Combat is much easier than this.
The message was polite and cordial. Trust wanted to send over a limo and bring everybody over to the yacht for dinner. Briggs called him back and accepted the invite, one of several he would accept from Shelby Trust during what was left of his time at home.
He was beginning to really like the guy. What was there not to like? He was polite, generous, and easy to talk with. If he really was the underhanded, manipulative bad guy Check had described, Trust was hiding it well. Crazy thoughts were crashing around inside his head bouncing from ear to ear as Scott tried to arrange everything so it would make sense. Most of the questions he had now were pointed in Check’s direction. All the information he had about Trust came from two sources: his own eyes and experiences with Trust, and from Check. The shadows were growing deeper and darker in his mind. Who should he really trust? For the first time he began to feel that he was being manipulated. So, he made a promise to himself that he would start to exercise some control.
Why not? He thought to himself. For reasons unknown to me and for reasons held back purposely, they both seem to need me, so that gives me power.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
September 2006
After over a week of early mornings, fishing, and meals on Trust’s yacht, along with limo outings and dinners with Scott’s entire family, including Anita and Sweetie, Scott and Shelby Trust had become close. Trust had openly admitted his growing fondness for Scott and how he looked forward to spending more time with him and his nephew Jeff Blake when they safely returned home from Iraq. A bond had formed between the two men on the North Carolina coast. Trust had said that being there made him feel like he was home with his own family and friends—something he hadn’t felt in a long time.
The day of Scott’s return to Iraq arrived much faster than he’d anticipated, and he faced it with all the emotional strength he could muster. His reunion with Anita had infused him with a renewed hope for his future, but it was now intertwined with his obligation to his new life, to Check, the Service, and the mission. There were plenty of positive sides to this obligation. It meant more money for his family—a family he hoped would expand in the future, with Anita at his side. The work also offered him the kind of adrenalin and excitement he thrived on. He knew he would need to find a way to balance these two important parts of his life, which were incredibly different—work and home. Overall, he was happy to have more control over his life and future.
Or so he thought.
When it was time for Scott to head to the airport, he and his family loaded into Trust’s limousine for the drive. Trust stayed behind, telling Scott that it was an occasion that should be shared with just his loved ones.
After helping Scott’s mother into the limo, Trust handed Scott two boxes.
“These are phones that will work in Iraq,” he said with a smile. “I took the liberty to preprogram yours with my numbers. You may use it all you wish, and the bill is on me. The other one is for my nephew.”
“This is really generous of you, Trust. I don’t know what to say.” Briggs looked into Trust’s eyes. Although Trust was still smiling, he was wiping away tears.
“Oh, there is a catch. You have to call your mom every week and tell her you are okay, and of course, Anita, too.” Trust laughed and shook hands with Briggs, then pulled him to his chest for a hug.
“You got it,” Briggs replied, smiling. He studied Trust with a new curiosity as he turned to enter the waiting limo. He pushed his way into the crowded Cadillac and pulled the door shut. Trust gave Briggs a final wave behind the black glass.
Now what the hell am I supposed to think about that? No one is that good of an actor. Briggs frowned, confused by the show of affection. Trust seemed genuinely upset that Briggs was headed back to Iraq. He made a mental note to run it all by Check. I know Check better than this guy, he rationalized. Check and I have real history.
These were his final thoughts as the limo headed down the long, oyster-shell drive, taking them to Cherry Point Marine Air Base—and Briggs back to hell.
The limo was filled with Scott’s family, all wearing happy faces that were masking thoughts of dread. Anita sat close to her man and rested her head on his shoulder, occasionally squeezing his hand. His mother and sister were engaged in a lighthearted conversation about hijacking the limo and going to Las Vegas.
“Seriously, Mr. Trust has okayed it. But we have to return home first in order to pack,” they joked with the driver.
“Ladies, you are going to get the driver in trouble, though apparently you two do need a vacation. I think you have been cleaning too many fish,” Michelle’s husband Mike laughed.
The banter softened the uncomfortable truth: Scott had been wounded twice now and the odds continued to stack against him with every call to duty. His platoon was always at the forefront of major actions and assaults against insurgents, putting him in harm’s way far more often. Scott had promised his family this would be his last enlistment. Little did they know that he had signed up for a long-term mission that was racked with its own danger.
He knew everyone would be holding their collective breaths until he was home again, including himself. For now, they’d arrived at the base’s main gate.
They exited the limo and he gave his mother, sister, and brother-in-law one last hug and kiss before he made his way over to Anita. She could not hold back her tears as she embraced Scott and whispered in his ear that she loved him—always had, always would. He looked into her soft, brown eyes and gently wiped away her tears as he held her face in his trembling hands. He gave her a last tender kiss. “I love you too. Take care of Sweetie. I will see you in six months.”
Then he turned and presented his ID to the Marine Guard at the entrance of the airfield gate. Carrying only two small bags and the two boxes, he walked through the chain-link fence toward the waiting Air Force C-5 Galaxy.
