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

by D. W. Ulsterman

  “And who is this organization you’re talking about?”

  The professor closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking a slow, deep breath as he winced.

  “The pain sometimes comes very quickly. I do believe my insides are devouring themselves. Even the medications cannot dampen the pain entirely anymore.”

  Mac waited for the professor to regain his focus.

  “Now…you asked about the organization, about who they are. That is a wide portrait there, Mr. Walker, a rather convoluted and incestuous layer of mystery indeed! For simplification sake, I will focus on the primary investor of this, let’s just call it an operation shall we? That would be the Saudis. The Royal House of Saud. From the global warming movement, to the racial division programs of the United States and elsewhere, to your own little trial – all of it supported in part by the Saudis. The same for the unrest in Egypt, Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Syria, and the rise of radical Islam in Turkey and throughout Western Europe. Billions of dollars being spent in order to secure trillions of dollars Mr. Walker. My book, which barely touched the surface of that reality, caused my downfall. I made enemies I had no idea of until it was far too late.”

  Mac recalled Ella Lerner’s description of the attack on the consulate in Benghazi, how Turkey had apparently been deeply involved, and how the American military drones were used against the Americans themselves. He knew too the massive amounts of weapons being moved into and out of that same location just days prior to the Benghazi attack, weapons that were likely being disseminated to hot spots throughout the globe. And there was of course, Dasha Al Marri’s own ties to the Saudi Royal family.

  “You know something already of what I am telling you, don’t you, Mr. Walker?”

  The professor’s comment refocused Mac on the present conversation, even as his mind continued to process his own related recollections on the subject of some globalized attempt to bring the world’s population under one controlling government entity.

  A New United Nations – Dasha’s words the very first time I had met her.

  “I know of a woman, a powerful woman, who spoke about a New United Nations.”

  The professor’s eyes flew wide. He was both surprised and excited by what Mac had just said.

  “Yes, Mr. Walker! That is the very term my own research uncovered! It revealed itself over and over again from all parts of the globe, and within the Congressional and White House records of the United States! A NEW United Nations! Something far more powerful, intrusive, and all encompassing!”

  Mac Walker leaned back slightly in his seat and offered a slight shrug of his shoulders.

  “I don’t know…don’t care to know about all that. Man, I’m tired you know? Tired of all the bullshit, the games, the lies, of being used. Just give me some damn peace for once in my life.”

  The professor closed his eyes again as another moment of pain passed through him.

  “I know that feeling all too well, Mr. Walker. Indeed I do. Tell me, when you get out of this place, if given that opportunity to be left alone – what would you do?”

  Mac noted how the professor said when he got out of this place – not if.

  “You seem a lot more confident of my getting out of here than I am.”

  The professor’s eyes twinkled.

  “That I am, Mr. Walker. I have a sense of you being one who doesn’t give up easy. If anyone is to be leaving this place some day, God tells me it will be you.”

  Mac shook his head.

  “God? I don’t think so. God don’t have anything to do with me, and the only devil I’ve ever met was other people who wanted me dead.”

  The professor threw his head back and laughed loudly, the sound echoing throughout the cell and into the concrete corridor just outside the cell door.

  “Perhaps so, Mr. Walker! Perhaps so! Please answer my question though – what would you do?”

  Mac felt a twinge of embarrassment from within himself. He had actually thought over that very question repeatedly in recent years. Dreamed of living away from the madness of all the rules and regulations imposed upon people of modern society.

  “Freedom Tavern.”

  The professor folded his thin-fingered hands together and leaned forward in his seat, his large smile spreading even wider.

  “Freedom Tavern! You want to own a bar?”

  Mac felt foolish having shared his dream with a man, a prisoner, he had just met.

  “Ah, it’s just a silly…just something I’ve thought over from time to time. It’ll never happen. Sure as hell not now.”

  The professor’s right hand smacked down on top of the plastic patio table.

  “Dreams are what make us human Mr. Walker! Aspiration and inspiration combined with motivation are the essential components of a life well lived! If you dream of owning this Freedom Tavern, then so you shall! As I said, you do not strike me as a man who gives up. There is a fire within you Mr. Walker – I heard it in your words during your trial. God is not done with you, even if you feel yourself to be done with Him.

  Now let me get to the point of our meeting here today. I can offer you protection inside this cell block. For as long as I am alive, no harm will come to you in here. I can promise you that – but I do ask for something in return.”

  Mac’s eyes narrowed slightly as he waited to hear what the professor wanted from him.

  “I have a daughter outside these prison walls, Mr. Walker. All I ask of you in return, is to deliver a letter to her when you find your way out of this place. She lives in upstate New York with her husband and my grandchild, a beautiful little girl. When I am dead, that letter will be given over to you, and when the day arrives that you are able, I only ask that you see the letter safely delivered to my daughter.”

