The Point Of A Gun: Thriller

by Steven W. Kohlhagen

  Finally.

  “Any terms?” Nancy asked.

  “He and I spent all night going through our options. The Paladins hold all the cards. The public is understandably terrified. Yesterday’s catastrophe at the Capitol will lead to everybody in a mood to foster more vigilantes, not stop the ones we have in place.”

  “Licht,” Edwards said. “We’re at war with these terrorists. The Administration is behaving like we have a police challenge here. We are at war. These are not speeders. Not shoplifters. These people are at war with us. It’s high time the President recognized that.”

  “Thanks for the lecture, Colonel. I think the President and Congress are now left with little choice.”

  “How long do we have, Licht?” Linda asked.

  “My job is to bring Samms and her people in now. There’s no specific timetable. The news over the next few days will be dominated by the disaster yesterday, the upcoming Cabinet meeting, and the President’s address to the Nation.”

  “So you’re expecting the Paladins story will be buried by current events?” Nancy asked. “Just evaporate.”

  “No, actually, I’m not that good, Nancy. I can’t predict the future. I have no idea when or where the next terrorist attack will be or how the public will react to the seeming incompetence of our national security agencies compared to a small group of successful vigilantes.”

  He held up Samm’s card.

  “But I do know it’s my job to get that group to become part of the solution rather than continuing to be part of the problem. We’re done with games. The four of us. Time to move forward. And I don’t know four better people for the job.”

  “Then,” Linda said. “Let’s get to work.”

  Precisely.

  PART IV

  GREY

  Chapter 49

  “How do we go about this?” Tom asked the next morning.

  “Do you want me to stay for this?” Licht asked.

  “May as well,” Linda replied.

  “It’s pretty simple, really,” Nancy said. “One of us has to finally admit to either being Samms or to working with Samms.”

  Yup, incredibly simple. So simple even an undercover cave man should be able to do it.

  Silence settled over the four of them.

  “C’mon, Nancy,” Linda said. “You’re a professional. This has been the problem since day one. We sit around like a kindergarten class, expecting someone to break down with the giggles or something and confess in front of old man Moose or old man Licht and then get sent to the Principal’s office for a call to his parents. That’s simply never going to happen. At least if it were me it wouldn’t happen.”

  Tom laughed. “It was worth one more try, Lin. Give her a break.”

  “Here’s a list of lawyers,” Licht said, passing them each a piece of paper. “Go back to whoever you want. Your spouse. Your own personal and/or agency lawyers. Your boss. Whoever you want. In the case of at least one of you, to your colleagues. Send me the short list of which lawyers on this list are acceptable for our negotiations.”

  “And the chosen one will represent who?” Edwards asked.

  “All four of us,” Licht said. “We will meet at a secured location with the chosen lawyer. And we will take as long as it takes to hammer out the conditions under which one or more of you will feel free to come forward.”

  “And we each will have to agree to those conditions?” Linda asked.

  “Or there’s no deal,” Licht replied.

  “The President will then have to approve the deal, right?” Nancy said.

  “I speak for the President,” Licht said. “I have the authority to sign the agreement on behalf of the United States of America.”

  He passed them a piece of paper signed by the President, the Attorney General, and the Secretary of the Treasury.

  Nancy whistled. “Impressive, Licht,” she said. “Retirement certainly agrees with you.”

  Finally. In the red zone. It should have been obvious to all four that this was how to get it done.

  “Let’s the four of us agree on a lawyer sometime tomorrow and then get this behind us,” Licht said. “Right or wrong the President’s political advisers believe that the country will have more confidence in our anti-terrorist efforts with the Paladins perceived to be working with us rather than against us.”

  “And,” Linda said, “one last time, Licht. If it isn’t one of us?”

  “It is. I already know one of you is a Paladin. And, yes, I know which one. I just don’t know about the other two. This is just aimed at clearing the way for the conditions of getting this, this kindergarten, behind us.”

  Linda started to say something. Then just leaned back.

  “Tomorrow,” Tom said. “I’ll deliver my list of acceptable lawyers.”

  Linda and Nancy both nodded.

  *

  On the way out, Nancy stopped Tom.

  “Anything on the print from the Asian NSA woman?”

  “No, it was a dead end.”

  “All three?”

  “It was a dead end. None of the three could be with Samms.”

  And he walked off.

  “Okay, Colonel,” Nancy said to herself, left standing alone in the hallway, watching him walk toward the exit.

  Chapter 50

  The lawyer entered the conference room last. She had waited for the four to get settled and politely had given them time to get any last minute concerns out among themselves.

  She sat down at the head of the conference table. They each knew she had already met with the President and Licht.

  “Colonel,” she nodded toward Tom. “I’m not a detective, but I was able to guess your identity in this crowd. Which one of you other two is Linda and which one is Nancy?”

  “I’m Linda. She’s Nancy,” Linda said nodding her head across the table.

  “Let me start with the hopefully obvious fact that they didn’t cover this situation in law school.”

