by Warren Ray
His thoughts then wandered to Mr. Peterson. He missed having him around. Winters still felt responsible for his death. He should have been more aware of the car coming down the fairway and was having a difficult time accepting Mr. Peterson’s sacrificing his own life to save him. He was grateful to him, but it wasn’t easy knowing someone felt their own life wasn’t as valuable as another’s. Perhaps, this is what they call survivor’s guilt. If it was, then he understood why people had a difficult time dealing with it.
Scar and Meeks approached and stood next to Winters.
“Hell of a rain,” said Scar.
“Glad we’re not out in it,” said Meeks.
“You afraid of melting?” asked Scar.
“Don’t want to ruin my Hawkeye hat,” grinned Meeks.
“Yes, that would be a tragedy,” said Scar who tried in vain to knock it off his head.
Meeks had nimbly moved out of the way. “You gots to be faster than that.”
Scar turned to Winters. “So, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow, Captain?”
Winters took a moment before answering. “We need to scout some good ambush sites and come up with a game plan.”
“I can take Bassett and Burns out with me and do that,” said Scar.
“We need to get our hands on some explosives as well.”
“We could zip up to Canada,” suggested Meeks.
“No, I don’t think we’d have the time,” said Winters.
“That begs the question,” said Scar. “When do you think they’ll be back?”
“I’ve been thinking about that. If I’m right, they’ll probably give the locals a day to bury their dead and then maybe another day. I can’t imagine they’d wait much longer,” said Winters.
“If that’s the case, then we’d have just enough time to get to Canada and back,” said Meeks.
“Problem is though, we still need set-up time,” said Scar.
“Where’s Bill?” asked Winters turning around.
Scar spotted him and yelled over to him.
Bill Taylor sauntered up to them.
“What’s up?” Taylor asked.
“Bill, do you have any way of getting some explosives in St. Paul?”
Taylor gave it some thought. “Yeah, I know a guy. Why, what do you have in mind?”
“We need to set-up an ambush on the interstate and explosives would be helpful.”
Bill let out a laugh. “We don’t need to go to St. Paul for that.”
Winters gave him a quizzical look.
“I’ve got some RPG’s from the Canadians.”
This surprised the group.
“Yeah, I was putting in an order with the supply sergeant, real nice guy he was, and we got to talking about everything we might need. We walked past these crates and I asked him what was in them. Hell, he popped one open and there they were lying all nice and pretty. He grabbed one and handed it to me. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face holding that baby, so he offered me a launcher and four rockets.”
Scar let out a laugh. “That settles that problem.”
A big grin formed on Winters’ face. “Well, alright then.”
“Hey, you put me in charge of supplies and I take that seriously.”
“I’ve never doubted you, Bill,” said Winters.
The group broke apart after a few more minutes of joviality, which was always needed to relieve the pressure of their situation. Winters stayed at the garage entrance and continued to watch the rain pour down.
Chapter 27
Washington D.C.
Reed looked up from his drink and saw the hostess escort Mordulfah and his valet, Wali, to their table. He was surprised to see Mordulfah dressed in a suit and tie. He had never seen him look more civilized. He snickered to himself wondering if the man felt he would be out of place in his pajamas.
Wali stood off to the side as Mordulfah sat down at the table.
“Good evening, gentleman.”
Perozzi was the first to greet him. “Prince Mordulfah, welcome back to Washington.”
Reed only gave him a half-hearted smile.
“Can we order you a drink?” asked Perozzi, continuing to welcome him.
Mordulfah looked at the waitress and ordered a club soda.
“To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?” asked Perozzi.
“I came to tell you of my plans to rid ourselves of these Shadow Patriots.”
“Do tell,” said Perozzi.
“I’m changing the tactics we agreed on.”
Reed didn’t like where this was headed. He had been instrumental in the tactics that they were to use when entering a town.
Mordulfah saw Reed’s angst.
Reed asked. “What are you planning to do?”
“Not planning, Mr. Reed, but have done.”
“Just what have you done?” asked an anxious Reed.
“I had select teams enter the city of Jackson and shoot-up every church in town.”
Reed’s jaw dropped. “You did what?”
“You heard me, Mr. Reed. I don’t like repeating myself.”
“When did you do this?”
“Today, of course.”
“Today is Sunday.”
“I’m quite aware of what day it is.”
Reed wanted to jump across the table and squeeze the life out of Mordulfah. He had insisted on the tactics of disguising the cop’s intentions when entering a town, to hide their culpability for as long as possible. Now it was out in the open. Word would get out sooner than he wanted, they would no longer be able to blame the Shadow Patriots.
Perozzi sat there as calm as always. “May I ask why?”
“I’m doing so to draw the Shadow Patriots into a fight. I do not like the idea of them attacking at their pleasure and picking where they want to fight. Nor do I have the patience to go look for them all over Michigan. So I have set a trap for them.”
Reed stared down Mordulfah.
