The Monroe Decision

by Patrick Clark

  He parked the SUV about a hundred yards away and before he left the vehicle ripped out a short length of wire from under the dashboard. Aaron then ambled over to the bike lot and picked out a silver and black Honda and used the wire to override the ignition. He pressed the start button and the engine roared to life. After a quick look around to confirm he had not been seen jump starting the bike, he stepped onboard and started to drive away before he remembered. My gun.

  He rode the stolen bike over to the SUV and found his gun under the front seat of the Escalade. He slipped it into his ankle holster he still wore and remounted the bike and accelerated quickly back to the Blue Star Highway toward Centreville.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  CENTREVILLE, VIRGINIA

  TUESDAY, JULY 26TH

  3:40 P.M.

  The high-pitched squeal of the yellow taxi’s brakes as it stopped in front of Coleman-Brown front entrance caused four employees standing in front of the building to turn toward the source. Senator Walsh paid the driver and stepped out of the cab, then looked up at the eight story, shaded, glass building with a modern cathedral-like façade.

  Inside, the large atrium had polished white marble floors and black marble columns that rose to the fourth floor. A staircase and adjoining escalator rose as high as the second floor.

  Walsh plodded up to the security station, signed in, and as a regular visitor, he was given a blue, unescorted visitor badge he affixed to his lapel. He still felt uncomfortable. His hands and face felt clammy and in spite of his frequent stops at drinking fountains his throat remained dry.

  He took the elevator to the top floor and when he exited the elevator he was greeted by a receptionist. Walsh identified himself and demanded an immediate audience with Singer.

  The visibly nervous intern phoned Singer’s executive assistant and within minutes, Merideth Utley came out of Singer’s office, and with a cheery welcome, escorted Walsh inside.

  “Senator,” said Singer as he walked out from behind his desk with his hand extended. “What a pleasant surprise. What’s the occasion?”

  “Not so pleasant,” Walsh replied in a gruff voice as he sat heavily onto the couch, then inhaled deeply several times.

  “Jeez, Jonah. What the hell is the matter?” asked Singer. “You’re white as a ghost.” Singer turned toward Merideth and said, “Mer, go get the senator a bottle of water.”

  Walsh leaned back into the heavily padded couch, placed his arm on the seatback, and said, “Shit’s hitting the fan. That’s what’s wrong, David.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Singer leaned his backside against his desk with his hands cupped over the edge.

  Merideth returned with a bottle of water and twisted the cap lose before handing it to Walsh.

  “The Council is on to us,” bellowed Walsh angrily, “and I gotta believe that son of a bitch Monroe is the reason behind it!”

  “What the hell do you mean the Council is on to us?”

  Walsh took several large swallows from the water bottle, then set it on the cocktail table next to the couch.

  “This morning, the attorney general issued an emergency FISA bypass that allowed the NSA to reach into selected overseas financial accounts.” Walsh cupped his hand over his mouth and coughed, then continued. “Whatever the NSA learned was damning enough to support a FISA warrant to tap into the communications of Coleman-Brown.”

  Singer fell back and steadied himself against his desk. “What financial information?”

  “Damned if I know, David. Once FISA gets involved it’s hard for me to get any information until the requesting agency finishes their investigation,” Walsh sneered.

  “You’re a powerful senator, Jonah. You need to get in the middle of this and stop it.”

  “You’re not listening to me,” Walsh raised his voice. “Your goddamn phones are probably already tapped! And that includes any cellular devices. Dammit, David, I’m telling you that we are already fucked! What we have to do now is damage control. We need to figure out how we can survive this!”

  Singer paced in front of his desk and placed his hand on his chin. “Okay. Let’s stay calm and think this through.” He paced some more, then faced Merideth. “Mer, how much is in our Cayman Island account?”

  “We should have over eight million in there right now,” she replied.

  “Come on, David,” Walsh bellowed. “If there are any off-shore accounts linked to Coleman-Brown you can bet they have been frozen already.”

  “What other accounts can we access?” Singer asked.

