Cobra Clearance

by Richard Craig Anderson

  “Like I said. I ain’t here to hurt no kids.” Privately, he felt a trace of respect for Kruger. Sure, he put her in an X-rated situation but I believe him—he wasn’t about to let her carry through and he genuinely cares about kids. Okay. Good for him.

  Kruger turned to Potts. “Eric claims to have fathered several children and I’ve no reason to doubt it. He possesses all the earmarks of a Lothario, and Jackson has pointed out that he’s already set his sights on a barmaid. I’d say he’s probably straight. Still, one never knows.” He paused, then looked at Levi. “Very well. Strip.”

  Damn, they’re bringing in a woman. Time for Plan B. “Sure. Whatever you say.” Levi took off his leather jacket and looked for a place to hang it.

  Kruger pointed to the floor. “Put your things there.” When the jacket hit the solid wooden planks, Kruger said, “We’ll find a woman later. In the meantime we’ll begin vetting you.”

  Levi said a silent prayer of relief. Either Kruger had bought into his bluff or else Jackson’s remark had saved him. Either way, he had reached a critical juncture. From now on he would play the obedient soldier to a former enlisted man with grandiose illusions. He would not question any order barked at him or show the slightest hesitation. His goal now was to prove he was a team player and willing to put the organization’s needs above his own. He stripped completely and stood naked.

  Squinting, Kruger pointed at him. “How did you get that scar on your hip?”

  “A hunter thought I was a deer an’ let one loose.”

  Jackson said, “Bet you didn’t let him get away with it, either.”

  “No friggin’ way. When I found out where he lived? I went an’ kicked his ass.”

  Potts gingerly picked up one of Levi’s socks and sneered. “Full of holes. What, you can’t afford new ones?” Then his nose crinkled. “Or a laundromat?”

  Levi blazed back, “I got money for gas, ganj an’ food. So... whatever.”

  After examining the worn soles of Levi’s shoes, Potts held up his ill-fitting shirt and put a finger through a tattered tear in the back. He looked in Kruger’s direction and grimaced, then put his boot against the rest of Levi’s clothes and pushed them into a corner. Walking to the file cabinet, he yanked open the middle drawer and got a handheld electrical device and a set of orange surgical scrubs. The latter he tossed to Levi. “Put ’em on.” After Levi complied, Potts swept the device over Levi’s body. “Open your mouth.” Holding it close to Levi’s teeth he asked, “Did you know there are transmitters and receivers disguised as teeth? Imagine that. Now sit at the desk.” Potts handed him a manila folder and pen. “You’ll find a lengthy questionnaire inside the folder. Fill it out completely. You’ve got fifteen minutes.” He checked his watch.

  Levi began—full name, DOB, religious affiliations; family, friends, schools. The list ran several pages and he knew they were setting him up for a polygraph. When he was done, the doctor handed him a specimen cup and directed him to a lavatory. After providing a urine sample, Stewart swabbed the inside of Levi’s elbow and drew three vials of blood. “We’ll check for STDs and narcotics.” Stewart applied a band-aid, then grabbed a penlight and peered inside Levi’s mouth. “My field is obstetrics, not dental surgery,” he said to nobody in particular, “but he doesn’t have meth mouth and he’s between, oh, twenty-five and thirty.”

  Potts picked up Levi’s fatigue pants from the pile and rummaged through the pockets until he found a Washington State driver’s license. “Twenty-six.” He slid the license into his shirt pocket, then got a belly chain, handcuffs and shackles from the file cabinet. He wrapped the belly chain around Levi’s waist and cinched it tight, then looped the cuffs through the chain and cuffed his hands in front. After fastening the shackles around Levi’s ankles, he said, “I will keep your clothes. Is that your Harley outside?”

  “Yep.”

  “Quite an impressive bike. A classic. How were you able to afford it?”

  Levi scoffed. “Re-enlistment bonus.”

  Kruger looked up. “Which branch?”

  “Navy.”

  “With economic conditions as they are, why didn’t you stay in?”

  “Got booted.” He paused.

  “Hey,” Kruger snapped. “I don’t have all day. Spill it.”

