by Warren Ray
Losing your grip on power always started with these little events. They then grew over time as more people got brave and started questioning the puppet master. Green knew Reed would be worried about it and would be plotting his next move. He was not a stupid man and quite adept at playing the game of political chess.
Of course, now that Green had all those pictures of power players in compromising positions, he could start to turn the tables on Reed. Besides the pictures he had taken from Pruitt, he also had his laptop. The computer was still in the process of being hacked, so Green could only dream what it contained. He hoped it had something he could use against Reed.
Green entered his mother’s two-story colonial home sweaty from his run, went straight to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. He gulped it down while his mother looked on in amusement.
“You should have taken one with you,” she said.
He looked at her and took a couple of breaths. “It’s not the army way.”
She rolled her eyes. Sarah Green was fifty-eight and had the body of a former athlete. She had allowed her shoulder length hair to naturally turn silver rather than having to constantly keep coloring it. She didn’t want to have to spend a lot of time at the hair salon and deal with all the gossip. She had better things to do with her time. She was involved with various charities for the refugees that flooded the South. The government was not able to keep up with all the demands these displaced people imposed, so private charities stepped in and were able to move faster and more efficiently.
She waited for her son to finish the water. “You want to shower before or after breakfast?”
“After.”
“Are you playing racquetball with anyone today?”
He knew she was talking about one of the contacts she had set up for him. Racquetball meant Jacob Gibbs. “In a couple of hours.”
She nodded approvingly. Neither one of them spoke aloud anymore for fear Reed had bugged their home.
Chapter 12
Tampa Florida
Cara buckled herself in the tan leather seat and looked out the window of the Gulfstream G-6. She’d flown only one other time in her life and that was about seven years ago when her parents took her on a trip to Disney World. She remembered the excitement of taking off and looking as the ground disappeared below.
That trip was one of the last fading memories she had as a happy family. When they came back that fall, she entered Junior High. It was then things started to change for her. The teachers opened a world she hadn’t known existed. They taught their students things they said their parents wouldn’t understand and they shouldn’t talk to them about it. She felt like she belonged more with those at school than she did with her parents at home. Her parents had encouraged her to think for herself and to be an individual, but this was in stark contrast to what her teachers taught her about group work and group thinking. She wanted to become a higher order thinker and to do so, one cannot believe in absolutes. There is no right or wrong, only opinion.
So, over the next six years, she found herself increasingly distant from her family and more in tune with her peers at school. She often slept over at friend’s whose parents were more understanding. It was in that environment she took up drinking at fourteen and losing her virginity at fifteen.
As she got older, she became more outspoken and argued with her dad on the merits of social justice. She was as stubborn as he was and these debates always ended up in heated arguments. She couldn’t understand why her dad didn’t see things her way when they had made complete sense to her.
At first, her mom came to his defense, but after awhile she became a referee by trying to get both of them to see the other person’s side. This didn’t last long before she gave up and often left the room crying. Cara blamed her dad for upsetting her mom and resented him even more for causing her to go into hysterics. She remembered the times when he yelled at both of them.
She sat back as the jet took off down the runway. She gripped the armrest as the plane left the ground. She looked out the window watching the ground disappear and for a moment, thought back to that happier time in her life.
Chapter 13
Washington D.C.
Green left to meet with his new friend Jacob Gibbs. He was the former Assistant Director of the now disbanded FBI. The agency had been torn apart by the new president. Most of its agents were fired with some being absorbed into the new National Police. The ones fired had been the most loyal to the agency and outspoken about the government shutting it down. Jacob Gibbs had been one of those people.
Green learned some tradecraft from Gibbs regarding how to lose a tail. He drove his car to a different parking garage every time they met. He used some of the money he grabbed from Pruitt’s home and purchased several different cars. He had parked them in different parking garages around the city.
After an hour of driving around and satisfied that no one followed him, Green parked the Ford Taurus in a mall parking lot in Silver Spring, Maryland. He then walked into one end of the mall and walked out the other where Gibbs picked him up. Gibbs was in his late fifties, tall and fit. His hair was thinning and his eyes had the look of having seen it all and then some.
As soon as Green shut the door, Gibbs put his SUV in drive. “We finally hacked into Pruitt’s lap top.”
“I thought it couldn’t be done,” said a surprised Green.
“This guy is good. He said something about an electromagnetic leakage in the memory that he was able to utilize to slowly take over the system.”
“So, what’s in there?”
“All kinds of dirt on a whole lot of people, including Reed.”
Green gave a quizzical look.
“Yeah, seems Pruitt didn’t necessarily trust Reed either.”
Green waited for Gibbs to continue expounding on the contents of the computer. He looked over at his new friend and noticed the man seemed nervous. This seemed odd for a man who spent his whole career in the FBI. Gibbs had spent the first part of his career in the field catching all types of criminals from bank robbers to serial killers. He didn’t seem like a guy who got nervous. “What’s wrong?”
Gibbs remained silent for a few moments. “It looks like Reed and Perozzi are responsible for taking out the Vice President on trumped up charges.”
