Measure of Danger

by Jay Klages

  He brought the clothes inside the bathroom with him. After a three-minute shower, he left the water running for the next five while he got dressed. This gave him time to retrieve the Glock and two extra clips from inside the toilet tank and remove them from their plastic bags.

  The weapon still looked dry and clean when he inspected it. He slid it back in the rear of his pants, cinching the nylon belt tight and pulling the tail of his crinkly shirt down. He put each ammo clip inside a dirty sock and stuck one in each cargo pocket.

  Another pile of his dirty clothes sat just outside his bathroom in the alcove. Someone must have washed a load for him after he’d arrived and restocked his drawer, but he suspected the laundry delivery service wasn’t going to happen for him again. He bear-hugged the entire dirty clothes pile and dropped it in the middle of the room with a whump.

  “Hey, Chapter Concierge,” he said toward the cameras and speaker. “Where’s the laundry room in this place?”

  He waited ten seconds but there was no response.

  “Hello up there? I need some clean clothes, stat. I’m on my last pair of clean underwear. Can’t be freeballing here. We leave in two days.”

  The familiar soothing voice came back through the speaker.

  “A Sentry will be there in a moment to take you to the laundry room.”

  “All right, thanks. And where’d the nice spa music go? My honeymoon’s over?”

  The spa music piped through the speaker again.

  “There we go,” he said.

  Five minutes later, a few light knocks on the door preceded Sentry Hill entering. He held another paper cup with Kade’s medication.

  “Sims, I’ve got to watch you take another pill today, Dr. Drakos’s orders.”

  “Yeah, I got it,” Kade said. “Can you take me to lunch after the laundry?”

  “Yes, I can.”

  Kade took his pill and then exited after Hill, walking beside him to the laundry room. Once Kade stuffed his laundry into one of the four large side-loading washers and ran it, Hill led him down to the café. During the walk, looking through the window to the entrance atrium, he could see two Sentries and a Guardian escorting a man in handcuffs and wearing a hood into the building. The man wore dirty jeans and a bloodstained white T-shirt.

  “Who’s that?” Kade asked.

  “Probably another trespasser,” Hill said.

  “Like me?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You guys want me to wash those nasty hoods while I’m at it?”

  Hill grunted a laugh. “No.”

  Inside the café, Kade saw two Sentries eating together and Hank sitting at a table by himself. He followed Hill through the lunch line and the server put spaghetti, garlic bread, and salad on their plates.

  “Where’s the lunch crowd?” Kade asked Hill.

  “Out on duty or training.”

  Hill went and sat with the other two Sentries on the opposite side of the cafe. Hank waved, so Kade headed in his direction. He noticed Hank was wearing jeans and an AgriteX logo polo shirt. Hank also had a strange look on his face, which wasn’t all that unusual.

  But he looks nonthreatening. That’s good.

  “How do I get one of those cool shirts?” Kade asked.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” Hank said.

  “Oh yeah, why’s that?” He sat down and saw Hank had already finished his lunch.

  “Let’s face this way so the cameras can’t see our lips,” Hank said. “And let’s just keep smiles on our faces the whole time we’re talking here, huh?”

  “Uh, okay, sure, no problem.”

  Hank leaned back in his chair so he could scan the area without turning his head.

  “So I was just interviewed by the Drug Enforcement Agency about the shootout at the clinic,” Hank said.

  “No shit?”

  “Yeah, and when they were questioning me, one of them asked me if I had talked to you after the shooting, but before you were terminated.”

  “Terminated?”

  “Yeah,” Hank said. “The agents said the AgriteX Human Resources lady told them you failed a urinalysis and were let go. They asked me if I ever saw you taking drugs and I said no. When I was done, they told me I was forbidden to talk to you about it, so here I am disobeying that order. It looks like those Sentries over there didn’t get the memo.”

  Kade felt an indescribable mix of fear and fury. He bit his tongue hard and tried to mentally regroup. He smiled and forced a fake laugh.

