Storm Surge (Quantum Touch Book 5)

by Michael R. Stern

  The First Lady asked with a glance, and the president shook his head. Moments later, a short knock, and the door opened to General Beech, the Secretary of State, and the CIA director. And Mason Hamid. “Mr. Hamid, sit here.” The president had placed a single chair directly in front of the Resolute Desk, facing him. “Gentlemen, be seated.” He sized up the dark-haired young man, who might hold the fate of the country in his hands.

  “Mr. Hamid, you have been identified as a spy, and a mole in the State Department, and also as the whistleblower in an anticipated coup d'etat. So, I'm going to ask you to tell your story to us all. When you are done, I'll ask you every question I can think of.”

  The secretary said, “Take your time, Mason. I want to hear what you haven't told me, so tell it all.”

  The director said, “I want to hear it too.”

  Licking his lips, Hamid began to speak. “A few months ago, a man named Richard Salzmann approached me and said he knew of my connection to the government, and he had information vital to freedom–his word–and the security of the country. He said he had knowledge of a conspiracy to overthrow the government.” He stopped. The president looked at the people in the room for reaction. He waved the young man to keep going. “This sounds nuts, but I can prove what I've found. I have original documents. Not copies. I stole them. I'm already in trouble but if they get what they're after, I'm as sure a dead man as you are.”

  “That's pretty dramatic, Mr. Hamid. And how do you propose to prove it?” The president again scanned the room. He saw no surprised faces, just interested onlookers.

  “The files are in a safe. The secretary has some copies, but he doesn't have the pictures.”

  “Where's the safe?”

  “Under the backseat of my car. My second car.”

  “And where is your car? You're making me interrupt, Mr. Hamid. Get to the point.”

  “It's in the secretary's garage.” He told them where to find the key and the safe's combination.

  “I'll get it,” the secretary said.

  “No, you won't. Mr. Clemmons, I want a team of agents, and a bomb squad to go, and do as little damage as possible.” He turned back to Hamid. “While we wait for your proof, continue.”

  Hamid said that because he had reason to be skeptical, he ran double checks on Richard Salzmann. “What made sense to me, and the reason I took this to the secretary, is that Salzmann is, or claimed to be, James Koppler's brother-in-law. Mr. President, I followed protocol, but an informant gave me all I had to go on, so I contacted the secretary. He told me to keep digging, and to stay in close contact. He also told me to keep good records, but keep them secret and well hidden. That's when I remembered his garage. It's an old carriage house, converted. Sorry I didn't tell you about the safe, Mr. Secretary. Mr. President, I only get one parking spot in my complex, and I didn't want the file so unsecured. The secretary offered one of his garage spots, which worked out fine. I tinker with cars, so I could have an excuse for visiting without anyone becoming suspicious.”

  “It seems you planned this out pretty carefully,” said the president.

  “I had to. Salzmann told me they had the NSA and the military already on board. To give you false information.”

  “And you have names?”

  “Yes, sir, but they're in the file. I'd rather not say anything until I can show you the proof.”

  The president checked his watch. “Let's take a short break. They can't be much longer.”

  The general lingered as the others left. “I've been off the grid for more than twelve hours. I need to make some phone calls.”

  “Use my private office, General. Be quick.” The president walked him to the door and said, “Jim, we need to solve this.”

  With the room empty, except for the First Lady, Mason Hamid whispered to the president, “Sir, General Beech is one of the conspirators.”

  THE PRESIDENT WAITED until Hamid's file arrived to call the others in. He spoke quietly with the First Lady and moved around the office, deciding how he would end the quandary. He neither believed the story nor rejected the honesty of those surrounding him. But, he had another Koppler to deal with. Mason Hamid had remained seated, staring out the window across the South Lawn when the door opened.

  “Mel, give Mr. Hamid his file. Tell the others to come back.”

  “Gentlemen, let's finish this now. Show me your evidence.” Before Hamid could open the file, Ms. Crispin knocked and poked her head around the door.

