Reprisal!- The Eagle's Challenge

by Cliff Roberts

  “Damn it, Sarah, why didn’t you call right away?” Steven growled. “I can’t have anyone protect you if I don’t know what’s going on!”

  “I guess I’m just stubborn,” Senator Bains admitted sheepishly.

  “Bill, get your friends to put a security watch on the senator. I want the military watching over them and tell them to expect trouble. Sarah, these military guys will jump in at the first sign of trouble; in fact, let the Secret Service know that she’s receiving death threats and what steps we’re taking. Ask them to put surveillance on her, as well,” Steven ordered.

  “Is this really necessary?” the senator asked.

  “Yes, it is!” Steven blurted out while the other men at the table nodded in agreement. “We’ll have the military in place tomorrow. They are going to be your security team for next couple of weeks, and then a Kilauea team will take over and cover you at work, home and while commuting. We just need to be patient for the next couple of weeks while DOJ puts the finishing touches on their investigation, and then the DOJ will pick up the guys tailing us. Just be patient a little longer,” Steven consoled.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Anthony Tenants, Director of the FBI, sat waiting in the outer office of the former offices of the Secretary of State in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building at six-thirty a.m., drinking his second cup of coffee. He was wishing he’d stayed in private law practice, instead of letting his college roommate drag him into this government service crap. The Eisenhower Executive Office Building was located just west of the White House at the corner of 17th Street and Pennsylvania Avenue. He knew by having the meeting set here, instead of in the president’s working office at the White House, was a meeting that Starks wanted to keep secret. He’d known Starks since college, and he knew the first time he’d met Starks that he had high expectations; but Tenants never dreamt he’d manage to get elected to the presidency. He was just so self-centered and egotistical. Like, this morning, Starks had ordered William Wyatt, the Director of the CIA, and himself to attend this early morning meeting at the White House, which was supposed to start at six a.m. and most likely, it wouldn’t get going until after seven a.m., because Starks refused to start work before then. He had to have private time, regardless of what was happening.

  Hell, his old friend couldn’t even call him directly. He had to have Roger Bascome call him at the last minute, late the previous night, insisting he attend and that he do so without telling his staff where he would be.

  Wyatt had told him he had received the same invitation from Bascome only three days ago, which made Tenants wonder if his inclusion in today’s meeting was an afterthought. Especially in light of the fact that William Wyatt had been asked to step into the other room some time ago to deal with a crisis of some sort that had suddenly arisen, and he still wasn’t back. It made Tenants wonder if they were meeting separately with him on purpose.

  When Bascome had asked Wyatt to go in, Tenants had asked when he’d see the president, only to be told by Bascome that President Starks, per his usual schedule, still hadn’t arrived for their meeting. Despite both men’s inquires upon hearing this, Bascome couldn’t say exactly when the president would arrive or what he wanted to meet with them about.

  William Wyatt returned to the outer office at 7:10 and took a seat across from Tenants, giving him a noncommittal smirk. Tenants started to ask what was happening, but he then thought better of it. Finally, after another ten minutes, the president’s secretary’s phone beeped, and the two men were ushered into the office.

  Upon entering the office, they discovered the president had arrived and was seated behind a large ornate walnut desk. In the only chair in front of the desk sat John Massey, Director of Homeland Security and their defacto boss. Off to the side of the desk were two more chairs, much like the chairs you’d find in a doctors’ waiting room. Several feet away from them, leaning against the wall was a young Arab man who was introduced as Mr. Saud from the Washington PR firm of Solution Brothers Trust—the same firm that represented the president during the last leg of the previous election and was an unindicted co-conspirator in the bombing of the Twin Towers in 1993 and the suspected front man for Hamas and Hezbollah in the United States. It was a known fact that Solution Brothers Trust represented over four dozen members of Congress and dozens of corporations that wished to do business with Middle Eastern countries. In both Tenant’s and Wyatt’s books, they were the enemy, although both men knew the trust was nearly untouchable, due to their ties to Starks and several very powerful members of Congress.

