The Plan (The Jackson Lowery Trilogy Book 1)

by Kevin P. Chavous

  In his office, Rex began to think about his wife. Suddenly, she seemed energized in her pursuit of justice for Amy. Even when they made love last night, she exhibited more purpose and passion than she had in years. Was it the grief? It seemed like more than that. She had it in her mind that there was more to Amy's death than they had originally realized and Reba was determined to get to the bottom of it.

  Earlier that day when she presented the reward idea to Rex, he had wanted to push back on the idea, but there was no saying no to her. It was almost as if she was working her own plan. Rex loved his wife dearly and hoped that she was telling him everything. He felt as if she was holding something back. He needed to assure her that she could talk to him, that she should let him in.

  Just as importantly, he needed to know what she was up to. He did not want her hurt and he also did not want her pursing wild goose chases. His concern was eased somewhat when the secret service decided to provide protection at their home. Staring out his window at the view, he thought about this Jackson Lowery person still at large, out there somewhere. He would feel a whole lot better when Lowery was brought in - for a host of reasons.

  ___________

  After getting the okay from Reba, Sweeney quickly set up the hotline. Of course, his superior technology skills served him well in this effort. He went back to his Georgetown campus dorm to gather some things and reached out to a friend who lived in an apartment just a couple blocks from the main campus. Sweeney would always stay at his friend’s house and use his computer when he wanted to go online without the government knowing that he was doing so. He always took care to make his surfing untraceable. Fortunately, Sweeney's friend and his girlfriend were taking the train to NY for the weekend, so Sweeney had the place to himself.

  As soon as Sweeney was ensconced in front of his friend's desktop, he went to work. Sweeney set up the reward and put in place the necessary protections to make sure no one could hack into the responses. He had given Reba a safe and secure iPad to take with her so he could communicate with her directly. They had been going back and forth all afternoon regarding the responses. None of them seemed legitimate. As expected, she immediately got thousands of calls from the usual crackpots, conspiracy theorists and crazies. The hotline also received calls from persons who likely had committed other crimes, even other murders. When Sweeney shared some of the taped calls, Reba shivered.

  Sweeney found that he had to keep her calm. He could tell that she was getting impatient. When on the phone with her, he could hear her shoes moving across the floor. She was obviously pacing while they talked. Her impatience jumped when they found out that Steve Mills had died of a heart attack. That news alone convinced Reba that some deep-rooted conspiracy was in place and the cover up was happening. Reba was desperate to talk with Jackson Lowery. They both wondered if the coded message was too obscure. They even discussed changing it. Eventually, they agreed to remain patient. Lowery was on the run, Sweeney kept reminding Reba. “When he can, he will call,” he said in an encrypted text message.

  “Let's just hope it is soon,” she texted back.

  __________

  Strother started the day beginning to feel as though the loose ends were being cleaned up. His team easily caught up with the Roberts woman at the airport, who then led them directly to Lowery and Thomas. Steve Mills was no longer in the picture, making the Sweeney kid and the senator's wife not as big as a threat, especially if they could get rid of Jackson. Yes, things had been looking up. The day that started with so much promise, however, went south fast. Real fast. Strother had just gotten off the phone with McNair. In all the years they had worked together, he had never heard his friend sound like he did on that call.

  “Dick,” he had said. “It went bad, real bad. Todd and Byron are dead, as is Livermore's guy, John. I have also been hit. I will make it, but my right arm is shot to hell. I think they got a nerve or something.”

  “Jesus, Russ. Where are you? What happened?”

  “I am in some field off I-66, almost to I-81. What happened was they just caught us. After hanging up with you, we opened fire on the Roberts woman and nicked her, but she made it to Thomas and Lowery. Thomas then killed Todd and John with two clean shots. I think Lowery got Byron while that bitch caught me by surprise as I was about to knock off Thomas. I thought she was done. Son of a bitch.”

