by J. C. Fields
“I enjoy being a Seal, but…”
“I understand. What happens next, right?”
A nod was his answer.
“All I can tell you, Bobby, is you’ll know when the time is right to move on to the next adventure. If our little experiment goes well, and it will, you can join your dad and me anytime you want.”
“Thanks, Jimmie. I appreciate it.”
Sandy Knoll, having gone inside to grab fresh trout and a few steaks, returned to the grill. “You two look like you’re plotting something.”
Gibbs shook his head. “Nope, just learning more of your family’s secrets.”
Knoll smiled and threw three New York Strips onto the grill. “More likely you two are plotting against his mother and me.”
***
Kruger leaned against the deck railing and stared off into the woods behind Joseph’s home. Stephanie walked up to him and handed him a beer.
“You look lost. What’s going on?”
He took the beer. “Thanks.” He returned his gaze back toward the woods. “Just thinking about my encounter with Randolph Bishop.”
“Not one of our more memorable moments here.”
“No—not really.”
“Did your conversation with Joseph go well?”
He shook his head, opened the beer and took a sip.
She frowned and crossed her arms. “Okay, Mr. Kruger, feeling sorry for yourself doesn’t suit you. Besides, everyone else is having a good time. You’re the only one sulking and ignoring your friends.”
Giving her a half smile, he said, “Apparently, getting credentials for myself and the others is creating a problem in Washington for Roy. That’s not what I had in mind.”
“He’s a big boy, he’ll figure it out. You, on the other hand, need to face the fact you might actually have to walk away from it. Can you do that?”
Blinking several times, he did not respond immediately. Finally, he turned to her. “Trust me, the longer the delay, the more likely that will be the outcome. And, yes, I can walk away from it.”
Her stern look softened and she placed her hand on his arm. “Your actions at Mount Rushmore saved a lot of innocent lives.”
He shrugged.
“Well, they did. Maybe instead of working with Sandy and Jimmie, you talk to your friend at the Highway Patrol. He’s been after you, for what, five years to come work for him.”
“Seven, actually.”
“Then maybe it’s time to do that instead.”
“What about the information we found about Monk and this group he was associated with?”
She chuckled. “Sean, you are not the only FBI agent in the world. As I told you a few days ago, there are over fourteen thousand other special agents. I bet more than one of them is competent enough to figure this Monk business out.”
Kruger tried not to grin or smile but failed. He turned to her, chuckled under his breath and gave her a hug. “Thank you.”
“For what, telling you the truth?”
“Yes, and for being a little voice in my head telling me I’m being silly and stupid.”
“You’re not stupid. Silly and stubborn yes, but not stupid.”
He laughed and took hold of her hand. “Let’s go join the party.”
Chapter 34
Washington, DC
Two Days Later
President of the United States Roy Griffin seldom displayed anger or annoyance, but this morning was an exception. Joseph stood in front of the Resolute desk and watched as Griffin paced behind it.
“Joseph, this stalemate with the Senate and the status of our new venture is intolerable.”
“Yes, sir.”
“There has to be a way for us to make a new department under Homeland Security without members of Congress getting up in arms about it.”
“There is, sir.”
Griffin stopped pacing and stared at his National Security Advisor. “Well, what is it?”
“It’s called the Presidential Reorganization Authority.”
“I’m listening.”
“It gives the president the authority to divide, consolidate, abolish, or create agencies of the United States federal government by presidential directive. However, it is subject to limited legislative oversight and can be overturned by Congress.”
“Why have I never heard of this?”
“It’s fairly obscure and last used successfully by Richard Nixon to create the Environmental Protection Agency. Reagan tried to use it, but Congress failed to act on his proposal in a timely fashion.”
Griffin blinked. “It hasn’t been used since?”
With a shake of his head, Joseph said, “No, sir.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know. My guess would be because Congress has to allocate funding for any changes.”
“What if the changes are minor and they don’t cost the taxpayers a dime?”
“Can’t say, sir. Congress still has to approve it.” He paused for a minute. “Sir, why do you want this new department to be under Homeland Security?”
“Personally, Joseph, I couldn’t care less what department it’s under. I just know we need it.”
“No arguments from me, sir.” He cleared his throat. “May I suggest putting it under the Department of Justice? The Attorney General might be easier to deal with. Joan Watson had her own agenda. The AG doesn’t. Besides, he doesn’t like talking to members of Congress.”
“If we make it a separate department, don’t we have to appoint a director?”
Joseph shook his head. “Not if you stick it under the jurisdiction of the FBI.”
Griffin displayed a small smile as he stared at Joseph. “In other words, Sean Kruger is all of a sudden back under the FBI umbrella.”
“Why didn’t we think of this sooner?”
With a shrug, Joseph said, “Because we were concentrating too hard on getting it under Homeland Security.”
