by C. G. Cooper
+++
“What happened?” asked Neil, still scanning the hospital blueprints.
“A hundred bucks says they took Cal and Snake Eyes off in a helo. Neil, I need you to activate their beacons,” said Gaucho.
Neil flinched. The thought of the homing beacons he’d invented and tested on himself still brought the phantom pain from where his ankle used to be. He now wore a prosthesis in its place, due to an old enemy severing his foot to get rid of the beacon implanted there.
After Neil’s kidnapping, most of the operators and all the top leaders within SSI had agreed to have two such devices implanted. The reason for multiple beacons being twofold. First, the locator could only be used once for a three-hour period due to the high output signal emitted. After that, they would have to be extracted and replaced. Second, they’d learned a lesson with Neil’s capture, and Todd Dunn, promising never to be without a backup again, suggested they implant two in different locations on each man. Redundancy. The locations of each beacon was a tightly held secret.
Neil pushed his chair over to another bank of computer screens and entered his access codes. Seconds later, Neil activated Cal and Daniel’s beacons. He waited for the GPS locators to engage.
+++
“Here you go.” Gary handed Maynor a plastic urine specimen cup. “Just bring it out when you’re done.”
“No pecker checker?”
“What was that?”
Maynor grinned. “Sorry. In the Corps we used to call the guys that watched us taking piss tests pecker checkers.”
Gary laughed. “I like that. No. No pecker checkers here.”
Maynor locked the bathroom door behind him, setting the cup on the sink. He checked his cell phone for calls or messages. Nothing.
Seeing no other options, he set himself to the task. A minute later, he emerged, sample in hand, only to be greeted by two nasty looking thugs pointing submachine guns at him.
“Did I miss something, fellas? Just taking a leak.”
Gary walked back into the trailer. “Please come with us, Mr. Maynor.”
The two men took up positions behind the Marine, one nudging him with the muzzle of his weapon. Maynor followed Gary into the cold, hands in the air, still holding the warm cup of piss.
+++
Neil followed the two tiny dots as they traveled across the screen. He’d alerted Travis, who was now on video along with Todd Dunn, Marge Haines and Dr. Higgins on one of the Neil’s computer monitors.
“Where’s he going Neil?” asked Travis.
“The helicopter keeps turning. He might be trying to avoid air space restrictions.” Neil panned out, trying to make some sense of the helicopter’s path. Much like the chase after the Navigator, the helicopter kept juking like it was trying to lose a tail.
“Is Gaucho following?” asked Dunn.
“As best he can. The aircraft’s just too fast.”
“What about the hospital? Did they leave anyone behind to take a look around?”
“Gaucho thought it would be better if they followed the beacons. Said it might cause too much of a commotion if they tried breaking into the parking garage. I think he’s right,” said Neil, still focused on the moving map in front of him.
All they could do now was watch and wait. The aircraft would have to land. Hopefully Gaucho’s team could get there in time.
+++
Maynor was led into a third trailer. The smell of disinfectant hit him as they walked in the door. “Strap him down over there,” ordered Gary.
“Does that mean I failed the piss test?” asked Maynor, not backing down, despite the amount of firepower aimed in his direction.
“Take off everything above his waist and strap him to the gurney. The others will be here soon.”
The two thugs moved to do as instructed, but the scrappy Marine had other plans. With the cup of piss in hand, whose lid he’d loosened on the short walk over, he threw the contents in the face of the closest guard, who recoiled in disgust.
The second man hesitated long enough for Maynor to deliver a crushing boot to the man’s knee. The guard crumpled, gun flying to the side as Maynor moved to meet the first man who was still wiping his face. Sliding into a kneel, the former Lance Corporal led with his fists, swinging time after time into the man’s groin, finally felling the groaning enemy.
Maynor swung around, looking for Gary. He was waiting.
“Looks like it’s just you and me, old man,” said Gary. “I hope you don’t mind, but I don’t want to get my shirt dirty.” The huge man carefully unbuttoned his dress shirt, revealing a chest, torso and arms covered in tattoos; tattoos that Maynor knew depicted white power .
+++
The helicopter touched down in a field next to the small mobile home complex in Fairfax, VA. Two bodies were unloaded and carried toward the trailer sitting a hundred yards from the impromptu landing zone. In under a minute the helicopter was back in the air, moving swiftly toward the Potomac.
+++
“You hear that? We’re about to have company. I’d say you have about thirty seconds to get your licks in,” laughed Gary, who loomed over Maynor like a mighty bear. The sound of a helicopter came and went. The machine guns were out of reach. The big man would get to him before he got his hands on a weapon.
Maynor smiled. “Okay, you big fucker. Show me what you’ve got.” He stepped forward.
+++
The small caravan tore along the deserted roadway, following Neil’s directions. “Come on, man, we gotta get there,” murmured Gaucho, willing his team to close the gap.
Chapter 27
Fairfax, VA
2:20am
Breathing heavily, Maynor struggled to focus on his adversary. After delivering a single blow, the seemingly immovable giant had proceeded to methodically pound the old Marine.