He turned to wave good-bye before boarding the aircraft. It was an act he had performed many times in the past, and it always played out the same. He would catch the eye of his mother, give her one last wave, and then they would go their separate ways. The only difference this time was that Anita was there, giving the process new meaning. A knot formed in his stomach, a lump in his throat. The next breath Briggs took was a difficult one. Although he was over a hundred yards away, he could still see the worry on Anita’s face. The effect on him was profound. She is the reason my heart beats and the sun rises. He choked back his emotions and cleared his throat as he waved and turned to grasp the ladder well of the massive C-5.
As he entered the aircraft, he noticed supplies covered in cargo nets and strapped to the floor. There were thousands of boxes of every shape and size, labeled with addresses and codes, each on its way to a specific place for a specific purpose. All of them, right down to the last letter of the smallest word, typed on a single slip of paper, tucked away in the tiniest space, had a purpose. It all had meaning and would in one way or another aid in fighting a war that had gone on far too long.
Looking at the vast amounts of cargo made Briggs feel small and insignificant as he made his way between the bulkhead and the cargo nets in order to reach the seating area in the tail section. As he lumbered through the massive cargo hold of the aircraft, Briggs wondered if what he was doing with Check could actually help end this disdainful war.
Entering the passenger bay in the tail section, he was met by Check, who put his index finger to his lips as he took the two packages from Briggs’s hands. He passed them off to a man who took them away to the back of the seating area.
Waiting just long enough for his man to disappear, Check asked, “Is that everything he gave you?”
“Yes,” Briggs said. There were six other men on the plane, all clean cut, tall, and obviously some type of government-issue thugs. They were standing in the far back section of the aircraft, softly talking among themselves.
“What’s the big deal about the phone? Does it have some type of listening or
tracking device on it?”
“It is much more than that. If it is what we think it is, we have never seen one before. This is the first one to hit the streets, and you are the lucky recipient. This is what the government weapons-systems research team was working on, but we couldn’t make it small enough to be practical for combat use. The phone is a communications device that also can send back real-time video, sound, GPS, and two-way communication through a simple earpiece. It works off GPS satellites. The battery is one of the components that we couldn’t get right. The battery that Trust came up with is rumored to last for over forty hours before it has to be recharged. He is way ahead of us on that.
“One camera can be clipped to the back of the helmet and another on the front. It has an antenna array that ties into the helmet and connects to a satellite. One of the drawbacks is that it needs several satellites in order to work well; otherwise, it is just another shitty two-way radio. The upside is that when you have the earpiece in, you are connected to an operator. The camera viewers are monitored by the operator; he has three video screens at his command: your forward camera, your rear camera, and the sat cam. He can relay info to you via this phone, providing pretty much all you need to know in order to make a decision that may save your life and change the battlefield.
“It also has a sound-suppression system in it. When both earpieces are in, you can hear everything at normal levels; however, if say a rifle or grenade goes off, it suppresses that sound, even if the flash suppressor of the rifle is right next to your head. You can also jump up the gain in order to hear soft or far-off sounds. You just orient your head in the direction of the sound and ask the operator to boost it up. There are two sound pickups—one on the phone itself, and the other in the earpiece. That makes it hands-free. It picks up vibrations from your inner ear when you wear it.”
The man who had taken the boxes reappeared and placed one of the phones and the earpiece in Check’s hands. Check held up the molded piece that would fit snugly in the ear and showed Briggs the soft, rubber filler, designed to fit firmly inside the ear without allowing dirt or sound to penetrate the ear canal. “It also picks up your heart rate, so if you’re not sure if you’re dead, just ask the operator.” He snickered, and Briggs grinned.
There have been times when I wasn’t sure, Briggs thought.
“Think of this as flawless command and control communication, no matter how spread out your men get. You can be seen at all times on camera, and help is just a few words away. No more yelling across the battlefield or over the sounds of battle. Any questions you have can be answered immediately, smoothing out any concerns about orders or what is happening around you.”
Check sat back in his chair, satisfied with his explanation. Briggs reached out and picked up the devices.
“It sounds like the company commanders and lowly lieutenants have found a new way to stay in clean uniforms and sip coffee while guys like me dodge bullets and nurse boot blisters that won’t go away,” Briggs said solemnly. “So why don’t we have something like this? It seems like a good system.”
“Well, it is a good system, and we do have something like it, but our system is nowhere near as good.”
Briggs handed the phone and earpiece back to Check. “I think it’s time you came clean about a few things, Colonel. I am at a point where I need information. What is Shelby up to?”
Check rubbed the stubble on his chin. “You’re right. It is time I moved you up to the next level. It’s obvious that you’ve acquired Trust’s confidence. Let’s talk about some things.” He held up the device close to the overhead lamp so Briggs could have a better look.
