GodMode

by O. K. Mills

  “What sort of smartphone passcode is this?” Walker asked as he held the screen towards the evidence officer.

  The images were a mixture of puzzles, patterns and Aramaic letters.

  “Couldn’t begin to tell you. I’ve never seen that before,” the young woman answered him.

  Walker mused as he swiped the screen in futile attempts to unlock it.

  “What are you trying to do?”

  “Get the number off it.”

  “Oh, can’t you just make an emergency call?”

  Walker gave her a look that said we’re going to pretend I thought of that on my own. He tapped the home button on the device and selected the option to make an emergency call. He dialed his own smartphone but the number came up as “private.”

  He sighed.

  “We can probably get that off of a trace. Hand me your phone and give me 10 minutes,” the evidence officer said and went to her laptop.

  “Thank you,” Spade said as he dried his tears.

  “You tell anyone I was this nice to you, and I’ll kill you.”

  Spade smiled. He was grateful for Heather and he didn’t realize how much he needed to grieve until he actually did.

  “I never actually wanted to be in the military, Heather. I did it because I wanted my dad to love me.”

  “He does love you. He’s just angry, J. He just lost one of his sons.”

  “That’s not it, Heather. You want to know why I left the United States for seven years? The real reason I quit BUD/S?”

  Heather raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t an inquiring mind.”

  Spade took a deep breath.

  “I’ve never told anyone this.”

  Heather listened intently.

  “When I was born, my mom died giving birth to me. I used to think my dad resented me because of that—you know, blamed me for her not being here. But that wasn’t it; no, he resented me because I’m not really his son.

  My parents had grown apart after Michael was born. My dad has always been a military man, a Marine through and through. His code is God, country and then family, though he wouldn’t ever admit that. As a result my mom developed a relationship with a high school crush of hers. They hooked up, he got her pregnant and here I am.”

  “Wow, okay.”

  “I grew up thinking my dad hated me. I did everything I could to please him, which meant doing whatever Mike did. Mike would try out for football, so I would try out for football. Mike ran track, so I ran track, et cetera.”

  “He must have been happy when you joined the Corps?” Heather asked.

  “That was what I thought too. But with each commendation, promotion, tour, whatever, he would just shrug it off. I don’t know. Maybe he resented that it wasn’t his son achieving those things.”

  “When did he tell you the truth?”

  “When I told him I was quitting BUD/S,” Spade answered.

  Heather grimaced and lowered her head.

  “That’s a pretty messed up way to find out that your dad isn’t really your dad.”

  ‘Yup.” Spade nodded.

  “That doesn’t warrant you leaving the country for seven effing years though.”

  Spade gave her a look.

  “Well, it doesn’t. We all have jacked up families, man. At some point you gotta just love them for who they are. Don’t hold everyone hostage with your sensitivity.”

  “Is that really what you think I’m doing here?”

  “Seven years? Yeah I do.”

  “I just felt like no matter what I did I could never measure up.”

  “Getting invited to become a SEAL is somehow not measuring up? In what universe?”

  “You’re missing the point, Heather, my dad was never impressed with my accomplishments. When I told him I got invited to BUD/S, he didn’t care. I started asking myself if this was for me, or was it for dad? I never really wanted to kill anyone or hurt anyone. If the military wasn’t going to win me my dad’s love, then I needed to find something else that would. When I told him that, we ended up arguing, and that’s when he said, and I quote, ‘your mother died for nothing and I am happier today that I am not your real father than I ever could have been.’”

  Heather whistled.

  “Okay, I might have gone to Africa for a while too if my dad had said that to me. That’s pretty harsh.

  “You’re telling me.”

  “With that said J, he is dying. He’s got cancer, right?”

  Spade nodded.

  “How did you know?”

  “My grandmother had it. I recognized some of the prescription medicines he had on his desk. My point is this: If you don’t get this thing squashed with him, you will regret it.”

  Spade took another deep breath.

  “I know.”

  “I’m willing to bet every cent I have that God would be more impressed if you took whatever time he has left and built a relationship with him, than with all of those churches you built overseas.”

  Spade smiled and nodded.

  “I’ll go in there and talk to him. Apologize to him.”

  “Now that sounds like a good plan.

  They both got up to leave.

  “One more thing, if we’re going to keep this child safe, then you might have to kill some people. I get it; you’re a man of peace or whatever, and that’s fine during peacetime. But right now, I need the J. Spade I did tours in Iraq with. I need the guy who beat up people on his way to a fight.”

  “Heather, I’m not that man anymore. A lot has changed for me and at some point I will have to answer to God for what I did in the past. I will try to do all I can to protect Brynn, but I can’t promise you the old J.”

  “Spade, that’s all well and good, but there are murdering bastards trying to kill an innocent baby so that a maniac can pretend to be the very God you love. Now, I don’t know about your Bible, but in mine the King of Kings is well skilled in killing men who deserve to die. All He ever needs is a willing instrument.”

  BANG!