  “Tony, Bill, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, but once we’ve shared what we’ve found out with you, I know you’ll understand,” the president stated, waving them towards two chairs at the far side of his desk.

  “Now, as you know, we’ve suffered two major terrorist attacks, and so far, we’ve been unable to track down just who has been responsible for them. That is, until now!” The president spoke confidently as Bascome took a seat on some boxes against the far wall. “I’ve had my suspicions for some time, and yesterday they were confirmed. Mr. Saud here came to us with some troubling news about a certain senator and a retired general whom we all know and love,” he stated sarcastically as he dropped a couple of files on the desktop. They made a loud slapping sound as they hit.

  “You’re talking about Senator Bains and General Clarett?” William Wyatt asked.

  “You bet I am!” the president practically shouted, not catching the fact that Wyatt knew immediately who he was talking about, which wasn’t a good thing.

  “What have they done?” asked Anthony Tenants.

  Roger Bascome interjected, “Mr. Saud has provided us with proof, although circumstantial in nature, leading us to believe they are part of a larger conspiracy to foment domestic terrorism in an effort to damage international relationships between our allies in the Middle East and ourselves. Under the president’s authority, the NSA has been secretly tailing the senator for months and watching everything she has done, as well as watching her personal bank accounts and her Senate Office Holders account. There are several discrepancies which bear further inquiry.”

  “I wasn’t aware that the president had the authority to spy on senators and private citizens,” Anthony Tenants stated flatly as he looked at his old friend. They both knew he had crossed the line.

  “Tony, don’t get your shorts in a wad. The important thing here is that we need to get more concrete proof with you and Bill taking the leads on this. It’s far too important to allow these two bigots and their bigoted friends to spread their hatred of the Muslim world by causing the deaths of American citizens,” Starks stated calmly.

  “If the press finds out about you authorizing the NSA to spy on a senator, especially after the fiasco dealing with the French hackers and how this administration tried to implicate Howard as part of that scheme, the public will be calling for your head—and probably mine, as well. You are aware that the three papers that ran with the story, without any proof of its validity, in fact, having fabricated the whole thing, will most likely be closing down after Howard’s lawyers get done with them. Plus, why didn’t you come to me first and have the FBI start the investigation?” Tenants asked.

  “Tony, I wanted to be sure of my facts before anything official was started, and who said anything about Howard? We both know that your office hasn’t had the best record for secrecy in the past, and that’s no reflection on you, but there are too many opportunists working for the FBI. You know the type. Agents who are just looking for notoriety, so they can do a book deal and retire.”

  The president referred to a scandal that rocked the FBI a few years prior, when an agent compromised an investigation so he could become the lead investigator. He then wrote about unprofessionalism in the FBI in a tell-all book deal, netting him over a million dollars up front and several more when it became a bestseller.

  “That’s part of the reason I asked you to help me out, remember?” Starks continued. “We don
’t have to worry about the press finding out about our early involvement because Mr. Saud has agreed to state that he approached you with this information, thus starting the FBI investigation.”

  Starks knew Tenants’ ego would be on his side. Under his plan, Tenant would receive full credit for the exposure of this terrorist ring.

  William Wyatt sat quietly, listening to the exchange, wondering what President Starks had to gain by setting the dogs on Senator Bains, a person whom he had found to be honest and no-nonsense. He certainly could not believe she had anything do with domestic terrorism; and as for General Clarett, well, he wasn’t exactly sweetness and light, but he was fiercely patriotic and a real stand-up guy.

  If Clarett had a beef with the Middle East, he wouldn’t blow up America to express it. He’d just start dropping bombs on the capitals of every Middle Eastern country he could find. He wouldn’t dance around any subject or back down from any fight. Clarett would step up toe-to-toe and start throwing punches. Something didn’t pass the smell test here, but Wyatt wasn’t going to bring that up just now. He decided to bide his time and see where this was going.