  Strother closed his eyes and took it all in. He then squeezed his forehead repeatedly with his right hand, while holding the phone with his left. None of this was good, he thought.

  “Okay. I am glad you made it out and I’m sorry about your guys. Give me a better read on where you are and I will send someone to get you. We need to fix you up. Let me see if the techies can get a fix on them via satellite.”

  Strother then hung up. His head was beginning to hurt. At his core, Strother and his team were guns for hire. They were not white nationalists or white supremacists. They were not Republican or Democrat, capitalists or socialists. They were mercenaries who enjoyed power, control, money, and killing. When not working, they all lived good lives. Strother had fulfilled contracts for new governments, old governments, and soon to be governments all over the world. It had been a long time since he had lost a man. On this contract alone he had lost four, along with having his best man wounded. Was someone trying to tell him something? Had his time come and gone? His head started pounding even harder.

  He gathered himself and went back to work, grabbing Livermore and R.J. before heading to the spot where Mason and his crew hung out. He brought everyone up to speed based on his call with McNair. R.J., thinking about John and their meeting with the D.C. cabbie, sadly shook his head.

  Strother then addressed Mason. “Mason, you got anything on the satellite read? Where are Lowery and Thomas?”

  “Well,” Mason began, “they ditched the phone they had been using to talk with Roberts. While we were not sure what was going on, we used the infrared heat to follow their movements.” Pointing to the screen, he said, “As you can see here, it looks like two cars left the scene and went back on I-66. They went to, of all places, Luray Caverns.”

  “Luray Caverns?” Livermore said. “Why on earth would they go there?” he asked.

  “We wondered that at first too. But if you see their movements, it makes sense. The caverns host a lot of school visits, so there are often buses on the premises. It is the end of the day, so most of the buses were started up, ready to load their students. Now, look at where the two SUVs ended up. They pull in right in the middle of four buses on the Luray Caverns parking lot. There are about fifteen other cars in the area. When you have that much heat from so many buses and other heat sources, with any kind of cloud cover, it can be hard to identify a specific car. I'm betting Thomas knew all this, just like he knew how to use the motorcycles in West Virginia.”

  Strother could not contain himself. “So, are you saying that this bastard got away again, even with our satellites dead on his ass?”

  Everyone put their heads down, unaccustomed to such an outburst from Strother.

  Mason, however, was unmoved. “Sir, that is exactly what I am saying. Look here.” He pointed to the screen again. “They waited until all the cars and buses were ready to go, then left with them at the same time. See how all these heat sources are blended together? They then took the most common route and scattered. We have no way of telling which car is the car holding Lowery, Thomas, and Roberts. They are gone. One thing, though. If you go back and look at the Luray Caverns parking lot, you will see one car - it looks like an SUV - still on the lot near where the buses were. I bet that they left in one car, leaving that SUV on the lot.”

  No one said a word for quite a while. Livermore spoke first. 'If I may, I think we should put tails back on Merchant, maybe even Duncan's wife and the college kid.”

  R.J. nodded in agreement. Hearing Livermore's suggestion reminded Strother of another issue.

  “You are probably right, Livermore. By the way,
Mason, have you been able to follow the calls to the 1-800 number that the kid set up for Duncan's wife?

  Mason lowered his head slightly. “Uh, actually, we have not, sir. It looks like the anti-hacking measures put in are unlike any we have seen. We have not been able to penetrate them so far.”

  “What? How is that possible?”

  “We don't know, sir. But we are working on it.”

  Strother shook his head, saying, “Well, step it up. Please. Livermore, we know Merchant had an ITM board meeting all day. Try to catch up with him at their dinner tonight. Stick with him. R.J., find Sweeney. I have a call to make to our bosses. Unfortunately, it will not be a fun one.”

  __________

  Roger Tyler set up a call with the Carrs and General Brock right after getting the devastating update from Strother. After debriefing with his group, he commented as to where things stood.