  The shot came suddenly. Spade and Heather exchanged looks of fear. They raced over to the entrance of the safe house, which they found sitting wide open.

  “No … no … no!” Spade desperately yelled as he sprinted down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, his fears were realized. Shot down, his father was lying on the floor and bleeding heavily. The main room was disheveled as if a struggle had just occurred.

  Worst of all, Brynn was missing.

  Hand over her mouth, Heather paced, while Spade went over to his father’s side and cradled the man in his arms.

  “Dad, no … you can’t die … you can’t leave me now!” Spade whimpered as he clutched his father to his chest—blood continuing to ooze out him slowly. Heather swore loudly as she ran up the steps looking for Brynn.

  “I never got to tell you I love you, dad. I never … I never got to tell you that I was sorry. I shouldn’t have left you.”

  Spade continued cradling his father as he coughed up more blood.

  “I love you, dad. I’m sorry for everything.”

  Garrison squeezed his son’s shoulder, nodded his head, and collapsed for a final time.

  Heather ran with everything she had to get to her car, but a swarm of police cars that came virtually out of nowhere intercepted her. She held up her hands, got on her knees, and placed her hands behind her head.

  “You look like the Iraqi soldiers in the first Gulf war,” Bear quipped as he exited Cole’s car.

  Heather grinned widely as she saw the big man emerge. She leapt up to go to him, nearly knocking him over with a hug.

  Cole stepped out of the driver’s side.

  “This is Heather Wolfe, I assume?”

  Bear nodded before addressing Heather.

  “The officers have been briefed. Please tell me we beat that guy here.”

  Heather quickly put two and two together and then shook her head.

  “You just missed him. He killed Sp
ade’s dad, then took Brynn. I was running after him when you all showed up,” Heather explained.

  Cole swore loudly. Next, he directed the other officers to form a perimeter to keep the tourists and civilians back.

  “Where is Spade now?” Bear asked.

  “He’s in the safe house with his father.”

  “I’ll go brief him as well,” Bear responded.

  Heather grabbed him on his way to the safe house.

  “Bear, look up.”

  Bear stopped in his tracks. Five approaching black dots descended from the sky.

  “Are they who I think they are?”

  Bear didn’t need to answer. He simply nodded and confirmed Heather’s suspicions.

  “Detective Cole, please don’t make any sudden moves, or you will not be going home for dinner.” Bear said in a whisper.

  As the black dots grew larger, Cole realized that they were actually black parachutes carrying soldiers armed to the teeth.

  “Detective Cole, I give you the Black Daggers.”

  12: The Black Daggers

  Bear Bowden saluted as the first of the five men in parachutes landed and collected their wares. He only lowered his salute after each had descended and armed themselves with 10-mm submachine guns.

  The group of men were dressed head to boot in black tactical attire. On the left chest of their Ops suits were identity plates bearing code names sewn into the mesh. Four of them had the stereotypical look of soldiers, including buzz cuts. Their codenames were “California Condor,” “War Eagle,” “Falcon” and “Black Hawk.” However, front and center was a man who loomed considerable taller than his modest five feet ten inches of height.

  He was bald and had a reddish bronze color to his skin, as though he had just stepped out of the sun. He also sported a thick, black goatee, with specks of gray sprouting out of the chin. Though chiseled and lean with intense eyes, there was an inexplicable sincerity about him. You knew before he ever spoke a syllable to you that he was a man of his word. As the group got situated, Bear walked over and shook his hand.

  “Thanks for coming, colonel,” said Bear.

  “You want to clue the rest of us in?” Heather asked with her hands on her hips. Cole and Asha also looked on, surprise painted over their faces.

  “Forgive me, everyone. This is Colonel Victor Norris—codenamed Merlin. Collectively, these men are known as the Black Daggers. They usually perform covert operations with the purpose of disrupting enemy trade routes, but I asked Colonel Norris to assist us via text while we were riding over to the safe house,” Bear informed the group before returning his eyes to the colonel.

  “I was not expecting you all to parachute in, though, sir.”

  “We needed to make sure we got here as quickly as possible to intercept you. I didn’t want you getting hurt by accident.”

  “I don’t follow, sir? Weren’t you trying to stop the man we were chasing after—

  Pike, the man who murdered—”

  “Murdered an acting SECDEF liaison, kidnapped Brynn James, beat you up—yes, I’m aware, Mr. Bowden. And the answer is no; we weren’t trying to stop him. We were trying to stop you from stopping him.”

  Walker waited patiently while the evidence officer ran the trace on the smartphone of the man who had killed his partner. A man he only knew as Pike. A man he suspected was working with one of their own on something that cost the lives of at least four children and many others. Everything in him wanted to go to her, pull out his side arm and put two bullets in her eyes. But first he needed proof, and proof often required patience. Before long his persistence was rewarded as the evidence officer returned holding a tablet with a list of seven digit numbers displayed on it.

  “What have you got?”

  “These are the numbers that the cell phone dialed out to or received calls from today.”