“Had enough yet, old man?” said Gary, who was barely winded.
Maynor spat a gob of blood at the man’s face. “Fuck you.”
Another hammer strike crushed against the side of Maynor’s head, and spun him to the ground. His world grayed as he barely remained conscious.
“What the fuck happened here?” came a shout from the door, followed by a blast of cold air.
“No problem, Doc. Just had to teach one of your patients a lesson.”
Maynor tried to see who was talking, but couldn’t through the blur.
“I told you they weren’t to be harmed, and what happened to these two?”
“He’s tougher than I thought. Sorry.” The big man sounded contrite in the face of the newcomer’s questioning.
“Strap him onto the gurney. They’re bringing the other two in now.”
Maynor felt himself being hefted into the air and then laid on something soft. His clothes were ripped off as he passed out.
+++
“Five minutes out,” announced Gaucho, both to his team and to the staff listening in from SSI. “Any intel on the target, Neil?”
“I’m trying to patch into any overhead satellites, but none are available. I’ll keep working on it.”
Gaucho gritted his teeth, kicking himself for letting his friends be taken.
+++
“Make sure they’re strapped down correctly. We don’t want another incident like we had in Detroit.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Have the devices arrived?”
“I have them right here.”
“Good. Get them prepped. I’ll make the incisions once we’ve matched the codes.”
“Yes, sir.”
+++
Gaucho checked his weapon. He hated using suppressors. They always messed with the balance, and therefore proper aim, of a weapon. Regardless, the less attention they could attract the better.
“Two minutes,” he announced, more for the benefit of those watching from headquarters.
+++
Cal’s head swirled in the darkness. A smell assaulted his senses. Am I in a hospital? he thought groggily. He’d spent
his fair share of time in hospitals over the years. The source of the smell came to him suddenly. Betadine.
Sounds came next. The clanking of metal and the murmur of voices. Cal tried to shake his head, but it hurt. He focused on the noise, pinpointing that it was coming from his left. He turned his head that way, slowly. Gradually, he opened his eyes the slightest bit, doing his best to see through the shimmery haze. As his vision adjusted, he observed a man in surgical scrubs, mask and blood-covered gloves bending over a prostrate form. From where he lay, Cal couldn’t see above the patient’s torso, but something felt familiar about the…
“Looks like one of our guests is awake,” came the voice of the man who was now cutting into the person under the spotlight. “Please make sure he’s properly restrained. Without anesthesia, I don’t want him squirming when I make the incision.”
+++
The SSI team parked blocks away from the trailer park, moving the rest of the way on foot. Fanning out with practiced precision, no one said a word as they followed Neil’s guidance through their earpieces.
+++
“This one’s done. Why don’t you check the connection. I can sew him up after I finish that one,” said the surgeon, pointing at Cal.
“Sure thing, doc.”
Cal struggled against his restraints to no avail. He was still groggy from whatever sedative they’d given him.
“What are you doing?” Cal dared to ask.
The doctor turned his head to regard his next patient. “Just a little procedure. You look fit. You should come out of it even better than this one.” He patted the thigh of his last victim and wheeled his chair over to Cal. “Now, this might be a little cold,” the man said as he opened the prep kit and spread betadine on Cal’s stomach.
“Get your fucking hands off of me.”
“Or what?” The grizzly caricature looming over him chuckled, still wearing his gory gloves. He snagged a scalpel from the mayo stand and admired it in the overhead light. “This really is my favorite part. Now, if you’ll be so kind as to—.”
The trailer went pitch black, and then the shooting started.
+++
Gaucho and his boys had taken out three guards who’d been patrolling the exterior. Without a shred of discipline, or maybe it was a false sense of security, the men stood around a small fire, warming themselves when the death blows fell.
The twelve man team converged on the trailer registering Cal and Daniel’s beacons. Seconds later, one man cut the power and the rest streamed in.
+++
Cal strained and pulled hard to the right, away from the entrance, finally toppling his gurney to the ground. He didn’t have a clue who the gunfire was coming from, but the last thing he wanted was to get caught in the crossfire.
Screams and more gunfire. He heard moaning.
Finally the firing stopped. “Boss, you in here?” came a familiar voice.
“Over here,” beckoned Cal.
Moments later, the lights came back on and Gaucho approached, weapon still at the ready. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. Just get me off of this thing.”
Chapter 28
Fairfax, VA
2:46am, December 20th
The SSI warriors had done their job, killing everyone, including Gary the giant and the surgeon. They found Daniel and Maynor strapped to tables at the opposite end of the trailer. Both men stretched their sore extremities, Maynor accepting a ice pack from one of Gaucho’s men.
“You waited long enough,” observed Cal. “What happened?”
Gaucho told him the story of the chase and Neil’s use of the implanted transponders. “I’m glad they put those things in you guys. Made me a believer, boss.”
Cal nodded, taking in the room. Now that he could see, he processed the scene. The person being operated on next to him was the nearly decapitated and wholly unrecognizable body of Congressman Quailen. What had seemed so familiar was the scarf still draped around the cadaver’s neck like a gruesome doll.
