Mystery: The Sam Prichard Series - Books 5-8

by David Archer

  "You got it. Take a good look at the last eight years, and you'll see that this same faction has been at work all this time. Trouble is, the current machine is on its way out, and hasn't accomplished the goal. If you look closely, you'll see that there has been a lot of activity that was designed to further the influence of Islam within the United States, even to the point of having fundamental Christians reclassified as a terrorist group. All that has been accomplished by one sitting president, even in the absence of any major terrorist attack. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not a very religious man, but that has nothing to do with the fact that terroristic attacks on Christianity can lead to the destruction of my country. I can either sit back and watch it happen, or I can stand up and fight. Personally I choose to fight.”

  Sam sat back in his chair and stared straight ahead. “Okay, this is definitely on the mind-boggling side of things. Ken, how in the world are you gonna fight this? Are you talking about assassination? Good, God, man, all you’re going to do is get yourself killed!”

  Long laughed. “Oh, I do like you, Sam. You've given me more good laughs than I've had in forever, I swear. No, this is one case where assassination is not an effective tool, believe it or not. Even if I could get to the people in the high echelons of these factions, it wouldn't do any good to eliminate them, because someone else would take their places within minutes. No, in this situation, the only real weapon I've got is exposure. If I can expose what's happening, and thereby break down their plans, then I've got a good chance of breaking this particular faction, shattering it, so that it will take it a long time to get back into power. That's what I'm out to do, and that's why they'd love to have you take me out.”

  "Well, the worst part of this is that everything you're saying is making sense," Sam said. "That makes it hard to justify doing anything to take you in, or shut you down. Listen, I know I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but I seriously believe that going to Harry is the thing we need to do. I'll work with you, I'd be glad to on this, but we need some serious help, and Harry can give it to us."

  "Well, like I said, I handed all of this to you so that you could take it to Harry. If he's willing to help, great. I'm not sure about meeting with him, yet, because I'm not sure how far I trust him. As I mentioned before, I know him only by reputation. You've worked with him, but I haven't, so I'll let you deal with him and I'll check in with you later. I'll keep this phone active, so if you need to reach me on it you can. It can't be traced, and there's no GPS in it. Tell Harry that, so he won't waste time trying. I'll call you back in an hour." The line went dead.

  Sam sat there for a few moments, all of the incredible facts he just been given swimming in circles around his head. He had never realized just how convoluted and corrupt politics could be, and the education he'd just received was something most people never learn at all. Those who do usually learned over the course of several years, in college or while involved in political campaigns.

  Sam opened the contacts on his phone and punched the picture of Elmer Fudd with his thumb.

  "Harry?" Sam said when the old man answered. "Are you sitting down?"

  "Sam, I'm an old man. I'm almost always sitting down. What have you got?"

  "Harry, if Kenneth Long is telling me correctly, and I believe he is, the people who are pulling your chain to try to get me to bring him in are enemies of our country as surely as the terrorists we took down a few weeks back. I've spent the last hour getting an education in politics that I wish I'd never even heard of. Good Lord, I've got images of icebergs rolling around inside my head, but they have nothing to do with the ocean. They’re visual aids on how politics really works, and they're giving me a freakin' headache!"

  Harry laughed, long and hard. "Sam, boy, politics is the biggest joke that mankind has ever invented. Unfortunately, it's also one of the most dangerous games that can be played, mostly because you never know whom you're truly playing against. I learned that many, many years ago. Now, are you trying to tell me that you believe we should leave him alone?"

  "Leave him alone? Harry, if he's right, we need to throw all the support behind him we possibly can! According to him, the people who want him brought in are part of a faction in the CIA that wants to see globalization as soon as possible, and intends to escalate terrorism in our country and possibly others as part of their plan to make that happen."

  "And he may well be correct," Harry said. "There are always many such factions, but unless you know who the players are, there's not a lot you can do about them. Does he have names? Can he identify the people and forces behind the threat?"

  "I get the impression he knows who he's up against, and I've been trying to get him to come to you. He says there's not anything we can do to help, is he right about that?"

  "Are there things we can do? Of course there are. The real problem is a matter of loyalties. It doesn't matter how good or pure your quest might be; if you don't have people on your side who are loyal to both you and your country, and at the same time your opposition has people loyal to its leadership, then there's a good chance you're going to get your butt handed to you."

  "Then where do we start? How do I convince this guy that we're out to help him? If this is a genuine threat to America, then we have to act. Where do we start, Harry? Long says it requires exposure, showing them for what they are. Will that really help?"

  "It could," Harry said. "Unfortunately, most of the time, exposure only results in starting a new conspiracy theory. God knows, we got plenty of those already, from who killed Kennedy to where was Obama born? Some of them even make sense, but without proof, they’re worthless. We don't need more of that. We need something we can use to shut these factions down. Now, if your boy can help with that, then maybe there's something we can do that will actually get somewhere. If not, I don't know what to say. When it comes to terrorists that I can point a finger at, I can issue orders and get something done. Unfortunately, when it comes to shadows in the DC alley, I don't know who to shoot."

