by C. G. Cooper
He dreaded every call. His paranoid mind kept telling him that they knew it was him. Zimmer knew they didn’t, but he wondered what they’d say when they found out he was involved. They’d crucify him. He didn’t think badly of them for it. He knew he would’ve done the same thing a few months ago. They were as clueless as he’d been.
Zimmer remembered watching all those documentaries about Americans spying for Russia during the Cold War. He wondered how many of those spies were just normal people being blackmailed into betraying their country.
His phone buzzed again. It was his father.
“Hey, Dad.”
“I assume you’ve seen the video?”
Brandon cringed. “Yeah.”
“So what are our friends doing about it?”
“They’re looking into it, Dad.”
“We need to meet, Brandon. Where are you staying?”
Brandon told him. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
Congressman Zimmer looked down at his phone. The last thing he needed right now was an ass-chewing by good ol’ dad. Zimmer walked to the wet bar, poured himself two fingers of bourbon, and drained the glass.
He walked back to his laptop and watched the crime scene video for the twentieth time. It was already up to just over one million views.
+++
Thirty minutes later, Senator Zimmer walked into Brandon’s hotel room. He was handsomely attired in the latest golf wear.
“I’ve only got twenty minutes, Brandon. I’m meeting some colleagues at the Wynn for eighteen, so give me the rundown quickly.”
Brandon summarized the events of the past forty-eight hours. Once again, his father didn’t interrupt. Brandon knew his father. He’d already be formulating a contingency plan in his head. One of the reasons Senator Zimmer was such a long-standing politician was his ability to think five steps ahead and outmaneuver his opponents. The last true electoral test he’d had was fifteen years earlier when a grandson of JFK decided to try his hand at politics. Voters longed for the dynasty of the past, but the Zimmer machine soon killed the young man’s chances. Past dalliances were unearthed and witnesses were paraded onto every morning show on Massachusetts radio and television.
No one could trace the attack back to the Zimmer camp, but they all knew. Mess with the crafty Senator and he’d make your life hell.
Richard Zimmer had mellowed a bit with age. He was comfortable in his position. He’d brokered deals for billions of dollars of government aid and contracts to be funneled to his home state. The voters loved him.
“What does Mr. Stokes have in mind for fixing this problem?”
“Dad, I want to say something, but I think it’ll piss you off.”
“Out with it, Brandon,” growled an increasingly impatient Sen. Zimmer.
“I’m considering turning myself in. I think Cal and his team have done what we asked. I don’t feel comfortable putting them in any more danger.”
Visibly surprised by his son’s request, the Senator took a moment to respond.
“I appreciate you trying to take responsibility for the situation, Son. It seems as though you’ve grown a bit this week. That being said, I do not think this is the right moment to go to the authorities. I’ve already privately consulted our attorney and he seems to think that the evidence wouldn’t hold up in court. However, in the court of public opinion you would be crucified. I think that’s the risk we need to take. With the Presidential election so close, we need to be careful.”
Brandon wasn’t sure if he agreed with his father. And yet, he was a little relieved to hear that should the worst happen he might not go to jail.
“So what should we do?”
“Let’s see what Cal’s team comes up with. Maybe they’ll get lucky and get their hands on the evidence. Until we give them a shot, let’s sit tight and wait.”
Once again, Brandon couldn’t really argue with his father. The only thing worse than the video was the waiting.
+++
Daniel left the hotel and headed to a nearby storage facility. Walking up to the glassed entrance, he typed his personal entry code. Briggs went almost to the end of the straight hallway. His unit was the second to last on the left.
He pulled out his key and unlocked the rolling door, sliding it up. Daniel quickly entered the eight by ten unit and closed the door behind him. He’d rigged a custom lock inside the unit so he could stay undisturbed. After locking the door he turned around and surveyed his unit. Everything was neatly stacked. Just after getting to Las Vegas, he purchased several large metal storage containers. They were each about two feet tall by two feet wide and stretched four feet in length. The damn things were heavy as hell, but sturdy and impregnable by all but the best thieves.
Briggs unlocked the box on the far left and opened the lid. He had a variety of weapons neatly arrayed in mini racks. Since moving to Las Vegas, he’d methodically stocked his private armory. Once or twice a week, he visited a different outdoor store. Occasionally, when he had enough cash, he’d head to a gun shop and pickup a new firearm. Briggs never bought in the same place twice.
The box he examined contained mostly smaller weapons. Other containers held his long rifles. He wouldn’t need those, for the time being.
Daniel unslung the backpack from his shoulder and set it on the ground. He picked out a couple of things he thought he might need in the next few days. His sixth sense started to prickle again. He could feel the coming tension. It was the same feeling he used to get before going on a particularly dangerous op.
Although Cal made the current action sound routine, Daniel thought otherwise. There was a storm brewing and the Marine in him wanted to be in the middle of it. Standing in the hotel with Cal and his compatriots, Daniel started to feel at home.