  There weren’t many on the list, but Walker recognized the first three digits on one phone number in particular that had dialed the phone within the last four hours. That three-digit number was the same one that most of the officers in Virginia were issued, the variants showing up in the last four numbers.

  “That number there, that’s one of ours,” Walker announced.

  “That’s the thing, sir; I don’t believe it’s one of our phones.”

  “The first three digits are the same for nearly all Virginia police issued cell phones. How is it not one of ours?”

  “It’s not in our records.”

  “Records, kind of like security cameras, can be tampered with.”

  “Why don’t you just call that number? If one of our officers answers, then you have your person.”

  Walker stepped back sheepishly and just smiled wondering why he hadn’t thought of that.

  “I owe you a cold one when this is over, Officer Davenport,” Walker smiled before turning and racing out.

  “Stop us from stopping him, sir?” Bear asked with his mouth agape. Colonel Norris simply nodded his head.

  “There’s already a perimeter forming around this facility, and we have a bird in the air keeping an eye on Pike. He has to reach his destination.”

  “You mind explaining to us why your collection of clownery here would stop us from catching a man who is about to kill a nine-year-old girl?” Heather asked.

  “And you are?” Colonel Norris inquired.

  “Heather Wolfe, United States Marine, former FBI and currently CIA.”

  “Seems you were passed around more than a bottle of Boone’s Strawberry Hill, Ms. Wolfe,” Colonel Norris quipped as Heather’s eyebrows rose sharply.

  Before she could respond, he held up his hand and continued.

  “Marshall Pike is an international terrorist, a fugitive and arguably the deadliest mercenary in the world. The moment the heel of his boot touched American soil our operatives started tracking him. We need him to succeed in his mission, and we’ll kill all of you if we need to in order to make the happen,” Colonel Norris responded.

  Bear looked at the colonel and just shook his head.

  He knew exactly why they had been given these orders, and the reasons disappointed him greatly.

  Colonel Norris simply shrugged in an “orders are orders” kind of way. Heather observed their silent conversation and looked to Bear for an explanation.

  “They want Pike to succeed because if he does, or if Silas does, then our government will know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the God Mode actually works. Brynn isn’t just the key to Silas’s maniacal plans to rule the world. Apparently, she’s also the key to our government weaponizing it and creating super soldiers,” said Bear.

  Heather threw her hands up and said to Colonel Norris, “You’re just going to let that child die?”

  “That child, Ms. Wolfe should have already died—countless times, mind you, years ago. She heals, remember? But even if she didn’t heal, to answer your question more specifically, then yes; we would let her die just like we let those foster children die, just like we let Winter Harlin die, and just like we would have let you die.”

  “You do realize that Winter Harlin worked directly for the President of the United States?” Bear asked incredulously.

  “Who do you think sent us here to stop you?” Colonel Norris replied with the calm of a man who knew everything, but also knew that you didn’t know what he knew.

  “But … but I called you,” Bear mumbled like a child who had just lost a game of checkers.

  “You don’t have the clearance to get us here, Mr. Bowden.”

  “All due respect, sir, but it’s obvious you have no clue what you’re really dealing with!” Bear screamed.

  “Do you really think that just because Winter Harlin’s nipples got hard for you that you have all of the Intel, son? You don’t even begin to know the real story behind Codename God Mode. This is far bigger than the fate of one child; trust me.”

  “So you’re just going to let this happen?” Heather asked.

  “Not just me, Ms. Wolfe. Not just t
he Black Daggers either. No, all of us here, including Vienna’s finest, we’re all going to just let this happen. And then, once we have assurances that Silas has succeeded, a small strike team will infiltrate the Janus headquarters, kill Marshall Pike and capture Damien Silas alive.” Colonel Norris answered.

  “Capture Silas alive so that you can study him? Duplicate his abilities?” Bear asked disapprovingly.

  “Son, do you have any idea how many lives we could save if every soldier could do what that little girl does?”

  Bear conceded the point with a nod.

  Colonel Norris softened his tone as he continued.

  “Mr. Bowden, you know how this works. The President gave us an order, and we’re going to execute it. Now, that said, I’d like to work together on this and have your team join mine. You all will have access to our tactical equipment, operational facilities, weapons, you name it. The extraction will happen once we are given the final go from the President.”

  “I don’t want any part of this,” Heather said with a defiant wave. “You knew. All of you knew, and you just let innocent people die.”

  Colonel Norris simply looked at her nonplussed.

  “You smug bastard. There is a young man down in that safe house holding his dead father. Earlier today that same man lost his older brother. You all could have done something to prevent it, and you did nothing. I have half a mind to kill you myself.”

  Within an instant, four high-powered sub machine guns were aimed at Heather. Colonel Norris paused a moment to let reality sink in for her before raising his hand to tell his men to lower their weapons.

  “I would advise against that, Ms. Wolfe. Besides, I’m not your enemy. Your enemy is Marshall Pike, and yes, Mr. Pike does deserve to die. I’d personally like to watch you twist his neck like a bottle top. You want to kill someone? Kill him; Kill him tonight as a part of our strike team.”