”
The Onyx team then watched as General Thomson got up, nervously cleared his throat and stormed out of the room in silence. After Thomson was out of earshot, Benton remarked, “Is that guy for real? I mean seriously?”
Nevertheless, Mason declared to his assembled teammates, “I guess we’re back in business.”
To which Kyle lamely remarked, “I guess you just can’t keep a good Onyx down.”
But Mason knew that there was more to it than that. In the end it was only through the direct intervention of the President of the United States as well as his own friends in high places such as Luke Simon who endlessly advocated on his behalf, that Onyx was able to be kept on life support.
At first glance, things on the professional front would seem grim for Mason. But he had been through the mill before, and he knew that as long as he had a little help from his family and friends, he knew it really couldn’t be that bad after all. In the end it was just a few passing storm clouds that he had to weather his way through.
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CRISIS MELTDOWN
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Mason didn’t listen to his gut. And now it may cost him his daughter.
Nearly a full year has passed since Mason Walker’s last dangerous mission. Clara, his daughter, has finished her first year at Stanford and her first professional job. To celebrate, Mason and Clara jet off to Egypt for two weeks before her sophomore year begins.
All seems normal on the trip. They sight-see, meet other travelers, and take photos. But as soon as they land back in Baltimore, Onyx calls. They need Mason’s help.
What Mason and the rest of Onyx don’t know, however, is that soon, a new mission comes up, one even more important than the one Onyx requested.
One that will leave Clara’s life in the balance.
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1
Prologue Crisis Meltdown
Every Opus has it’s Day
A s she toured the hallowed ground of the Vatican, Clara Walker believed that she was in the midst of a grand and exciting vacation. But her father Mason, and his girlfriend Raina who accompanied them, knew that the pleasant idea of vacationing in Rome was just a subtle little ruse used to mask the truth. Because Mason and Raina were not simply sightseeing tourists, they were special agents on a mission to track down terrorists.
Since the early 2020’s a shadowy Catholic extremist group known simply as, “The Blood” had been nurturing radical enclaves all throughout Western Europe, but primarily centered around Italy. The group held fast to a far-right ideology that believed the Catholic Church had become too progressive and secular. These reactionary extremists wished for the Catholic Church to turn back the clock and go back to what they viewed to be its hardline roots.
These ideologues called for a “new crusade” in the form of a grand inquisition. They called for a purging of the ranks through what they called a “baptism in blood” in order to pull the rest of the world’s Catholics into a more militant state. They were looking to stir up what they believed to be a hive of latent religious fervor. And they were going about their provocation in the worst ways imaginable.
In the previous year the group had committed the unthinkable, when they had one of their henchmen detonate an explosive device lined with the deadly Ebola virus, right in the middle of downtown Rome. The target had actually been the Pope’s very residence in the Vatican. This carnage was only averted by a quick-thinking cab driver, who managed to spare the Papal grounds by diverting the attacker to Rome’s busy downtown district instead.
The Pope and the Cardinals of Vatican City were spared, but the shoppers and tourists of Rome proper were not. This was quite a traumatic event for Europe and shocking for anyone who heard of it overseas. And even though Clara thought that they were simply visiting Italy on vacation, she had been following the story on the news. She also wasn’t blind. She could tell just how shaken up the general populace was even months after the fact.
The events of September 11th , 2001 occurred before Clara was born, but anyone old enough to recall the dark days in New York immediately after the attack, would recognize the same kind of fear in the faces of the citizens of Rome. And as they passed through the ornate halls of the Sistine Chapel, she saw that the men standing guard outside, as well as the museum curators and docents inside, all had prot
ective surgical masks on their faces.
As they stopped to take a look at an ancient mural on one of the chapel’s walls, she inquired with her father about it. Clara asked, “Hey dad—that Ebola stuff has cleared up by now hasn’t it?”
Mason nodded, “Yeah—it should be.”
Clara then pointed toward one of the curators who was busy shepherding some photo snapping tourists away from a delicate set of statues. When her father looked over to where she was pointing, she remarked, “Then what’s with all the people in surgical masks?”
Mason shrugged, “Probably just trying to be careful—but there really isn’t anything to worry about.”
He wanted to reassure his daughter, but at the same time Mason couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of guilt. Because deep down, he knew that it wasn’t completely safe at all. Even if the last Ebola outbreak had been cleared out, as long as these extremists were at large, there was no telling when or where they might strike next.
Contrary to what Clara believed, this was in fact the reason why they were in Italy. Although she was led to assume that the trip was a last-minute hurrah before she began her Fall semester back at Stanford University, the real reason Mason and Raina embarked upon this “surprise” trip was because vital intel needed to be gathered about the terror cell that had struck Italy.
That’s not to say that Mason didn’t intend to see some sights and make the best of the trip. This was why he brought Clara along with him in the first place. He had learned a long time ago to try to take as many liberties as he could from his globetrotting missions abroad. It could be that they turn up nothing, and in that case, at least they had a decent vacation together all the same.
After Mason’ allayed Clara’s fears about any lingering Ebola, Clara seemed to dispel the notion outright. And spotting Raina coming around the corner back from her bathroom break, she shifted gears completely. Seeing her she shouted, “Raina! For a second I thought you got lost!”