  “That’s very interesting,” he said. “I don’t remember any urinalysis. Sounds like their right hand ain’t talking to the left. Thanks for sharing. Anything else they discussed I should know?”

  “No, I just went through the shooting again, play-by-play. Nothing you don’t know.”

  Kade nodded. “So are you happy to be going home?”

  “Funny you should ask,” Hank said. “I don’t believe it. I don’t think I’m going home at all.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Think about it. I have a death sentence that no one’s bothered to tell me about.”

  Kade nodded and ate a few bites of food. “Yeah, that’s true. So what are you going to do now?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m not waiting around for one of these thugs to put a bullet in me. That’s not the way I’m going out. I’m going to leave and try and enjoy whatever little time I have left. My question to you is, are you coming with me?”

  Kade couldn’t think fast enough. The word terminated blazed in his mind. Terminated is what he and Hank now had in common, but he wasn’t sure if he could depend on Hank either. He wanted his own plan on his own terms.

  “I don’t know, man,” Kade said. “Maybe . . . I think they’ve got way too many guards with itchy fingers out on patrol right now. Why didn’t you just skip town when we were down at the Nehalem Clinic or tell the DEA you were in danger?”

  “’Cause I swore I’d give Heather Drakos a piece of my mind before I leave. She’s responsible for my disease.”

  Kade nodded. “Yeah, she’s done a lot of damage. How did you get caught up in this mess to begin with?”

  “It sounded like a great idea way back,” Hank said. “I was finishing my term as mayor, and the Chapter somehow took notice and recruited me so I could be better groomed for my next step—Congress. They accepted me after some interviews and a questionnaire, and they promised support and financing to accelerate my political career. There’s already a good number of state and local politicians who’ve been through the program. I know some of them and they referred me. It was like a chance to be a part of a secret club.”

  “Couldn’t you just run a campaign and raise money the old-fashioned way?”

  “I believed this would give me an edge. Superior financing. Deep information on our opponents. That’s what it takes to win campaigns these days. I’m not exactly sure how they’re doing it, but the Chapter, AgriteX, or whoever, is funding the Domestic Strength Coalition—a nonpartisan super PAC with a platform focused on the environment and domestic security. It supports campaigns for over three hundred graduates of our program.”

  Kade contemplated why the Chapter would support greater domestic security when its militia would be considered a domestic security threat. That didn’t seem to make sense.

  “So you took a two-year break from politics for this?” Kade asked.

  “No, the political action program, or P-A-P, is five months,” Hank said, “and I was in one of many groups around the country that finished in May. Mine was based in a small temporary office in Chicago. They wanted to position a large number of us for the Congressional elections a year and a half from now. When I finished my last term as mayor, I’d already thought about taking two years to get ready for a run.”

  Groups around the country.

  So this is a coordinated national operation.

  “How’d you end up here in Oregon then?” Kade asked.

  “While at the PAP, they app
roached me about a chance to participate in a new personalized training program, or protocol, they called it, one that would give me a bigger personal edge. They said it would require an extra ninety days at the headquarters. I didn’t realize I had a botched surgical procedure as part of my stay. I thought I was undergoing some preliminary tests and that was all.”

  “But you went along with it because you wanted to win.”

  “Exactly.”

  As one of the Sentries passed by their table for a drink refill, Hank switched to talking about his interest in hockey. Kade played along until the Sentry returned to his own table. “How about all of the military drills outside?” Kade asked. “What’s that all about?”

  “I don’t know. We were always told that as we helped to create an environment for political change, the Chapter could come under attack by those who want to maintain the status quo.”

  “Sounds like some of my downloads. But I might be a coin or two behind you.”

  “I’m just past silver on my program,” Hank said.

  “I guess by the time you hit gold, you’re near the end of the Associate program and ready for the next step. A leap of faith.”

  “More like a leap from a ledge.”

  Kade saw Hill take a cell phone call and look over toward him.