Green was surprised by the news but not that much. After everything he had learned about those two men, he didn’t put anything past them. “How did they do it?”
“Kurt Melnick was the lead prosecutor. He tampered with the evidence.”
Green thought about it for a second. “I wondered why Melnick had been appointed the new commandant.”
“Payment for services rendered.”
Gibbs seemed lost in thought as he came up too fast on a slow car. He slammed on the brakes at the last second. Green looked over to him and saw that Gibbs was shaken.
“Is there anything else?” asked Green. “I feel like you’re holding something back.”
Gibbs took a moment and spoke in a gruff tone. “There’s something else, something unbelievable. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”
Green felt the tension. “Okay. Are you going to tell me?”
“I will, but I want to verify a couple of things before I say anything.”
Green could see he wasn’t going to get it out of him. He was frustrated that Gibbs was holding back. He was even more bothered that the man looked unhinged.
Chapter 14
Paw Paw Michigan
Winters was the first to greet Bassett and Burns when they pulled into the burned out town of Paw Paw, Michigan. The cops had burned the town several weeks ago. It was also, where Scar and Meeks had found Sadie.
“I hear you had a little encounter,” said Winters gripping Burns’ hand.
“Oh, nothing to worry about, Captain. Bassett took care of it by himself.”
“Getting in more exercise, Corporal?”
“Oh, just practicing some martial arts is all,�
� smiled Bassett.
Bassett gave Winters a quick review of everything they discovered regarding Mordulfah’s army.
“We’re headed to Ann Arbor. We’re going to rustle us up a cop or two and do some interrogations.”
Burns nodded approvingly to Bassett.
As they drove through Paw Paw, Scar pointed out the house where Sadie had lived. Like all the others, the fire had destroyed it. Winters tried to imagine what the town would have looked like before the cops set it ablaze. He figured it was like many small Midwestern towns where old buildings lined the downtown. Small boutique stores struggled to eke out a living while trying to support the locale.
Winters wondered how Sadie was doing and how fast she would adjust to her new surroundings. His mind then wandered to what his daughter Cara was doing. He hoped she was safe and doing well. He surprised himself when he discovered it was the first time he’d thought about her in a while. Ever since Sadie came into his life, thoughts of Cara occupied less of his time. He felt a sudden rush of guilt for it. He had promised his wife he would find and reconcile their differences. He would fulfill that promise come hell or high water.
Trees lined the empty Interstate 94 as the Shadow Patriots made their way to Ann Arbor. They passed the first exit into Jackson. As they came to Jackson Crossing, Winters noticed the shuttered business had grass growing up in the large parking lots.
As they passed over Business 127, Meeks yelled out. “Hey, there’s a cop car…and another one.”
Everyone turned and looked down to see the cops traveling south on 127.
“Hell, there’s two more,” said Winters. “Stop, Elliott.”
Elliott slowed the Excursion and came to a stop. Everyone got out, ran back up to the overpass and watched the four squad cars continue south.
“Wonder what they’re up to?” asked Meeks.
“Could be a regular patrol,” suggested Elliott.
The rest of the convoy came to a stop and, Amber, who was Nate’s passenger, rolled the window down. “What’s going on?” asked Nate.
“Just saw some cop cars,” said Meeks.
Just as Meeks answered, everyone, froze when gunfire echoed through the air. Then they heard more gunfire in the distance. No one said anything as they all tried to determine where it was coming from.
Bassett walked up. “The shooting is coming from multiple locations, Captain.”
Winters turned to Meeks and asked, “Do we have a map of Jackson?”
He hurried back to the SUV and started digging through their bag of maps. “Got one.” He unfolded the map and laid it on the hood.
“This is a big town,” exclaimed Meeks.
“What do you think, Bassett?” asked Winters.
“We need to send in some recon teams to see what’s going on.”
“How many?”
“Two should do it, go down here and here,” said Bassett pointing to US 127 and Business 127.
Winters thought about it for a minute and decided he wanted each team to consist of four men with two vehicles. He grouped Burns, Nate, Bassett and Hadley in one team, while Elliott, Scar and Meeks joined him to go down Business 127. He wasn’t going to take any chances of getting his team cornered and ordered Bill Taylor to get the rest of the convoy separated into two groups, staged east and west of the overpass.
It was nine-twenty as the teams moved out.
Chapter 15
Jackson Michigan
Nick Nordell had been up since five in the morning. At sixty-five years old, he didn’t need as much sleep as he had in his youth. The retired Marine kept himself busy by working in his garage off to the side of his house. He became a handy man in his retirement and helped his neighbors in any way he could. After spending thirty years in the Corps, he came home to Jackson, Michigan. He had seen the world, which included two tours in Nam. He was with the 1st Battalion 8th Marines, stationed in Beirut when a suicide bomber blew up the barracks. He escaped with minor injuries but witnessed two hundred and forty of his fellow Marines die that day. To say he had bad feelings toward Jihadis was an understatement. He kept his dislike for them when he fought in Desert Storm nine years later.