  “Operating funds for the facility. Over twenty million and you have direct control over that account,” she replied. Singer stroked his chin and said, “Maybe we need to move up the timetable of the business venture. That might create enough confusion to keep the Homeland Council and all the other homeland agencies busy while we quietly slip out of the country. We transfer millions to our offshore account and leave it to the board of directors to explain.”

  Walsh sat with his head in his hands.

  “Senator,” continued Singer, “I’ll take Merideth and Ellsberg to the facility tonight and we’ll take care of Monroe and make preparations to send some of our best trainees to a few big cities. That should cause enough chaos to allow us to quietly slip out of the country on my yacht.”

  Walsh looked up at Singer, raised his eyebrows, and replied, “No, David. I believe I’ll just go home and contact my lawyer. Best of luck to you, sir.” He stood and slowly walked out the door. Before he closed it, Walsh looked back at Singer and Merideth, and with tired, heavy eyes, he smirked at them.

  * * *

  Ellsberg piloted the Coleman-Brown corporate Airbus H125 helicopter from the rooftop helo pad at headquarters in Centreville to the ISIS-influenced training facility on the banks of Muddy Creek. Singer sat in the front seat on the right side and Merideth Utley sat in the back of the aircraft that was configured for four, including the pilot. The sun was low in the sky as he banked left over the open field that served as the facilities obstacle course as two dozen students were engaged in hand-to-hand combat training.

  He set the helo down gently in a landing zone about eight hundred meters away from the small, ranch-style farm home that served as the office facility. With the rotors still turning, Singer opened the cockpit door on the passenger side, pulled off his headset, and tossed it on the seat. As the turbines wound down, Ellsberg and Merideth pulled off their headsets and hung them on hooks provided, then stepped out of the aircraft and followed Singer into the office structure.

  The side door to the converted ranch-style home they entered through opened to a kitchen area with forest green appliances, linoleum flooring, and a square table with aluminum legs and a red plastic tabletop. A small, flat-screen television sat on a folding dinner tray in the corner by the table. The sound was muted. Singer stood with his back toward Ellsberg and was engaged in an animated discussion with two powerfully built enforcers in camouflaged pants and tight gray T-shirts.

  Singer turned to face Ellsberg. His fists were clenched and he snarled, “Monroe is not here.”

  Ellsberg closed his eyes. “Fuck!”

  “Monroe must have got the better of your two guards and he could be anywhere right now!” shouted Singer as he walked toward Ellsberg.

  Ellsberg rubbed the bridge of his nose and said, “Calm down, Dave. We don’t know that. Maybe they just had a breakdown.”

  Singer stabbed his finger at Ellsberg and angrily said, “Well, you damn well better find out.”

  Don’t push me too far, David. Ellsberg took two deep breaths and glared at Singer. You and I are business partners. You ain’t my friend and I won’t take your shit. Singer turned away and sat at the cheap aluminum table. He turned the chair and faced Ellsberg.

  Ellsberg reached into his pocket, retrieved his cell phone, and dialed the number of one of the operatives watching Monroe.

  The call was not answered, so he dialed the number of the second operative
. That call was not answered either. Ellsberg turned his gaze toward Singer and said, “No answer from either of them. This isn’t a good sign.”

  “Neither is that,” interrupted Merideth. She pointed at the television and said, “We need to hear this.”

  One of the enforcers picked up the remote and switched off the mute button. The local newscast was broadcasting a report about a double homicide approximately ninety minutes away in Trappe, Maryland, on the Delmarva Peninsula. The youthful local reporter described the black SUV the killer was driving and warned her viewing audience to consider the man very dangerous. She placed the microphone in front of an eyewitness who then reported, “The man was cuffed in da back seat an somehow he got loose and kilt those two men. We figure he be an escape convict or something ’n the two he kilt were probably FBI.”

