ALL ACTION THRILLER BOXSET: THREE MURRAY MCDONALD STANDALONE THRILLERS

by Murray Mcdonald

  The flight from his base in Stuttgart had been low and slow. The massive operation below was put into perspective as trains stretching into the distance carried heavy equipment, artillery pieces, tanks, personnel carriers and troops to the front line. Fighters, helicopters and attack choppers flew past them almost continually as the NATO forces repositioned their forces. Landing at the Minsk Mazowiecki airbase put the projections and charts into even sharper focus. It was chaos, but organized chaos. The small base was swamped with aircraft parked in every spare inch of ground while engineers hastily prepared a temporary runway to double the base’s capability. At only fifty miles from the Belarusian border, where the Belarusian and Russian forces were amassing, it was going to be a vital backup to the ground forces ahead.

  “Sir, we have your helicopter prepped and ready to go,” said the base commander, saluting the Admiral from his small prop plane.

  “Thanks, I’ll have a quick walk around, speak to some of the men and I’ll be out of your way in ten minutes,” he promised. He knew his presence would only detract from the work that was underway.

  Admiral Keeler lasted five minutes before it became apparent he was just a hindrance. He boarded the small UH-72 observation helicopter and instructed the pilot again to keep it low and slow. He wanted to see what was happening below, although this time, he would have the benefit of being able to stop when he wanted and speak to the troops. After forty miles of flight, the transports below began to come to a stop as the tanks took up positions. The Polish countryside was already littered with vast quantities of equipment. The Admiral shook his head at how quickly it had all been deployed. Most of the equipment already in situ was the regular kit from across the NATO forces in Europe. The equipment still on transports had been in storage for just this type of event. The equipment on show was the most advanced available to each of the forces present. Much more remained in storage, such as older models that could be called upon if needed. Mechanics and engineers were working around the clock, getting them battle ready. Admiral Keeler hoped he’d never need to call on them.

  German Leopard tanks gave way to British Challengers and French Leclerc’s. He began to wonder if the US troops were even there. Finally the US contingent came into view, line after line of the most powerful main battle tank ever designed. Faster, bigger and more powerful than any previous model, the new Abrams was a sight to behold. It could outshoot and outrun any of its NATO counterparts, who themselves could outshoot and outrun anything the Russians had to offer. Apache attack helicopters waited ominously, ready to support their ground-based cousins. Mobile missile units and artillery guns were in place, adding even more firepower to the forces below.

  The Admiral instructed the pilot to fly towards the border. He wanted to see what they were up against. The short flight was one of stark contrast. The professionalism of the NATO forces was in no way matched by the halfhearted preparations of the Russian forces who, the Admiral had to remind himself, were the aggressors; it was they who had started the tensions that had led to President King deploying forces. The Admiral had known the president for many years and knew that when it came to the fight, the president did not hold back. He fought hard and fast. Perhaps the Russians did not understand just how he operated. He didn’t hold back; the president believed overwhelming forces and firepower saved lives. Well, certainly American lives. And from what the Admiral could see, they were going to save a lot of American lives. The NATO forces below were already impressive and would continue to grow for the next few days as more and more equipment and men made it the front line.

  The Admiral looked again at what faced them. It was going to be a massacre. What the hell were the Russians playing at? As everyone knew, they were in no position to start a war.

  He signaled for the pilot to head back to base. His return to Stuttgart would be by fast jet. It would be too dark to see below and he had a conference with the president and the other combatant commanders to dial into.

  Chapter 46

  “I’m not entirely sure what you’re telling me,” said Jack irritably.

  “The FBI office in Baltimore has been destroyed, no survivors have been reported,” replied the FBI director.

  “Jesus, man, that’s the bit I understand! How did it happen?”

  “A massive explosion, so big it seems to have taken down the building opposite as well.”

  “Butler and Swanson?”

  “Prime suspects at the moment. We can’t ignore the fact they were handing themselves in there at the time it happened.”

  “Explain that one to me,” Jack said, confused at the logic.

  “Well, we’re not entirely sure what took place, they are fugitives after all.”

  “What’s Swanson done to be classed as a fugitive, taken a day off work?” asked Jack, struggling to keep up with the FBI’s reasoning.

  The FBI director fidgeted awkwardly on the sofa, wishing he hadn’t personally gone to see the president and had instead updated him on the situation by phone.

  “The Secret Service--”

  “Whoa, just slow down,” interrupted Jack. “The Secret Service who are unaware of who Jack Butler is?’ he asked sarcastically.

  “It turns out that was an error. They were aware of him. A computer glitch had stopped information on new cases updating their systems.”

  “Bullshit,” said Jack. “This whole thing stinks of bullshit.”

  “I’ve been briefed on Mr. Butler’s background, it seems he is an explosives expert,” said the FBI director, as if it was a conclusion.

  “Who briefed you?”

  “The CIA.”

  “Wait a minute, when did they get involved?”

  “Tom Butler is ex-CIA,” replied the director, as though Jack should have known.