  "Okay, then what's my next move? Give me some guidance here, Harry. Tell me what to do. From what you've said, officially, Long isn't working for the USA, but whoever he is, I believe he's doing what he thinks is right in trying to protect this country."

  Harry didn't say anything for a few seconds. Sam had never heard him speechless before, and was starting to get nervous, but then he spoke. "Sam, if you really believe what this man is saying, then I'll back your play. Talk to him, get me names, at least one good, solid name that I can send up the line. Tell him I need someone I can get dirt on; that's the only way I'm going to make anyone else listen. There are people I know who can shake things up, but I've got to be able to give them something concrete, something visible and provable. Tell him to get me something, and let me start shaking cages from my end."

  "I'm supposed to hear from him within an hour or so. I'll let you know what I can get." Just as Sam expected, the line went dead.

  Sam got up and made himself a cup of coffee, thankful to Indie for the pot she had set up not long before she left. That made him think of his wife, and he decided he had time to give her a call. He tapped her picture in his contacts, and put the phone to his ear.

  "Hey, baby," he said. "Where are you?"

  "I'm crammed into the middle seat of this stupid car," she said, "because Kenzie decided she wanted her grandmas to share the big back seat with her. Just so you know, the middle seat is not very comfortable. And we're still on the interstate; in fact, only been on it about fifteen minutes or so. Still about forty-five minutes out to the cabin. How are things going back there?"

  "Actually, you can tell old Beauregard that his advice seems to be accurate again. I had a long talk with our new friend, and I'm pretty sure he's not the actual bad guy in this scenario. We're digging deeper, but I think Harry agrees with me on that. If he's telling the truth, then Mr. Long has been fighting to protect our country from some very domestic enemies."

  Well, I have another message for you from t
hat old spook," she said. "He says to tell you to keep your eyes open, because you're going to have to know when to jump, and which way. He says it will be a split-second decision that you have to make, and everything you're doing will depend on it."

  Sam sighed. "Ask your mother to tell him that if he won't be more clear in his advice, I'd just as soon he not bother to send me any. Half the time I end up more confused after he advises me than I was before. That gets pretty frustrating, y'know? Anyway, I just wanted to hear your voice. I love you, baby. Give Kenzie my love when you get a chance, too."

  "I love you, too, babe," Indie said, "and I will. You know she loves you, too. You be careful; make sure you jump the right way. Give me a call later, when you can, and keep me up to date. Let me know if Herman and I can be of any help."

  "I will," Sam said. "Bye, baby."

  "Bye-bye, babe."

  Sam hung up the phone and sipped his coffee, just sitting and waiting for what might happen next. If there was one thing he had learned from all of his adventures, it was that you just never knew what was around the corner.

  He looked up at the clock and saw that it wasn't quite eleven, yet, but he was getting hungry. He got up and went to the kitchen, looked into the refrigerator and found some leftover cube steak from a couple nights before. He slapped one between a couple slices of bread, and carried it back to the living room with him. There's just nothing like a cube steak sandwich, Sam thought to himself.

  He was halfway through the sandwich when he heard his refrigerator open, and the chill went down his spine. He suddenly cursed himself for not having a gun on him at the moment, but it hadn't occurred to him he might need one in his living room. There was no doubt in his mind that it was Long in the kitchen, so he decided to play it cool.

  "Cube steaks on the second shelf," he called out, "and the bread is in the bread box. Mustard, ketchup and mayonnaise are in the fridge; help yourself. Coffee cups are in the cabinet over the coffee maker."

  "Thanks," came Long's voice in reply. "I'll be right there."

  He came into the living room a moment later, sandwich in one hand and coffee on the other. Sam didn't see any sign of a weapon, not even a holster or a bulging pocket. Long sat down on the couch and nodded in Sam's direction.

  "So, how did it go with Harry?"

  "Harry says we have no reason to doubt you," Sam said. "He also says there are things we can do to help, but he needs a name, someone he can get some sort of dirt on to let the people above him know that this is a real situation. Got anything you can give him?"

  Long pursed his lips and looked up at the ceiling as if deep in thought. He took a bite of his sandwich and then nodded. "David Glenn," he said. "David is a messenger, the kind you don't want to have bringing a message to you. He has a tendency to leave a mess behind him, loose ends that should be tied up, but he gets in a hurry and doesn't bother. If Harry can get someone to look closely at his last few trips overseas, he'll find some pretty obvious and glaring connections to some very bad people. Remember a few weeks back, in the news, a few of our embassy people in Libya were in an auto accident; one, a girl, was killed, and three others were injured badly enough to be sent home? David was there, and he used something called a 'line snatch' to damage the brakes on the car. That's what led to the wreck, and Harry should be able to find evidence to back that up."

  "What on earth is a line snatch?" Sam asked.

  "It's a set of steel hooks with a long wire attached to them. You hang the hooks on the brake lines of a car, and let the wire drag along behind. Sooner or later, one of the wheels will run over that wire, and the hooks will snatch the brake lines loose, spraying brake fluid everywhere. Next time the driver steps on the brake pedal, nothing happens, so the car sails right into an intersection, a tree, a wall, whatever, without slowing down."