“What will Paul Stumpf say?”
“It was his idea.”
“Are you two making plans behind my back?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”
“Well, keep doing it. If this works, we can turn Sean loose, can’t we?”
“Yes, sir.” He paused. “There’s also been a development you need to be aware of.”
Griffin raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
Joseph told him about the other document JR and Alexia found.
***
His cell phone vibrated as he started his cool down walk from an afternoon run. Kruger glanced at the caller ID and accepted the call. “Good afternoon, Paul.”
“Yes, it is a good afternoon, Sean.”
A little surprised, Kruger stopped walking and rubbed the sweat from his eyes with the back of his hand. “How so?”
“Do you still have your FBI badge and ID?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve never been asked to return it.”
“Good, it’s official again. A new one will be issued in the next week or so with your new title.”
Without knowing how to respond, he was silent for a second. “Beg your pardon.”
“The president issued a Presidential Directive today reorganizing the FBI and creating a new department. Since the funding for this department is from a private source, the Speaker of the House and the Senate Majority Leader told him they would not override it. You are now officially an assistant director and not subject to the mandatory retirement requirements.”
“I’m not moving to Washington, Paul.”
“Not necessary.”
“Then I’m on board.”
“Glad we worked it out.”
“What about my team?”
“It’s your budget—you can hire who you want. There is a sub-clause in the department structure that allows the hiring of qualified sub-contractors with the needed skills. Those you choose will be provided with the appropriate identification.”
Kruger smiled. “What’s the name of the department?”
“Ri
ght now, we’re calling it the Domestic Terrorist Division, but that may change.”
“Who do I report to?”
“Straight line to me.”
“Even better.”
“Sean.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Joseph told me about the second document you found in Monk’s buried papers. Do you believe what’s in it?”
“I don’t think we have the luxury of not believing it.”
The call went silent for a few moments. “We have a very intense investigation going on right now into the ambush of Thomas Shark’s team. I’ll let the SAC know you will be involved.”
“Thank you, Paul.”
“Let’s get these guys, Sean.”
“Yes, sir.”
***
Early the next morning, Kruger sat at the end of the table in JR’s second floor conference room. Associates of JR’s company were used to strangers meeting in the room and normally paid little attention to the goings on within those walls. Today was a different story.
The big man with bulging biceps and a weathered face had not been to the room for a long time. Neither had the slender athletic man who followed him.
Another man, whom the associates had never seen before, appeared at the top of the stairs and wound his way around the peripheral of the second floor. As he entered the conference room the man shook everyone’s hand like they were old friends.
JR was the last to enter the conference room and after the door was shut, the associates went back to their duties. The inhabitants of the conference room were quickly forgotten.
Sandy Knoll and Jimmie Gibbs were noticeably anxious to hear what Kruger would say. The summons to meet had them hopeful with the anticipation of good news. The appearance of Ryan Clark brought smiles as everyone sat at the table.
Kruger started the meeting. “As you all know from previous conversations, getting this new group together has been challenging, to say the least. I can now report that the Homeland Security route has been discarded.”
Frowns were displayed by everyone, except Kruger. “However,” he continued, “a better solution was found.”
The frowns disappeared.
He took out his FBI badge and ID and placed them on the table. “I’m not sure how it transpired, but this little group is now part of a new department within the FBI. The Domestic Terrorist Division.”
Gibbs said, “Did Sandy and I resign too quickly?”
Shaking his head, Kruger replied, “No, you did the right thing. You and Sandy would have been transferred to new assignments somewhere else in the country. Your new company will be an independent sub-contractor for this new group.”
Clark tilted his head. “What’s our structure?”
“Lean. I’m classified as an assistant director, which negates the mandatory retirement age clause for active special agents.” He gave the team a sly smile. “Because we are so lean, I’ll be in the field instead of behind a desk. At this point, Ryan and I will be the only employees on the FBI payroll within this division. That might change over time, but for now that’s it. The rest will be sub-contractors. This gives us more options about who we need as we get involved with investigations. To avoid the red tape of the bureau, Sandy and Jimmie’s company has been vetted and will be the primary supplier of these individuals.”
Knoll chuckled. “Sounds like we just hit a trifecta.”
With a nod, Kruger said, “We did. Ryan’s title is now Special Agent in Charge. It comes with a nice salary bump and a new line on his resume.”
With a grin, Clark said, “Thank you, Sean.”
“You’re welcome, you deserve it.” He paused. “Because our budget is—uh—substantial, we won’t be flying commercial.” He nodded at Sandy. “Your company will be in charge of providing transportation to and from any location the team needs to travel to and arranging vehicles while the team is on site. For now, we won’t have to rely on commercial air travel or FBI pool vehicles.”
Knoll made a note and nodded. “We already have a pilot who comes with his own plane.”
“I believe I met him.”
“You did.”