Mordulfah met his glare. “I found two of my men who were patrolling the grounds, dead. They’ve been watching me and I’m sick of it.”
“You can’t be sure they’ll even know you’ve shot up that town,” protested Reed.
“They already know.”
“How do you know this?” asked Reed.
“I have one of your cops living in Jackson spying for me.”
“I don’t blame you,” said Perozzi. “Were I in your position, I would do the same.”
Reed could see that he would be losing any argument and decided to back off. There was no changing what Mordulfah had already done.
“When will you attack?”
“Depends on what my spy reports, but I believe in two maybe three days.”
After the three of them shared a meal, Mordulfah took his leave and left the restaurant leaving Perozzi and Reed to light up cigars and finish their drinks.
“I take it you don’t have much faith in Mordulfah’s success?” asked Perozzi.
Reed swallowed the rest of the scotch and shook his head. “No, I don’t. Not after the way the rebels stormed his home to rescue Winters and took away his little playthings.”
“They did make him look like a fool,” said Perozzi.
“Yes, they did, and I actually admire what they did. Like them or not, you’ve got to respect them. It was a gutsy move to go in there. Besides, they rescued who knows how many little girls from that pedophile.”
“You’ve got yourself a little soft spot there, Larry.”
Reed shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t get me wrong, Cole Winters and his band of rebels are still going to die.”
Reed sat back in his seat wondering how he was going to contain the news that the National Police were murdering their fellow citizens. At some point in the near future, this was going to come back and bite them. He would have to be ready when it did and try his best to control the damage.
Chapter 28
Alexandria Virginia
Three miles from home, Green jogged throug
h a park and turned around to head back. Early morning runs always cleared the major’s mind. It was an activity where solitude and tranquility of the quiet gray streets allowed one to wander into another world and loosen the mind of its burdens. Creativity of thought flowed freely and he needed the time to think about his situation.
Learning about Perozzi and Reed’s involvement in taking down the VP and the President should have been an unsettling thought. Initially, it was, but then he reminded himself that they had set up the Patriot Centers, where they killed thousands of American volunteers. They were also in bed with this Mordulfah character and were willing to give away the upper Midwest.
He turned onto his block just as the sun’s rays began waking the world back to reality. He stopped at his driveway to catch his breath before entering his mother’s home.
He walked into the two-story white colonial home and immediately smelled the bacon his mother, Sarah, was cooking.
“Morning, John,” said Sarah.
Major Green towered over his mom’s smaller frame and without effort reached over her shoulder to grab a couple of slices.
“You clear your head?” she asked as she slapped his hand.
“A little bit.”
Because they believed their house was bugged, neither spoke freely. Whenever they needed to talk, they would either go downstairs to an unfinished basement storage closet or go out in the backyard.
“Big day today?” asked Sarah.
“I’ve got some meetings and the usual paperwork.”
When Green got to his office, he initially took care of some paperwork and then headed over to the Duxbury Coffee Shop to meet Sam.
After dodging traffic and taking a roundabout route to lose any possible tail, he went in and ordered a tall iced coffee. The shop had light traffic and it took only a moment to locate Sam off in a corner sitting at a table for two.
Green sat down and took a sip of his coffee. “Any luck?”
“Oh yeah. Not only was O’Connor married, but his widow, Alison, lives close by.”
Green didn’t respond.
“Bethesda.”
“Don’t tell me in the same neighborhood as Pruitt.”
Sam let out a small chuckle. “No, though that would have been strange.”
“I’m starting to find nothing strange anymore.”
“Yeah, I’m with you on that.”
“You up for a little ride?” asked Green.
Sam gave it some thought. “Sure, why not? We can take my car.”
They got up and headed out the door.
During the drive to Bethesda, they debated on the approach to take with Alison O’Connor. Sam discovered her husband, Patrick, had been killed by a hit and run driver. He noted there wasn’t much of an investigation and the police had closed the case in quick fashion. In light of this information, they decided to just be straight with her, figuring she most likely wasn’t happy about it.
They pulled into a posh neighborhood and found her two-story brick home set back from the street with a long driveway, which was typical of the neighborhood.
“Well, here goes nothing,” said Green as they got out of the car and approached the front door. Green pushed the doorbell twice.
After a few moments, a middle-aged woman holding a lit cigarette answered the door. She wore a light blue satin bathrobe that stopped at her thighs. Her long brown hair was in a mess as if she had just awakened. She wore no makeup, which exposed the heavy bags under her eyes.
“Yes?” she asked in an impatient tone.
Green put on a smile. “Are you Alison O’Connor?”
She took a drag from her cigarette. “Are you trying to sell something? If you are, I’m not interested.”
“No, not at all. My name is John Barrett,” said Green, deciding at the spur of the moment to give a false last name just in case she proved to be hostile to their inquiries. “We were hoping to ask you some questions regarding the death of your husband.”