  Levi shifted his weight from one bare foot to the other. “I got in a jam ’cause I ran my yap too much ’bout Jews an’ illegals.”

  “Hmm. Okay. Very well.”

  Potts said in his high-pitched voice, “I’ll inspect your motorcycle and clothing for hidden transmitters, or anything that will give lie to your story. I’ll download everything on your cell phone.” He stared at Levi. “I’ll conduct a background investigation and if everything checks we’ll continue the vetting. If not? Say your prayers now.” He then produced a green bandanna and blindfolded Levi.

  As Potts took hold of Levi’s handcuffs, Kruger issued a rapid-fire command. “Wir führen unsere versprechung durch, ihn am bloßesten tipp der täuschung zu töten.”

  “Natürlich,” Potts replied.

  Levi showed no reaction as he mentally translated: We’ll carry out our promise to kill him at the merest hint of deception. Levi said to himself, They will, too.

  Potts pushed Levi out into the cold night air, then yanked him to a stop while he lit a cigarette. After blowing smoke past Levi’s nose, he shoved him forward. When Levi’s bare feet hit dirt, Potts spun him in circles to disorient him, then marched him through the grounds for ten minutes before stopping. “Inside,” he said.

  Wild Bill Dentz peered through the spotter scope next to his fifty-caliber, M82A1 Heavy Sniper Rifle as an unknown white male escorted a chained and cuffed Levi to a small wooden building barely within the scope’s view. Dentz had established his O.P. a quarter mile from the compound. His ghillie suit rustled as he shifted his body against the rubber ground cloth. The desert winds howled and the cold penetrated everywhere, but he knew that whatever discomfort he felt was nothing compared to what Levi was, and would be, enduring. He spoke into his headset, “In sight. In chains. Appears safe.” A device attached to his transmitter held his message until he tapped the send button on his earpiece. The device instantly encoded the message and transmitted it as a micro-burst.

  Inside a black Ram pickup a hidden speaker broke squelch. Michael turned down the FM radio as Hacksaw bent forward and listened to Wild Bill’s message. They were parked behind a shuttered gas station a mile away and were prepared to smash through the compound’s fence, or to give chase if Kruger’s men took Levi on a oneway trip into the desert. Each man had an M-4 next to his leg, and there were two shotguns and extra ammunition in the rear seat. They would attack the compound and everyone in it, while Dentz took out human and vehicular targets with his .50 rifle.

  Michael tapped his finger against the FM radio. “What’s with that blowhard? Son of a bitch sure is stirring up Black America.”

  Hacksaw muttered, “How does a hate monger make it so big? The hypocrite. Man, I should get a microphone, abuse Percocet, an’ make me a few mill.”

  Michael scoffed. “Only in America, amigo.”

  Levi felt a nudge at his back, and seconds later sensed warmth and solid boards against his soles. Potts removed the blindfold and Levi examined the small, bleak room and its single jail cell. A tiny window on one wall was covered by a heavy black cloth. The cell itself had a metal floor, was windowless and barren except for a pail. Potts pointed to a fingerprinting stand and rolled Levi’s prints on standard FBI cards. Next, he took two mug-shot photos, then told Levi to sit at a small table supporting a portable polygraph. Potts attached the sensors and interrogated him based upon the questionnaire. But what Potts didn’t realize was that he was addressing an empty room, because Levi had gone to his favorite spiritual hangout, an outdoor bar in Maui bathed in radiant colors. He heard the questions and answered them, but his eyes were on the waves, the women and the whiskey, returning only after Potts unhooked the sensors.

  T
he chief of security stood and pointed to the cell door. “Rather Spartan conditions but you’ll have to make do. If everything checks you’ll be let out. If not? You won’t want to be let out.” After Levi stepped inside still cuffed and shackled, Potts turned the key and gave him a hard look. “You can’t escape. Even if you did, you won’t last long without shoes and clothes.” He turned to go. “Two days. Then I’ll know.”

  Levi still remained locked up after three days. But he felt confident. His team had his back and his covert identity had withstood previous scrutiny. Everyone has an exact double, and Levi’s was the real-life Eric Briggs, son of an impoverished unwed mother. They had drifted from place to place until settling down in Aberdeen, Washington, where he got his ninth grade girlfriend—and two other girls—pregnant. When a teacher found heroin in his backpack, Eric dropped out of school. That’s why Levi claimed that he used drugs, taking it on faith that Potts would speak to the school officials.

