Corps Justice Boxed Set: Books 1-3: Back to War, Council of Patriots, Prime Asset

by C. G. Cooper

  The limited visibility would hamper their ability to travel and watch their flanks. It would’ve been a lot easier to take a helicopter, but every pilot they’d contacted had already grounded their aircraft because of the storm. Their only option was to hike in. It wouldn’t be an easy journey, but they’d all endured far worse. Ponder’s mountaintop headquarters was perfectly situated for its seclusion. Cal worried that the hideout was also an ideal stronghold.

  They’d be humping up through the aptly named Death Canyon, then make their way toward Battleship Mountain. From the information headquarters had provided, it looked like Ponder’s place was situated at the base of the northern side of Battleship Mountain.

  It took five minutes for the men to strap on their packs, inspect their teammates and move out. Gaucho took point against Cal’s request to be up front.

  “We can do this without you, Boss. Let me get shot at first,” the squat Hispanic said with a wink.

  As they stepped off toward their destination, Cal could only hope that they wouldn’t be too late.

  +++

  At almost the same moment, the buyers’ representatives were starting a similar journey from the west side of the mountain range. They’d prepped for the journey at the small Best Western in Driggs, Idaho the night before. None had slept. The small group of men was used to operating without sleep. Even their leader was a former commando and well-trained in cold weather warfare. Their country had fought for years in high altitudes. These men were the representatives sent by their homeland to deliver a new weapon that would transform their battle on a global front. Handpicked by their leader, each man was ready to die for their cause. Preparations had already been made in case they should perish.

  The five operatives parked their two rented vehicles at the Teton Canyon Trail Head. Three minutes later they departed on foot toward Battleship Mountain.

  +++

  Nick Ponder and Trapper were huddled over a topographic map of the area when the phone rang. Ponder answered with a grunt, listened, and then replaced the receiver.

  “That was our buyers. They’re on their way,” Ponder muttered, deep in thought.

  “You know when they’ll be here?” asked Trapper.

  Ponder shook his head. “They just said they’re coming in on foot.”

  “I don’t like it, Boss. It’s bad enough that we’ve got the SSI guys headed our way. We don’t have enough men to guard every pass leading into this place.”

  Ponder slammed his fist on the desk. “I know, goddamit! Just give me a minute to fucking think!”

  Trapper held his tongue. He knew better than to press the point when his employer was upset. The man had a legendary temper, and Trapper wasn’t in the mood to take a tongue lashing.

  “How many men do we have?” Ponder asked for the fifth time.

  Trapper stifled the urge to exhale before answering. “We’ve got twenty two, not including you and me. I figure we should keep at least half of them here at the complex. The rest we can break into two-man teams and post them on the most likely ingress routes.”

  The two men looked at the map again, and Ponder pointed to the positions he’d already selected in his mind.

  “I want a team here, here and here. Make sure they’d got good radio equipment. I want to know as soon as they spot movement.”

  Over the years Ponder had secretly hoped for an invasion of his mountain lair. He’d prepared cave positions in strategic locations to serve as forward outposts. Ponder had played the scenario over and over again in his dreams. He was pretty sure some of his ancestors had died defending castles from invading armies. It was in his blood.

  Ponder was sure that his small army could hold off anything but a full-scale assault by an overwhelming force. Even now his men were mounting heavy machine guns and other defensive weapons around the perimeter of his compound. Tucked into the side of Battleship Mountain, Ponder’s headquarters was a perfectly designed fortress. It was well concealed and afforded a perfect view of the large mountain basin to the northeast. The only way to assault the stronghold was from the basin. It was possible to skirt the ledge that ran from northwest to southeast, but it would also be suicidal considering the perfect field of fire possessed by the defenders. Ponder at one point thought it was possible for an invading force to come over Battlefield Mountain and walk down the mountain. That was until two winters before when he’d tried it himself. He’d almost died trying to traverse the steep slope. Knowing that, Ponder had designed a beautiful kill zone right in his front yard. The SSI assault team wouldn’t have a chance.

  “I want you here with me coordinating everything.”

  Trapper made a face at his boss’s order.

  “What is it?” Ponder growled.

  “I was kinda hoping you’d let me go find the SSI guys.”

  “By yourself?” Ponder asked incredulously.

  Trapper smiled. “This ain’t my first rodeo, Boss.”

  Ponder knew the man was right. They called him Trapper for a reason. He had a talent for finding and getting rid of people no matter the time or place.

  “So you know where they’re coming from?”

  Trapper nodded with a sly grin.

  “Are you gonna tell me?” Ponder solicited.

  “Let me make sure, and I’ll call it in as soon as I’ve got eyes-on.”

  Although Ponder trusted his Lieutenant, his gut was telling him to order Trapper to stay at the compound. He shook the thought off as quickly as it had come. He’d be a lot better off if one man could decimate the SSI band.

  “Fine, but make sure you take care of deploying our men before you go.”

  They finalized their campaign and toasted their victory over a welcomed shot of Jack Daniels.

