“It used to be, sir. Two nights ago, we lost three unarmored vehicles to an ambush. Since then, I’m not taking any chances.”
Lester sat back, satisfied with the explanation. Kuris caught Ferraro’s eyes and nodded with a slight smile. Ferraro nodded back, pleased at the acknowledgement he’d just received form his former mentor.
“He knows I’m coming?” Lester asked.
“Yes sir. I didn’t tell him when you were landing, though. Said it was operational security. He accepted that. He has arranged a formal reception tonight, including dinner and a social. I don’t think he has any idea why you came.”
“Good, Lieutenant. You did the right thing.”
“Did you locate the remaining stolen generators?” Kuris asked.
“All of them, sir. Every one of them is attached to apartments in the city, including the director’s own building where he had a custom penthouse built.”
Lester’s face remained stoic. Only his eyes gave away the anger.
The ride to the former Orlando Police Department headquarters building was uneventful. No one there knew that the general was arriving, so he received a less-than-formal greeting when he strode in the front door. In fact, no one greeted him at all.
The general did not look impressed. “I like the formality.” The general said sarcastically. “Is this the way DHS always operates?”
“Yes sir,” Ferraro replied. “Most of the agents are former police or retired federal workers. They don’t adhere to protocol. It’s rather sloppy.”
“That’s going to change,” Lester said as he scanned the chaos in the hallway. “I’ve seen enough. Take me to Bedford.”
Not a word was spoken during the five-minute drive to the plush apartment building. Kuris and Ferraro exchanged worried glances as they watched the general, his left foot drumming up and down on the Stryker’s floor.
A pair of guards posted at the entrance to the apartment snapped to attention when Lester exited the vehicle, earning an approving nod from Kuris.
At least someone’s been trained properly, he thought.
At the top of the building, the elevator doors opened onto a long, lushly furnished hallway. Antique lawyer’s bookcases, their original leaded glass windows shimmering, lined one wall. The cases were filled with a potpourri of Tiffany stained glass, exquisite porcelain, and fine crystal. The spoils of power on display to every visitor that came down the long hallway. Paintings hung on the opposite wall, including several original masterpieces that must have been pilfered from the Dali museum near Tampa. The only unifying theme to the treasures seemed to be a certain erotic aspect to the art.
They entered the director’s waiting room and stopped in front of an unoccupied secretary’s desk. Another guard was standing watch. The man glanced at Lester’s collar, and seeing the stars attached he snapped to attention.
“I’m here to see director Bedford,” Lester said calmly.
“Yes sir. He’s…indisposed at the moment.”
“What, may I ask, is keeping him so occupied?”
“Sir, he’s in his office with his secretary,” the agent replied, his eyes downcast as a flush crept in his cheeks. “She’s…uh…taking dictation, sir.”
Lester’s eyes flared. “Well, make him available,” he said. “Make it happen right now! Am I clear?”
The black-clad man turned and pounded on the director’s office door. “Director Bedford? You’re needed immediately!”
A muffled shout came from behind the heavy oak door. It sounded like a woman, but it was impossible to tell whether the cry was from pleasure or pain.
“Open the damned door now!” Lester hissed.
“I can’t, sir,” the distraught agent said. “It’s locked from the inside.”
“Go down the hall and guard the elevator,” Ferraro commanded. The man nodded gratefully and trotted away.
Lester moved back, turned to Kuris, and nodded. The captain, a tall and fit man, stepped up to the door.
“On my mark,” Kuris commanded to the four guards that had accompanied them.
“Three, two, one…” Raising his boot, he kicked the door near its ornate brass handle, sending the wooden plank crashing into the room.
The four soldiers rushed into the dusky room and set up a semi-circular perimeter. Their M4 rifles were up to their eyes as they scanned the room for threats.
Kuris followed through next with his M-9 handgun drawn while Ferraro drew his service weapon and held rear watch behind the general.
A woman screamed again as the armed men rushed the room.
Lester stormed into the office and found the woman, whom he assumed was the secretary, laying back on the director’s desk, with her legs in the air and Bedford between them. Kuris looked at the corpulent man, his pants around his ankles and a look of fury and terror on the director’s face, and almost shot him right then and there.
“Clear!” Kuris yelled after scanning the room.
The four guards brought their weapons down to low ready, and held their positions.
Lester strode to the desk and stared at Bedford. The man was too stunned to move, his eyes bulging. The general looked down on the woman, who covered her face in embarrassment.
“At least one of you has some shame,” he said. “Get out of here and clean yourself up.”
Ferraro led her out of the room. Before letting her go, he got her name and billet address, knowing that the general would want her interviewed later.
Bedford had backed away from the desk to allow his secretary to follow the general’s instructions. With his pants still down, Kuris looked at his naked lower half and smirked. If the shrunken muscle was any indication, Bedford was far more afraid than he was angry.
“Please collect yourself, Director. I have time,” Lester said, his voice deadly calm.
The Bedford pulled up his pants and scurried into his private bathroom. Lester scanned the office, noting the opulent and erotic nature of the decorations. He shook his head.