The statement had the effect that Green thought it might. Her eyes got a little bigger as she moved her head back.
“What kind of questions? Who are you with?”
“We’re not cops or even reporters. We just think that your husband might have been killed intentionally.”
Green watched her facial features change from leery to sadness.
“Why do you care?”
Green went for broke. “You believe the same thing, don’t you?”
She took another drag on her cigarette and thought for a moment. “Are you with the government?”
Green knew she wanted to talk. He could also tell by the tone in her voice that she didn’t trust the government. “Not if you mean the new government.”
Alison opened the screen door and let them in.
Green stepped inside and noticed the odor of alcohol hanging in the air. He felt bad for her because it was obvious she was still mourning the loss of her husband.
Alison led them to the large dining room. A long walnut table sat in the middle of the room. The walls were a rich burgundy and had a white chair rail running around the room. Both men accepted a chair and declined her offer of drinks. She grabbed a crystal decanter of bourbon and set it on the table across from them. She then filled her glass half full and finally sat down.
Green introduced Sam and started to tell her about their suspicions. He kept the information as vague as possible. He wasn’t sure how, in her present state of mind, she would be accepting the new information.
She began telling them about her husband. How they met and how long they had been together. At first, she spoke lovingly of her husband, but then her tone started to change.
“I don’t have any kids. I always wanted children, but I just couldn’t allow myself to bring them into this world.”
Green gently asked her why that was.
She picked up her glass and took another sip. “I didn’t have any because I knew they would be fatherless one day.”
Green gave her a surprised look.
“My husband was not a perfect man. He made a lot of mistakes, some of which he had to pay for by doing things he didn’t want to do.”
Green glanced at Sam.
“But, he owed it to that bastard Reed for getting him out of trouble over in Afghanistan. Do you know what he did over there?”
Green nodded.
“Did you know they were going to execute him for what he and his friends did? It wasn’t even his idea, or so he said, but because he was the one who got the explosives, it was enough to pin it all on him.”
Alison picked up her glass and finished it off. “Then Reed came back into his life and used his influence to get him off. My husband made a deal with the devil.” She held her empty glass up and moved it around in a circle. “This house, it was given to us by Reed. Hell, everything in this house was given to us by that devil.”
She paused to pour herself another drink of bourbon. She took a sip and lit another cigarette. The ashtray was full of butts. “Did you know that no one came to talk to me about what happened? They didn’t even have the decency to come to my door and tell me my husband was dead. The bastards called me on the phone. That’s how I found out.” She took another sip. “Didn’t even have much of a funeral. No officials from the ATF came, just a few of his fellow officers is all.”
“About a week after his death I got a call from the devil himself telling me that all my needs would be taken care of. That was my payment for keeping my mouth shut about things I might know. So, now I’ve made the same pact with the devil.”
Sam offered his condolences.
“I didn’t know what to do or who to even go to. I knew if I said anything to anyone, I’d be the next one run down by a hit and run driver.”
“Tell about what?” asked Green.
She didn’t answer.
Green knew she wanted to get something off her chest. It was killing her soul and she wanted some redemption. He needed to gain her trust and get her to open up.
He thought for a moment what to say and then it hit him.
“I know who killed your husband,” said Green.
Her eyes got big. “You do?”
Green nodded.
“Who is he? Where is he?”
“Who he is isn’t important.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s dead.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I killed him.”
The news affected all her senses. First, she leaned back in her chair and slumped her shoulders, then a slight smile formed on her face.
Green told the story about how this man had tried to kill him and his mother. That he worked for Reed and how he had two other people killed the same way as her husband.
Alison remembered the death of the Senator because it had reminded her of own husband’s own death.
Green could see he had now gained her trust.
Alison was silent for what seemed like an eternity and then looking at Green said. “I have evidence my husband kept just in case something bad happened.”
Chapter 29
Washington D.C.
Cara opened her eyes and turned over on her back to admire the hotel suite she had slept in last night. She had never even seen a king sized bed before and was struck by how comfortable it was. She slid out of the bed, opened the curtains and took in the beauty of Washington. She scampered over the thick carpet to the adjoining room where she found a room service menu and ordered eggs with blueberry pancakes. She then walked into the white marble floored bathroom and saw she had a choice of an oversized bathtub or a large walk-in shower. She opted for the shower.
The hot water cascaded over her body relieving the stress of the last couple of weeks. When she heard about her dad on the news and how he had killed her mom, she had cried for a couple of days. Her boyfriend tried to console her but it was in vain. It was not his forte and he only made it worse. She couldn’t shake the feeling that if she had been there, she might have been able to stop it. Her sadness turned to anger when she thought about all the innocent women and children her father had killed. He had finally snapped and turned into a mass murderer. It didn’t surprise her. She had witnessed his anger up close, and how he would lash out at her at the slightest provocation. He put on a false face at work being this mild mannered bookkeeper, but at home, he was a different person. An unstable person who thought he knew everything.