  Singer slammed his fist on the table and one of the aluminum legs buckled. He turned toward Ellsberg and hollered, “Dammit Ellsberg, we have to figure out how to cover this up and we damn sure can’t do that as long as that bastard is alive. Now you need to figure out where he is and how we are going to shut him up and shut him down.” He then swiped his arm across the counter near the sink, which caused several drinking glasses to fly off the counter and crash on the floor. “That fucker has totally screwed up my operation. He owes me and now I’m going to get my pound of flesh!” He stormed out of the house and marched on the gravel walkway to the small, unattached metal garage where Sarah was still held captive.

  Ellsberg turned his gaze toward Merideth and said, “He better not hurt her. She’s our only bargaining chip!” He took off after Singer with Merideth and the two enforcers close behind. When he pushed open the door, Sarah was on the floor, her lip was bleeding, and Singer was on top of her while Sarah struggled to get free of him.

  Ellsberg shouted, “Enough! Get off of her.” He advanced on Singer and grabbed him by both shoulders and flung him to the floor.

  Two of the enforcers moved toward Ellsberg and he raised his hand and glared in their direction. “I’ll kill you if you come near me,” he warned them. They both stopped and then looked at Singer who was getting to his knees.

  Sarah crawled away and sat with her back against the wall and her head in her knees, sobbing.

  Ellsberg stabbed his finger in the air toward Singer. “What you’re trying to do will not help solve our problem,” he said. “She is our only hope to get to Monroe.” Ellsberg glanced at Sarah. She raised her head and gazed at him. Tears filled her eyes and she trembled.

  Singer stood and faced Ellsberg. “Then you better have a plan,” he sneered.

  “I know exactly what he’ll do now,” Ellsberg replied. “He’s going to go wherever he thinks that I am. And right now, he probably thinks that is in Centreville. He’ll go there.”

  “How can you be sure that’s what he’ll do?”

  “David, I can’t be sure of much right now. But what I am sure of is that there are two things important to him. He wants her back and he wants to kill me. And I can’t say which is the higher priority.”

  “Then we’ll just fly back there and get him. If he wants to bargain for her he’ll have to come back with us.”

  “He also knows we won’t bargain in good faith and so neither will he. When we face each other, either he dies or I will. That’s why she’s coming with us,” Ellsberg replied. “She might give me an edge.”

  Singer glared angrily at Ellsberg.

  “I need to gas up. We’ll leave in an hour,” Ellsberg commanded.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  CENTREVILLE, VIRGINIA

  TUESDAY, JULY 26TH

  7:25 P.M.

  There were a few offices still lit in the Coleman-Brown building when Aaron rolled the motorcycle to a stop in the parking lot between two overhead lights. A cold front had passed through earlier and a cloud cover had rolled in that blocked some of the light from the setting sun. He pushed the bike over the curb and parked it behind a row of pine trees. He stayed low and hidden behind the trees as he moved as close as he could to the building. There, he sat and observed for sixty minutes.

  He sat hidden by the trees and took note of the guards’ routine, yet the entire time Aaron could not stop thinking about what Ellsberg had said about Sarah. “She’s with us.” Did he mean she’s with them? She told me she never shot a gun before in her life but the first day on the range she was shooting bullseyes. Aaron shook his head. In Paris, Sarah remained outside the UAE colonel’s villa. She could have killed the colonel and the others before Aaron returned. He felt his eyes water up and blinked them a few times. Then he closed his eyes and the vision of Piero and Enrica, murdered just to leave a message. She could have killed Piero and Enrica. He opened his eyes and cursed.

  The remaining office lights were extinguished and the few dedicated employees left the building, got in their vehicles, and left. There was one guard seated at the security desk in the atrium and two roving guards that walked the inside perimeter and electronically clocked in at designated points along the way. No doubt on a specified time schedule. So he monitored the schedule and determined that each guard checked in at each station in thirty-minute intervals. On their designated routes, that meant each station was checked every fifteen minutes.

  Aaron noted one of the guards had stepped out a side door to smoke a cigarette the last time he clocked in there. He assumed the guard would do that again so he crouched low and circled around the tree line to get close to the door. There was a row of low holly bushes about ten meters away from the lighted doorway so he lay prone behind the bushes.