  The professor’s eyes held Mac’s with focused intensity.

  “How are you so sure I’ll get out of this place?”

  The professor’s thin smile communicated his own absolute confidence in the belief Mac Walker would one day be a free man.

  “Some say those near death enjoy an expansion of cognitive ability Mr. Walker. Be it science or supernatural, or perhaps equal parts of both, when the mind frees itself of lesser things, and then truly focuses on the here and now…it can be a powerful thing indeed. I cannot explain how I know of your eventual freedom Mr. Walker, I can only tell you I feel it as a certainty. You WILL be released from this prison, and when you are, I ask that you please deliver the letter.”

  After a few seconds of hesitation, Mac nodded back at the professor.

  “Sure – whatever. You think I will be getting out of here? Man, I hope you’re right. Until then, if you think you can make it safe enough that I can shower up without having to worry about dropping the soap, I’m more than happy to have help with that. And if I really do get out of here, I’ll see that letter to your daughter. You have my word – and nobody on this earth can say truthfully, Mac Walker isn’t a man of his word.”

  The professor’s head nodded happily several times as he extended his right hand across the table. Mac was momentarily shocked both at how fragile and icy cold the hand felt inside of his own.

  “Very good, Mr. Walker! I thank you for your help in this matter. So long as I am alive, and you remain a resident of C Block, you have nothing to fear. You are under my personal protection.”

  Mac was about to mention the impending attack that was to come at him from the shower room when realization hit him like a runaway truck. He wasn’t sure if he should be pissed off, or appreciative of the professor’s manipulation.

  “You skinny little son-of-a-bitch, that shower room threat was your doing, wasn’t it? You had that prison guard fill my ear with it. You wanted to make sure I was in the mood to get some help from you.”

  The professor rose slowly from his chair, his narrow shoulders shrugging at the accusation.

  “Oh, no need to protest what might or might not have been Mr. Walker. We have an agreement that will benefit each of us. Let u
s move on from here then, and see that agreement met.”

  Mac Walker couldn’t help but admire the dying man’s skills of manipulation. No wonder the guy was running the inside of C Block – he was smarter than anyone else inside the place by a country mile.

  “Enjoy your shower, Mr. Walker.”

  Mac chuckled as he turned to leave the professor’s cell.

  “Yeah – I intend to.”

  XXV.

  Nigel had been monitoring the home of Mac Walker’s former team member, Benny Williams, for nearly a month. The security detail being provided to the Williams family by the Florida attorney and Wall Street billionaire was posing challenges, making access to the home’s interior difficult.

  Not impossible though – merely difficult.

  The home consisted of Williams, his wife, and two daughters. Benny Williams hardly left the home, and when he did, Nigel could see the outline of a handgun inside of his jacket, and at least one of the two armed security team assigned to the home was always within close proximity wherever Benny Williams went.

  Nigel could simply kill the former military man in the open, but that would leave questions, an investigation, and potential discovery, things the adviser made very clear she did not want to see take place. While the New United Nations machine had successfully infiltrated much of the American government, the state and local systems remained largely independent from direct influence.

  For now.

  No, Nigel knew that in order to both eliminate Benny Williams, and prevent a resulting criminal investigation into his death, it would require he gain access to the Williams’ home and complete the kill assignment from the inside without any potential witnesses.

  That scenario required patience and considerable observation. Nigel was certain now though that he had the family’s pattern mapped out well enough to allow him to move on Benny Williams later this afternoon. The wife took both daughters to soccer practice at 3:00 p.m. every Tuesday and Thursday. They did not return home until 5:30. One of the two security detail followed the wife and kids to soccer practice, leaving just one remaining member of the security detail outside the Williams’ home, with Benny Williams alone inside.

  As the family’s mini van pulled out of the garage and then down the well manicured, tree lined street of the family’s Memphis neighborhood, Nigel prepared to finally complete the kill order. He double checked the syringe, and installed the silencer on his handgun.

  It was 3:08 p.m. Nigel was certain Benny Williams would be dead within the hour…

  Sitting on his long used reclining chair, Benjamin Williams looked back at the large, flat screen television that sat above the fireplace mantel. Though his eyes followed the screen’s images, his mind was lost in thought, wondering how Mac Walker was doing inside the Allenwood prison. Benny had considered trying to coordinate a visit to the prison, but Finn Neeson, the attorney who was coordinating both the investigation into Mac’s case, as well as the security for Benny’s family, told him it was too early to do so. The risk to him and his family would be too great.

  So, day after day, Benny Williams found himself a prisoner inside of his own home, wondering if and when they would try and come for him. Jack was dead. Minnick was dead. Mac was behind bars. That left Benny.