  “The Secret Service agent who briefed me never told me that.”

  “It seems they have only recently been made aware themselves.”

  Jack shook his head. The plot thickened. An ex-CIA agent who had left a message for him was working with the head of the FBI’s Washington office and had supposedly offered to hand himself in to the Baltimore office but decided to blow up it and all its agents instead? All for no apparent reason or benefit?

  “Have we confirmed they are not in the wreckage? Perhaps they were the targets?” asked Jack. None of it made any sense.

  “The debris is too unstable. We’ve not been able to gain access as yet.”

  “So when?”

  “A specialist crew is en-route but it may be tomorrow before they are able to stabilize the building and days for us to sift through the debris and piece together what happened.

  “So Butler could be dead or in fact could be continuing his dastardly evil plot to kill me from Baltimore?” asked Jack. He was angry at how incompetent his law enforcement agencies seemed to be.

  The FBI director smartly remained quiet and simply nodded.

  Jack turned to Kenneth, who had sat quietly throughout the debacle of an update. Kenneth had been relieved that the work done by the Trust to cover their tracks had been successful. A highly skilled computer technician in the Secret Service would be receiving a significant bonus for his work on retro-creating the Tom Butler case into the system, thereby protecting the Trust’s agent who had updated the president the previous day.

  “I want Tom Butler’s CIA file on my desk within the hour,” barked Jack to Kenneth. “And when the FBI director here gets his thumb out of his ass and starts finding out what’s really going on, I want two-hourly updates on the situation.”

  The FBI director took his leave. The president’s comments to Kenneth left him in no doubt about how the president felt about his handling, or lack thereof, of the Butler situation.

  “I’m taking personal charge of this case from now on,” were the director’s parting words.

  When the Oval Office door closed behind him, Jack hit his call button and instructed Joan to join them. He dictated a letter to be sent to each and every family of the age
nts of the Baltimore tragedy.

  As she was leaving to type up the letters, Jack’s cell rang. Unknown number.

  “Kenneth, would you mind?” asked Jack, beckoning to the door.

  Kenneth did mind, but left as requested.

  When the door closed, Jack answered.

  “Ilya?”

  “Jack, how are you?”

  “Tense.”

  “Hmm, yes. It is very tense around here too. You’ve certainly not held back on your forces.”

  “I never do. Hard and fast,” he replied.

  “My generals are worried, Jack,” he countered.

  “If everyone can just settle down, there’s nothing to worry about,” Jack said calmly.

  “That’s the problem, Jack, you’re unsettling them. They’re beginning to wonder if you guys have planned this all along.”

  “What?” Jack’s temper was flaring at the mere suggestion that he wanted this.

  “You know we’re in no position to challenge you. The suggestion we would start a war at this time is ludicrous! You’re stronger than you’ve ever been while we’re weaker than we’ve ever been. They’ve put two and two together and hit five. Nothing else makes sense to them.”

  Jack considered the argument. As ridiculous as it sounded, it could make sense if you were struggling to find any alternatives.

  “So you’ve not found any internal factions or old guard looking to overthrow you? What about the B2 pilot, surely he’s talked?”

  “No and other than his name, rank and serial number nothing.”

  “He’s Vietnamese by birth, we thought he may have ties to the KGB through his parents,” said Jack, going out on a limb.

  “I’ve been there. His parents were known as CIA collaborators. The KGB had a bounty on their heads.”

  Jack began to consider whether his hard and fast approach was about to backfire for the first time ever. If the Russians really were not to blame for the previous incidents and the pilot’s parents were CIA after all, he was beginning to consider a truly scary scenario. It was a faction within the US that was trying to start the war. Jack was an open book. Everyone knew he took no risks and his reaction to the given scenarios would be a massive and overwhelming deployment of forces. He had to stop looking externally and start looking internally.

  Beware the Trust.

  Surely not? Even they didn’t have that amount of power and influence. Who was he kidding? They had exactly that amount of power and influence.

  “Ilya, what can I do to ease things at your end?”

  “I don’t think you can. The generals are about to issue a call-up for all reservists to report for duty. We are facing massive forces from the West and the East with the Chinese.”

  “Can’t you stop them?”

  “Yes, but given their argument, I’d have had to risk exposing the country to being overrun without a fight. I’m afraid a no confidence motion would have had me out of office quicker than you could deploy the other half of your army.”

  “How many men are we talking?”

  “Approximately three million, all told, between ourselves and our allies,” replied Ilya.

  “You know we never asked the Chinese to respond.”

  “Jack, we have massive forces mounting on our borders and we have no evidence to suggest it has been as a result of actions from ourselves. We cannot sit back and do nothing.”

  “Ilya, I promise you this is not our doing,” said Jack, amazed himself at how quickly the tables had turned. “Please keep this line open, we need to keep talking to save ourselves from whoever is trying to start a war.”

  “I believe you, but there’s only so much I can do. We need to keep talking, though. At least nothing more has happened today.”

  “Thank God. Talk soon my friend.”