  Briggs executed an abrupt course change when his mother died. Taking a GED exam, he obtained Washington State’s highest score ever and enlisted in the Navy, where he revealed an aptitude that let him vanish within the labyrinth of intelligence work. The Navy saw a special use for his talents and scrubbed his identity clean, then held onto it until the FBI’s facial scanning computers plucked Briggs from their files and assigned his identity to its rising star, Special Agent Levi Hart. In meetings with Eric, Levi learned of his drug use and promiscuity, absorbed his dialect, and came to appreciate Eric’s superior intellect—coming away convinced that he had been talking to his identical twin, and that Eric was the one who had been blessed with the brains.

  Dentz settled in for another day. He had provisions for a week, including prescription amphetamines. All humans have their limits, and he had to extend his if he hoped to maintain his concentration and keep his teammate safe. He kept his eye on the spotter scope, noting the daily food and water deliveries to the jail. At midnight he spoke into his headset. “No change,” and tapped the send button. Hacksaw prepared to join Dentz to provide him with a brief sleep break.

  When Levi remained in the darkened cell a fourth day he took solace in memories of his wife and son, but he was so overwhelmed by sensory deprivation that he jammed his face through the bars just to smell the pine floorboards. By the fifth morning he lay shivering on the bare metal floor, his wrists and ankles chaffed from the restraints and his guts rumbling from meager rations. As night fell, the odds that he might be skinned alive grew, and laying his head on the floor he closed his eyes and tried to keep calm.

  Hours later an urgent voice from the pitch black window jerked him awake. “Hey, man. They know who you are. They got knives, an’ they’re coming. They’re gonna skin you, man!” When Levi realized it was his mind’s voice he tried to go back to sleep, but it wasn’t going to happen.

  Not long after, they did come for him.

  The door sprang open and the ceiling light snapped on, blinding him. Through fluttering eyelids he saw Kruger and Potts march inside. They were armed. Neither man said a word as Potts unlocked the cell.

  “Get up,” Kruger ordered. When Levi got to his feet Kruger said, “Come out.” Then he looked at Potts. “Proceed.”

  “Over here,” Potts barked. He produced a key and undid the restraints. Levi was trembling from the cold and the hyper-stimulation of bright lights after six dark days. Potts held out a brown paper bag. “Your clothes. You may put them on.”

  Gratefully grabbing his clothes, he got dressed. When he found his phone he hefted it, assuming that it now contained tracking and listening devices.

  As if prescient, Potts said, “Calls into or out of the compound trigger a detection system.” He smiled smugly. “I found your ninth grade girlfriend. That’s why it took six days. She verified your photos and described you rather...intimately. I also uncovered a birth certificate listing you as the father of her child. Its hospital photo favors you by the way. Her parents put it up for adoption.”

  “Whatever. Long as I don’t gotta pay child support.”

  “To quell your visible enthusiasm, I’ll tell you. It was a boy. She named it Eric.”

  “Yeah? Jeez, what’s with them babes? They keep namin’ the boys after me.”

  Kruger frowned. “Let’s move on. You’ve lost weight. About five pounds, I’d say. We’ll get you some food.” His nose crinkled. “After you shower and shave.” Rubbing his temples with his fingertips he said in a tired voice, “I’ve decided to make you one of my soldiers. If you don’t know how to shoot we will teach you.”

  Levi worked moisture onto his tongue and croaked, “Good, I can’t wait. I...”

  “Shut up. Your blood tests were positive for cannabis but negative for opiates and STDs. You’re in excellent health, and if that slimy excuse for a human Jackson is to be believed, you’re quite randy with the ladies.” At Levi’s quizzical look he said, “Jackson’s not one of us. I recruited him for his expertise in a singular field. Nor has he undergone this level of vetting because I’ve known him all his miserable life. He’s my cousin.”

  “I see.”

