Reed called Pat Drice because he was worried about Lisa’s safety. Her abduction by Secret Service Agent Doyle Preston after the assassinations suggested to Reed that Lisa might still be in danger from the conspirators.
Pat assured Reed the government believed Lisa was no longer in danger from the conspirators. He told Reed she held no information that could tie her to anyone other than Doyle Preston; and he was dead.
Pat also promised Reed that Lisa would be kept on a short leash. She agreed to remain silent or face charges as a co-conspirator in the murder of the President. Pat hoped something would have come from Lisa and Reed spending time together. Lisa told Reed she couldn’t look at him, or his family, without feeling partially responsible for what had happened to Doug.
-----
Edna called Pat just before noon saying the President wanted him to join him for lunch in the residence. He now regretted sounding so desperate to Edna earlier that morning. What Pat had to share with Raven was going to definitely kill his appetite.
In charge of the Presidential Protective Detail, Pat moved freely about the White House. As Pat was let in by one of the residence staff members, President Ward greeted him in the kitchen.
“Agent Drice, it is good of you to join me. What can Alice bring you to drink?”
“Alice, may I please have a glass of ice water?” Pat said, as he moved toward the bar stools where the President was sitting.
“Pat, please sit down, you are making me nervous. We can talk over lunch” the President motioning for Pat to take a stool beside him. Each man made a turkey sandwich before speaking again.
“Mr. President, I need you to please read the paragraphs I circled in red. Once you have read them, you may want me to take my sandwich elsewhere; maybe another planet,” Pat said solemnly.
Thomas Ward read in silence, never revealing in sound or body motion what was going through his mind. Once he finished the paragraphs, he reread them, making sure that he hadn’t missed a single word.
He then looked over to Pat and motioned off Alice as she was returning to check on their progress. The President took a large bite of his turkey sandwich, and after washing it down with ice tea, he finally spoke, “Pat, do you have any idea who the author is?”
“No Sir, I do not. I asked that our investigative unit provide me with copies of all theories or correspondence linked to the assassinations.”
“Were you made aware of this document by a member of the investigative team, or did you uncover it yourself?”
“I came upon it myself, Sir,” Pat understanding the implications of the question.
“Agent Drice, let’s agree to dispense with the Sir, and the Mr. President, for just a few minutes. Can we just have this conversation like two guys sitting beside one another on bar stools?”
“I can agree to that.”
“Any idea who wrote this crap?”
Just as Pat was about to answer, the President called out to Alice. He asked her to call Edna and tell her to cancel his afternoon meetings. He said to tell Edna that he was done for the day.
Pat saw the displeasure on Alice’s face as she was given the assignment. Alice was not looking forward to the wrath of Edna Jones. The President motioned for Pat to continue.
“I thought about it all morning. Excluding both of us, there are fewer than ten people who know the truth behind the murders. We also have to consider the conspirators part in all this. Maybe someone is turning from their side.”
The President shifting on his stool, “Whichever side is responsible, we can’t get caught with our pants down. What about the Morgan family? I know if I were in their shoes I would want to clear my family name.”
“The only person in the Morgan family who knows the truth is Reed. He would love to scream it to the world that his brother’s only crime was being an idiot, and feels partly responsible for his brother’s death because of his relationship to Charles King. I don’t believe Reed is leaking information.”
“Then how about that woman, the one who dated the Morgan boy?”
“Lisa Grant. The Marshal Service cut her loose a few months back. Since, we have been keeping close tabs on her. She fully understands the consequences if she were to speak of what happened with Agent Preston, or the Morgan family.
“As I recall, you threatened her with dropping her into the deepest and darkest prison we have,” Pat said, with only the slightest smile.
The President returning the smile, “I believe I asked if we could just throw her out the window of Air Force One on the trip back to Washington. Pat, you know what’s coming next; what about your Air Force buddies?”
Pat lost his smile instantly, “Mr. President, I fully understand you needing to ask; especially when one of our own Secret Service Agents orchestrated the assassination of President Stephens; but these men are different. They live by a code that I wish we could bottle and force feed down our agents.”
The President relaxing, “A soldier’s code; you don’t have to remind me of what they did. I took a lot of heat from the Armed Services Committee about letting you involve them. Seems I am not supposed to use our military for combat on U.S. soil. I still have a couple of members of Congress holding me over the furnace for that.”
Pat regretted what he said next, “I did deputize them before we entered the mall. They were acting under my authority.”
“That’s rich; you deputized them? Sheriff, why don’t we mosey on over to the living room and see if we can get a handle on this mess.”
“Sir, I may have a few ideas where we can start.”
CHAPTER THREE
PFC Kevin Sands began to wonder if his entire tour of duty would be spent practicing for war. On the day he completed the advance training course; he packed his duffle bag and was transferred two clicks away to the 197th Infantry Brigade. PFC Sands was on his way to becoming a Special Forces Sniper.