  He hit the intercom. “Joan? Get me the head of every intelligence agency we have in the Situation Room, either personally or on video, within the next ten minutes.”

  He grabbed Kenneth on the way down to the Situation Room to clear it of whoever was there.

  Kenneth listened as Jack updated him. For Kenneth, the news couldn’t be better, but outwardly he shared Jack’s concern. A quick SMS updated Roger that the plan was progressing as scheduled.

  Chapter 47

  They had spent the last hour just driving. Every time Swanson had suggested they stop, Butler had disagreed. They needed distance between themselves and whatever the hell had just happened. The second explosion had rocked the car even more than the first, despite them having been further away. Taking down an FBI building was not the act of people who wanted to stay under the radar. It was the sign of people who felt the radar was no longer an issue. Eventually, they hit the US 40 and headed North, away from Baltimore and Washington.

  Butler began to look through the sorely inadequate map left in the car by the rental company. Only the major roads were displayed, along with businesses who deemed it profitable to advertise their location on a map for a rental car that did not require a credit card. There were not many, and certainly not many locations that interested them. One item did stand out, however, and they were approaching the exit for it.

  “Take this exit,” he commanded.

  “Why, what’s there?” asked Swanson.

  “An airport, according to the map.” Butler directed her to the next exit and the road to the airport.

  “We’ve got no papers and very little money,” she said as the airport came into view.

  “I’m thinking,” he said. “Just drive around the perimeter.”

  Another news bulletin was announced on the radio. The destruction of the FBI building had already been announced. What now, thought Butler, turning up the volume.

  He wished he hadn’t. The news that he and Swanson were wanted in connection with the bombing and the murder of numerous FBI agents was not helpful to their plight.

  The airport was useless in any event; it was a joint private military airfield. Small corporate jets shared the facility with Hercules transport planes and AC-10 tank busters. What he wouldn’t have given for one of those. Effectively built around a massive rotary cannon, it was a devastating weapon with two wings. He could fly it up to the Trust and blast the shit out of them. However, he had one slight problem. He couldn’t fly.

  “So what now, genius?”

  Butler’s mind raced. Their images would be broadcast on every type of media known to man. Police and FBI would have a shoot first, ask questions later attitude. They were, as Swanson so succinctly would put it, fucked.

  A sign caught his attention. “Well I can’t drive any of those,” he pointed to the airport. “But I can certainly drive one of those.” He pointed to the marina to their right.

  “How the hell are we going to get a boat with a few hundred bucks?” she asked, never mind what they’d do with it anyway.

  “Steal it,” replied Butler, analyzing the map on his lap.

  “And do what?”

  “I’m thinking Cuba,” he replied. “So one of the bigger ones with a cabin.”

  “How the hell is Cuba going to help the situation?”

  “The situation is royally screwed. We’re done, we tried. Now turn over there, we’re going to have to lie low until dark.”

  Swanson was speechless. She hadn’t gone through everything she had gone through to quit now.

  “Those bastards,” she pointed West towards Camp Trust, “have killed a lot of agents and friends of mine. We ain’t bailing out now!”

  “Wake up, Jane,” replied Butler, uncharacteristically using her first name. “It’s over. Every trigger-happy cop and law enforcement officer in this country will shoot us on sight. That’s not even taking into account the forces the Trust have looking for us. We tried our best. I even took the risk of meeting your FBI friend. Look how that went down. There is not a soul on this planet left that we can trust, other than ourselves.”

  “But we…” she began but stopped herself. He was right. She turned onto the dirt t
rack as instructed and drove a few hundred yards down the track. The wooded area would give them perfect cover until nightfall.

  She stopped the car while Butler tried to work out the distances on the rental map from there to Cuba. The small map of America was only meant as a reference to show where Baltimore was in relation to the Continental United States, not as a navigation chart.

  “How far?” she smirked.

  “Twelve hundred and fifty, give or take twenty five miles.”

  Swanson looked to see if he was bullshitting with such a precise range, but apparently not. She grabbed the map and noted no scale.

  “How the hell did you get it to that?” she asked, looking at the map again for a clue.

  “Easy. I know Florida is about 400 miles top to toe and that’s my scale. Using that, I reckon on around twelve hundred and fifty miles,” he concluded before winding his seat back and closing his eyes.

  “What you doing?”

  “We’re not going to sleep tonight, so we may as well do it now.”

  “After what happened today, there’s no chance I’ll sleep,” replied Swanson. She didn’t get a response. Butler’s breathing rhythm already told her she was wasting her breath. He was sound asleep.

  The silence gave her some time to think, something she hadn’t had much chance to do since arresting Butler. So much had happened since their paths had crossed. So much of what she thought to be true was a lie. The Trust, could it really be what he said it was? Although, given the camp and the FBI Baltimore office, she had little to doubt. Their intentions were a danger to the United States of America. He was right, their lives were in danger. Doing something now would more likely than not get them killed. It was a suicide mission. But she had taken an oath, an oath of office that she would die to uphold.