  “Mr. President, Tom Andrews just arrived and Dr. Sherman is on the phone.”

  “Send Tom in and connect the doctor.”

  “Yes, Doctor Sherman?”

  “Mr. President, I just wanted to inform you that I've been in surgery again with Mr. Russell. I've got a better feeling for a positive outcome. I'm going to get a bite to eat, and then a short nap.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. I'll speak to you later.” He replaced the phone and signaled the First Lady with a short up and down nod. “Okay, back to business.”

  Hamid presented the information to the president and explained each step he went through. When he mentioned Florian Declercq, the general started to speak. The president held up his hand.

  “Mr. President,” said Hamid, “this troubles me. I showed this to the secretary, too. These are pictures of Declercq. This one is from his company website, and they shot this one when they arrested him at the Willard. Although they look similar, I'm not sure they're the same person.”

  “Let's put that aside for the moment. What's next?”

  “I had two public meetings with Richard Salzmann. We have still photos and video frames from both meetings. The best ones are in the envelope. But, I couldn't find any records of a person named Richard Salzmann.”

  The president spread the photos across his desk. “How tall would you say this man is?”

  “Six two, six three.”

  “And how old?”

  “I would be guessing from his appearance. He looks younger than the profile we have. He's fifty-eight, but he looks at least ten years younger. Hardly a gray hair.”

  The president picked up each photo and looked closely at the face with a magnifier. “He could be disguised. What was your impression of the man?” Before he could answer, the secretary asked to see the pictures. “Not yet. Proceed, Mr. Hamid.”

  “Well, as I said, I expected him to be an older man. Wrinkles and lines on his face weren't pronounced, almost perfect hair. His suit fit like an outer skin cover, like he'd been born in it.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Just one thing. His hands. I expected office hands, but his calluses had calluses. Hard and strong. More than just a firm handshake.”

  “It says here he has a farm. Why would his hands be surprising?”

  “He's a lawyer, Mr. President, or so he said. He doesn't work the farm. His tenants do.”

  The president stroked his chin, continuing to shuffle the photos. “Let's get to the important part. A government takeover.” He looked at each of the men in his office, particularly at the general.

  Hamid said, “Salzmann said that over the past two years, Declercq had organized an international terror group, had recruited top military officers, who had in turn, recruited select men and had placed them in strategic locations. On Election Day, they plan to disrupt communications by disabling satellites, and taking down the electrical grid, which would keep voting machines idle, while no one could find out what was happening. No phones, no television. The whole country would be blind and deaf. He said Declercq told him that he had a friend who would then be installed as president.”

  “Did he tell you who?”

  “Yes sir. General Beech.” The general's face registered deep red. The president glanced at the general and said he would have his chance in a few minutes.

  “Thank you, Mr. Hamid. Now, if you'll give me a moment.” He asked Ms. Crispin to send in his “other visitors.” When the door opened, Jeff Hammersley and the FBI director entered. �
��Mr. Hammersley, I'd like you to sit here,” said the president, pointing to an empty chair next to his desk. “Tell us your story.”

  Hammersley told them about meeting the Caballeros and about their weekend cruise. He said he viewed Declercq's arrest at the Willard from across the street, and that the government takeover would be orchestrated to look like a coup. “But it's set up so you'll be able to remain in office.”

  “And who told you this story?”

  “His name is Joe Salzmann.”

  “That's Arthur Salzmann's son, Mr. President,” said Hamid. “Arthur is married to Koppler's sister, but I didn't find anything involving him.”

  “We'll come back to that. Mr. Hammersley, are you aware that your friend, Joetta Dunsmore, was an FBI agent?” Hammersley gasped and shook his head. “So, let me get this straight. You were told that Florian Declercq orchestrated this entire escapade. Are you aware that CIA agents killed him and tossed him in the Potomac?”

  “We don't do that. We wouldn't,” Brandon protested. Then he mumbled, “Not anymore.”

  Tom Andrews stood at the president's nod and turned on a projector. “Now we'll take a look at some of the scenes you've all been describing. Tom, go ahead.”

