Thy Kingdom Come: Book One in the Sam Thorpe series

by Helin, Don

  Sam raised his arm, ready to deliver a karate chop to the back of the guard’s neck. He saw the bill of a baseball cap poke into the office and stay there for what seemed forever. Sam held his breath. The beam from the guard’s flashlight circled the room.

  The bill pulled back. The door shut. Sam exhaled a sigh and mopped his brow again. He willed himself to breathe slowly.

  Sam looked at his watch again. After five minutes, he turned the knob and cracked the door. All quiet.

  Sam moved into the larger room. He hurried across to his office, sure Popeye would choose this moment to stick his head out of his office and see him. Pulling open his own door, he stepped inside. His knees were weak. He felt as if he might puke. Forcing himself to breathe normally, he set the camera on the desk.

  After several deep breaths, Sam slipped the memory card out of the camera and pushed it into his laptop. He reached inside his shirt and pulled out the memory stick hanging from a chain around his neck. Placing the memory stick into the second USB port on the computer, he transferred the photos from the card to the memory stick.

  As he scanned the documents, he saw the first one listed names and telephone numbers, none that looked familiar. The next document listed a series of locations. Sam figured these might be places that Oliver considered targets to explode the dirty bombs. Sam’s heart skipped a beat when he saw Minneapolis, with his name in parentheses. Were these bastards planning to harm Emily?

  He clenched his fist. He’d kill Oliver before he’d let that happen.

  Marcel Dubois shifted his Mercedes 230SL into third gear and stepped on the gas. God, he loved his car. He kept his eye on the rearview mirror in case any cops might have ideas of stopping him.

  He pushed the number on his speed dial.

  A voice answered, “Oliver.”

  “My friend, I just crossed the border. I should be at your place in a few hours. You know, I could make it faster, but who wants to risk a ticket?”

  “We can’t afford to have you intercepted. Not now.” Oliver paused. “Did you get a chance to look at the pictures?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “The colonel was at my restaurant a few days ago for lunch, but with a different woman. She was tall and had long black hair.”

  “That would be Ms. McCarthy.”

  “And she is?” Marcel shifted the Mercedes into fourth gear and shot by a Tri-State moving van.

  “McCarthy is apparently an old girlfriend.”

  “This colonel certainly does well with the women.”

  “Like you, my friend.

  Marcel chuckled. “I think we made a mistake in listening to Aly about Thorpe bringing a woman with him. Were you able to ensure her silence?”

  “Aly gave me her address. I tried to correct the problem but without success.”

  “Maybe I should try. Do you still have her address?”

  “I don’t know where she is now. Apparently Thorpe doesn’t either.”

  “I see. The woman in the picture you sent me is attractive, but really—the hair.”

  “Does she look familiar to you?”

  “No.”

  “Good. I’ve invited her to join our cause. She defended herself very well against one of our bigger men when he tried to force himself on her. Having a woman with our insert team should make it look less menacing.”

  “You’re starting to sound like Aly, my friend.” Marcel passed another truck.

  “Be careful, Marcel, you’re on dangerous ground.”

  “No harm meant, my friend.” Marcel got tired of treating Oliver with kid gloves, but he had to keep it up at least until he got the dirty bombs. “Are you going to bring her in on our plan?”

  “Enough so she can make a decision.”

  “What if she says no?”

  “Then I will have to remove her.”

  “I thought so.” Marcel laughed. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

  “Drive safely. I’ll have your Merlot ready.”

  Marcel switched off the phone. He thought about Elizabeth Henley. Such a beautiful woman. Too bad her future was limited. Maybe this friend of Thorpe’s would be a candidate to replace her.

  Sam hopped into Alex’s truck, and Alex turned right out of the parking area three blocks from the pub.

  “How did it go last night?”

  “Oh, I had all kinds of fun.”

  “I’ll bet. Were there any problems?”

  “The thumbprint worked like it was supposed to, but on the way out I almost had to knock out the security guard.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, jeez, too close a call.”

  After Sam had briefed her on what had happened, Alex said, “Well done.”

  He reached into his shirt, pulled out the memory stick, and handed it to Alex. “Here are copies of the pictures. I’ll need another memory stick.”

  Alex pointed at the glove compartment. “Put it in there and take out the spare stick. The glove box has a false bottom, so Oliver won’t find it even if he has someone go through the truck. I’ll get it to Bob tonight after I leave you.”

  “Oliver has a list of possible sites for dirty bombs. One site is Minneapolis.”

  “Minneapolis? How do you know?”

  “Bastard had written my name in next to the site.”

  “Oh no.” Alex down shifted the truck as they reached the farm lane. “You looked at the pictures on your computer?”

  “I transferred the images to the memory stick. He won’t be able to locate it on my laptop even if he tries. I keep it with me anyway, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Alex nodded. She shifted again, and wheels spun as the truck moved up the farm lane, almost sliding into a ditch.

  When they’d reached the destination, she shut off the engine and put her hand on Sam’s knee. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

  He put his hand on hers. “Okay, let’s go.”

  Sergeant Bacher met them at the outside door to the barn. He nodded and led them inside.