“This right here has a lot to do with what is going on, but it’s not the whole picture,” Check said. “Oil has never been Trust’s passion, but it has provided the funds for Trust to do whatever he wanted. And when his father died, one of Trust’s first moves was to buy a struggling newspaper in Austin. In less than a decade under Trust’s command, the paper became a news monster with its own satellites and plans for more reach. It is now an enormous broadcasting network worth more than the oil side of Trust Industries. More importantly, Trust now controls information and every syllable of every word is for sale.
“But,” Check paused, “Trust needs more satellites in the right position in order to make this thing work at its full potential. Right now, Congress will not let him have that. The weapons program is a very competitive market, and the people who are in with high-ranking individuals in Congress get first dibs—and they also get favors. Trust had an ‘in’ with the research boys, but he screwed it up a few years back and pissed off a lot of people, so his device never got past even the consideration phase. You know, ‘the fat kid didn’t get picked for the team’ sort of thing. So Trust tried blackmailing several congressmen and high-ranking military types.”
“Blackmail them with what?” Briggs asked.
“He offered them trips on his private jet to islands off the California and Mexican coast, taking them to secure facilities to view his top-secret labs, but there were also other facilities there, if you know what I mean. Some of the officials who spent the night on the islands indulged in extracurricular activities. Those who did were subjects of many videos and still shots taken from Trust’s own satellites.”
“What, of them having sex on one of his boats—or in their rooms—something like that?” Briggs asked.
“Oh no, he was slicker than that. Those who played with the—let us say ‘the help’—were spooked about being around any building or facility, so the girls led them out into the fields and jungles or onto the long stretches of beach where they all felt safe. There, they would engage in some type of deviant act. Trust played this game for almost a year with several of the upper-ranking types, fishing on offshore boats, late-night parties on Tiki-torch lit balconies and porches. The whole time, Trust was gathering pictures of the action from his operational satellites.
“He then compiled the entire saga into one video file, which was oriented from the operator’s position. Each of the girls had Trust’s devices hidden on them. In one corner of the video you could see the girl’s camera-angle head view, in the other her camera tail view, and in the bottom corner, you could see the overhead shot from the satellite. And of course, the audio.
“It was like high-tech porn. Even the smarter groups who didn’t get involved with any bad business, who only went fishing, were the subjects of videos of them fishing. But the girls were on the boat, and the crew had the devices as well, so when Trust made his videos of these trips, he got a double bonus. Each fishing trip was taken from three or even four different angles, hence three or four different operators. He even had videos put together of innocent meetings at tech shows and weapons demos to demonstrate the power he possessed with his device. Even if they weren’t guilty of deviant behavior, they sure in hell were scared of Trust’s ability to watch every move they made without them being aware of it. I have seen a few of the DVDs, and let me tell you, it is some kind of impressive. Even the night videos are sharp and crisp. If there was any kind of light at all, his satellites picked it up.”
“How did he get his satellites in space? I thought that they had to be approved by our government?” Briggs asked.
“We didn’t put them up there. He used the Russians to put up his first ones. They were apparently cheaper. But he had a deal with them to share technology. All perfectly legal. Once the first satellite worked out, he put up another, but he needed more for the system to work perfectly. The system can also piggyback off drones for short, tight operations, but it’s the satellites that really pull it together and work twenty-four seven. And satellites are a lot harder to detect than launching and recovering a drone that has to share airspace with other aircraft, not to mention the fact that drones can be easily tracked and shot down.”
“So what’s stopping him from launching these devices or selling them, or doing whatever he has planned?” Briggs asked.
“We are. We have the wh
ole thing stalled right now.” Check paused, looking down at a notebook in his lap.
“But you can’t tell me anymore than that. Right?” Briggs replied sarcastically.
“Yeah, something like that. Sorry.” Check looked away. Briggs thought he almost did look sorry. “Anyway, that’s where Trust went off the deep end. When he couldn’t get his device considered for the trial phase in order for it to be purchased by the military, he had the incriminating DVDs hand-delivered, along with a note which basically said, ‘How could you not consider my device for trials? You just can’t argue with results like this.’ He had their faces blacked out and the audio altered, but they knew what they were seeing.
“The rest is an ongoing thing that we don’t need to discuss. I have a hunch that maybe Trust is trying to make a deal with the Iraqis, and this might have something to do with it. The US government has stopped him cold, so he may be headed in another direction. Like I said, this is just part of the picture, not the whole story.”
Check’s man returned from the back of the plane with the phone Trust gave Briggs to keep and handed Check the other phone. He informed them that it contained a GPS tracking device that was locked in the on position that way Trust could follow his every move. They’d installed their own software so they could do the same. It did not have a listening device on it, however, so Briggs’s conversations would not be monitored.
Check handed that phone to Briggs. “This one is for you. The other one,” he pointed to the phone they had been examining, “can be given to Blake as his uncle requested.” Check smirked.
Check spent the remainder of the long flight with Briggs, going over scenarios about Briggs’s upcoming missions, along with his new duties for the Service. Check laid out a map of the Iraqi town Briggs would be working in and went over every safe area and street in detail.
Shadows at War Page 16