  “Folks, unfortunately Lowery, with considerable help from Thomas and Roberts, has proven far more formidable than we ever could have dreamed. Also, we now have Reba Duncan hot to trot over this 1-800 reward thing. While I don't have to say it, the longer Lowery is out there with the potential of joining forces with the senator's wife, well, it could serve to destroy all that we have put in place. We need to quickly assess and rethink our timetable.”

  Tyler was merely voicing all that had been boiling in him since he first heard of Mills’ blunder within earshot of Amy Duncan. Before that happened, all that had been put in place had almost been too good to be true. Yes, Mills and Merchant put the group together, but once Tyler helped round it out with the Carrs and the General, they were comprised of six of the most powerful people on the planet. Each of them played a pivotal role in selectively and strategically recruiting key surrogates both inside and outside the government.

  By the time the plan was scheduled to be implemented fifteen months from now, they estimated that as many as a thousand people would be working behind the scenes to ensure the plan's success. Increasingly, however, Tyler was questioning whether they would make it another fifteen months before everything imploded. He had to recommend an alternative for the team to discuss.

  The General weighed in quickly. “It seems as though we keep thinking that this thing will get better each day and it does not. From my vantage point, we have just a couple of options. One, we can stay the course, hoping that Lowery will be neutralized before connecting with Reba Duncan or anyone else who may be in a position to give his story credibility. I am liking that option less and less. Two, we can move forward with a modest version of what we planned for next year. This option depends on how far our scientists have progressed and how much impact the Carrs feel we can have if we act soon, say next week. If we pick this option, the Carrs will need to go underground for a bit. Roger and I would have to rebuild for a bigger bang once Duncan gets elected. With this option we must, unfortunately, neutralize Bill. It helps to be able to point the blame to Bill and Steve, thus leaving the public unaware of what we are really building over time.”

  Susan Carr spoke. “General, we are on the same page. Jim and I have been leaning on our scientists. We are close. Honestly, we have worked too hard at this to walk away with nothing. We can get you some real numbers on impact in a day or so, should we need to accelerate things, right honey?”

  Jim Carr, normally soft spoken, agreed. “Without question. We will get you the numbers and Susan and I can go underground as long as necessary. We just do not want to leave things undone. If we need to act now, we need to do it. Also, we need to make sure we neutralize Bill the right way. General, maybe you can figure out some way to make it look like he was stopped in the act of this conspiracy or something like that.”

  “Good point, Jim. There is one other thing,” the General said. “This is important, especially since I get the sense from Roger that the contractor has gotten itchy fingers. The Duncans are off the table as targets. Think about it, folks. Our best chance for long term success is for him to be in the White House. The sympathy factor out there for him is huge. He can win this damn thing and she presents well as a First Lady. Serving up Mills and Merchant will satisfy her, trust me. But Roger, make sure your folks leave the Duncans alone. We don't need any crossfire bullshit, either!”

  Susan immediately seconded the General. “We strongly agree,” she said.

  Tyler quelled their concerns. “I have consistently made that clear to the contractor and will strongly remind him of that fact again. How about we circle back within thirty-six hours to decide on a scaled back implementation date for next week?”

  “Sounds good,” Brock said. “Keep the pressure on your team, Roger.”

  __________

  Back at Jenny's Bryce Mountain hideaway, Jackson and Ronnie were focused on getting Jenny well. Ronnie suspected that the Luray Caverns diversion worked. If it hadn't, Bryce Mountain would have been crawling with mercenaries by now. One nice touch in Jenny's hideaway was that she had several camera screens reflecting images from the main cabin near the hideaway's entrance as well as images from the streets in and around the mountain.

