So, yes, professionally, Charles needed the senator now more than ever. Even though he hated to be selfish in his thinking at a time like this, Joe Charles knew that the powerful senator's friendship was great for business. With all that had happened, how distracted would the senator be? Would he still be as engaged day-to-day? What about the presidency? Was that a non-starter, now? More practically, how much energy would the senator have in the short term to help Charles, the most critical time for his business?
These questions and more had plagued Charles ever since he got the news about Amy Duncan's death. Charles had a meeting set with the senator later that week. Feeling guilty, Charles was still hoping that the meeting would not be canceled.
__________
“How many were on the bike?” Strother asked.
“I just couldn't tell, Dick. My vision was totally blocked,” McNair said.
Strother said nothing. They were about to force open the riverside door to Ronnie Thomas' hideaway when they heard the motorcycle crank up. Instinctively, they both backed away from the door and McNair pulled out his gun and fired in the direction of the sound. Moments later, they heard the first explosion, which was accompanied by screams. Strother and McNair looked at each other. Six of their men were looking for another entrance. Knowing that they could never catch the bike on foot, they were rushing to the screams they heard.
Fortunately for them, following the source of the screams pulled a little further from the known hideaway entrance, and the site of the second explosion. It was much closer and knocked both Strother and McNair to the ground. If they had been any closer, they would have been goners for sure. The hideaway was destroyed.
“You okay?” Strother asked his colleague.
“I will be alright. Looks like I got some kind of puncture wound on my arm, maybe from a tree branch. But I will be fine. We need to check on the others.”
They scrambled up and continued in the direction of the initial screams. Soon, they saw the three dark SUVs, but two of them were upside down. They could only see three of their guys. One was leaning on the only upright car, his head was a bloody mess, but he seemed to be alright. The other two did not appear to be injured, but were kneeling on the ground near one of the upturned cars. As Strother and McNair got closer, they could tell that the two men kneeling on the ground were trying to administer to two of their injured brethren. One of the uninjured men, Todd Brown saw them approaching and stood up. Brown happened to be the leader of this team.
“Dick, Russ. Glad you are okay. Let me give you a quick report. While slowly traveling on the main road, we were on the lookout for any side dirt roads that may be partially covered. That is when we found this road.” Pointing to the ground at one of the injured, he said, “Jim Link and I were in the lead vehicle. We got out and started walking down the trail. Jim was hanging a bit behind me. That is when the road erupted behind us, flipping the other two cars. Being closer to the explosion, Jim was thrown to the ground. Looks like he has a broken leg. I then heard gunfire, which I am assuming was you guys, right?”
Strother nodded.
“Right. Anyway, we then got the second explosion right over there,” he said, lifting a finger in the direction of the now demolished hideaway.
McNair then asked, “How are the other two men?”
“That's the bad news, sir. Doc Gillis is dead. Jonesy is in bad shape. His guts are hanging out. Byron is over there doing what he can.”
“You called medical?” Strother asked.
“On their way, sir. I am assuming Thomas is in the wind. Was the subject with him?”
McNair responded, answering both questions. “Yes, he is and we don't know if he was alone or not. I’m guessing that the subject is with him.” Looking at Strother, he said, “I am going to get the satellite guys on the horn.” Strother just nodded.
As they stood there, sirens could be heard in the background. Strother looked at Brown, who said, “We are covered. We have the proper sign-off by the authorities. As far as the locals are concerned, this is a matter of national security.” Strother nodded.
While Strother and Brown looked on, McNair spoke with their satellite team. After a brief conversation with them, he hung up, turned to his colleagues, dramatically arched his eyebrows and said, “Here is the bottom line. No satellite or heat imaging. They must have put on some heat blocking suits once they left the hideaway. I asked about the motorcycle or any engine movement coming from this spot. Get this. Apparently, when the motorcycle was about four or five miles away from here, it joined up with at least four other motorcycles. There is a motorcycle stunt park up the river shoreline near the next bridge into Ohio. The bikes all rotated among themselves for a short while before making their way onto the bridge and scattering in different directions. Our satellite folks did not know which one to follow.”
All three men looked at each other. Each had been in the mercenary business for a long time. They had done ungodly deeds all over the world, but always ended up standing. Rarely did they run into a challenge that left them feeling like they may have met their match. Silent thoughts permeated the air around them. Brown spoke first. “This guy is good.”
McNair nodded his head.
Strother, the grizzled leader refused to budge. “Maybe. But there are more of us than there are of him. Plus, the lawyer is an anchor on his neck. We will find them and we will kill them both.”
__________
After driving south on the back roads of West Virginia for about an hour, Ronnie felt comfortable enough to talk. “Those guys were not your usual white nationalist militia. Those guys are among the best. You stoked a real beehive this time, Jack.”
“Looks like it, man. Hey, thank you, Ronnie. It was something to see you work. Sorry about the hideaway.”