“Take photographs, lots of them,” Lester told Kuris. “I want all the evidence I can muster.”
Bedford returned, his thinning hair combed back and a fresh shirt hastily buttoned over his sweaty body.
“Uh, General. I wasn’t expecting you until this evening.”
“Obviously. Was this an inopportune time?”
The director frowned, his rodent-like eyes darting back and forth as he tried to come up with a response.
“Never mind,” Lester continued. “We heard a scream from the room, didn’t we captain?”
“Yes sir. Definitely a scream.”
“Sorry about your door, Director. We were… concerned,” Lester added.
“Uh, oh. That’s quite alright. I can have it fixed.”
The two men stared at each other. Bedford shrank before the battle-hardened soldier.
“We’re taking a survey of all the assets under my command,” Lester said. “Would you be kind enough to share that information with my captain?”
“Oh! Of course, General. I’ll assign a team to assist you any way I can.”
“Very good. Then I’ll see you tonight at dinner?”
“Oh indeed. I’m sure you will enjoy what we have planned.”
“I’m sure. Until then.”
“Uh, yes. Until then,” Bedford practically sighed.
The general and his entourage left the office and waited silently at the elevator door. The guard Ferraro had deployed to this spot stood nervously, unsure whether to salute or stay silent. The frozen look of fear on the man’s face explained his lack of military decorum.
After the doors slid shut and the lift began to descend, Kuris said, “I assumed you were going to arrest him.”
“Not yet,” Lester said. “This is a den of rats, and I want to clean it out. I want everyone responsible for the deplorable state of this command removed.”
Kuris nodded and glanced at Ferraro.
“Sir,” Kuris began. “Lieutenant Ferraro’s re
port on the state of the city includes some unedited after-action reports. I think this will give you a head start on the personnel responsible.”
“Bring them to me as soon as I settle into my room, Lieutenant.”
“Yes sir” Ferraro replied.
“And Ferraro, well done back there.” Kuris added. “Glad you remembered your room-clearing techniques.”
“I’m not soft yet, Captain. Thank you, sir.”
CHAPTER 23
ORLANDO, FL
WHILE BEDFORD WAS PULLING UP his pants, Drosky and Bru were in the cafeteria of the newly recommissioned Orlando Regional Hospital, waiting for the director’s wife to finish her final medical examination.
“She’s recovered well,” Drosky said.
“I think Beth had a lot to do with that,” Bru replied. “Tanya seems to enjoy her company.”
Bruner hadn’t been let into the loop about Tanya’s clandestine activities. It was agreed in the beginning that the fewer people that knew about their insurgent activities, the better. Besides, Drosky was concerned that Bru’s increasingly protective behavior would lead him to dissuade Tanya from spying. After all, a spy only had two paths forward. Either their side won…or else they were caught and executed. Both scenarios were fraught with danger, and Bru had lost his ability to be reasonable after being reassigned from Bedford’s family to another high value subject. He seemed more possessed by the director’s wife since Beth took his spot and found any opportunity to be near her in his free time.
Today was one of those off days when he had magically appeared on the sidewalk of the medical office, receiving a warm smile and a wave from Tanya as Drosky escorted the woman inside. Beth was back at the director’s apartment watching Tanya’s young daughter.
Drosky checked his watch and noted that the thirty-minute examination was almost up. “I’ve got to go. Why don’t you get back to your room and relax?”
“I’m not tired,” Bru replied. “And I haven’t had a chance to say hello.”
“Dammit, Bru. Let it go. She’s married. To the director!”
Bru dropped his head, acknowledging that fact. “I can’t help it, John. She’s in my head.”
“Then get her out,” Drosky replied to the twenty-two-year-old agent. “Move on, and if I see you trying to hang around her again, you’re out. Do you understand me?”
“I can’t John,” he whispered. “I’m in love.”
“Come on, you’re being stupid. You don’t even know her.”
“We slept together,” Bru finally admitted. “Twice. I love her.”
“Crap,” Drosky said.
Bru shook his head. “What can I say?”
“Report to personnel tomorrow. I’m reassigning you. Now get out of here.”
Bru slammed his hand on the table, garnering stares from the other people nearby. The young man stomped away, leaving Drosky with a potential mess on his hands.
***
Later that afternoon, Ferraro and Kuris got together at a local pub that had recently opened. Sitting in a darkened corner booth, they had both privacy and a view of the clientele that came and went. If they didn’t know any better, the normalcy of the situation would have made them think that the EMP never went off.
“So, what do you have so far?” Kuris asked after the waitress dropped off two locally produced draft beers.
“It’ll be a couple of days before we have reviewed all the documents, but I did confirm the orders to steal the generators and bring them to the city. In fact, eight of the generators were pilfered from a warehouse immediately after the EMP went off. Not only did they take Watts Bar’s backup generators, but they also redirected the other four from one of the plants here in Florida.”
“Which one? Did it melt down too?”
“Turkey Point, down south. It’s fine for now. Their existing generators are keeping the nuclear pile under control. Problem is, if two of the four go down, it’ll go China Syndrome just like Watts Bar.”
“Shit,” Kuris muttered.