  “Or at any of our courses in the Agencies, the Army, or the Bureau,” Nancy volunteered.

  “I’m not precisely sure where to start here,” the lawyer said. “As I understand it from the President, one or more of you is with the vigilantes the Post has been reporting on?”

  Silence.

  “And nobody knows which of you it is, except, of course, the guilty party.”

  “Licht claims he knows,” Tom said.

  “Not exactly,” Licht said. “What I said is that I know the identity of one of you who is a member of the Paladins. I don’t know if either of the other two is also.”

  “Whoever the Paladins are,” Linda said, “I think they will prefer the use of the term ‘Paladins’ to ‘guilty’.”

  That got a smile from Licht and raised eyebrows from everybody else.

  “Gimme a break,” Linda said.

  “As you wish,” the lawyer said. “But I think murdering people who might possibly be terrorists in cold blood is a crime. Perhaps one pardonable by the American people or the American press or even the American President. But it’s a crime nevertheless.”

  Nancy leaned back and shot Licht a glance. “I thought we were past this, Licht. You said she had agreed to represent the four of us and any members of the Paladins.”

  “I have agreed to that,” the lawyer said. “Look, you four have had months, maybe even years to digest this information. I’ve had two days. This is complicated. America is a violent country. America has a long history of vigilantism when the authorities couldn’t assure sufficient law and order to satisfy its citizens. Vigilantes have always viewed themselves as on the side of the angels. And so do most citizens. And so will most of the American people in this case.”

  “We know all this,” Licht said. “Trust us. The four of us, the senior-most people in the U.S. intelligence community, including each of their bosses, have been over this with the President and Moose endlessly. You can be confident your view has been adequately represented in our collective discussions. We�
�re here to end this, not to sit in judgement over the Paladins. Given your promised anonymity, you have pledged to work with us to draft this document, a document to turn this work ‘on the side of the angels’, as you put it, into a more constructive structure.”

  He paused and looked out the window at the Capitol, then back at the lawyer. “In your mind, this might be a black or white issue. But as you yourself just pointed out, there’s a lens through which the felonious activities of these vigilantes puts them on the side of the angels. That makes them black and white. Let’s say grey.”

  The lawyer sat for a while in thought. Then nodded.

  “Then let’s get on with our work unless you’ve changed your mind?” Licht said.

  “No. I work for you four and the President as agreed…”

  “You work for the four of us,” Linda said. “Not the President.”

  “Right, the four of you. I get it. It’s not a perfect world. From what I’ve read in the Post, the Paladins claim to have saved hundreds, maybe thousands of lives. And the President is refusing to deny it in public. I agree with you that it would be a good thing to pull this into the grey side. I just wanted to be clear about the conflicts this activity engenders.”

  “As has been made abundantly clear in the torrential social media storm,” Nancy said. “And at the President’s press conference and his speech to the joint session of Congress.”

  “So,” the lawyer cheerfully said as she threw her shoulders back and passed out a three page document to each of them, “shall we start?”

  *

  She watched as the four of them read through her first attempt.

  The second time through the document, they each began writing in comments, questions, edits to her draft. Linda the most extensive, then Nancy, then Tom, and Licht the fewest.

  “Just checking for the thousandth time,” Tom said, “but we’re each to come at this as though we are the Paladins and we are using this document both to protect ourselves and our colleagues, and to redefine a legal structure that will enable the Paladins to continue their work effectively and without fear of liability.”

  “That was my assignment,” the lawyer said.

  “It needs more work,” Linda said.

  “I agree,” Licht said.

  “And at least one of us has to work on this with his colleagues,” Nancy said.

  Tom made a face at her.

  “I assumed no less,” the lawyer said. “I didn’t expect this to be straightforward.”

  “Let’s adjourn, then,” Licht said. “Tomorrow noon good?”

  “Can we make it five?” Linda asked.

  Everybody nodded.

  “Then can you send me your comments and edits before three, so I can take a cut at a consensus agreement?” the lawyer asked. When they each nodded, she stood and said, “Here are four more clean copies for each of you.”

  *

  “So where are we on the two supremacists from St. Louis, May?” Tom asked that evening.

  “Close to deal time or I wouldn’t have set up this conference call,” she said.

  May was calling from a motel room in Jackson, Mississippi. Cheese was in Little Rock, Arkansas. They had been following two thirty-two year old friends who were members of the Conference of Conservative Causes in St. Louis. The two had been increasingly publishing back and forth online about attacking black churches and Jewish Temples in the South.

  “What’d the FBI do with our warnings, Samms?” May asked.

  “Same as usual. They said it was just talk. Said they knew about these two guys. Had for years. They’re both big talkers. The usual CCC anti-black, anti-Jew ranting. Nothing actionable. They said the two of them had plenty of targets available in St. Louis if that was what they were up to.”

  “Have they brought either of them in for questioning?”

  “The FBI has in the past. Again, nothing actionable. Just a couple of red neck kids who like mouthing off at meetings.”