  “I think my time just ran out,” Kade said. “Quick, what’s your plan?”

  “It starts tomorrow with a seven o’clock appointment with Heather.”

  “For what?” Kade asked while watching Hill get up from the table. Kade started to reach behind his back toward his Glock until he could see Hill didn’t have a weapon in his hand.

  “I’m having another medical exam,” Hank said. “I pissed myself a few times on purpose as an excuse to get an exam, and that usually doesn’t go with migraines.”

  “So how can I help y—?” Kade asked just as Hill shouted.

  “Sims!” Hill was about twenty feet away, walking toward them. “Your lunchtime is over. I’ve got to get you back to your room.”

  The other two Sentries had also risen and were right behind him. Kade thought he could make a break for it on the walk back to his room if he’d only been escorted by Hill, but now with the additional two armed Sentries, he didn’t like the odds.

  “I can’t finish my laundry?” Kade asked.

  “We’ll get it to you,” Hill said. Kade watched Hill’s eyes and face and read that Hill meant business.

  “Okay, cool. You can’t beat the service around here,” Kade said. He stood up and Hank reached across the table to give him a fist bump.

  “Be safe,” Hank said.

  CHAPTER 38

  Thursday, June 27

  5:35 p.m. (EDT)

  Walpole, Massachusetts

  The energy of D8 Work Crew One was contagious, and the team’s demonstrated readiness for the mission made Sentry Robertson even more confident. Robertson returned to his desk at the Camp Walpole inmate mentor staff office, satisfied after inspecting each of the soldiers assigned to him.

  Fifty inmate-soldiers had been selected for two special “work crews” from the two hundred fifty-seven inmates in the camp. Work Crew One and Two had nothing to do with the regular work shifts and duties around the camp, but headquarters had given the attack teams nicknames to help keep communications secure.

  As directed by headquarters, today Robertson made sure the crew member orders had been properly received in their program download. He quizzed each of the men to validate their understanding of the plan and the rules of engagement, and he answered their questions only within the permitted scope. Granted, the soldiers didn’t know the full relevance of the district eight attack. They knew the risk and believed that success would bring them freedom and a cash bonus. Then they were “on their own” once the attack was over.

  Robertson felt a little guilty about deceiving his troops, knowing they were disposable, but he knew the blend of security and discipline Marshall Owens instituted from the top was necessary to make this force effective. And he was not naïve enough to think that he was privy to the whole operation either. As part of the vanguard force, he wasn’t sure about what would happen to him after the mission was over.

  He finished filling out the mandatory checklist on the obscure and innocuous secure website created for this purpose and clicked “Submit.” Minutes later, Sentry Wolf came into the staff room with an excited look on his face.

  “I was told they’re finished with the paint job,” he said. “Want to go take a look?”

  “Sure.”

  They exited the two-story red-brick administrative building and walked down the sidewalk until it connected to the main street running through the center of the camp.

  “I drove the route to the target one more time,” Wolf said.

  “Good,” Robertson said. “You’ve caught up fast since we lost Phillips. We’ll review the grounds map and floor plan of the house a couple more times.”

  “Your local surveillance was good,” Wolf said.

  “Thanks.”

  They walked past the basketball courts, a pasture with several milking cows, and a two-acre vegetable garden with an elaborate barrier of eight-foot-high wire fencing to keep the deer out. They turned left and headed down the sidewalk, past the armory toward the camp motor pool.

  “You were at headquarters for a good while,” Robertson said. “Tell me—that had to be exciting, being at the nerve center of the revolution.”

  “So great,” Wolf said. “But I’m glad I’m out in the field now for the action. To see the whole plan through.”

  “A chance to be a hero.”

  Wolf shook his head on that point.