The U.S. Army Sniper School was established in 1955 at Camp Perry Ohio. Soon it was disbanded, and later reestablished at Fort Benning Georgia in 1987. The school trains soldiers in the art of superior marksmanship, using the newest weaponry available to U.S. forces. During their training, the would master several weapons, including the M24 Sniper Weapon, M107, M110 Semi-Automatic, and the XM2010 Remington Sniper rifle.
The primary mission of the sniper is to deliver long-range, precision fire. Their secondary mission is the collecting and reporting of battlefield information. They were also trained in how to evade capture and to blend in with the surrounding environment.
Blending in with ground cover allowed the soldier to reach effective sniper to target range. This is accomplished by using all available natural cover. Often by using the ghillie suit, which mimics the patterns of the natural landscape.
Kevin’s shooting abilities shined through early in his Sniper training. His marksmanship scores were in the stratosphere and his ability to master each weapon kept him at the top of the class.
As good as he was he would still have to master the final course in order to graduate. In this last test the students would have to move undetected through three targets positioned within a one mile square plot. He was free to enter the course from any position on the field.
GPS coordinates were fed into his Luminex tactical combat watch. He would have to work his way to within 300 meters or less from the target before being allowed to take a shot. Instructors would be positioned in the proximity of the targets, working to intercept the shooter before he could fire. If discovered; he failed.
Instructors never assigned a time limit for the exercise, as all previous students completed the course in a three-to-six hour time period. Most often the sniper would end up rushing their way through the second or third shot. Competing for a nonexistent prize for the fastest course time had cost many a soldier a failing score. A student was allowed only two chances to make it cleanly through the target course. Failure meant being washed out of the sniper program.
PFC Sands entered the course at eleven
a.m. and placed his first kill shot at seven forty-five that evening. Once darkness set in the instructors found them having to scramble. They radioed headquarters and requested Night Storm Gen 3 night vision goggles.
At three twenty-two the next morning Sands hit his second target. Even in the darkness the spotters witnessed no muzzle flash in the target zone. The sudden sound of the bullet exploding on steel had startled them.
Half the military base was waiting outside the fire zone at daylight to witness firsthand this epic battle between student and instructor. At exactly eleven a.m., a full twenty- four hours since PFC Sands had entered the course; the last target was rocked with a head shot. It was immediately followed by a second shot to the chest.
The Captain, who was over the instructor class, picked up his PA horn and ordered Kevin to reveal his location. To everyone’s surprise, and the disgust of many, Kevin stood up less than fifty feet away from a spotter.
In debriefing, Colonel Adams, the base commander, asked him why he had chosen to take an entire twenty four hours to run the course. Sands answer would change the way the snipers train to this day.
He told the Colonel he chose the length of time because he felt the instructors would be ill prepared for an overnight mission. He had taken a calculated gamble that by extending the exercise he would first unnerve them, and as time went on, probably enrage them. His ability to move within a stone’s throw at the last target had solidified this point.
Three years later Staff Sergeant Kevin Sands was beginning his third tour of duty as a U.S. Army Sniper. He served two of his tours during the waning months of the Afghanistan resurgence. His current tour was in the heart of the Iranian Conflict. Having honed his craft, he was regarded as one of the greatest snipers ever to wear Army green.
Just as he was reaching the peak of his art, some lines around him began to blur. His spotter, Specialist Donnie Givens, was the first to notice this gradual change. Donnie loved to share that Sands had a sixth sense when picking out hostiles in the target zone.
Over the last few months this hyper-sense was failing the Sergeant. Givens would occasionally have to intervene; keeping Sands from offing unarmed civilians. SSGT Sands tried, but couldn’t get it into his spotter’s head that he was seldom, if ever, wrong. Call it enlightenment, a sixth sense, or a special God-Given talent, but he had the innate ability to spot a terrorist; armed at that instant, or not.
Those that Givens saw as civilians Kevin saw what they really were. He knew without a shadow of doubt those he chose were destined to become weapons of terror. In Afghanistan he had witnessed man, woman, and child, walk up to American soldiers and unleash hell.
Givens would never fully appreciate this ability and each time Donnie questioned a target, a blaze began burning deeper in Kevin. He once considered silencing Donnie, but he quickly smothered the thought. There was the code to consider; the code his grandfather started in him and the military had hammered home. He couldn’t kill Donnie, but Kevin knew the lives of his fellow soldiers must be saved at all cost. Kevin would have to find another way to stop these terrorist before they could act.
What Kevin had demonstrated in that final course year before was now his mission directive in the desert of Afghanistan. Kevin became a master at being one with the night. He would intercept, and then erase, the enemy before they could act on their so-called religious destinies.
News of the nightly murders traveled across the region. Soon village elders called on the U.S. military to investigate these killings. Originally it was thought to be Taliban rebels, but the randomness of the acts didn’t fit their pattern of violence. Rebels would have entered a village and just killed everyone.
