Military Fiction: THE MAC WALKER COLLECTION: A special ops military fiction collection...

by D. W. Ulsterman

  Duty called though, as it always did. God’s work did not rest.

  It was time to return to America.

  1.

  February 5th, 2005

  Mac Walker sat alone in the small waiting room of a strip mall dentist office off of Columbia Pike some twenty minutes outside of Washington D.C.

  The attractive blonde female receptionist offered him a reassuring smile. She was in her late-twenties and likely armed. Mac began to silently wonder what sidearm she might be carrying. He guessed her to be ex-military like himself, possibly even a Marine. She appeared no more than five foot six, medium build, and right-handed. Her hands were smallish, so the former Navy SEAL assumed that would rule out the Glock 42.

  Bet she has the SIG P239, a sexy weapon for a sexy woman.

  Mac peered out through the thick window glass that overlooked the compacted gravel parking area that ran the length of the small strip mall. He could tell the glass was actually one inch bullet resistant Polycarbonate. The gravel would make it difficult for a vehicle or even someone on foot to arrive at the location without making noise. The dentist office was at the end of the mall’s right side. There were only three other office spaces and all of them appeared to be vacant. With the building located some seventy yards off the road, it gave a wide view of anyone approaching. From a military standpoint it wasn’t a bad location for a covert meeting – remote enough for privacy, yet also hiding in plain sight and reasonably built to withstand an attack.

  “Sir, they’re ready to see you.”

  Mac stood up and began moving toward the office door located to the left of the reception desk. Before opening it he paused to look back at the blonde behind the desk.

  “SIG P239, am I right?”

  The woman’s brow furrowed as she cocked her head to the left.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “Your sidearm, is it the SIG?”

  The blonde’s eyes widened just slightly and then she gave Mac a quick half smile.

  “You better hope to never find out, sir.”

  Mac chuckled. The woman had a personality as attractive as her looks. He opened the door and was only mildly surprised to find a vast and well lit open interior that occupied the entirety of the strip mall structure. In the center of the room was found a long conference table and eight matching black leather chairs. Two of those chairs were currently occupied.

  The first man was Ray Tilley, Mac’s Project Icon operations supervisor. Tilley provided the assignments and the payment for a job well done. He was the one who had initially recruited Mac for the covert military program after a crazy plane ride back from Paris a few years earlier. Mac considered Tilley to be a good man and just as important, he paid on time every time.

  Ray Tilley rose from his chair looking genuinely pleased to be once again seeing Mac in person. Tilley was middle aged, of average build and height, and politically well connected. Mac glanced at the older, silver-haired second man, trying to place the familiar face.

  “Mac, allow me to introduce you to Senator Jackson Elder. Senator, this is our assignment leader for Project Icon, Mr. Mac Walker.”

  The senator remained seated, his eyes watching Mac closely as he approached the table. Mac nodded while his mind quickly recalled what he knew of the powerful North Dakota senator.

  Sixty-two years old, halfway through his third term, chairs the Senate Intelligence Committee, and served two tours with the Army in Vietnam back in the day as a helicopter pilot. That means he’s seen some shit. The average lifespan for a chopper pilot in that war was just over a month.

  “Mr. Tilley, I assume your man here understands this meeting right now isn’t actually taking place?”

  Tilley motioned for Mac to take a seat and then did the same.

  “Of course, Senator, this is off the books. That’s how we always operate.”

  Senator Elder’s thin lipped mouth curled downward into a pronounced frown as he continued to glare at Mac.

  “This thing isn’t just off the books, Mr. Tilley. This here never happened. I’m not here, none of us are here.”

  Ray tried to keep the appearance of assured calm, though internally he was growing annoyed by the senator’s persistent concern. This wasn’t his first rodeo.

  “As I said, Senator, this is how we operate. You’ve reviewed Mr. Walker’s file, Project Icon’s work, there’s no need to worry over confidentiality or our absolute discretion.”

  The senator’s right hand moved up to his long, Romanesque nose and proceeded to seemingly dig for gold while his eyes left Mac to look over at Tilley.

  “Ok then, let’s get this thing done. Tell me if he’s in or out, so I can get back to D.C.”

  “Ray, I got the call and flew up here ASAP like you asked. Maybe you should tell me what this is about so we can get the senator back to doing all that important work senators do, like banging interns, spending our tax dollars, and breaking all those promises that got them elected.”

  Tilley winced, awaiting the angry retort he was certain to come from the senator. Instead he was stunned to find the Army veteran shaking his head and then laughing.

  “I was told you were an even bigger asshole than I am! Ok then, Mr. Tilley, do like the man asked. Tell him why the hell we’re sitting here staring at one another.”