  “No, I don’t think so. Most people outside the Chapter are going to think this is a cowardly act; they won’t understand the importance. They’ll call it a senseless attack on civilians when it’s just a bold way to bring about change. Too many lives have been lost because of these spineless politicians and bureaucrats. They’re cowards every day. Now it’s finally payback time. We’ll try to minimize collateral damage”

  “You weren’t around for the crew training we did with stun guns and firearms,” Robertson said. “The crews know their rules of engagement—cold.”

  “Awesome.”

  They entered the motor pool area and went inside a covered garage and maintenance bay. The doors and windows had been left open to ventilate the fumes from the enamel spray paint. Two prison buses freshly repainted in school bus yellow were parked in the center.

  “Brilliant,” Robertson said.

  “Oh yeah.”

  New black lettering on the side read “MILTON AREA SCHOOL DISTRICT.” The windows, unlike those on a standard school bus, were moderately tinted.

  Robertson pointed to the black SUV parked nearby.

  “That’s the escape vehicle,” he said. “We’re making final load preparations.”

  “I think SRV—Sentry Recovery Vehicle—is the name in the plan,” Wolf said.

  “Whatever, Mr. Acronym!”

  Wolf laughed. He was happy he and Robertson had hit it off. He walked over to the SUV and opened the rear left door.

  “So which side are you going to be on?” he asked.

  “I’ll be on the left,” Robertson said, “the congressman on the right. Want to keep him away from the driver. If something happens to me, you move from shotgun to the backseat. We’ll go through this again, don’t worry.”

  “Good.”

  “My understanding is that our program will hibernate after mission complete?” Robertson asked. “Then somehow we’ll be recontacted and reassembled? Did you learn any more about that at headquarters?”

  “There’s not much else,” Wolf said. “Our last download is going to contain a message on how to recontact leadership, but for security reasons, the message isn’t going to appear for months. So you’re right. We maintain complete silence until that future date. The program will go dormant except for monitoring what we say, and at some point we’ll b
e re-audited.”

  “Nothing you can tell me about the big picture though, huh?” Robertson asked.

  “No,” Wolf said. “There will be a gaping hole created in the nation’s leadership, and my guess is the next stage is going to involve filling it. I’m sure Marshall Owens knows, but we’re too low down the chain of command for him to tell us. Still, I trust him completely. He’s always wanted the best for his people . . . before the Chapter even existed.”

  “You worked for him before?”

  “Yeah, I ran the mail room back at his old company, NetStatz, after I left the Marines. He’s a winner. That man always has every single detail worked out. Anyway, after this attack I’ll be going back to Minnesota to do some fishing and hunting and just sit on my bonus for a while.”

  “Nice,” Robertson said. “I’ve got two brothers in DC and I’m going to get some temp work as a private security guard. Otherwise I’ll go crazy.”

  “Maybe we can plan on—”

  Their cell phones chimed with text messages in unison. They both looked at each other and read the message.

  TRAINING EXERCISE IS CONFIRMED FOR SAT, JUL 6.

  Robertson and Wolf both looked up and slapped each other a high five.

  “Shit yeah, that’s next Saturday,” Wolf said. “It’s on!”

  CHAPTER 39

  Friday, June 28

  4:09 a.m. (PDT)

  AgriteX

  Kade made it look like he was sleeping during the late evening, first in the easy chair, and then some more after moving to the bed around midnight, staying fully clothed. If someone came to terminate him during the night, he would be ready with his shoes and clothes on. He’d logged into the computer and dimmed the screen so he could keep track of the time. The overdue login warning now appeared in blinking red:

  You are 3 days overdue in downloading the required Daily Update.

  He lay on his back with just the bed blanket covering him. His hand touched the grip of the Glock, which was now loaded and pressed against the side of his leg. Earlier, during a bathroom break, he’d quietly pulled the slide to chamber a round.

  Escape options fell into two categories: either breaking out of the room or waiting until someone came in. He didn’t like having zero control of the timing in the wait option. And the surveillance cameras made any action on his part to break out even more difficult. He really didn’t like any of his options, but it was his own damn fault for missing earlier chances.