  “As for General Clarett,” Roger Bascome looked at Wyatt as he spoke, “we know he has renounced his citizenship and has taken up residence in the Bahamas. We also know he has taken a job with Steven Howard’s company, Kilauea Corp., as the head of corporate security. Now, what we find interesting is that Bill Richland and Robert Westlyn have also taken jobs with Kilauea Corp. and are working out of Bryson City, North Carolina. Exactly what they are doing, we don’t know, but it seems very suspicious.”

  “Why is that?” Wyatt asked as he watched Bascome’s face for telltale signs the man was lying.

  “It’s no secret that Steven Howard has some sort of political ax to grind with the current administration.”

  There it is, thought Wyatt.

  “He’s obviously a political wanna-be,” Roger continued, “and he has enough money he could do anything to get what he wants. He is also very close to Bains and Clarett, which just can’t be a coincidence. Why, the rumors are flyin’ that Howard bought the contracts with the Pentagon by bribing both Bains and Clarett. Congress will be holding hearings shortly on the matter. These rumors confirm the word on the street that Howard is ruthless and will stop at nothing to get what he wants,” Bascome concluded, finished for the moment. His face said he was lying through his teeth.

  “Sounds like most of the people in Washington,” Wyatt deadpanned as he looked from face to face in the room to see if they were buying this crap.

  No one was. They didn’t even seem to be paying attention, for that matter, except Tenants, who looked like he was possibly the only one buying this horseshit. So there it was—this little show was solely for Wyatt’s and Tenants’ benefit.

  “With the information Mr. Saud has provided, it seems clear this conspiracy includes several other former top political players from the previous administration who cannot let go of the past, either,” Bascome stated dramatically.

  “Bill, I need you to have your team look into what Clarett and your predecessor are doing for Kilauea Corp.,” the president chimed in. “You’ve got to help root out the corruption, for the country’s sake.”

  “I can do that, sir. But I won’t trump up any charges just to try and justify the rumors or any political carping that’s taking place. If they are up to something no good, my guys will find it, but we won’t make anything up,” Wyatt stated curtly, looking at Bascome, whom Wyatt knew would do whatever he thought would be politically expedient.

  “I’ll take that, Bill. Can you coordinate with Tony and Richard on this?” the president asked congenially, but it was clear—Wyatt didn’t have a choice in the matter.

  “Yes, sir,” he responded as he looked at Massey who hadn’t said a word since he and Tenants had entered the room.

  “Well, that covers it, I think,” Starks stated in dismissal.

  Wyatt didn’t take the hint, and he asked another question. “Can I see the evidence that Mr. Saud has provided?”

  “I’m not sure if it is of any value to you. It’s just rumors, really, and they don’t pertain to your part of the investigation,” Bascome stated flatly.

  “Yes, but it is obviously of a nature that has gotten the attention of the White House. Plus, I’d like to schedule a meeting to go over the information with Mr. Saud, as well. The intelligence must be pretty damaging and may very well play a part in my investigation. One can never tell. I can’t be thorough unless I know how all the pieces fit together, now can I?” Wyatt pressed Bascome, unwilling to accept anything the man said, while he watched the president’s reaction.

  The president took that moment to swing around in his chair, so he could look out the window. After a few moments, he swung back around to face the group and subtly shrugged his shoulders and nodded, while Bascome gave him a look of incredulity.

  “I’ll have a package sent over,” Bascome spat.

  “I’d like one, as well,” Tenants added, drawing a nasty look from Bascome as well as the president.

  “Fine!” Bascome blurted out as he made notes in his notebook. “Gentlemen, the president has another meeting in five, so if you can coordinate with each other on the specifics, that would be great.” Bascome stood and gestured with his arm in the direction that he wished for the men to leave.

  After Tenants and Wyatt left, Bascome slammed his fist into the desktop, knocking over a glass of water.

  “Those two are going to be trouble!” Bascome spat at the president.

  “Oh, shut the fuck up! We have to have them involved to get this stuff in front of Justice and Congress. We can’t do anything legal without them. Later this week, I’ll have each of them in separately to see what I can offer them to ensure that we get the results we want,” Starks stated.