Ronnie shrugged. “No sweat, Jack. I have been trained for this. While you were learning the law books, I was learning how to surveil and survive. As for the hideaway, it served its purpose. By now, those guys have probably been all over my home in Marietta. Rose and I have been prepared for this for years. We always thought that white nationalist sympathizers or relatives of one of the guys I put away would find me, so things in Marietta have been bare bones for a while. We have another place further down south in addition to the bunker.”
Jackson had his face in his hands and began rubbing his eyes, still trying to sort everything out. “Speaking of Rose, you sure she and Ronnie, Jr. are safe? Are we headed to your bunker?”
“They are fine, Jack. And we are not headed to the bunker, which, by the way, may or may not be in West Virginia. I will say that it is either in Kentucky, Ohio, West Virginia or Tennessee,” he said smiling.
“Well, I am glad they are okay. I am worried about Pam and Eddie too. It seems to me that these guys are now looking to do more than set me up. They want me out of the way. What do you think?”
“I agree, Jack. When we stop, I will call a friend I trust in the D.C. area to get them both. I had given Pam a heads up while waiting for you. Plus, she knows my friend.”
Curious, Jackson asked, “What did you say to her?” He leaned forward a bit in his seat.
“I just told her that I may need to get her somewhere safe. Pam knows you are innocent, Jack. She and Eddie both do. They also know these folks are dangerous. I mean, they killed Senator Duncan's daughter!”
“Okay. Thanks,” Jackson said, leaning back in his passenger seat. “What now?”
“I am going to pull into this diner I know that is a few miles up the road, off the beaten path. I will call about Pam and Eddie and then call my friend in Atlanta.”
“Atlanta? Is that where we are going?” Jackson asked.
“Yep. Or near there. Time for some serious offense, Jack. Atlanta gets us going. We are going to use your approach with the six questions. Atlanta may help us with the 'how'. My friend trained with me at Quantico. She was a great marine, but really got into the chemical weapon stuff. She is
now with the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) in Atlanta. I trust her with my life.”
“Mine too?” Jackson asked with a smirk on his face.
“I think we are both in good hands, my friend. Seriously, Jenny will be able to give us some valuable information quickly. That will help us with our next moves.”
“Cool,” Jackson said. He paused for a beat and then asked, “One question about the hideaway, Ronnie.”
Ronnie, whose hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly, relaxed them a bit and looked quizzically over at his friend. “Sure,” he said. “What gives?”
“Having the hideaway so close to the stunt bike area was a nice touch. We could not have made it out without that distraction. I guess that it is fair to assume, that you anticipate all possible scenarios in your work, right?”
Ronnie laughed. “You have to. You have to look at possible scenarios that could lead to both death and survival. Yes, the motorcycle park worked perfectly. Of course, I had a couple of dry runs with my accomplices.”
“Accomplices, who, of course, will go nameless?”
“Yes sir. We may need to call them again before all this is done.”
Ronnie was not laughing when he said it.
__________
Dick Strother had a hard time stomaching amateurs. Not only were they bad for business, they could also get you killed. With that thought, he rubbed the back part of his head, three inches above the neckline. Though hidden from view by his hair, Strother had a noticeable bump protruding from his skull. He got the bump because of an amateur mistake made by a so-called colleague back in the Sudan in the nineties.
A certain government hired Strother and another team to take out one of the ethnic cleansing war lords. Strother hated the idea, preferring to work with people he could trust to have his back. The client insisted, and also vouched for the other contractor's competence. The two teams met and divided up responsibilities for their clandestine assault. The amateurs were to secure the perimeter of the property before Strother came in to do the deed and exit quickly. The only thing was that the amateurs did not secure the perimeter. As they were exiting, Strother and his four team members were attacked by the war lord's security. The amateurs were nowhere to be found. They had left their posts.
As a result, One of Strother's team members was shot in the chest, but survived thanks to the bullet resistant vest he was wearing. Strother took a bullet in the back of his head. While it was a grazing shot, it chipped a piece of Strother's skull, leaving an unevenness on the surface of his head.
Thinking back on that assignment, Strother would have accepted it more if the other team had just double-crossed him or sold him out. But it galled him to know that his head had nearly been blown off because of incompetence. He hated amateurs.
Strother knew little about Livermore, but had no doubt that he was an amateur. McNair had spoken to the guy's number two man, R.J., who seemed competent enough, but too trusting of his boss's leadership. Not only did they not look at Lowery’s family ties, they also failed to check the bus lines until it was too late, and missed some money Lowery had stashed in his apartment. Strother started shaking his head to himself.
Strother would soon be landing at the Reston airport on the plane provided by his client. From the local airport, he and his team would go to the command post Livermore had set up. While Livermore may be incompetent, this Ronnie Thomas guy was the opposite. After leaving the scene, Strother and McNair went to Thomas' Marietta home. Clean as a whistle. This guy had been ready to leave at the drop of a hat for a while. Seeing how Thomas' home was laid out confirmed what appeared obvious after they experienced the motorcycle park escape routine: Ronnie Thomas was a worthy and disciplined adversary. Strother was determined to take him out as soon as possible.