  “What do they think these two are doing down South, recruiting for their next St. Louis anti-diversity love fest?”

  “Actually, May why are they down South?”

  “They say they believe they’ll get a more sympathetic hearing down here. Maybe not even get arrested for just killing a few Jews and blacks. They talk as though they think there’ll be a fire storm of favorable reactions. Start a resurgence.”

  “Any specific response to May’s anonymous tips?” Cheese asked.

  “The usual bureaucratic bullshit,” Samms replied. “They thanked the anonymous source for the tip and said the local police and their agents on the ground can keep tabs on them if something comes up.”

  “Have we alerted the target churches to beef up security?” Tom asked.

  “The helluva it is,” May replied, “we can’t pinpoint the precise targets off of any of their postings or comments. They’re setting this up as a scouting trip to both find and execute the ideal targets. They plan to be in phone contact as they each do the scouting.”

  “And so far, that’s all they’re doing here,” Cheese said. “If a cop stops either of them, he can just say he’s a tourist.”

  “Tomorrow,” May said, “is the anniversary of the killing of those nine blacks in the AME church in Charleston several years ago. They mentioned that last week in their private chat room.”

  “Okay, permission granted to keep tailing them and, if necessary, take them down,” Samms said. “Only act if they start something in a church, though.”

  “And try to only wound them,” Tom said. “If they really are true believers, the local cops could maybe have a field day getting their statements on site before they lawyer up.”

  “One other thing, guys.”

  “Yes?” May said.

  “One, don’t fuck this up, and two, get back to Washington immediately after.”

  “Should we just pass this off to the White House, given all the publicity?” Tom asked.

  “I have no patience for watching them fuck this up like they did the other day. May and Cheese will make our point clear as a bell.”

  “Why do you want us right back?” May asked. “What’s up?”

  “It looks like the President and the Task Force are about to bring us in?”

  “With national honors?” Cheese said.

  “Something like that.”

  Chapter 51

  “Mine’s on the move,” May texted Cheese the next afternoon.

  “Mine’s at the Little Rock diner still.”

  “No reason to believe yet that they’re still going to aim for simultaneous attacks.”

  May followed her guy. He was on foot. They were maybe a ten minute walk from any of a handful of Jackson black churches. No synagogues close by. Maybe today was selection day instead of action day? He had a backpack over his shoulder, dark sun glasses, and wore a loose fitting jacket over his jeans and sneakers.

  No sign of any surveillance at all. Just the dirtbag and her.

  Her phone buzzed. From Cheese. “Mine’s moving now.”

  *

  Cheese’s guy was identically dressed with a backpack over his shoulder, dark sun glasses, and wore a loose fitting jacket over his jeans and sneakers. He gave no evidence that it had occurred to him that he might be followed.

  And there was no sign that he was being followed by anybody but Cheese. Just Cheese and his dirtbag.

  The kid led him through Little Rock’s crowded streets. If he had a specific destination, Cheese felt it didn’t seem to be leading to the black churches he had screened over the past few days. And he didn’t seem to be checking for a tail. He seemed to be more like killing time. Wandering purposelessly through downtown Little Rock.

  “They communicating with each other?” he texted May.

  “No,” she replied. “Mine’s just wandering from place to place.”

  “Checking for a tail?”

  “No.”

  “Attracting any official interest?”

  “No.”<
br />
  “Mine either. They maybe having second thoughts?”

  “If so, I’d think they’d be communicating.”

  *

  A half hour later, May’s target walked right by one of the black churches for the third time. Looked at his watch. Glanced up and down the street. Made a call. And continued walking.

  “Mine’s making a call,” she typed.

  “Mine just answered,” Cheese texted back. Then, “They coordinating times?”

  “They never set any times that I saw.”

  “Maybe only by conversation?”

  “Maybe.”

  She resumed following her guy. He walked a mile away from the church and then sat down in the shade on a park bench. Looked at his watch. Then looked in his backpack. Pulled out a candy bar.

  May stepped into a shop, out of sight. It was too much of a risk he’d notice her just standing there on the street while he sat looking around.

  She wandered through the shop, trying not to attract attention by just standing around looking out the window.

  “Can I help you?” a clerk asked.

  She noticed for the first time that the two of them were alone. Not ideal.

  “I’ll take a bottled water.”

  “Chilled?”

  “No, room temperature is fine.”

  Her phone beeped.

  “Mine just got a call.” Cheese.

  She pretended to be looking for her money while she glanced out at the park through the store window. Her guy was talking on his phone, but was now walking straight toward the shop.

  “You got a bathroom in here?”

  The clerk took her money and pointed to the back.

  May slipped into the ladies room just as her guy walked into the shop.

  Hand firmly holding the door handle, she kept the door open the slightest crack and watched.

  The guy walked around the shop, ignoring the clerk when she asked if she could help.

  He grabbed a Coke out of the case.

  His phone rang. May’s beeped.