  The first scenes depicted the Caballeros in the hotel lobby, the first time they met. Next, the group joined for breakfast at the San Diego hotel terrace before the cruise. The following clip showed Joetta's struggle before she went into the sea. Hammersley mumbled at a scene severely divergent from what had been described to him. The final scene depicted Declercq's capture at the Willard.

  The president said, “Mr. Brandon, those men in the lobby claimed to be police officers. They drove up the GW Parkway, took him to the river, shot him, and dumped him. His body floated to shore and we recovered it a number of hours later. The police car he rode in had been stolen. So were the uniforms.”

  Dumbfounded, Hammersley said, “I watched them when they took him away.”

  “Thank you, Tom. Please excuse us. You can take down the projector later.”

  The president stood. With everyone's attention, he walked to the wall, and stared at the Emancipation Proclamation. “Did anyone ask why someone would want to take over the government on Election Day?” Headshakes and blank stares. “General Beech, you are accused of joining with your dead friend and the Caballeros to head up the coup. I think you have some explaining to do.”

  “Sir, I can do better than explain. But I'd like to show you something first, if I may.”

  “I'm sure I speak for all of us. I can't wait.”

  The general stepped to the door of the president's working office and escorted a man out. “I would like you all to meet Florian Declercq.”

  Bemusement spread through the room like chicken pox in a kindergarten. Faces turned one to the other, not a word said. The president let them wonder.

  “So there's no coup?” asked the secretary, glancing at Mason Hamid.

  “We stopped it. That's all you need for now.”

  Director Brandon asked, “If this is Declercq, who did my agents kill? And why?”

  “Mr. Brandon, the fact that you aren't on top of this disappoints me. You need to do some checking at the Agency. But regarding Mr. Declercq's killers, the FBI identified them from the video you just watched. Known criminals who have avoided law enforcement for a number of years. We now believe we can link them to this case and locate them by their associations.”

  Hamid removed the photos of Declercq from the president's desk, turned to look at the man and the photo. The real Florian Declercq looked different from both sets of pictures.

  “Mr. President,” Hammersley said, “I'm in trouble with you already, but if this is Florian Declercq, and he's dead, then who did I see on the boat? Cause they sure do look alike.”

  “Just so you understand,” said the president, “the man who you met on Hackers is right here. The man who died was an imposter, an agent from the British Secret Service. We don't understand why your fellow Caballeros were killed, or the purpose of your boat trip. At least not yet.” The president stopped and opened his door.

  “Hiya, Jeffy. You look surprised to see me.” Hammersley sank to his knees. No longer sporting her teased blonde hair and silky southern tones, sounding quite northern in fact, Joetta Dunsmore took the seat offered by the president.

  “Ms. Dunsmore, would you tell us your part of the story, please.”

  When she reached the point where she was tossed overboard, she held out her left arm, and shook her wrist. An innocuous bracelet dangled.

  “Mr. President, I had a homing beacon the whole time. The button here,” she pressed it, “alerted the boat that followed us that I needed help. Fortunately, they were close by. I couldn't help Lucas Weiss.”

  “Mr. President, will you explain? It looks like you've manufactured this whole thing,” said the secretary.

  “I didn't 'manufacture' any of it. And it's not done yet. Joe Salzmann is dead. And we have captured the man we believe is behind the ship bombings, the attacks at Pensacola and Great Lakes, the mortar attacks on the White House and Camp David, and the attack in Geneva during the summit last year. He's responsible for numerous deaths, including James Williams, Lily Evans, and Tom Andrews.”

  “How did this all happen?” asked the CIA Director.

  “This isn't the time, Mr. Brandon.” The game had more to go, so the president held back. “I'll fill you in in due course.”

  General Beech said, “If I may?” Given the okay, Beech said, “We've been tracking the Caballeros. Mr. Hamid, we believe you were chosen because of your heritage and knowledge of Middle Eastern languages. We became aware of you when we found Ibrahim Massoud. You're familiar with him, I believe?”

