This request has no time limitation. It is absolutely confidential. Sorry I cannot tell you more. Rush your reply. Trace.
When he finished, Trace ran one of Pete’s sophisticated software file-shredding programs. It was, ironically, the same software program used by the Department of Defense — available online to the general public — to destroy everything on the laptop’s hard drive. This involved making seven slow electronic passes shredding files, and took just over two hours to complete.
When this program finished its destruction, Trace opened the laptop, removed the drive, and broke it into two pieces. He planned to toss one piece into the Intracoastal Waterway at one location and toss the second section into the Intracoastal Waterway at some other location. Then he would take the cannibalized laptop case and place it back in the hotel’s safe deposit box where it would not be found.
Trace received both reply e-mails within an hour of his messages. Both men agreed to his terms and, as he expected, did not ask any questions.
Trace responded to the e-mails by immediately sending each man his respective digital file — the encrypted Report to the President to Max and the encryption KEY to unlock that file to Harlan.
He took a deep breath, slowly let it out, and smiled for the first time in many hours. He now had his plan and his insurance policy. He would be able to rescue Isabella, and then he and she would be safe from government retribution.
CHAPTER 118
Quarantine
Day 34
Later that night after curfew, Trace sat under a tree with Alex, Jenna and Ibrahim at that evening’s Friday’s Progeny’s encampment. A thicket of Jacaranda trees on one side and the Intracoastal Waterway on their other side sheltered the encampment from sight.
“I’ve decided what I need to do to rescue my wife,” Trace said, looking at Alex. “I’ll trade for Isabella, like you suggested before, but I won’t trade me for her.”
Alex squinted and looked skeptically at Trace. “Then what do you have to trade they’d want if not you?”
“I can’t tell you.”
Alex looked annoyed. He started to say something, caught himself, and just nodded.
“Anyway, I’m out of here,” Trace said, as he stood up. “See you all one day if all goes well.”
He turned from the group, left the encampment, and headed to the Pelican Cove Hotel.
The man stayed well back from Trace as he watched him enter the hotel. Then he pushed the CALL button on his cell phone.
“Austin just entered the Pelican Cove Hotel,” he said. “I’m across the street.”
“Good work,” General Vista said. “Stay put. My men will be there in less than ten minutes.”
Inside the hotel, Trace settled onto the floor with his back against the wall, off by himself at the far end of the lobby.
He considered his plan to release Bella, and ran it through various hypothetical obstacles he’d set up trying to spot a weakness in it. The plan seemed solid. The one catch was that he could not yet come up with a way of presenting the plan to the authorities without placing himself at risk of being captured before he could implement the plan.
Trace looked around the room. Most people seemed to be sleeping. A few adults and some children were awake and talking softly. The overall ambiance of the lobby was marked by a state of tranquil repose.
He put his cheek against one knee, yawned, closed his eyes, and drifted off into sleep.
Trace bolted awake, jarred into foggy consciousness by a sharp pain in his ribs. He felt as if he had been poked by something knifelike and hard.
He jumped to his feet, his adrenalin propelling him out of his fog, his instincts on high alert.
Soldiers, dressed in MOP gear, formed a semi-circle around him, stretching from the wall on one side of him, back to the wall on his other side. They faced Trace with automatic assault weapons.
Other soldiers, also in MOP suits, stood back, away from Trace, in a second phalanx, some pointing weapons at him, others keeping the small crowd away.
The soldiers put Trace on his stomach, searched him, and flex-cuffed his hands behind his back. Then they hauled him up onto his feet and put a short ankle chain on both his legs.
Within minutes, he was on his way to General Vista.
CHAPTER 119
Quarantine
Day 35
The next morning, after having spent the night in a cell and having had his blood tested to see if he was infected and contagious, Trace, not having shown any symptoms of Melioidosis, was taken to General Vista’s office. He still was manacled, but now with his arms in front.
Vista stood behind his desk facing the doorway, holding a lit cigar. He stared into Trace’s eyes as Trace entered the room. A slow grin carved itself into his face.
Trace couldn’t read the general’s expression, especially his anomalous smile.
“Sit,” Vista said, nodding at a chair in front of his desk.
Trace sat.
“Leave us,” Vista ordered the guards.
Trace looked around the office to the limited extent he could see by shifting his eyes without turning his head. He continued to face Vista head-on, even as he strained to survey his surroundings.
He could just make out the presence of another person behind his back and far off to his left, leaning against the wall. He couldn’t identify the person without turning his head, but he refused to do that.
“Welcome, Mr. Austin. You’ve been a difficult man to catch up with. You’re fortunate you weren’t shot on sight.”
Trace remained silent.
“I believe you already know my colleague, Alex,” Vista said, looking beyond Trace at the wall to Trace’s left.
This time Trace turned his head to look.
“Apparently I didn’t know him as well as I thought,” Trace said.
“Now, now, Mr. Austin. Don’t be so self-righteous. We all do what we must when our country’s at war. Alex was being a good soldier.”
Trace shook his head in disgust. “Jenna, too, I suppose,” he said.
Alex looked at the general and raised his eyebrows.
Vista nodded his permission to speak.
“Jenna was the initiating force behind your involvement,” Alex said. “When she met you and learned about your SEALs’ background, she called me.”
“She’s not your cousin, right?” Trace said.
“Actually, she is my cousin. That’s how I recruited her,” Alex said.
“And Ibrahim? Was he part of it, too?”
“Ibrahim’s a nice kid and a good patriot. He seems to love his adopted country. But, no, he wasn’t part of it, as you describe us. He was Jenna’s cover although he didn’t know it.”
Trace turned back and faced Vista.
“I want to see my wife,” he said.
“In due time, Mr. Austin. First I have some questions.”
“No,” Trace said. “I want to see her now. I have nothing to say until I see her and see she’s all right.”