  “You can go back outside, Sergeant. I know the way.”

  Sergeant Bacher nodded and walked toward the door.

  Sam knocked on Oliver’s door.

  Oliver’s voice called, “Come in.”

  Sam ushered Alex into Oliver’s office. Oliver rose and came over to the door to shake her hand. She pulled her arm back—a reflex action she’d need to control.

  Kaminsky sat in the rocker next to the fire, his eyes locked on Alex’s chest. Popeye sat on the couch, his back at rigid attention.

  Sam was surprised to see Popeye. He hadn’t been in on any of the other meetings.

  As Popeye studied Alex, Quentin motioned to him. “Ms. Prescott, I’d like you to meet my second in command. We call him Popeye.”

  Popeye squinted at Alex. “Don’t I know you?”

  She looked at him. “I don’t believe so. Where are you from?”

  Popeye watched her. “That’s not important.”

  Oliver offered the two of them a drink. Sam and Alex both chose coffee.

  Motioning for them to sit, Oliver turned to Alex. “Have you had a chance to think about my offer of last night? You’re very talented with your defensive movements. I believe that will be valuable to our cause. Time is of the essence.”

  Alex sipped her coffee.

  “Would you be interested?”

  She blew on the coffee, then took another sip. “I have no idea what you’re inviting me to do. Plus, don’t forget, I have a sick mother to care for.”

  “Can you leave her alone for hours at a time?”

  “Yes, but not days at a time.”

  Popeye continued to stare at Alex, causing Sam to tense.

  Alex jumped up from the couch and walked over and leaned down to face Popeye. “Do you want me to take my clothes off? Or maybe you want me to parade around with my boobs hanging out. But whatever it is, let me know so we can get past it and you can quit staring at me. If you keep it up, I�
��m the fuck out of here.”

  Oliver and Popeye exchanged a glance; then Oliver pointed at Popeye. “Stop it. It’s not polite to stare.”

  Popeye looked away.

  Oliver stood. “I think it’s time we adjourn to my private office.” He placed his thumb on the scanner and pushed the door open.

  Oh, shit, Sam thought. What’s this about?

  They followed him into the small room, and Sam looked up to see soundproof tiles lining the ceiling.

  Oliver followed Sam’s eyes. “One never knows who may be listening, so I like to take precautions.” He motioned toward the table with his right hand. “Please be seated.” He turned back to the professor. “Close the door.”

  Sam took a seat next to Alex. The stack of papers he’d photographed seemed to be sitting in the same place on the desk. He sighed.

  Oliver sat at the head of the table. “We are preparing to launch a mission to obtain some high quality material. I anticipate we will conduct our operation later this week.”

  “What’s the drill?” Sam asked.

  “We’ll leave here about seven o’clock and travel to our IP.”

  Alex glanced over at Sam. “What the fuck is an IP?”

  “I forget some of us don’t have any military experience,” Oliver replied. “IP stands for initial point. It’ll be our final gathering point for the launch of our attack.”

  Popeye sat in the corner. At least he had quit staring at Alex.

  “We’ll move in small teams to the target. Team A will surround the target to prevent anyone from approaching or reinforcing the security, although I expect little security. Team B will secure the building, and our special team will move inside to actually take the material. I don’t anticipate it will take more than thirty minutes for the entire operation.”

  He leaned back and waited.

  No one said anything, so he continued. “When the operation is completed, our teams will depart in separate directions and then we’ll gather at a designated site about twenty miles from here. If none of the teams have been followed, we’ll return to the present location.

  “What do you want me to do?” Alex asked.

  “You’ll be with the group going into the building. Four men may raise the guards’ suspicions, but three men and one woman should seem more natural and cause less interest.”

  Alex nodded. “What’s in it for me?”

  “Satisfaction that you’re doing something to free our citizens from their government bondage.”

  Alex stifled a laugh. “Shit.”

  “And fifty thousand dollars.”

  “Oh, now that’s better. She thought for a moment. “And if I don’t want to be involved?”

  Oliver paused. “I would prefer not to think about that.”

  Alex smiled. “I can feel Momma getting better already.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Sam drove around town for almost an hour before he parked in the garage of the Hilton Hotel in downtown Harrisburg. He rode the elevator up to the fourth floor and knocked on the door of room 412. Bob O’Brien opened the door.

  When Sam entered, he heard the voices on the speakerphone.

  “Sam just got here,” Bob called across the room.

  “Hi, Sam.” Alex’s voice came through the speaker. She had agreed they should split up to avoid any chance of being followed.

  “Morning, Sam.” General Gerber sounded tired. Saturdays were like any other day for General Gerber, who had joined them via a secure line from the Pentagon.

  “Hello, sir.” Sam took a seat at the rectangular table across from O’Brien. Ten chairs were set around the table, and a speaker phone sat in the middle. Like so many other conference rooms, this one smelled of smoke and stale air. The drapes over the windows had been pulled.

  “Sorry I’m a few minutes late, but I circled Market Street an extra time to make sure I wasn’t followed.” Sam cleared his throat. “They’re ready to launch the operation by the end of this week. I still don’t know the exact location. The papers I copied should help.”