  “Mister President, if I may?” Hassam interrupted, and the president nodded his approval. “I’m sure that we can provide any necessary retirement inducements that might help provide for a more cooperative working relationship between those men and your administration.”

  “Well, thank you, Mr. Saud. I know that may be just the ticket with Tony, but Bill is another matter. He’s one of those straight arrows who likes to do things by the book, which is why he was confirmed so quickly after the rumors and scandals that happened on the previous director’s watch,” Starks shared. “Though, I believe we started those rumors, didn’t we?” He finished with a huge smirk on his face as he looked at Bascome, who was smirking as well.

  “Yes, that was so tragic,” Hassan grinned sarcastically, “but I don’t think rumors will be enough to persuade Mr. Wyatt. He’ll need something that he can substantiate,” Saud stated as the grin faded.

  “Yes, well, that’s politics American style!” the president shot back.

  “I’ll come up with something for you to provide him to substantiate,” Bascome interjected.

  “I’m not convinced Tenants and Wyatt will help frame Bains, Clarett and Steven Howard,” John Massey lamented. “And what about the press? If there is a leak of any kind, we’ll be lucky just to live through the embarrassment of the scandal, let alone the prosecution! What will the public and the press think about all this?” he questioned sheepishly.

  “They’ll think what we want them to think! The American public is nothing but fat, dumb and happy sheep, who will swallow anything as long as it doesn’t interfere with their TV watching and their enjoyment of their recreational vehicles,” the president spat, knowing he was mostly right, even if he was being more than a little sarcastic.

  Saud chuckled at his own mental picture concerning the American public, which seemed to match almost perfectly with that of the president. The thought then occurred to him that the president’s view of the average American wasn’t too different than that of the main street Arab. It seemed strange to him that the leader of the free world hated the very people he represented as much as the enemies of his country did. Allah worked in strange ways,
indeed!

  Meanwhile, as Wyatt and Tenants walked out of the Eisenhower Executive Office Building together, Wyatt asked Tenants to meet with him after the proof was sent over, so they could coordinate their efforts; but his real reason for the meeting was to gauge the man’s character and see if he was just another one of Starks’ KoolAid drinking sycophants or a real law enforcement type. In the meantime, he’d call his old friend, General Clarett, and find out what Starks was so afraid of.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Ron and Tom found a small villa nestled in the hills above of the beach in Boca Barranca that they rented for two months, paying cash in advance. Ron was sure that they would draw the attention of the locals, so they made a show of hitting the cantinas at night and the beach during the day. After closing the cantinas the first couple of nights, they kept themselves busy by placing cameras around the perimeter of the Garza’s villa, allowing them to watch the traffic coming and going, but little else.

  A fourteen-foot wall surrounded the compound on three sides and was studded with cameras, motion detectors and broken glass on both the inside and the outside. Over the next few days, the traffic to and from the villa was light, but they were able to identify six different guards as they passed in front of the gates while making rounds. The only other action at the villa was a few lights coming on and off at night, probably related to Fast Eddie Garza’s live-in girlfriend.

  During the day from the water, they had the ability to see into the beachside of the compound where they spied Garza’s latest plaything, a beautiful young woman in her mid-twenties, sunbathing topless every day from two to four p.m. Ron made a big deal of getting clear shots of her, saying that she might provide them with a way to get to Garza. Tom seriously doubted that, but who knew for sure? He mostly thought Ron was just a pervert.

  As far as he was concerned, the security measures (or rather, the lack of them) on the water side were far more interesting than the front of the compound. The wall stopped some fifty yards off the beach. From there, a ten-foot high cyclone fence, complete with barbed wire across the top, stretched down to and then out into the water a good ten yards. On the inside of the fence, there was a row of tropical ferns about the same height as the fencing. There didn’t appear to be any guards stationed on the beach side like on the front, just two up by the villa. This had possibilities as an approach to Garza’s inner sanctum.