“Don’t worry. I’ve redirected two of the machines down there.”
“Where did you find them?”
Ferraro grinned. “Behind the director’s apartment building.”
Kuris smiled in reply and took a long draw from his chilled glass. “This isn’t half bad!”
“Yeah, I could get used to it.”
“What else do you have?”
“I have a flow chart of leadership. I figure the general would want to vet them, or at least know who the potential problem people are.”
Kuris took the sheet of paper and nodded. “He’ll like this. You’ve done a great job, Lieutenant.”
“Thank you, sir. I don’t like this, though. I just find the timing of the generator theft to be too convenient.”
Kuris got a questioning look on his face. “How so?”
“I mean, it’s almost as if Bedford knew he’d need the generators before everything went down. They were transported here within a week of the EMP, to an apartment building that had already been half modified into his private suite.”
“You’re saying that DHS had knowledge of the EMP before it struck?”
“Who knows,” Ferraro said. “I’m just speculating here. But there are too many circumstances where just the right supplies were in just the right place.”
“That could be coincidence,” Kuris said. “The government has a ton of supplies all over the country. Probably two or three times what they really need. I can think of plenty of places we found food and ammunition after the electric grid went down.”
“I know,” Ferraro said. “But it took us months to figure all that out. DHS was up and running way too fast. They knew where to go and had it together inside a week. When’s the last time you knew the government to be that efficient?”
“I don’t think the general needs to hear that right now,” Kuris replied after a few moments.
Just then, his satellite phone began to vibrate. “Kuris here.”
Several moments went by before the captain replied. “When are they going into do that?”
A pause, and the, “Okay, thanks for the heads-up.”
Kuris disconnected the call.
“Well?” Ferraro asked.
“It’s the general’s grandson,” he began. “His white blood cell count was going down. Well, a week ago, the count started to rise rapidly.”
“That’s good, right?”
“No. It’s leukemia. The kid’s bone marrow is screwed up. That was the hospital. They’re going to start him on chemotherapy. His grandmother is a match, and they’re going to do a transplant.”
“Will that cure him?”
“If he gets through the procedure, there’s a good chance he’ll recover. But he will still be living with impaired DNA and several organs have been permanently damaged. They’ve already removed both of the grandkids’ thyroid glands. They’ve got a tough road ahead of them.”
The two men finished their beers and went back to the general’s temporary quarters. Kuris knocked on his office door and entered when invited.
“Sir, Lieutenant Ferraro just gave me a report on command structure as well as confirmation on the theft of the generators.”
Lester was behind his desk, rubbing his temples, both elbows on the writing pad.
“Thank you, Captain. That will be all.”
Kuris hesitated. “Sir, if you need to talk…”
“I’m fine. I suppose one of your moles let you know about the situation at the hospital.”
“No good ADC would be without them, sir.”
“I know. I feel so helpless sitting here.”
“Well, this wasn’t expected, but there’s good news about the bone marrow match.”
“I wish they had waited until I returned.”
“I know they would have, if it had been possible. But they know what they’re doing, sir. You have to count on that.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
“Sir, I’d understa
nd if you didn’t attend the dinner tonight. Should I tell Bedford not to expect you?”
“No, let’s go. I need to get my mind on something else now. Besides, the director doesn’t know how little time he has.”
“You ready to pull the plug?”
“Soon, Captain. I’ve been in touch with Homeland in Washington and appraised them of the situation. They’re sending a replacement. That person should be here within the week.”
“Any names I’d know?”
“Ramona Qualls.”
“Wow. The dragon lady from NSA?”
“The one and only. She’s spoken with me already and told me to do what I want with Bedford.”
“She’ll whip this area in shape.”
“True. I don’t think we’ll need to worry about Florida now that she’s coming. She’ll bust balls as well as any man I know,” the general concluded.
CHAPTER 24
THE KRAMER HOUSE
MONTEVERDE, FL
“Older men start wars, but younger men fight them. ”
— Albert Einstein
THE DAY FOLLOWING THE FORMAL dinner party for General Lester, Gerry Kramer was finishing his examination of one of the local high school kids. Over the last few months, the population of the academy dorms had dwindled to just a few dozen youngsters. Any students under sixteen had been turned over to DHS at one of their many bus stops to the east of town. Any of the others that wanted to go did so as well. So far, the remaining live-ins hadn’t run across any federal agents. As long as they stayed away from the road to the power plant, they were left alone.
And as far as those buses went, the numbers had decreased exponentially following Dr. Kramer’s return. In fact, they hadn’t seen any of them in over a month. That just meant that they’d already eliminated most of the undesirables. The very sick had already died, and any political threats had been identified and terminated.
Their part of the world was calm, and Dr. Kramer liked that just fine.
“Well, Drake, the infection is under control. Next time, wear your shoes when you’re outside.”
The teenager nodded somberly. He’d been out on the overgrown lawn next to his dorm playing catch. His friend had passed the football to him, but it sailed over his head and tumbled into a higher patch of weeds. He had ripped his heel open on a piece of rebar while retrieving the ball.
Charlie's Requiem: Resistance Page 20