  As expected, and on time, the door opened and the overweight guard stepped outside. Aaron advanced the ten meters in less than two seconds, and before the man could react, he side kicked to the man’s jaw which caused him to fall back against the wall. Aaron swiftly grabbed the man’s arm, and as he moved behind the man, he pulled it around to his back as he gripped the man’s neck between his bicep and forearm.

  “Do exactly what I say and you won’t die.” Aaron increased the pressure of his grip on the man’s neck. “Do you understand?”

  The guard gave no resistance and he nodded his affirmation.

  Aaron eased his grip off the guard’s neck and with his free hand he pulled his Sig Sauer out of his leg holster. He pressed the barrel of the gun against the guard’s back to ensure he knew it was there, then said, “Good. I think we understand each other.” He let go of the guard and noted his nametag read Melvin Spencer. “Melvin,” Aaron said, “cigarette break is over. You need to clock in right now.”

  They stepped inside the door and Aaron kept his gun trained on the guard as he closed the door and slid the identification card that hung on a lanyard around his neck through an electronic scanner to clock in. “What do you want?” asked the guard.

  “None of your concern,” Aaron answered. “Your only concern now is that you do exactly what I tell you to do. Now walk toward the atrium security station.”

  Aaron walked the guard at gunpoint down two hallways. At the end of the second hallway as they entered the atrium, Aaron stood next to the guard and placed the gun against his temple. The guard at the desk had his head down and appeared to be reading something. To ensure the guard did not have an opportunity to press an emergency alarm, Aaron called out to him, “Put your hands on your head and stand up. Any other movement than what I just told you and Melvin will be dead.”

  The guard turned his gaze toward Aaron.

  “Don’t test me. Melvin’s life depends on what you do right now.”

  “Do what the man says,” Melvin shouted.

  The guard slowly stood as he maintained an angry gaze at Aaron.

  “Faster and get your hands on your head right now,” Aaron commanded.

  The guard complied, then Aaron ordered him to step out from behind the desk. As he did so, Aaron gently shoved Melvin in the direction of the desk and they slowly walked there together.

  Aaron ordered the desk guard to contact the
other rover and instruct him to come to the atrium.

  “Say anything else and you’ll both be dead before he gets here,” Aaron warned.

  The third guard arrived in the atrium a few minutes later and Aaron easily disarmed him.

  At gunpoint, Aaron escorted them to the elevators and forced them to ride to the top floor to Ellsberg’s office. He made Melvin unlock the door, then Aaron made him hand over the master key to all the offices. He walked the three guards to a men’s room where he made them strip to their underwear and bound their ankles and wrists with plastic zip ties. Finally, before he left the men’s room, Aaron used the screwdriver on his Swiss Army Knife to remove the inside door handle and locked the door from the outside.

  On his way back to Ellsberg’s office, Aaron noticed the sign on the office next to Ellsberg read David Singer, Chief Executive Officer. “Head asshole,” Aaron murmured.

  Aaron then went in to Singer’s office and sat at his desk. He tapped a key on the computer keyboard and the monitor lit up. The box in the middle of the screen required a password so he rebooted the computer and logged in as the administrator and changed the password. He smiled as he opened files in Singer’s account in the folder labeled Muddy Creek.

  The files were voluminous and detailed a five-year plan that the Coleman-Brown Board of Directors had developed and initiated. The plan was twofold. On one side, it described financial and training support for several known terrorist organizations. A simultaneous business plan detailed how the company would take advantage of an increased need for Coleman-Brown’s counter and anti-terror equipment and training support.

  Aaron reached over and picked up the phone on Singer’s desk and dialed Stafford’s cell phone number.

  * * *

  “Dinner was wonderful,” Stafford told his long-time fiancé as he stood at the sink in her apartment and rinsed the dirty dishes before they placed them in the dishwasher. When his cell phone rang, he dried his hands, then picked it up off the counter. The screen read Unknown Caller and listed a number with a 703 area code. Normally, he would let that go to voice mail but he had a premonition about this call so he tapped the screen and answered it.