Huddled Masses (JP Warner Book 2)

by Derek Ciccone

  “Maybe he realized what his son was going to become.”

  “It was because he caught me with his wife, my mother.”

  “With? As in you were with your mother?”

  “My mother loved me. She protected me from the monster.”

  “No—it sounds like she raped you.”

  “She knew what I’d done to those girls. If I didn’t make her happy, she was going to tell the police.” His voice had turned emotional, and in a weird way, it gave Allison hope—he was actually human. Albeit just slightly.

  She didn’t know what girls he was talking about, but she was sure it didn’t end well for them. He was nothing but a common serial killer using religion as a shield. “Just like you have no choice here? You always have a choice, David.”

  He stared right through her. “My mother got my father drunk, and drowned him in the lake. I found him when I came home from the university—she said if I didn’t do whatever she wanted, she would blame me for his death … and the others. So I took her down to the lake and had her join my father. When she took her final breath, I felt such relief.”

  It was as if he had brought her here to confess his sins to his mother, his wife, or some combination that she represented to him in his delusional mind. Whatever the case, she thought this was the opportunity to try to get him to stop the madness.

  “Nobody killed your parents, David. They are alive and well inside you. Your father taught you about ruling with fear, and your mother showed you the dark effects power and seduction can have. You have combined that into the monster you became, and used this Al Muttahedah group to rationalize it. You might have killed my husband, but he’s going to live on in my children. His laugh, his loyalty, how smart he was. That’s how someone leaves a legacy in this world … not doing whatever you’re doing.”

  He pulled his stare away. Allison was hopeful she’d reached him. It wouldn’t bring Marty back, but maybe, just maybe, he might rethink what he was about to set off, and other children wouldn’t have to grow up without their parents.

  But that thought was short-lived. “Guards—take her away,” he called out.

  As they dragged her out of the room, he said, “I’ve grown very disappointed with the service from your agency, Allison. I regret to inform you that you are fired.”

  Chapter 63

  Fort Sumter

  Christina looked on as Mistress Kate was led through the “parade route” and up onto the stage by one of the bogus park rangers.

  “I found her hiding in the abandoned barracks on the left flank,” he informed the leader, the one with the British accent.

  “Where’s Carter?”

  “She told us that the coward made a run for it—tried to use the docked ferry to head for land.”

  “And you believe this?”

  “Of course not. But when we checked, we found that the ferry did leave the dock. It didn’t make it very far—about a quarter of a mile before it tipped over. It’s too dangerous to organize a search with the Coast Guard surrounding the fort.”

  British scoffed, “It would be a complete waste of time. He’s in the fort—that was nothing but a diversion. Get the word out that if he doesn’t surrender within the next five minutes, I’m going to gut his girlfriend and toss her into the harbor to feed the fish.”

  Park Ranger nodded subserviently, and resumed his search for Carter. Christina wasn’t sure it would be in his best interest to find him.

  British turned to Kate. “So this is the world famous dominatrix Mistress Kate? You look more like a Plain Katherine to me.”

  She stood proudly in her conservative, floral print dress, her red hair tied up, and wearing studious-looking glasses. “I will be addressed as Mistress Kate,” a powerful voice erupted from the petite woman, surprising Christina.

  “You’re not exactly in a position to make demands, Katherine.”

  “You disobeyed me, and now you will be punished.”

  “I’m not one of those perverted souls who enters your dungeon—now tell me where your boyfriend is.”

  The words were strong, but his tone was unsure.

  “I think behind your tough talk you are just a perverted little boy who wants to be punished. What do you want me to do to you?”

  He didn’t reply.

  “Answer me!”

  “I do have this foot fetish that maybe you can help me with,” he replied, and followed it with a roundhouse kick to Kate’s head, which dropped her to the ground.

  “More specifically, I would really enjoy putting my foot through your face,” he said, as he peered down at her.

  He looked out at his audience. “Take a good look at what society has become. The achievers being held hostage by a morally bankrupt underclass, where those like Katherine here—who cater to their sickness—are celebrated. The addicted, the sexually perverse, and the minorities who have attempted to steal this land from its white settlers. But after they and their Huddled Masses are held responsible for what took place here tonight, even their lapdog media will no longer be able to defend them!”

  “Well, it’s a good thing I’m a rich white dude then,” a voice echoed from above.

  By the time British looked up, Carter had already leaped off the top rope, or in this case, a deck of Battery Huger that stood behind the stage.

  It was like a belly flop from a high-dive, and he landed on British, crashing right through the wooden stage. Christina ran up to the stage, and when she peered down into the newly formed crater, she saw Carter adding insult to injury, slamming his opponent’s head into the ground.

  But when she turned around, she noticed a gun aiming right at her. The Whiskey Tax soldier was about to pull the trigger, when he was hit by a freight train.

  Mama Jasper sent him to the ground with a perfect form tackle, and Lamar Thompson scooped up his high-powered rifle. The other members of the Jasper party, along with the cadets, pounced on the remainder of the “park rangers” and disarmed them.

  Fort Sumter was secure once again.