  Chapter 21

  Camp Spartan, Arrington, TN

  7:00am CST, September 28th

  The FBI contingent arrived precisely at 7:00am. Four black Chevy Suburbans rolled through Camp Spartan’s front gate and headed to the SSI’s headquarters.

  Travis, Todd and Marge met the investigators in the entryway. An average-looking man in his early forties led the way. His thinning hair and deep bags under his eyes belied his stressful position. He walked right up to Travis and offered his hand.

  “Mr. Haden, I’m Jack Malone. Thanks for meeting us.”

  “Please, call me Travis.”

  Introductions were made and the group made its way to the large conference room reserved for the occasion. There was coffee and a mixed assortment of breakfast food arranged for their guests.

  “Thanks for the food and coffee, Marge,” Malone offered. “We don’t always get the best reception during our audits.”

  Haines gave the agent a thin smile. “There’s no reason for us not to be cordial. We know that this is just one of the requirements of being in the security business.”

  Malone smiled and grabbed a glazed donut. “I hope you don’t mind if I grab a bite while we talk. I didn’t get a chance to eat anything earlier. I’m starving.”

  He quickly devoured three donuts and washed it down with some coffee. The others took seats around the conference table as they ate.

  Still standing, Malone wiped his mouth and addressed the SSI leadership. “Like I told Ms. Haines over the phone, we’re here to do a routine audit. Somehow you’ve avoided the list all these years.” He smiled at his joke. “We’ll try to make it as painless as possible. Starting with your accounting department, my crew will dig into your operations over the past five to ten years. As long as there aren’t any discrepancies, we’ll be out of your hair in a day and a half, two tops.”

  Travis wasn’t worried about the FBI uncovering their covert division. There were no files. All their equipment was purchased with cash or handled through one of the many offshore accounts administered by Neil Patel. Haden’s only concern was not being able to actively monitor Cal’s team out west. Cal was on his own.

  “Just let us know what you need to look at and we’ll get it to you. I’l
l be in my office if you need me,” Travis said.

  “Thanks. Okay then. Let’s head over to accounting.”

  Travis pulled Marge aside as the rest of the entourage filed out of the room.

  “Let me know if you hear anything. I’m about to put in a call to one of our friends in D.C.”

  “Who?”

  “Zimmer.”

  Congressman Brandon Zimmer was a first term representative from Massachusetts. He’d recently been involved in a nasty encounter with a group of Japanese imperialists looking to relive Japan’s glory days. Cal’s team had helped Zimmer uncover the plot by Zimmer’s now deceased father, Senator Richard Zimmer, to claim the Presidency. The younger Zimmer had proved his worth by eliminating his father before the President could be killed. Brandon was now part of a very secretive group of retired politicians known as the Council of Patriots. Only a handful of people in the world knew of the Council’s existence.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Isn’t he in the middle of the special election for his father’s Senate seat?”

  “Marge, you know he owes us big time. Besides, I just want him to see if he can pull some strings and find out why we’re being investigated. I don’t believe this bullshit about a routine audit.”

  They agreed to meet again at lunch to discuss any developments. Travis walked to his office and placed the call.

  Chapter 22

  Falls Church, VA

  8:41am EST, September 28th

  Brandon Zimmer was enjoying a much-needed morning off from campaigning. The last week had been a whirlwind of hand-shaking, speeches and phone calls. Washington insiders believed that the young Congressman would likely win an overwhelming victory against his opponent. It hadn’t hurt that former President Hank Waller made the unexpected move of publicly endorsing Zimmer for the vacated seat. Preliminary polls were showing Brandon with almost seventy-five percent of the likely vote.

  He’d learned from experience not to take a lead for granted and pushed his campaign staff hard. Zimmer was in the middle of perusing the college football matchups for the coming weekend when his cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and smiled.

  “Hey, Trav!”

  “Good morning, Congressman…or should I be calling you Senator now?”

  “Not yet, and you know you can always call me Brandon.”

  “I know.” Travis paused.

  Brandon caught the hesitation. “What’s going on?”

  “Are you on the cell phone we gave you?”

  “Yeah. Why?” Zimmer perked up at the question. Travis typically got right to the point.

  Travis quickly outlined the details of Neil’s kidnapping and Cal’s operation to get him back.

  “God, I’m sorry. Do you think he’s still alive?”

  “To be honest with you, I’m not sure. Then again, I don’t know why this guy would go through all the trouble to take Neil just to kill him.”

  “Do you have a motive?”

  “Not yet, but I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”

  “How can I help?” Zimmer asked.

  “Actually, I called to ask for your help with something else,” Travis answered cryptically.

  Now Brandon was really confused. “Something else?”

  “Yeah. It just so happens that as soon as we got Cal to Wyoming, the FBI says it’s time for an audit. They just got here.”

  Travis didn’t have to tell Zimmer that the timing was more than a little coincidental. “So you think it has something to do with what’s going on with Neil?”

  “I do. If my hands weren’t tied with our guests, I’d make some phone calls. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind making some discrete inquiries within your little club.”