The last time he’d felt this comfortable was when he’d finally won the respect of the acting platoon sergeant of his first scout sniper platoon; a crusty old Gunny who looked like he’d been in the Corps since the days of General Lejeune. The man was a career Marine and respected by every enlisted Marine (and the smartest officers) in the battalion. His most commonly used words were ‘shit’ and ‘fuck’. Like any good Gunnery Sergeant, he was a hard man to please. If you ever expected a compliment from the Gunny, you’d be waiting until the second coming of Jesus.
They’d just completed a grueling training evolution at Twenty Nine Palms. It was the lead-up to Daniel’s first combat deployment. He’d shot like a pro all week. In addition, his infiltration into the simulated enemy’s camp, the subsequent mock killing of their entire battalion staff, and his successful extraction, earned the platoon outstanding marks from the training officials. The Commanding General had even taken a turn commending the brave sniper team.
The old Gunny had turned to Daniel after the final debrief and imparted some of the sweetest words Daniel would ever hear in the Marine Corps: “Well, Briggs, looks like you’re not the shitbag that I thought you were. Now go pack your shit. You’re a fucking sniper now.”
Briggs remembered the crusty old bird fondly. They’d become as close to friends as the Gunny would allow. Tragically, the brave Marine died early into their second tour in Afghanistan. He died a hero, standing in the open, calling in close air support to destroy a heavily manned enemy position while his lifeblood flowed freely from his right arm that was no longer there.
As he did whenever remembering the man, Daniel said a silent prayer for the old warrior. He knew Gunny was up in heaven giving Jesus a run for his money.
He grabbed another couple pieces of survival gear from a separate box and locked everything back up.
Leaving the storage facility, Daniel Briggs walked with a steadier step. He was a man on a mission. He was a man going home.
Chapter 24
Memphis, Tennessee
9:15am, September 18th
The FedEx employee almost laughed out loud as he read the order form. Some businesses just didn’t know how to ship merchandise. Take this one, for example. T
hey’d literally paid double to have their packages delivered by 11am. They could’ve saved half if the same delivery was scheduled for two hours later. Stupid, thought the delivery supervisor.
He processed the shipment and scheduled the smaller parcels for local carriers. They’d be gone in under an hour. FedEx knew how to get stuff in and out, fast.
Chapter 25
Eighth & I, Washington, D.C.
9:22am, September 18th
“Everything ready to go, First Sergeant?” Capt. Andrews asked his senior enlisted Marine.
“Yes, sir. Second platoon is waiting by the gate.”
“Good. How about we head that way?”
Both Marines, attired in civilian clothing, stepped off toward the company van. They were booked on a commercial flight with the rest of their platoon. Leaving from Reagan National would be easy. In about seven hours, they’d be unloading their gear in Sin City.
+++
The White House
“Mr. President, I’ve got your itinerary for the convention.”
The tall president reached for the printed sheet.
“I thought you were gonna start sending these to me on my iPad, Bobby,” the President teased his junior aide.
Bobby Johansen flushed in embarrassment. It was true. He had promised to “stop killing trees” as the President liked to say. Unfortunately, being swamped with the planning for the trip to Las Vegas, Johansen forgot to deliver the itinerary electronically. It hadn’t helped that he’d gotten an email from that Asian guy when he arrived at the office. Something about a delivery coming in later today. He wished he’d never gotten in that mess during the campaign stop in Columbus. Now he had his unlikely savior asking random questions about the President’s toys. The President loved new technology. He was known to spend hours scouring social media sites.
None of the inquiries were incriminating. Hell, Johansen didn’t want to lose his job! No, the Japanese guy owned a technology company; something to do with cell phones. He wanted to get the inside scoop on possible upcoming government contracts. It seemed to Johansen that the man wanted to be able to brag to the public once the President received his newest smart phone prior to the official release. The guy seemed nice enough. He had helped Bobby out of that little matter with the Columbus police.
Johansen didn’t see the harm. Hell, maybe he could even get a free phone out of the deal.
“So can you send this to my iPad, Bobby?” the President woke Johansen from his thoughts.
“Oh, yes sir. Sorry, sir. I’ll send it to you right now.”
Chapter 26
Las Vegas, Nevada
9:52am, September 18th
Daniel hurried to his apartment and rushed to the bathroom. He quickly trimmed his beard and then shaved it off completely. He tied his hair back in a ponytail. Next he took out his one pair of decent jeans and threw on a form-fitting, black t-shirt. He finished the look with a weathered gray sport coat his mother bought him when he’d gone home for his dad’s funeral. I look halfway normal again, he thought, as he stared into the bathroom mirror. Mom would like to see me like this.
He linked up with Gaucho’s team twenty minutes later. They were all dressed in varying levels of stylish party attire. No one said anything about his appearance, but he thought he saw Gaucho smile in approval.
Briggs gave the men a quick rundown of the target. They were impressed by the level of detail in his presentation. One of the operators, dressed in an expensive Armani suit, asked Briggs how he knew so much about the place.
“Let’s just say I’ve had a whole lot of time to visit most of the Vegas establishments. Zeitaku’s relatively new, so I don’t know what your plan is to infiltrate the secure areas.”
Gaucho answered the question, “Neil gave us one of his toys.”