  Christina took in every detail, knowing that she would have the responsibility of accurately recording the second Battle of Fort Sumter for history. As she did, she began laughing to herself—what was the point, who would believe it?

  Chapter 64

  The sun began to rise over Charleston Harbor, as Christina took the steps to the observation deck. She hoped to find a moment of peace, following the craziest story she would likely ever cover—on her night off!

  But when she reached the top step, she cringed at the sight before her. “Dude, what are you doing? Gross!”

  “Just draining my dragon,” Carter replied.

  “You do know they have bathrooms on the fort, right?”

  “I put the flag back up,” he casually said as he continued to do his business.

  She looked up to see that he’d returned the American flag to its usual post, after their captors had replaced it the previous night with a Huddled Masses flag, whom the Whiskey Tax wanted outsiders to believe had taken over the fort.

  She looked back at Carter, and realized what he was doing. He was soiling the simple black and white flag with Huddled Masses logo on it.

  “I thought I’d give it the respect it deserved,” he said with a broad grin.

  Christina looked away. She stepped to the wall, and viewed the Charleston waterfront in the distance. It was a spectacular morning, as the sun shimmied off the Ravenel Bridge. She even spotted a pod of dolphins swimming in the harbor. But she wasn’t feeling the joy.

  Carter finished relieving himself, scrubbed his hands with the baby wipes he never traveled without, and joined her at the wall. He pointed out the retired aircraft carrier in the distance, docked near land. “The Yorktown—used to tour it all the time with my dad. He loved military history. We would pack up the car every summer and journey to some historic battlefield or monument. I think he’d be proud that I fought in the Second Battle of Fort Sumter.”

  “I always forget y
ou came from actual parents. It just seems like you appeared out of a swamp or something.”

  He smiled. “That sounds like something JP Warner would say.”

  “Is that a compliment?”

  “The highest. So you wanna know how I did it?”

  “Not really.”

  “I was under the impression that you journalists can’t function until you get to the bottom of the story. Me personally, I always thought there were much better bottoms to get to—bottom of the bottle, that cute bottom on …”

  “I get your point. But journalists also believe in having solid, believable sources, and I doubt you’re a very good source on this subject.”

  “You sure that’s the real reason?”

  She sighed. “It doesn’t matter anymore. After what I did last night, my career is over … if it even had started. It would be like a reporter coming on and defending Bin Laden after 9/11.”

  “I think you’re being a little dramatic … and that’s coming from a former professional wrestler. The truth always comes out in the end.”

  “It does? Like with what really happened to Qwaui and Az Zahir in Syria?”

  “Well, maybe not always. But don’t sweat it, if the news thing doesn’t work out, Kate’s looking to hire a few girls to work in her dungeon. You’re kinda bossy, so it might be a good fit,” he said with a smile.

  “Leather doesn’t really work on me, but thanks for the offer.” She took in a deep breath of sea air and blew it out. “I hate to say it, but JP was right.”

  “He usually is—just don’t let him know, or you’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “He told me I’d have to do things I wasn’t proud of in this business, like he had to do when you guys were held hostage last summer.”

  “Welcome to the big leagues, kid … now, getting back to my heroic tale. During the tour, Kate and I snuck off to the old barracks on the left face. To make a long story a little shorter, I was about to fire my cannon, when I heard the shots. So I climbed over the exterior fort wall, and made my way to the Salient, where the ferry was docked. The driver had been knocked out, so I took over for him. When I got about a few hundred feet out into the harbor, I dove off and swam back—the ferry did a ‘ghost rider’ for about a quarter mile and flipped on its side.

  “While I was doing that, Kate did what she does best—making people’s fantasies come true. And that British guy’s fantasy was to be large and in-charge, which she led him to quite brilliantly. People think it’s about whips and chains, but that really has nothing to do with it. And most importantly, it bought us the time we needed.”

  “After all that, I’ll bet an old man like you needs a nap.”

  “It’s going to be comments like that I miss the most.”

  “What do you mean miss?”

  His face turned stone cold serious. “You’re right, I do need a nap … a long one. So I’m going to be taking a break.”

  “You’re leaving me?” Christina blurted, her shock quickly turning to anger. “Let me guess, JP’s ego couldn’t handle us working together, and having success. I hate that jerk.”

  “This might be news to JP, but not everything revolves around him. I just need some time away, and it’s a good opportunity for me and Kate to spend some time together. She’s going to be on tour this summer, and I’m going to follow her around the country.”

  “She goes on tour?”

  “Every date is already sold out.”

  Christina shook her head. “Wow—you are totally whipped.”

  “We never bring our work home. She leaves the whips out of our bedroom, and I never enter wearing a cape.”

  “You know what I meant. And you’ll be back—just like JP ran to Sticksville to be with his girlfriend, and he’s already so bored that he’s taking vacations to Syria.”

  “My situation is totally different from JP’s.”

  “It is?”

  He thought for a moment. His always-expressive face said he didn’t like the answer, so he changed the subject—Christina was convinced that all men were born with that trait.