As Strother, McNair, and Todd Brown walked into the makeshift Fairfax command center, they were greeted by both Livermore and R.J.
“Hello, gentlemen,” Livermore said. “We have been expecting you and look forward to working with you to bring this to a quick conclusion. If you like, we can address the group together to lay out the next steps.” Livermore was swallowing his pride somewhat, having heard of Strother’s reputation.
After his call with Steve Mills, he decided to be as accommodating as possible. Mills had sounded more vulnerable than he ever had. Could that mean that Mills was on his way out? Livermore knew he had to play his cards right. He wanted to remain a part of the new future once the plan was implemented.
Strother just looked blankly at Livermore, then half nodded to McNair, who then commented,
“We do not believe in group announcements or discussions. We give out assignments and people do their jobs. In the next half hour, we will give you the things we need done and you make sure they are given to the right folks. If anyone fucks up, they are out of here, hopefully still with their lives. No second chances.” He then pulled out a map of the United States and laid it out on a nearby table.
Pointing south from Marietta, Ohio, McNair said, “From where we lost Thomas and Lowery here in Marietta, there are, of course, four directions they could go. We do not see any value in them heading north. There doesn't appear to be any asset help in Columbus or Cleveland, plus they would be a bit more boxed in. The same is true, to a lesser degree, with the westward travel option. It doesn't get them any closer to the truth or immediate help.”
McNair then folded the map, covering up much of the western section.
“Logic tells us they are headed back to this area, if not now, at least eventually. Thomas has significant asset help in this region and Lowery is probably pressing to get some answers based on what the Duncan girl told him. For him to avenge her death, he will likely have to get back to D.C. at some point.”
Livermore chimed in with a question, trying to make himself appear useful. “Do we know for sure that Lowery is with Thomas? We were told that visual confirmation was never confirmed.”
McNair answered. “There has not been any visual confirmation. However, from the debris found after the hideaway explosion, we saw breakfast dishes for two that had not been cleaned or cleared from the table. We also found two coffee mugs. In essence, they were having breakfast when some warning device alerted them as to our presence. We think they are together.”
Livermore just nodded his head.
McNair summarized the group's objective. “We now are at a place where we need to find the targets before they make it back to D.C. We need to make sure that they do not gain access to the senator or his wife. We no longer need to bother worrying about staging any kind of set up. This is all about containment now. We need to get to Lowery and Thomas first, period. We can then cover up what needs to be covered up from there. Understood?”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
FIVE
By now, the public sentiment was that Jackson Lowery was obsessed with his pretty white student, that he periodically stalked her, and that he somehow lost it when they met on that fateful night. CNN, FOX, MSNBC and others continue to characterize him as a person of interest, but deep down, the popular belief was that Jackson killed the senator's daughter. This sentiment worked perfectly from the vantage point of Tyler, Mills, Merchant, the General and their co-conspirators. But increasingly, Mills was concerned that a change in this widely held perception could be devastating. He said as much to Bill Merchant while Strother, Livermore, and others were meeting in Fairfax.
Reaching Merchant on the phone, he said, “Bill, what if the public changes its mind and sees love? That could send things in a whole different direction, don't you think?”
“I do, Steve. But that is why I feel better having the contractor on board. They will make quick work of this and our problems will be solved.”
“But what if they don't? What if, somehow, this stretches out for a few more days and a believable love story emerges?”
Merchant had to think through that one. Ever since Roger Tyler had become
more assertive, Merchant felt more at ease. As much as he loved his friend Mills, Merchant believed that Tyler's steadiness was best suited for this crisis. “This is what I think, Steve. We should circle back with Roger, the contractor, and others about that issue and reach an understanding on how to quash any facts or other sources that change that perception.”
Mills liked what he was hearing. Being proactive was always the best approach. “Makes sense, Bill. Can you bring up these points to the others?” Mills asked, rightly sensing that the issue would be more favorably received from Merchant than from him.
“Yep, I will. Right away.”
_________
Georgetown University junior John Finnegan drove for Uber part time. Like many Uber drivers, he made it work for himself based on his schedule on any given week. Finnegan was fortunate that the Georgetown area was one of the most popular destinations on the east coast and that finding parking in the area was a perennial nightmare.
Generally, Finnegan, a music major, worked three to four days a week, depending on his class and practice schedule. Finnegan played the flute. He had been playing since he was six years old and wanted to teach kids when he got done with school. Finnegan loved working with kids. He gave free lessons to elementary school kids at the Holy Trinity School near Georgetown's campus and was super excited to be chosen to work with kids at the Kennedy Center Thelonious Monk Jazz Ensemble.
The Plan (The Jackson Lowery Trilogy Book 1) Page 9