  Kruger’s tongue darted out. “You’ll notice that neither he, nor Mr. Potts or I are tattooed. That’s because we cannot risk being marked. Regardless, our club is proud of its colors. Your probationary period begins now. Prove yourself, and you’ll have earned the honor of wearing our tattoos.” He touched Levi’s forehead. “And the Swastika.”

  “Then I’ll belong?”

  “You’ll belong all right—you’ll belong to us.” Kruger regarded him in silence. “If you make probation we’ll shave your head and ink you up. You are not pasty or pudgy and you’ve clearly taken care of your Aryan body. That’s good. We need new breeding stock, so I’m putting you out to stud. Several women live among us. You will father children with those that I’ll select. Why, you may ask? Because...” He described a new world order dominated by white men launching a baby boom of white children.

  Levi had this guy’s act nailed: complete pseudo-psycho. To deflect him he said, “I already got a woman.”

  “Hmm. Yes. Jackson did say that you showed interest in some barmaid.”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Most of my soldiers have chosen to live here at the compound, but...” Kruger rubbed his jaw. “I’ll tell you what. Mr. Potts will check her out. If she passes muster then you may establish a relationship. But you must breed children with her.”

  “Hell, I’ll knock up the babes hangin’ at the bar, too. Anything for the club.”

  Kruger smiled for the first time. “I like how you think, Eric. Yes. You and I are going to get along fine. Now let’s get you showered and fed before I introduce you to the others. You’ll sleep in the men’s barracks tonight, but tomorrow you may go to this woman.” Then he added an aside that made Levi’s heart race. “Act with speed and due diligence. The new world order begins in May, and we must generate white babies.” He got a strange light in his eyes. “In May, something bigger than Melchior will transpire.”

  Levi put on a stone face. “Yeah? Damn. What’s that all about?”

  Kruger’s weird light vanished and he showed a slight squint of an eye, a sideways movement of his jaw. “Nothing that concerns you for now.”

  “Whatever,” he said with great casualness. I’ve got five, maybe six weeks tops to crack this dude’s shell.

  Dentz watched the two older men escort a fully-clothed Levi toward the building that the Bureau had identified as a barracks. He said into his headset, “Safe. Sound. He’s won this round.” He tapped the transmit key.

  Michael closed his eyes. “Thank God.”

  Hacksaw shifted against the seat. His hand came to rest against the M-4 beside him. “Score one for the home team.”

  Dentz waited and watched. Levi and the men emerged from the barracks twenty minutes later and walked to the mess hall. After half an hour he returned on his own to the barracks and Dentz whispered, “Still sound and roaming around,” and
hit TRANSMIT. At 0300 hours the ghillie suit rustled as he moved stiff, aching muscles. He would spend the next ninety minutes moving with the blinding speed of a sloth on Librium as he made his way to a nearby ravine. Once there he would hot-foot it to the extraction point.

  SUSAN SLICED THROUGH the jostling airport crowd with a flight attendant’s ease and reached the gate agent who had met the flight. Susan rolled her eyes. “Rocket scientists. All four of them. I thought they’d kill one another.”

  The agent shook her head in disgust. “Good thing there were air marshals aboard.”

  “God, yes. Two of them had to break cover to stop the jerks.”

  “That bad, huh? What started it?”

  “Race.” Susan watched as officers took away two white men and two black men.

  “And you weren’t even working the flight.” The agent shifted gears and smiled. “Lovely outfit. So what brings you to Albuquerque?”

  POTTS ENTERED KRUGER’S SPARSE office the next morning and took a notepad from his shirt pocket. “We’re on schedule,” he said as he flipped through it. “The Semtex is ready for transport and the planned event hasn’t been altered.” He turned a page. “Training’s nearly complete, the mortar rounds have been checked and the launch vehicle is being prepared.” He put away his notes and looked at his leader. “All that’s left is to get Mr. Eric Briggs up to speed—if you decide to use him.”

  “How do you feel about him?”

  “He’s a heroin addict.”

  “He’s a casual user.”

  “There’s no such thing.”

  “He experimented as a youngster to take brief sojourns from his wretched lot in life. Herman Goering was addicted to morphine, yet he still controlled the Reich. Besides, others here are using drugs...and you’re an alcoholic.”