“Let’s get these bodies out of here. Keep the congressman separate for now.”
“Hey, Cal, I think you better come see this,” said Daniel.
Cal walked over with Gaucho, Maynor already standing next to Daniel.
“What is it?”
Daniel pointed down at the blood-spattered table. “I think that’s what they were going to put inside us.”
Cal picked one of the black devices up. It was flat on one side, bulbous on the other with a thick stump the size of a man’s pinky sticking out one end. The entire apparatus looked to be no more than five inches long and maybe three inches wide.
“Is this what I think it is?” asked Cal, shivering at the thought of having the instrument implanted in his body.
“That’s an IED,” said Daniel.
+++
“Zimmer.”
“Brandon, it’s Cal.”
“Thank God. Are you okay?”
“A little shaken, but I’ll be fine. Are you with the president?”
“He’s in the other room. You want me to get him?”
“No. I think it’s better if we come to you. We’ve got a stop to make, and we’ll come by after that.”
“Okay. I’ll be waiting.”
+++
“Has the doctor called?”
“Not yet. Want me to try him again?”
“Yes. We’re about to miss our timeline.”
+++
Three of Cal’s team members had stayed behind to dispose of the bodies at the trailer park. Cal instructed the rest of them to take positions around the compound.
“On my mark. Three, two, one, go, go, go.”
Daniel was the first over the fence, followed by the rest of the troops. The raid took less than five minutes, with none wounded on the SSI side. Ten minutes after arriving, the SSI squad departed.
+++
“What do you mean he’s not answering?”
“He’s not picking up. I called Gary too. Nothing.”
“Get some men over there and figure out what the hell is going on!”
+++
The White House guards peered into the back of Cal’s vehicle and took a step back. “The president’s expecting us,” said Cal.
The senior guard hesitated. “Sir, I…”
“Trust me.” Cal winked. “Best if you forgot what you just saw.”
The vice president had called earlier to tell them about the impending arrival of a Calvin Stokes. He hadn’t said anything about the extra vehicles or the cargo.
The guard looked at Cal’s identification card one last time, handed it back through the window, and waved the vehicles on.
+++
The president and the vice president looked up when the door to the situation room swung open and a person staggered in, slammed against the table, mouth covered with duct tape.
“Sorry to barge in like this, Mr. President,” said Cal, followed closely by Daniel, Maynor and Gaucho.
“Who is…Congressman Quailen?” stuttered the president, rising to his feet.
“Yes, sir,” Cal affirmed.
“But I thought you said he was killed,” said an equally shocked Zimmer.
Cal pushed the bloody captive into one of the pristine leather conference chairs. “That’s what we thought. Good ‘ol Pete put on quite a show.” Cal reached down and ripped the duct tape off the congressman’s mouth. “Why don’t you tell the president who really got shot.”
Quailen stared at Cal, hatred burning. “I want my attorney.”
“Wrong answer,” said Cal, delivering a chop to the man’s nose, instantly crushing the bridge, sending Quailen reeling, yelling curses.
“Is that really…”
“We’re out of time, Mr. President. Either we get the information we need, or we let a bunch of crazy skinheads kill more Americans.”
The president looked to Zimmer.
“Let’s try this again. Who did you dupe into dressing up as you, only to be killed in
your front yard?” asked Cal, hand poised to punish another retort.
Quailen wiped his broken nose gingerly with the back of his sleeve. “You people don’t know a fucking thing. You think we live in a black and white world. Well, let me tell you something. We live in a world of gray. It’s my world, not yours.”
“Why don’t you cut the crap and tell us who you had murdered,” commanded the president, tired of Quailen’s bullshit.
Congressman Peter Quailen looked up through bloodshot eyes and smiled. “Joel Erling.”
+++
“Sir, I just got off the phone with our guys. They went by the trailer park and everything’s on fire. The fire department arrived as they drove by.”
“What?! What about the doctor?”
“I still haven’t gotten him on the phone. I think we need to assume the worst.”
“Push up our timeline. Our contact just phoned and said they’ve got Quailen.”
“But, we only have two…”
“Just do it. If we can’t get it done now, there may never be another chance.”
Chapter 29
The White House
4:55am, December 20th
Quailen hadn’t said another word after telling the president about the death of the former Republican congressman from Colorado. In fact, instead of talking, Quailen started laughing like a madman, marveling at how easy it had been to dupe his weak-willed colleague.
Now secured by the Secret Service detail in a detention cell, the SSI contingent, along with the president and vice president, considered their options.
“This still doesn’t explain his connection with the terrorists. Is it coincidence that Quailen and Erling, whom you recently outed, just happened to be part of the coordinated attacks against my wife? I find that very hard to believe.” The president hadn’t stopped pacing, even bumming a cigarette from the slightly awestruck Don Maynor.
“I don’t know,” replied Cal. “It’s possible, but not likely. I’m more inclined to think that whoever was behind the attacks contacted Quailen, knowing he’d have nowhere else to turn. Dr. Higgins, our in-house interrogator, is on his way here. If anyone can get it out of Quailen, it’s him.”