Daniel didn’t have a clue what the man was talking about. He knew Neil was the good-looking Indian guy with glasses. Briggs assumed he was just a computer geek that worked for SSI.
“I don’t get it. What toys?”
Gaucho laughed. “Sorry, Compadre. I forgot that you don’t really know our man Neil. His dad was some rich Indian dude. He built a big telecom company or something in the nineties. Well, Neil grew up working in his dad’s workshop. By the age of ten, the kid could fix or build more shit than his dad’s best technicians. So when Colonel Stokes brought Neil to SSI, he put him in charge of the company’s R&D shop. You give the guy a problem and he comes up with the solution.”
Briggs still looked confused. “Okay. So what about the toy he gave you?”
Gaucho motioned to the dark-haired operator standing next to him. The man handed what looked like an oversized CD case to the team leader. Gaucho pulled out a large disk and held it up. It was about eight inches in diameter and about a third of a centimeter thick.
“This is what Neil came up with for one of our little problems. We kept going on ops where the only way we could see through a door was either to knock it down or use one of those fiber optic cameras.”
“What does it do?” Briggs asked.
“You ever see one of those kids toys where you unfold the paper and it turns into a snowflake or something?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Well, this thing transforms into a ball. Then we can drive the thing on a smart phone loaded with the right software.”
“But isn’t that pretty obvious if somebody sees it on the other side?”
“I ain’t told you the best part. We’ve been testing a lot of this new camouflage shit. You know, the electronic stuff that makes you look like a chameleon? So anyway, Neil used that technology on The Sphere.”
“The Sphere?”
“That’s what we call it. Neil came up with some crazy name like Techno-Gyro-Camo-Something. We’re all dumb grunts. The Sphere works better for us.” Daniel knew they were anything but dumb.
“So this thing can camouflage itself?”
“Yeah. It blends with its background. You can be looking right at it and barely see it. Kinda looks like a mirage. We can also flatten it out with the push of a button. Then it’s almost totally invisible. It’s not foolproof yet, but it’s worked pretty well so far. Saves Bam Bam over there…” he pointed to a large man with bowling ball biceps, “…from having to bash in so many doors.”
“So what else can it do?” Daniel was fascinated by the advanced gear. What he would’ve given to have some of those over in the desert.
“It’s got a built-in camera so we can steer it and we can record to the cloud. Neil programmed a couple more features, but we’ll save those for later.”
“Cool. So where do you want me?”
“I’ve got you paired with Bam Bam.” He turned to the rest of the team. “Let’s get a quick comm check before we step off. I don’t want my calls to go to voicemail.”
The men chuckled and started checking their communication gear. They kept it simple and used cell phones. Most of their communication would be done via text. Only emergencies would be relayed via actual phone calls. They’d picked up the pay-as-you-go phones from a couple local pharmacies earlier.
Daniel checked his new phone and smiled. It felt good to be among warriors again.
+++
“Cal, Gaucho just checked in. They’re starting to head out,” Neil updated the small command group.
Cal looked over at Brian, Willy, and Zimmer. “So to recap, Top, you stay here with Neil and the Congressman. Brian and I will head to the café across the street from the target.”
“Why do I have to wear the chick disguise?” complained Brian.
“Neil thought you had the better hips,” Cal answered with a grin. “It’s better than having to wear this fat suit.” Cal patted the belly of his twenty-pound fat suit. There was a prosthetic nose and pair of glasses to go along with the trucker hat he had perched on his head.
“Let’s get ready and head that way.”
Brian nodded and went into the bathroom to change into his drag outfit. He wasn’t
happy about it, but he knew that even his mother would never recognize him AND it was much easier to hide weapons under the many layers of his outfit. At least he wouldn’t have to wear lipstick.
They walked out of the hotel room five minutes later. Brian walked uncomfortably in his patent leather combat boots. “I swear, if you ever make me do this again, Cal, I’ll…”
“Relax, Doc. Next time, we’ll get Top to wear the chick getup.”
Brian laughed at the absurdity of the mental image. At seven feet tall, there was no way MSgt Trent could pass for a woman.
“If I’m dressing up as the woman, you’re paying for dinner.”
Cal laughed despite the severity of the situation. They were going into the heart of Indian country. Hopefully, all they’d be doing was observing. The last thing he wanted to do was chase the enemy around Las Vegas in a fat suit.
Chapter 27
Tampa, Florida
11:02am, September 18th
The young intern met the mailman at the door.
“Got a couple packages for your office. Here, I’ll just put ‘em in a box for you. Leave the empty container outside tomorrow.”
The staffer took the box and looked down at all the labels. She’d planned on leaving early. She was jumping on a plane tomorrow with the rest of Congressman Unger’s staff. The past week seemed a blur of planning and scheduling. Her boss was a second-term member of the House looking to get re-elected. Despite the President’s waning popularity, Unger still wanted to get to Las Vegas early and be in as many photos with the incumbent as possible.
Her daddy, a rich Florida businessman, secured her a position through a couple of well-placed donations. When she’d first started working at the Congressman’s office, she’d started a casual relationship with the twice-married Representative. His second wife was on the way out, and the staffer was on the way up.