  “Right. We have enough to alert the security service.” O’Brien looked at his watch. “They’re due in about twenty minutes.”

  Sam grimaced. “I don’t like it. Oliver may halt the operation if he has indications that someone’s tipping off the feds.”

  O’Brien fingered his notebook. “If we don’t alert them and the material is stolen or, worse yet, someone gets hurt, that’s a real problem.”

  “Bob has a point,” General Gerber’s voice said over the speaker. “It’s too risky not to alert them. I’ve already told the White House that we are working with the NRC and security services. So far the operation remains under my control. Hopefully we can keep it that way.”

  “Were you able to narrow down possible locations from the papers I copied?” Sam asked.

  “Not as much as I would have liked,” General Gerber replied. “The papers listed alternatives but didn’t assign times, dates, or priorities. We’re still analyzing the package. Thanks for getting the information.”

  Alex’s voice chimed in. “Oliver is planning to convoy. I doubt he’ll travel more than fifty miles one way. Would take too long … might not be able to accomplish the job before dawn.”

  “I agree with Alex,” O’Brien said. “We have to go with what we’ve got.”

  Sam nodded.

  “We’ll place a tracer on your cell phone so we’ll know where you are at all times. And if that fails, leave your phone on so we can triangulate your location.”

  “If Oliver gets suspicious, that’ll be it. He’s already shown he would kill without hesitation.” Sam tapped his fingers on the table before saying, “We may have another problem.”

  O’Brien’s head snapped up. “What?”

  “At the meeting with Oliver, we were joined by Popeye, Oliver’s second in command.”

  O’Brien nodded. “Yes.”

  “He seemed to recognize Alex.”

  “The guy freaked me out.” Alex’s voice rose. “He kept staring at me from under those bushy eyebrows … asked me a couple of times if we had’ met before.”

  O’Brien grimaced. “I don’t like the sound of that. What do we know about the guy?”

  “I’ve told you all I know,” Sam replied. “I’m not sure where he works. The clown is active with the skinheads and proud of it.”

  “Do we have a picture to work with?” O’Brien asked.

  Sam shook his head.

  “I’ll get an artist. Alex, you’ll need to give him everything you can.”

  She laughed. “With all that shaggy white hair, it’ll be a piece of cake.”

  O’Brien looked at his watch. “Okay, let’s go. The security group will be here in a few minutes.”

  “See you guys,” Alex said. “I’m signing off.”

  “Good luck. I’ll be waiting to hear.” General Gerber’s voice sounded hesitant. “Ah, Sam, could you pick up?”

  Sam grabbed a wall phone.

  “I’m sorry to hear about Senator McCarthy and Jackie. I know how hard this must be on you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ve put Jackie on a leave of absence until this is over. I suspect once the smoke clears, the senator may see things a little differently.”

  “I’d rather not talk about this now, sir.”

  Gerber paused for a moment. “Don’t worry about the senator’s threats concerning your job or any disciplinary action. I can handle that.”

  “Thanks, sir.”

  “Good luck.”

  The general disconnected from the call with a click.

  O’Brien waved Sam toward the door. Sam followed him down the hallway.

  “We’ve got to get you in place before the security guys get here. No way do I want them to see you.”

  Sam nodded.

  They entered another conference area about the same size as the first one. A rectangular table with six chairs stood in the center. The podium had been pushed into the corne
r. A projector stood on the table with a flip chart in the corner.

  O’Brien pointed. “Sam, you can go back through that door into the audio-visual room. We won’t be using any slides, so you can watch what’s going on and hear without being seen.”

  “Make sure you don’t call for any Audio-visual cause it’s been a long time since I’ve done that.”

  O’Brien laughed. “I’ll try to remember. Seriously, I think it’s important that you’re here. If the security guys have questions we can’t answer, we’ll stop … check with you.”

  Sam looked around the room. He remained uneasy about being there.

  “I’ll walk up to the front entrance and meet them.” He put his hand on Sam’s arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll emphasize again that this is information we’ve received from overseas contacts, chatter on the Internet, and some confidential informants. Make sure they realize it’s a generalized alert but with a focus on Pennsylvania.”

  “I know you’re right, Bob, but something keeps gnawing at me.”

  “Better get back in your cell. I’ll bring them down to the conference room in a few minutes.”

  Sam closed the door to the A/V room and sat on a chair in the center of a raised platform. He could see the entire conference room, but as long as he kept the lights off no one could see him.

  The door to the conference room opened. O’Brien walked in with five men trailing behind him. The second man had his back to Sam. The way he moved looked familiar. When he turned to say something to one of the others, Sam’s heart skipped a beat.

  He couldn’t believe his eyes.

  Sidney Kramer steered the Jeep down the main street of the small town and up the steep hill to the college itself. The brick buildings, covered with moss and ivy, reminded him of the structures at McGill University, though on a much smaller scale.

  He’d taken almost two hours to travel here since he hadn’t wanted to speed. It wouldn’t do for him to get stopped, even though he did have his Canadian driver’s license. The government pukes were still looking for him.