  "And this David, he used this trick to cause a car wreck? Okay, what was the reason?"

  "The girl who was killed was a low-level clerk in the embassy, but she had been making some minor progress towards setting up a new series of peace talks in the Middle East. Because she and the daughter of a Libyan official had become friends, she was able to get the ears of some important people. That allowed her to introduce them to some others, who were then able to use her friendship and connections to bring up the possibility of a new round of negotiations. If she had lived, those talks would probably be starting within a month from now. When she died, though, and the rest of her team suffered serious injuries and were sent home, the whole thing broke down. She had gained their trust, but the people involved are not willing to start over with someone new. Those peace talks may be years away, now."

  Sam sat there and stared at his guest for a long moment. "How did you get in here, anyway? I thought I had the house pretty well locked up."

  "Oh, you did. Those digital combination locks are excellent, but what most people don't know is that there is always a master combination that can open any of them. How do you think locksmiths are able to get them open without breaking them? I memorized most of the master combinations years ago, and they only update them every five years or so. But don't worry, your average burglar wouldn't have a prayer of getting in."

  Sam rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks, that’s such a comforting thought. So, shall I call Harry? Get him on the phone while you're sitting here?"

  Long shrugged. "Might as well," he said. "I guess it's either that, or you and I fight to the death. I can't say as that sounds like a lot of fun, so let's talk to Harry."

  "Yeah," Sam said, "talking to Harry sounds like more fun to me, too." He tapped Elmer Fudd on the nose, and turned on the speaker function. A moment later, Harry answered.

  "Harry, I'm sitting here with Kenneth Long. We've been talking and I told him what you asked for. I'll let him give you the name he brought up."

  "Harry," Long said. "I think this is the first time we've ever gotten to talk."

  "Indeed, I believe you are correct," Harry replied. "I'm afraid I never even heard of you until now, but to be honest, from what I've read and heard over the last couple of days, I wish I had had you on my team."

  Long laughed. "Well, I have definitely heard of you, and I would've said that I wish I'd had you on my team. It's the fact that I know some of your accomplishments that makes me willing to even discuss this with you today. I thought you had retired fifteen years back. Somehow I missed your transfer to HS, but that may be working in both our favors today. Now, as for the name you need to look at. Try David Glenn. He's a messenger and cleanup man for Grayson Chandler. Do either of those names ring any bells?"

  "Oh, yes, I know who both of them are."

  "Good, that'll save some time. Chandler is one of the major players in globalization today. He's very good at keeping it under wraps, but anyone, anywhere who wants to build a power base in the New World order will be doing all they can to get on his good side. Now, he won't be easy to reach, but Glenn, on the other hand, tends to be a little sloppy in his work. It shouldn't take much to tie some internal cleanup jobs to him, which will make him a hot potato to Chandler. If we can get our hands on him, there's a good chance we can get him to give up information that would expose some of what Chandler is doing."

  "Before we go that far," Harry said, "just what is it that Chandler is doing that you believe is creating a threat to our country?"

  "Chandler, and others like him, are working together to bring globalism about. In order to accomplish that, they’ve got to eliminate its major opposition, which happens to be organized Christianity, and particularly Protestant Christianity. That means he needs to support and strengthen Islam, so he's organizing many different groups that provide funding, weapons and supplies to Islamic militant organizations, and doing all he can to incite them into taking action against the largest stronghold of Christianity, which is the United States. One of the ways he's doing that is by backing a famous female presidential hopeful, since the thought of a female head of state is pretty much unacceptable to those organizations
."

  Harry didn't say a word for more than a minute, and Sam began to worry. If Harry came back with the wrong thing, Sam could find himself in a fight to the death. Long looked chubby and out of shape, but there was something in the way he moved that said he could handle himself a lot better than Sam could.

  "Mr. Long," Harry said, "you have put us all in a very precarious position. There seems to be merit in what you're saying, and I've known about some of Mr. Chandler's activities for a while now. However, as you're fully aware, getting any evidence against people in positions like his is almost impossible. If we could do so, then there is the possibility that we could prevent some future terrorist attacks from ever taking place. We might also help to preserve the sovereignty of our nation, which is certainly to be desired in accordance with the oaths that we have taken to uphold and defend our Constitution against all enemies, whether foreign or domestic. Now, you are sitting there with the best agent I've ever had, and I'm sure you're aware that he isn't even on my payroll. If we throw our support behind you, and fail, not only will you and I go down, but we will take Sam Prichard down with us. He has already saved this country twice, so I know his integrity. I have also come to trust his judgment; he has decided to trust you, and so I'm willing to take the chance that I can trust you, as well. What do you see as our next step, sir?"

  Long leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes for a moment. Sam watched him, but didn't say anything, and a moment later, the man sat forward again and leaned toward the phone. "First, we need to shake Chandler up a bit. He's not the only one involved, but he's definitely the big fish in this pond. You need to get started on David Glenn, bringing some light onto his most recent activities. If you can just get a few people looking closely at him, that will be enough to start the ball rolling. Once we get that going, we can start working on baiting Chandler into making a mistake."

  "What kind of mistake do you have in mind?" Harry asked.