  Ray reached under the desk and retrieved a metallic briefcase which he then placed on the table and opened. He withdrew three manila folders, giving one each to Mac and the senator, and leaving one for himself.

  Mac was amused by the old-school approach.

  “This kind of feels like something out of the 1950’s - briefcases, folders…no computer print outs for this one, huh?”

  Tilley closed the briefcase and opened his folder while the senator leaned over the table and pointed at Mac.

  “That’s right, no computers. That shit is always traceable. I like old-school, Mr. Walker, so this is how we do it. If people knew even half of what we were doing with just their phones I bet a lot more others would be going old-school too. Either that, or they’d be stringing this government up by its balls.”

  Mac shrugged.

  “I can’t do anything but agree with everything you just said, Senator. By all means, Ray, proceed.”

  Tilley cleared his throat and then did just that.

  “If you open your file, gentlemen, you’ll first come to a photograph.”

  Mac looked down at the image of a handsome, youngish, dark skinned man staring back at him while Tilley continued with the briefing.

  “This is Ramtin Armeen, aged thirty-nine. He’s an Iranian born, Harvard educated businessman who seven years ago inherited Melli Corporation from his father, a large multi-national with offices throughout the world, though he works primarily out of Chicago, New York, London, and of course, Tehran. His current net worth is estimated to be just over nine billion dollars.”

  Mac let out a low whistle while Senator Elder looked like he wanted to tear his copy of the photograph apart.

  “Yeah, he’s a rich, sick son-of-a-bitch for sure. I’ve been told he’s Bin Laden on steroids.”

  Mac looked up at the senator while pointing to his own copy of the photograph.

  “This guy?”

  Senator Elder nodded as the left side of his mouth curled into a snarl.

  “Hell yeah that guy. Bin Laden had at most maybe fifty million of his own money and look how much shit he rained down on us. This guy is likely just as radical, but he’s got a hell of a lot more than fifty million to go after us with.”

  Tilley looked at Mac and nodded his agreement with the senator.

  “Ramtin Armeen might be the most dangerous man in the world right now, Mac. Not just because he’s a billionaire militant, but he’s also smart. He keeps himself two steps ahead of us. When we thought we were getting close, he left New York for London, then shortly after that he was in Madrid, and then Paris, and finally he ended up in Tehran for six months until our leads went cold - until six week
s ago. He’s back in the United States, but all his communications have gone silent. It’s as if he’s not talking to anyone. No phone messages, no emails, as far as surveillance goes he’s a living breathing ghost.”

  The senator let out a long, disgusted sigh.

  “We know he’s got something planned, something big, we just don’t know exactly what.”

  “How do you know that, Senator? And if you do, why not just pick this guy up, hold him for questioning and go all Patriot Act on his ass?”

  The senator looked to Tilley to answer for him. Ray pulled out the second page from the file.

  “This is an excerpt from a CIA interrogation from three months earlier. The subject was a twenty-six year old male who was picked up trying to enter Canada at Vancouver International Airport. He was arriving from Malaysia. Before Malaysia he had spent nine days in Madrid Spain and then left there less than twenty four hours before the train bombings that killed 191 people. He has ties to Iraqi militants, as well as another radical Islamic group in Malaysia. They were the ones attempting to get him to a safe house in Vancouver when Canadian authorities flagged his entry and then handed him over to us. Take a moment to read the excerpt, Mac.”

  SUBJECT: I had nothing to do with the train bombings! I had nothing to do with any of it! I heard rumors, you know, talking, but that is it!

  Int. #1: Then why did you leave Madrid 24hrs prior to the attack?

  SUBJECT: I was coming home. It was a vacation and I was coming home. I have nothing to say about the train bombings. I don’t know anything. You can’t hold me here like this."

  Int. #1: What was your purpose in attempting to enter Canada?

  SUBJECT: To see friends.

  Int. #1: Who?

  SUBJECT: Just friends. That is my business.

  Int. #2: What is your relationship with Al-Zarqawi in Iraq?

  SUBJECT: Nothing, I don’t know who you’re talking about.

  **Subject shown 2004 photograph with subject meeting with Al-Zarqawi**

  Int. #2: You don’t? Isn’t this you meeting with him last year?

  **Subject doesn’t answer.**

  Int.#1: We can give you protection, but you have to cooperate.

  **Subject says nothing.**

  **Subject shown 2004 photograph with subject meeting with unknown man in Madrid three days prior to April 2004 train bombing.**

  Int. #1: Who is this man you met with in Madrid?

  **Subject looks at photo/says nothing.**

  Int. #2: Show him the other photograph. His family.

  **Subject shown photograph of two young children**

  Int. #1: Are those your children? They are waiting for you in Malaysia, right? Would you like to see them again?