  “He is my mother's cousin, General. But he must have done something extreme to have our government,” he glanced at the president, “have him pushed from that building. My mother cried for weeks.”

  The general said, “He wasn't pushed. He jumped. We wanted him alive, but the Sheikh had other ideas. He worked for the man you think to be Richard Salzmann.”

  “Mr. Hamid,” the president said, “you've been fooled. When we first noticed your conversations, we provided information to pass along that would both prove you were the contact as well as confuse them.”

  “Disinformation?” asked Brandon.

  “Exactly,” General Beech said.

  The president said, “We believe Richard Salzmann is an alias, regardless of the photos. He has other names, some which you may recognize. Richter, Richemartel. His real name is Thomas Koppler. And for the past year, he has disrupted our government, interfered with our foreign affairs, sabotaged our military facilities and our international treaties.”

  When the room emptied, the First Lady said, “That was sneaky. You knew all along that the coup was fake.”

  “I wasn't sure. And I'm still not. I asked Tom to check the DOD personnel roster changes for the past few weeks. They keep excellent records. General Beech has been following them online, again thanks to Tom. But we still aren't sure. Koppler has been thorough.”

  “You didn't mention that Fritz found all these links. And Koppler.”

  “I don't want more people told. Dr. Sherman said he feels better about Fritz's chances.”

  “What about Linda?”

  “She's with Dr. Kramer at Hopkins. Bill Sharp said her father was a pain at the hospital.”

  “You'd be the same if it was one of your daughters.”

  “I'll try to remember that.”

  * * *

  THE GENERAL asked, “What's next, sir. Hamid and Hammersley are in custody. The secretary is agitated.”

  The president rubbed behind his left ear. “He'll get over it. I want to see Mr. Koppler in the next few days. Jim, something isn't right, and I can't place it yet. Are you sure this coup is squelched? You've seen the hit list Hamid had in his file.”

  “I'll come with you to see Koppler.”

  “Are you worried?”


  “Yes. Some very influential people owe him. The Caballeros aren't all of them.”

  “Keep on top of that then. Make sure Florian gets off safely.” The general saluted and left the office. When the door closed, he called in Tom Andrews. “Tom, one last thing.”

  Chapter 45

  “SEE YOU NEXT fall,” Jane chuckled. Ashley had fallen asleep in a bedside chair, and fell off when Nurse Pine came in.

  “How long have you been awake?” Ash asked.

  “Long enough for you to be snoring. It's cute.”

  “Your parents were here. I'll let them know you're conscious, but hallucinating.” When their eyes met, Ashley filled with the warmth of her return.

  “Ashley, would you wait outside, please,” said the nurse. “I want to check my sewing pattern.”

  While he waited, he called Jane's parents, woke Bill Sharp and sent him back to the motel, and asked for an update on Fritz. The nurse told him she shouldn't give him that information, but she'd been on duty when everyone came in, and didn't want any trouble. As he had done more than once in his life, Ashley begged, teasing her with compliments and charm. When her face turned blank, he ended his show.

  “What?” he asked.

  “All I can tell you is he's back in the O.R. Why, I can't say.”

  “Well that's not good.” He walked outside and called John to tell him to come back right away. Nurse Pine said they were going to move Jane to a patient room soon. Jane sat up, resting on three pillows stacked on top of each other. Her blonde hair, pulled into ponytail, draped her shoulder.

  “You clean up nicely,” Ashley said, “but I'll bet you don't think blondes have more fun.”

  She grimaced when she started to laugh. “Stop it, wise-ass.” Her father gave Ashley a look that said, “That's my little girl. Knock it off.” Jane said, “It's okay, Dad. You better get used to him. He's a keeper.”

  “Nurse Pine said they're moving you. I have to stay down here and wait for John. They have Fritz back in the O.R.”

  Her amused and happy look vanished when Ashley told her they didn't know why. She pointed to John and Sharp walking into the ER. Ash ran to them.