“Finally, I will pass this out.” Kruger extracted five sets of papers stapled together and passed one set to each person. “This is a second manifesto JR and Alexia found within the pages of the pages Thomas Shark found on Monk’s property. It’s a disturbing summary of the activities of an, until recently, unknown organization.”
The room was quiet as the pages were read. Jimmie looked up first. “I was wondering when another group might start using the ISIS model for recruitment. It was extremely effective.”
The newly installed assistant director said, “Our first task is to identify the leaders.”
“I thought there was a vigorous investigation effort underway right now looking into the ambush.” Clark continued to stare at the document in his hands.
“There is, but they are looking for the individuals who committed the attack. We won’t be a part of it. Our task is broader. Find the individuals who are organizing this group and quietly shut it down.”
Jimmie asked, “Where do we start?”
Kruger pointed at JR. “He’s already has.”
Chapter 35
Lander, Wyoming
Kevin Marks took a long pull from a bottle of beer as he waited for his dinner companions to arrive. The table where he sat occupied a small alcove near the back of the brew pub. Since he ate there often, the owner reserved it for him most evenings. The fact he owned twenty-five percent of the establishment didn’t hurt either.
Sheriff Roger Blake sat down across from Marks and frowned. “Do you know how many FBI agents we have in this county?”
With a shake of his head, Marks took a sip of beer.
“We have at least twenty and probably more I’m not aware of.”
“Why are you not aware of them?”
“Because my department has been told, in no uncertain terms, we aren’t involved with their investigation.”
“Sounds like you didn’t use your charm.”
Blake leaned forward and said in a low whisper, “I hope those three goons you hired are in another state right now.”
“Extended fishing trip in Manitoba.”
“Keep them there.”
Marks just nodded.
Gordon Lyon, Chairman of the Fremont County Board of Commissioners, joined them. He sat next to Marks and stared at Blake. “What are you doing about all the FBI agents running around here?”
“Not a damn thing.”
Lyon puffed his chest out and started to say something when Marks touched his arm. “Gordon…”
“Sorry, but the phones in our office have been ringing off the walls with complaints.”
“About?”
“How rude they are.”
With a chuckle, Marks nodded. “Perfect representatives of this country’s out-of-control federal government.” He drained his beer and handed the empty to a young waitress who had just deposited a new one in front of him. “We will have to endure this for a few more days, gentlemen. When they don’t find anything, they’ll lose interest.”
After ordering their dinner, the two newcomers contemplated their beers. Blake scowled as he twisted the bottle clockwise and then counter clockwise. Lyon nervously peeled the wet label from the bottle. Marks looked at each one and, in a low voice, said, “You two knew what you were doing when you signed up for this. We all agreed on how to move forward.”
Lyon’s face reddened as he shot Marks an angry glare. “Didn’t agree to an ambush of six FBI agents.”
“Sure, you did.” Marks returned the glare. “You agreed to it when you took my money to get elected Commissioner.”
“I did no such…” He stopped and raised the beer bottle to his lips.
“What’s next, Kevin?” Blake had not taken his eyes off the richest man in Fremont County for several minutes. “You don’t seem to be worried about the FBI.”
His eyes nar
rowed. “Who’s going to talk to them? I’m not and I know you two are too scared to say anything. So, who?”
Lyon just shook his head and peeled more label off the bottle.
The sheriff stopped twisting his bottle. “They have ways of finding things out, Kevin.”
Marks slammed his palm down on the table and leaned forward. “Not if you and Gordon keep your damn mouths shut. There is nothing written down about our activities.” He touched his temple. “Everything is supposed to be up here and if you don’t say anything, it can’t be found.”
Blake took a deep breath. “What if Monk had notes?”
“What do you mean? Notes.”
“During the initial search of his property, my deputies saw them hauling off all those bank boxes.”
“Class notes.”
“Maybe. What if there was something else hidden in the class notes.”
Marks grinned. “There was, but those three goons you mentioned found it when they took care of the FBI agents at Monk’s cabin.”
Lyon gasped. “Where’s the information now?’
“Ashes, buried in the Canadian back country.”
“What about the papers they hauled off?”
“What about them? If there was anything there, we would know by now. Besides, Monk didn’t know about you two, and he definitely didn’t know the full story. He was a tool, gentlemen, nothing more. A tool we used for five years.”
“Well, he wasn’t a very effective tool. We’ve made no progress in those five years.” Blake’s eyes were narrow as he glared at Marks.
Marks shook his head. “I disagree. He set the stage for the next phase.”
Lyon sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”
“The fact that the FBI is crawling all over this area tells me they are concerned and our long-term plan is working. Why do you think there are so many incidents right now with someone walking into a soft-target and opening up with an AR-15?”
The other two men remained quiet.
“Because Monk sowed the seeds. We have a group watering those seeds as we speak.”