The U.S. military was left with little choice but to investigate the killings internally. The United States Army Criminal Investigation Command (CID) was requested by the Army Command to begin an investigation.
The CID is responsible for investigating felony crimes, and serious violations of military law within the United States Army. The command is a separate military investigative force with investigative autonomy. CID special agents report through the CID chain of command, all the way up to the USACIDC Commanding General. He, or she, then reports directly to the Chief of Staff of the Army, and the Secretary of the Army.
At forward base Legend, formally the Kashar Air Station in Iran, the moment the CID agents stepped off their helicopter, they had been made. The blue code of silence isn’t only alive and well in the civilian police forces. Although Army Commanders would like to argue the fact, this code is just as prevalent in the military ranks also. The CID agents were walking headfirst into a wall of silence.
Specialist Donnie Givens could not shake the sick feeling that came over him when he first heard the stories of the murders. It had been weeks since he and SSGT Sands had argued over his targets.
If was as if Sands had awakened one day and reverted back to his old self again. Still it didn’t add up, he had been so adamant when it came to his opinion on targets. Givens didn’t want to believe it, but he knew at some point he would need to bring up his concerns with the CID.
-----
The men had had limited contact in past fourteen months. When they heard that Charles King, aka Matthew, had taken the leap from the 34th floor of his office building the air about them suddenly seemed thinner.
As if they were all waiting for the other shoe to drop, yet after all these months, it never came. It was only after the news stories broke that the government had uncovered evidence tying Charles King to the Fuentes Cartel that they were finally able to take their first real breaths in months.
The release of this cover story could mean only one thing; the new president was in no hurry to start screaming conspiracy. For fourteen months both sides seemed reluctant to do anything to upset the apple cart. Their group may have pulled off the perfect coup. Unaccustomed to just sitting on their hands, there were always interests abroad that could use their special type of attention.
In a nondescript abandoned office building a few miles outside Georgetown, Randal Hargrove, the U.S. Treasury Secretary, picked up the handset to join an already engaged conversation.
Peter asking, “Simon, is that you?”
“Good Morning Peter,” Simon replied. “How are you today?”
“I’m fine, Simon. The rest of the team is on the line with us also this morning.” Peter replied.
“It’s been a while since we have all spoken together.” Simon said.
Luke spoke up. “For good reason, don’t you think?”
“I would; so what makes today special?”
Peter taking back over the conversation, “Simon, have you felt any rumblings around the White House in the last couple of days? Anything you would consider to be out of the ordinary?”
Simon wondered where this line of questioning was going answered, “Peter, since the President made me appoint Janet Watson as Director of the Secret Service, I have had limited access to the day-to-day workings. But to answer your questions, No, I have heard nothing.”
“Simon, there is a folder in the right top drawer of the desk where you are seated. Please take a few minutes to read it, and then rejoin our conversation. I apologize you weren’t provided with this earlier; we couldn’t afford to forward it through your official mail. We have all seen it, but don’t hurry. We need you to read through its entirety.”
A few minutes later, Simon rejoined the call, “Do we have any idea who wrote this?”
Luke now speaking, “No, but whoever it is, they either can guess damn well, or they have their hand in our cookie jar.”
Thomas speaking, “Let’s just get it out into the open. Either one of us has blabbed their mouths off, or one of the President Ward’s men did. Obviously my vote is them. No one could have pulled this out of thin air.”
“We did.” Peter said. “Let’s not forget that we came up with it. But I agree with Thomas, it came from a player; someone ass deep in the game.”
“Tell
me what the President would gain by coming out with this now. Do you realize how it would look to the American people if he just up and confessed he had known early on that President Stephens’s death was a conspiracy. Forget America’s response; imagine the world’s response?” Simon stated.
“I agree.” Peter added. “Remember, he is not the only one who knows what happened. What about others on his team?”
Simon answered, “I will carefully dig a little, but from what we can tell, there are only a handful of people who know the truth. I believe that President Ward and Pat Drice would have them locked down tight. What we don’t need is for them to get their hands on this document.”
John replied, “It’s too late; they already have it.”
Simon with a sudden change in his voice, “And just how do we know this?”
“Yesterday someone began digging into the off-shore transactions between Matthew and Secret Service Agent Doyle Preston. They haven’t linked anything damning yet, and they probably won’t, but they are actively now searching for answers,” John answered.
Luke added, “So Simon, that’s why we asked you if you had heard anything coming out of the White House. I guarantee you they have a copy of the same conspiracy theory that you now hold in your hands. Gentlemen can we agree that halftime is over?”
Across the phone line Simon could hear all the voices of agreement. Simon asked, “If this is the case, then what’s our next play?”
Luke answered, “Simon, my friend; can we agree it is time to start going back on offense?”
CHAPTER FOUR
SSgt Kevin Sands reported to his commander’s office to take a satellite call from the states. His mother told him his grandfather had died. She went on to share he had been murdered while retrieving money from an ATM.
The Iscariot Factor (Half Staff Book 2) Page 2