  The security detail was professional enough, and Benny had taken a liking to both men. They were well trained, were former military like Benny himself, and seemed motivated to make certain Benny and his family remained safe.

  This was no way to live though – looking out at the world from a chair inside your living room. Day after day spent watching the news programs showing the quickly spreading chaos in the Middle East, the increase in violence along the Mexican border, the almost daily Muslim protests throughout Canada and Europe, and the drone flights that passed over Benny’s beloved Memphis at least twice daily now.

  Shit was getting weird in America fast now. Real fast.

  Benny heard the sound of a footstep behind him, perhaps just outside the hallway leading into the living room. His right hand wrapped itself around the grip of the handgun he always kept on him. He slowly turned in his chair to peer toward the hallway. There was no sign of movement, and whatever sound he heard had gone silent. Just behind him, a news personality on one of the cable news channels was showing blurred images of a family of seven who had been decapitated during a radical Muslim demonstration in the streets of Toronto. The family had emigrated from Turkey a generation ago and converted to Catholicism. The Muslim mob deemed that an inexcusable crime, and the family paid with their lives, their deaths meant to be an example to others in the community.

  An almost silent scrape again came from the hallway, the sound of fabric brushing against a wall.

  Someone was in the house – someone who didn’t want to be heard.

  Benjamin Williams was a confident man, and an even more confident soldier. Even his friend and team leader Mac Walker acknowledged to him that if it came down to hand to hand combat, there were few men on this planet who could best Benny, Mac included.

  Benny moved silently from his chair, kneeling on his left knee with his weapon held out in front him. The house was again silent.

  “Who’s that? That you John?”

  John was the name of the security member who had remained at the house while Benny’s wife and kids left for soccer practice, accompanied by the other security member whose name was Paul. Benny jokingly referred to the two of them as the Beatles.

  There was no response.

  Benny rose from the carpeted floor and walked slowly toward the hallway. Half a block away, the sound of dog barking made its way into the Williams’ home, followed by the sound of a car driving down the street outside.

  The hallway was empty. A few steps down the hallway and to the right was the entrance to the kitchen. Benny could see a ceiling light had been left on, though he was certain he had turned the kitchen light off as he walked through there after kissing his wife and kids as they left through the kitchen door that connected to the home’s garage. That had been no more than twenty minutes ago, and yet, the kitchen light was now on.

  Maybe I’m not remembering right.

  The kitchen, like the hallway, was empty. Despite what he thought he had heard, there was no-one else inside the home. Benny walked to the window adjacent to the kitchen’s eating area and saw John’s black SUV parked on the other side of the street with John sitting in the driver’s seat.

  Something in the house was different. Benny’s head tilted slightly to his right as he strained to hear what it was. There was only silence. The house remained quiet, and yet, Benny’s instincts told him there was definitely some kind of change that had just taken place inside of his home.

  Benny’s eyes peered down the hallway as he made his way slowly back toward the living room. Again, there was no sign or sound to suggest anyone else was in the house with him.

  Losing my damn nerve, that’s what it is. Cooped up in the place for so long, going crazy.

  The living room was as Benny had just left it, empty and silent. It was that silence though that finally set off the instinctive alarms in Benny’s head as he whirled around to again face the hallway. He had left the television on in the living room – but now it was turned off.

  The gun was knocked out of his right hand while at the same time Benny could feel the sharp sting of a needle plunging into the middle of his chest. He looked down into the dark eyes of an older man who appeared Middle Eastern. Though smaller than Benny, the man possessed considerable strength and combat skill.

  The needle was withdrawn from Benny’s chest as he felt his legs begin to buckle. In that instant, he thought of his wife and kids returning home to find this man hiding and waiting for them. The thought caused Benjamin Williams to reach deeply from within himself, his mind and body embracing the rage that fueled just enough strength that allowed him to clasp the smaller man’s throat with his right hand in a military trained compression grip.

  The
smaller man’s eyes flew open in shock as he realized how much strength yet remained inside of Benny, whose mouth was pulled back into a beast like snarl as he willed his body to fight the effects of the injection and continue squeezing the throat of the man who had invaded his home and threatened his family.

  Nigel’s mind was exploding with panic.

  How in the hell is this man still standing!

  Not only was Benjamin Williams still standing, but in a few more moments, Nigel would find himself in danger of being fully incapacitated from lack of oxygen. Finally though, the drugs overcame the man’s adrenaline, and Benny fell to his knees, though his right hand still remained clamped down over Nigel’s neck. Nigel was able to take a much needed breath, indicating the strength was quickly leaving Benny’s body. A few seconds more, and it was Benjamin Williams who was incapacitated by the large dose of paralytic injected into his chest.