  **Subject says nothing.**

  Int. #2: When you didn’t show in Vancouver, you think that might have spooked some of your associates? You think they might not get concerned? Maybe decide to do what needs to be done to keep everyone else quiet? There were nearly 200 killed in Madrid. What are a couple more kids hiding out in Malaysia, right? We can help keep them safe though if you just cooperate with us. Who is the man you met with in Madrid?

  **Subject looks at photograph.**

  SUBJECT: You promise to keep him away from my family? To keep my children safe?

  Int. #1: Yes, we will do our best to keep your family safe, but we’re running out of time.

  SUBJECT: His name is Hamid.

  Int. #2: Hamid what?

  SUBJECT: That is all I know – Hamid.

  Int. #2: Is this Hamid connected to the train bombing in Madrid?

  SUBJECT: I don’t know. I am speaking the truth. I don’t know that for certain.

  Int. #1: But you believe he might have been – this Hamid?

  **Subject nods in the affirmative**

  Int. #1: Do you know where we can find this Hamid now?

  **Question is repeated**

  SUBJECT: He could be anywhere. I do know…

  **Subject pauses**

  SUBJECT: I do know he speaks very good English.

  Int. #2: Is he American?

  SUBJECT: He speaks very good English.

  Int. #1: You need to tell us more than that. You think he is here, in the United States? Is that correct?

  **Subject nods in the affirmative**

  Int. #2: Where the hell is he? Why is he here? Are you planning another Madrid style attack in the United States?

  **Subject says nothing**

  Int. #2: I’m tired of this shit. Let our Malaysian resources know they can stand down. If this guy wants his family dead by morning, I don’t care.

  Int. #1: Is that what you want to happen? Are you willing to let your children die to keep this Hamid safe?

  **Subject sighs loudly**

  Int. #2: This is bullshit. He doesn’t know anything. I’m making the call to Malaysia. We’re wasting our time here.

  Int. #1: Yeah, I guess you’re right. Call Malaysia.

  **Subject becomes visibly agitated**

  SUBJECT: Wait! Please, I have told you what I know. Yes, I believe he is in the United States. It is said he can come and go without surveillance. He is a citizen, an American citizen. And he always has money, lots of it.

  Int. #1: Is he planning an attack in the United States?

  SUBJECT: I don’t know.

  **Subject pauses**

  SUBJECT: I don’t know, but I think it is possible, yes. I was told, not by Hamid, but another in Malaysia, I was told Madrid was just a test.

  Int. #2: A test for what?

  **Subject shrugs**

  SUBJECT: Something bigger, that is all I was told. And I believe…

  Int. #1: Yes, what is it? What do you believe?

  SUBJECT: I believe it will be here, in America. Yes, that there is an attack being planned in your country.

  END INTERROGATION EXCERPT.

  Mac looked up at Tilley and then to the senator.

  “This is a lot of talking, but it don’t really say all that much.”

  Senator Elder pointed to the folder in front of Mac.

  “Look at the next photograph.”

  Mac pulled out a black and white photo of a burnt out late model automobile date stamped as being taken seventeen days earlier.

  ‘That there is a vehicle that was being driven by the same young man interviewed by our CIA three months ago. The same fella that indicated he believed this Hamid is planning something big right here inside of America. Maybe another September 11th,, or maybe something even worse. The body was charred up good, but we got a DNA confirmation. His name was Yong Mujumdar. Born in Malaysia and drafted into an Islamic militant group there about ten years ago. A sad, stupid little son-of-a-bitch.”

  Mac peered back down at the charred remains of the vehicle.

  “What about his family? Did we keep them safe like we promised?”

  The senator gave an indifferent grunt.

  “Hell if I know, why?”

  The former Navy SEAL easily matched the intensity of the senator’s gaze.

  “Because we promised we would, that’s why.”

  Tilley quickly interjected, familiar with Mac’s sense of honor and his just as dedicated negative outlook on most things politically related - particularly politicians themselves.

  “I believe they are doing fine, Mac. Whatever measures taken to silence Mr. Mujumdar appear to have ended with his own death.”

  Mac leaned his head back against his shoulders and then rolled it from right to left, attempting to work out the stiffness invading his neck and shoulders while Tilley continued with the briefing.

  “Just days prior to the discovery of Mujumdar’s burnt remains being found inside that car, U.S. intelligence was suddenly digesting several reports of chatter regarding an impending attack inside the United States. Most concerning was that this chatter was originating from multiple locations all over the country. New York, Chicago, Seattle, Los Angeles, Houston, San Diego, Atlanta, Memphis, Boston, Baltimore, Phoenix,
Minneapolis, Cleveland, even Honolulu. The chatter was all very similar, culminating within the same time frame, and then it went silent. Like a switch was turned off. I’m not talking the chatter diminished, Mac. I’m telling you it was there, and then it was gone. Like that.”