  “Besides, it will be good for you to be out on your own, and not have everyone thinking you got to where you are because you’re sleeping with JP.”

  Her mouth dropped. “People think I’m sleeping with JP!? Where would they get that idea?”

  “Let me see—you went straight from college to international correspondent at a major station … even if it is cable news. You used to live with him. And look at his history with the women he’s worked with—Nora Reign … Lauren Bowden … should I go on?”

  “People are really saying that?”

  “I have no idea—I stopped listening to what people are saying back in 1978. The point is, you’ve got a lot of potential, and as long as you don’t burn yourself out you’re gonna be great.”

  He looked at his watch. “I gotta bolt—Kate’s got a show in Atlanta tonight, and we need to hit the road. If I ever get an address, you can send me a ‘Thank You’ note for saving your life.”

  They didn’t do hugs, so Carter gave her a powerful pat on the back and headed for the stairs, leaving her with her thoughts and a urine-stained flag. But then something hit her. “You can’t leave,” she called out.

  “I can’t?”

  “No—the FBI isn’t letting anyone off the premises until they debrief us.”

  Carter began laughing. “FBI … that’s a good one. You’re easily the funniest journalist I’ve worked with … although, that’s not really saying much, is it?”

  He laughed some more and kept walking.

  “Enjoy your break … or retirement … or whatever you’re calling it,” she shouted to him.

  He looked back at her with a grin. “If it’s anything like JP’s retirement, then I’m sure I’ll be running for my life any minute now.”

  Chapter 65

  Valley Forge

  The back doors of the van swung open and the guns pointed at us. Gwen screamed, and Jovana shouted, Get down!” Here we go again.

  Gwen hit the brakes and the Audi skidded to a stop before reaching the tollbooth.

  I couldn’t believe we were so naïve as to think that Hakim would just let us stroll into his terror headquarters. But I was done “getting down,” so I sat and watched the men leap out of the van and dash toward our vehicle.

  We were ordered out of the car, and when we did, the surprises continued. The men announced themselves as CIA, and chastised Jovana for going it alone, without communicating with Langley. They also confirmed that Hakim and his son were indeed trapped in the General Washington building, and they were under orders to demolish it. They didn’t say it, but there were those at the highest level of government who would never allow it to be known that Hakim had set up shop inside American borders.

  Jovana seemed resigned, but not Gwen. “My friend Allison is inside.”

  “I’m sorry, miss. I really am. But this is bigger than one life … and we have orders.”

  Gwen started back toward the car. “Then you’re going to have to blow it up with me inside, because I’m going to get Allison out of there.”

  That’s my girl.

  I think the CIA guy sensed that she wasn’t going to back down—and the cynic in me thought they saw a chance to get rid of a mouthy journalist who knew too much, along with Hakim. Kill two crazy birds with one explosion.

  CIA guy looked at his watch, and blew out a frustrated breath. “I’ll give you a half hour, then the place is going down whether you’re out or not.”

  With no time to lose, we piled into one of the vans, and headed for the world headquarters of General Washington’s Carpet Cleaning, located not far off the exit in an industrial park.

  The gate booth was open, allowing us to drive right in without resistance. I got the idea we were expected guests.

  The building was a two-story office without much fanfare—no signage or logo, and no life-sized photo of George Washington standing in his boat as he crossed the De
laware. Like he wouldn’t have capsized the boat doing that … please.

  We dropped the CIA operatives off at the front of the building. “Thirty minutes,” were the leader’s final words to us. More like a warning.

  Gwen pulled the van around to the back of the building. It was attached to an airport-hanger-sized warehouse, in which a garage-style door had been conveniently left open. For a guy who supposedly didn’t like meetings, Hakim sure had rolled out the red carpet for us.

  We drove inside and parked in the first empty space we found, amongst a sea of similar-looking white vans. We hopped out, and made our way through the musty warehouse, before entering through the unlocked door of the building.

  The inside wasn’t exactly decorated as the devil’s lair. In fact, it looked like a typical office. A reception desk, copiers and fax machines. A farm of cubicles for the peons, and office space for the higher-ups on the food chain. But little did they know the guy who was atop that food chain, and numerous Most Wanted lists, was barricaded below in the Pennsylvania version of an Afghan cave. This was one company where you didn’t want to be called into the boss’s office.

  While I was busy checking out the office setup, Jovana spotted something more important. Blood. A trail of it, and it looked pretty fresh.

  I read the horror on Gwen’s face, and tried to comfort her. “He didn’t go through all that trouble to get her here safely, just to use her as a human GPS. It’s not her blood.”

  She nodded, but didn’t look convinced.

  Jovana was already following the trail, which led us to, and then down, a staircase. The blood led to another door with a sign that read: OFF LIMITS. But it wasn’t today. We pushed the unlocked door open and entered. When we heard it lock behind us we knew there was no going back. We bounded down more stairs, the only sound being the echoes of our shoes.

  The good news was my knee was hurting so bad at this point that I almost forgot about my head and lung issues. The bad, was that the stairwell was pitch-black. But the always-prepared Gwen Delaney had a flashlight that lit the way.