  Ronnie was able to see that Jenny's wound was manageable. The bullet went through the fatty part of her upper arm and lower shoulder area, right near the armpit. Fortunately, they would not have to worry about removing a bullet. It would be painful as hell, though, so Ronnie knew he had to fill her up with pain pills. Jackson found a fully stocked first aid kit under the kitchen sink and Ronnie dressed Jenny's wounds as she drifted in and out of consciousness. He then got Jackson to help him prop her up for a call she had to make. Since they had left her car at the scene, Ronnie needed to have Jenny report the car as stolen to the Enterprise officials. He and Jackson agreed that she should tell them that she had gone into the Fair Oaks Mall for a couple of hours only to come back to the lot to see that her car was missing. It was important that she not be tied to the shoot out. After much effort and even a little rehearsing, they were able to get Jenny to pull off making the call to Enterprise. They then fed her a bunch of pain pills and let her go back to sleep, giving them time to take a breather and deconstruct all that had happened that day.

  Ronnie could not help himself. Sprawled on one of the easy chairs, holding a beer from the fridge, he said, “Well, Jack, I never thought I would ever say this to you, but, thanks for saving my life!”

  Jackson grinned. “Well, my friend, you kept telling me this was the real deal. I had no idea how real it could get. Seriously though, Ronnie, I had never been in a situation like that. You learn so much about yourself in a life or death experience. While everything is moving fast, it also seems to slow down too. I can see why some people are able to think soundly, while others cannot. It is so different when you know your own life and the lives of others are on the line.”

  Ronnie lifted his beer to Jackson. “Well said, Jack. But really, you performed well in the heat of battle. I suspected that you would, but you never know for sure. The West Virginia escape showed me a lot. I saw what you had in you.”

  Jackson, having eased himself into a comparable level of relaxation thanks to Ronnie’s current comfortable mood and the security of the hideaway, was stretched out on Jenny's living room sofa. “You were amazing, Ronnie. Thank you. Do you think Jenny will be alright?”

  “Yeah, she sure is a tough SOB. She took down that last guy while half way passed out.”

  “That is why I am asking. She lost a lot of blood,” Jackson said.

  “She did. But she will be fine. Now, Jack, where do we go from here?”

  “I have got to call that 1-800 number, Ronnie. Reba Duncan knows I am innocent. I can feel it. We have to connect with her and meet with her. I want to call her right away.”

  “Maybe, but we have to be careful. First, how can we be absolutely sure that Reba Duncan believes you are innocent? This could be a trap.”

  Jackson laced both hands together on the back of his head and leaned back, deep in thought.

  “It
could be a trap, Ronnie. I give you that. But my instincts tell me it is not. I think I need to respond.”

  Ronnie relented. “Alright. But again, we have to be especially careful. They got to us because of our calls back and forth with Jenny. You’ve gotta think, Jack, that the mercenaries and their technical people are monitoring those calls. We need to make the call from a pay phone far away from here.”

  “Okay. But still how do I talk to her? When we make the call, it will probably lead us to a voice mail. What number do we leave? Do we wait a few minutes at the pay phone hoping to get a quick call back? How do we respond so they know it is me, so we can set up a place to meet?”

  Ronnie thought about the dilemma.

  “Maybe the best way to respond to her coded message is through a coded response. Let's say you are right and she knows that 1789 was the place where you and Amy had your first date. What if, in some way, you use that knowledge in your response?”

  Jackson crossed his legs and gently pounded his right fist into his left hand. He was thinking through the best way to send Reba a coded message. Jackson looked at Ronnie, who he could tell was doing the same thing. They both sat still for a few minutes, deep in their own thoughts. While sitting, they heard a small wail coming from the back bedroom. Ronnie went to check on Jenny.

  “She is fine. Resting,” he said when he returned. “Out for tonight, I'm sure.”

  Jackson then jumped up. “Hey,” he said. That's it, Ronnie. We do not need a long message. It has to be short and sweet. If she gets it, she will get it. How about I call from a pay phone and leave this exact message? 'First date. Tonight.' and then hang up.”

  Ronnie contemplated Jackson's suggestion, smiling while rocking his head from side to side. “It could work,” he said.