  Brandon knew he was talking about the Council of Patriots. The combined Rolodex of the two former Presidents and the seven former senators and congressmen in the group made for a powerful information-gathering asset. It was, however, important not to drink from the well too often. The Council’s secrecy was paramount.

  “Let me call our friends and see how they can help.”

  “I really appreciate it, Brandon. Please call me if you find out anything.”

  “I will. And, Trav…?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Call me for help any time.”

  “Roger.”

  Zimmer ended the call and sat for a moment. He had a lot of pressing matters to attend to this afternoon, but this would take priority. He owed Cal and Neil a huge debt. If it weren’t for them, he’d probably be in jail and the President would be dead. Brandon would do anything to help his new friends.

  He picked up his cell phone again and scrolled through his contact list. After pressing the right record, he held the phone to his ear. The call connected and Zimmer spoke. “Mr. President, I need a moment of your time.”

  Chapter 23

  Grand Teton Mountain Range

  7:05am, September 28th

  “Rise and shine!” Ponder’s bellow was followed by a kick to Neil’s wobbly cot. Neil just barely caught himself before he fell off and onto the floor.

  He looked up at his captor through bleary eyes. He’d just managed to fall asleep and suspected Ponder had waited for his slumber just to torment him.

  “What time is it?” Neil dared to ask.

  “I said it’s time to rise and shine! Now get cleaned up. We’re taking you back to the server room.” Ponder stormed out of the cell.

  It was the same journey they’d repeatedly forced him to make. He’d resisted their requests but knew his time was running short. Neil had to deliver something or else they’d kill him.

  He sat up painfully. Shivering uncontrollably, Neil wrapped the thin blanket around his shrinking body. Although his time in captivity hadn’t been long, Neil knew he’d already lost weight. The constant stress led to a complete lack of appetite in the normally fit Indian-American. Somehow he managed to force down several bites of food every time the jailer brought it. He knew it wasn’t enough.

  Just as he’d fallen asleep, the tech genius was trying to think of a way to alert his friends at SSI. If he had more time with a computer it would’ve been easy, but every time they set him as the workstation there was someone watching.

  The guard arrived and unceremoniously picked Neil up like a baby and carried him out of the cell. A minute later they arrived at the now familiar server room. It wasn’t much compared to what Neil was used to, but still impressive for a mountain top retreat.

  Ponder stood over his shoulder just as he had done before. “Let’s try this again. Are you going to do it or not?”

  Neil didn’t have the will to say no. What reserves he’d had now lay scattered on the frozen ground outside the complex. “I’ll do it.”

  Ponder was secretly relieved. “Now remember what I told you,” Ponder growled as he extracted a large knife from its leg holster, “you try anything funny and I’ll take off your other foot personally.”

  Neil didn’t doubt the man’s threat. In the short time he’d been a guest at Chateau Winter Wonderland, as Neil now thought of the compound, he’d come to realize that the man in charge was not only ruthless, but probably had a few screws loose upstairs. His ability to pivot from anger to mirth spoke volumes of the grizzled man’s mental faculties.

  Shifting uncomfortably, Neil moved closer to the computer’s keypad. He tried to place his hand on the mouse but his hands kept shaking.

  Ponder turned to his sentry and barked, “Get a couple space heaters over here and bring some more blankets too. Have the cook bring down some hot soup and cider.”

  He looked down at Neil. “Well what are you waiting for? Get back to work!”

  Neil whipped his head back around and did his best to grip the mouse and click through the screens.

  +++

  Trapper was making good time on the mule he’d saddled. Something told him that the SSI operators would take the Death Canyon entrance. It was well traveled and easy to access from Teton Villa
ge. Trapper had already confirmed with the few helicopter companies in the area that no one had booked a flight. That left his enemy with only one option: trek in on foot.

  He pushed his mule hard hoping he’d make his destination before the storm hit. If he did, the slaughter would be easy. He’d have a perfect view. The former soldier grinned as he imagined the coming battle.

  +++

  The men were silent as they moved swiftly down the trail. They’d made good time so far and hadn’t encountered many hikers. The few people they had seen were going the opposite way, eager to avoid the blizzard. Everyone could feel the weather shift as the storm crept closer. Cal was hiking in the middle of pack, allowing his mind to drift back to his days in the Marine Corps, hiking countless miles with fellow Marines.

  Brian Ramirez pulled up beside him.

  “What’s going on, Doc? Not enough action in the rear?”

  Brian had elected to stay in the back of the group just as he’d done during his time with Marines. It was customary for the Corpsman to tend to the stragglers and injured with the company gunny.

  “Was wondering if you’d heard anything else from Camp Spartan.”

  Cal shook his head. “They’re busy handling the FBI guys that someone shoved down their throats. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’d rather be here than dealing with that right now.”

  Brian agreed. “So we’re really going in as is? No more support from home?”

  “It’s just us, Doc.”

  Brian wasn’t the only one that couldn’t shake the feeling that they were walking into a shitstorm.