Nordell walked from the garage to his house when he heard gunfire crackle in the air. He stopped mid-stride to listen for more. He thought that perhaps someone was shooting squirrels, as food was in short supply. He heard more gunfire, which he recognized, as AK-47. This was no squirrel hunter. The gunfire was close. He scrambled inside for his weapon. He kept a gun cabinet full of rifles and grabbed an AR-15. He threw on a combat vest that was full of loaded magazines. He grabbed a Colt .45 and ran out the door.
When he hit the sidewalk, he saw his neighbor and childhood friend, John Hollis, had the same idea. Hollis sprang out of his house carrying a Winchester 30-30. He was a couple of inches shorter than Nordell standing five-foot eleven but was in just as good of shape. Hollis hadn’t served in the armed forces but was an avid hunter and went out every day looking for game. He was a valuable asset to his neighbors.
“Sounds like it’s from over on Pringle,” said Hollis.
Nordell nodded and the two jogged down Summit Avenue. More gunfire rang out and as they passed the last house on Summit before reaching Pringle Avenue. They heard screams coming from inside the church. They both held their rifles at the ready and moved over onto the sidewalk. Hollis pointed out the National Police squad car parked on the street.
“How can the cops already be here?” asked Hollis.
The screaming continued amongst heavy gunfire as they moved closer to the squad car. Both raised their rifles when two cops exited the front door. The cops stopped when they saw the two old men and tried in vain to gain an advantage.
Nordell and Hollis fired simultaneously and dropped them both. They then ran past them, entered the church and saw the horrifying scene. Dead women and children lay in the pews as smoke hung in the air. Then they heard more gunfire coming from outside. They ran outside and heard it again from down the street. Nordell looked at Hollis and spied the cop car. They both made a dash for it and found the keys in the ignition. Nordell slid in the driver’s seat, started it up, peeled down Pringle Avenue and turned right on Elm Avenue, where they saw another cop car parked out front of a second church.
The two men sprang out of the car, heard gunfire coming from inside the church and ran towards the entrance. Hollis reached the door first and gave it a pull while Nordell readied himself. Nordell rushed inside and saw two cops in the center aisle. One looked Middle Eastern and was the first to fall as Nordell pulled the trigger as fast as he could. He dropped both cops but it was too late. Everyone was already dead. Women and children lay in a bloody mess among the old men and their wives.
Both men hung their heads low and stepped outside to hear more gunfire in different directions throughout their city.
Hell had come to Jackson.
Chapter 16
Elliott drove fast down Business 127. He was nervous not knowing what to expect. Scar and Meeks were a few car lengths behind them. Winters sat with a Colt M-4 in his lap. He had the window down and kept alert as they tried to discover why there were cops in the area. Elliott slowed down as he approached the North Street intersection. He put on the brakes when he noticed a couple of cop cars parked in the street about four blocks down.
“I see ‘em,” said Winters. “Keep going.”
When they came to West Ganson Street, they saw another squad car. This one was close enough they could see no one was in the car.
“Parked in front of a church,” noted Elliott.
“Let’s check this one out. Get us back to that last street.”
Elliott whipped the SUV into an abandoned gas station, swung around and headed back to Webb Street. He then took a left on Bush Street and parked behind a house. They got out just as Scar and Meeks pulled in.
The four of them moved in closer while using the houses as cover. Just as they made it to Ganson Street, they saw two cops coming out of t
he church. Both were carrying AK-47’s.
“Odd choice for a cop to be carrying,” suggested Scar.
“One’s a Jiji for sure,” said Meeks.
The four of them waited until the cop car pulled out before they ran across the street and entered the church. The smell of cordite hit their senses first and then the sight of smoke wafting through the air. Then they saw bodies strewn everywhere. Most had not even had the chance to leave their seats before they were gunned down.
They had seen this kind of carnage before, back in Brainerd, Minnesota. The Jijis came in shooting up the town, not caring who they killed, be it man, woman or child. They didn’t have to check the bodies to know everyone was dead.
“Let’s go,” said Winters.
They got back to their vehicles.
“Let’s go straight up Bush Street and check out where that other cop car was,” said Winters.
When they got to North Street, the cop cars were no longer there and Winters noted it was another church. They all rushed inside and saw the same massacre scene they saw in the first church.
As Winters looked at all the dead, he began wondering why the cops were attacking churches. Why not do what they had been doing before and pretend they were there to help them. Convince the citizens trouble was coming and they needed protection. It had certainly been working well enough before. So why change now? He put himself in Mordulfah’s shoes and began to see things in a different light.
Mordulfah must be losing patience and angry as hell for the attack on his compound. Losing the harem of girls must have set him off, making him more emboldened than before and he just didn’t care anymore. Jackson was a much bigger town than all the others they had destroyed. There had to be several thousand people still around, so there was no way they could move all of them and then later execute them. This would explain why he had the cops come here and just shoot up the churches. He must have figured more would simply leave on their own accord, so there would be fewer people to have to deal with.