“This is becoming tiresome, Mr. Austin.” He paused as if considering Trace’s demand. “Very well, have it your way. You can see her now. But afterward, you will talk to me.”
A few minutes later Trace and Isabella stood in front of Vista’s desk. They were not left alone. Two guards and Vista kept watch over them.
Trace thought Isabella looked haggard and worried, but, he was happy to see, she did not seem frightened by the circumstances. Her left eye wasn’t twitching as it always did when she was frightened.
Vista started interrogating Trace immediately after Isabella arrived.
“What part did you have in the terrorists’ bioweapon attack?” Vista said.
“That’s ridiculous,” Isabella said. “My husband would not—”
Vista whipped his head around toward Isabella. “I’m not speaking to you. Be quiet or I’ll have you removed.”
He looked back at Trace. “I asked you a question.”
“No part. To quote my wife,
” Trace said, “that’s ridiculous. I’m here on vacation with my family, with what’s left of my family.”
“Good cover, but transparent,” Vista said.
Trace remained silent.
“You’ve committed several felonies, Mr. Austin, at least those we know about. Maybe others, too. Let’s see . . . Assault on a federal employee. Breaking into a federal computer. Who knows what else. You’ll be going away to prison for a very long time, Mr. Austin . . . Mr. ex-SEAL.”
“I demand to go before a civilian judge,” Trace said.
“Forget your demands, Austin. Civilian law doesn’t apply here during martial law. I’m the judge and jury for now.”
Trace looked directly into Vista’s eyes and smiled. A big smile.
“Don’t get your hopes up, General, not if you don’t want to be disappointed,” Trace said. “There’s more to this than you could ever know.”
He turned his head slightly toward Isabella and caught her eyes with his. He nodded slightly.
She frowned and raised her eyebrows, silently asking Trace what he was talking about?
“I demand,” Trace said softly, looking back at Vista, “to speak to someone in authority, someone higher up the chain of command than you.” He paused to let his statement sink in.
“What I have to say affects national security and will significantly affect the well-being of the president. I have nothing more to say to you. Until I talk with your superiors, I’m done here.”
“At the risk of sounding like a cliché, Austin, we can make you talk,” Vista said. “Don’t be naïve.”
“Listen, General,” Trace snapped, his eyes narrowing and his voice becoming sharper, “forget your threats and your tough-guy bullshit. If you harm me or my wife, in fact, if you even threaten us again, you’ll regret it. I promise you that. Your superiors will see to it when I insist upon it. And, General, that’s not a threat. It’s my promise to you.”
“My husband always keeps his promises, General,” Isabella said. “He’s fanatical about it. You’d be wise to listen to him.”
Vista frowned. Strange response. My superiors? He’ll insist on it? What can he have in mind? Must be his macho SEAL training surfacing.
“Now, General,” Trace said, his voice deliberately softening, becoming almost conspiratorial in tone, “I’m going to do you one favor, but only one. So listen carefully. I won’t repeat this.”
He looked over at Isabella and winked, then turned back to Vista.
“If you value your career, General, if you don’t want to come out of this scenario busted down to sergeant, you will stop wasting my time. You’ll arrange for me to talk to someone substantially higher in authority than you about a national security matter of the highest priority.”
He paused to let this sink in.
“Until then, General, my wife and I are finished with you.”
Trace turned toward Isabella and threw her a mock-kiss with his lips.
Bella smiled and nodded slightly.
“Yes, Sir, that’s exactly what Austin said, word for word. I have it on tape if you’d like to hear it,” Vista said. “No, Sir, I just thought—”
He patted Wayne’s head.
“Yes, Sir, right away. I’ll prepare a complete report and have it on your desk by 0800 tomorrow. Thank you, Sir.”
CHAPTER 120
Quarantine Day 36
3:00 a.m.
The next night the deputy secretary of defense, acting under orders from his boss, the secretary of defense, came to the Quarantine Zone. He’d been secretly transported from the Pentagon to Fort Lauderdale’s civilian airport in an unmarked fixed-wing aircraft, then flown from the airport to ODMC’s headquarters building in a Blackhawk helicopter which landed on the building’s front lawn. The deputy secretary of defense had disguised himself as an Army colonel.
Vista was waiting for him. He took the deputy secretary directly to a room where, notwithstanding the late hour, Trace was awake and waiting for him, with two guards standing by.
“Mr. Austin,” the deputy said as he walked quickly into the room, not greeting Trace or introducing himself, “you’re in serious trouble. We take a dim view of people breaking into classified federal computers.”
Trace nodded. “As well you should, Sir.”
“Why’d you do it?”
“Looking for something, obviously.”
“It must have been a very important something for you to be willing to go to prison for a very long time just to find it.”
“It was, Sir, but I won’t be going to prison.” He waited a beat, then said, “Now, Sir, why don’t you stop wasting your time and mine. I want to speak with the president.”
“What were you looking for?”
Trace shrugged slightly. “Okay, have it your way. My file and my wife’s file. The ones created and kept by the Office of the District Military Commander.”
“I hope what you found was worth it to you.”
“I didn’t find anything worthwhile in our files,” Trace said. “But, yes, Sir, what I ultimately found definitely was worth it.”
“You’ll be going to prison for the next twenty-five years.”
“I seriously doubt that,” Trace said. “Not with what I found.”
“And what was that, Mr. Austin?”
“I found a Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free card. But I’ll only tell the president, in person, what I discovered. No cut-outs. Not you, not anyone else.”
“That’s not possible. Tell me what you found.”
“Only the president.”
The deputy turned away from Trace and walked to the far end of the room, paused briefly, then turned and walked back.
“What is it you ultimately want, Mr. Austin?”
“Considering this is bigger than Watergate, and that Watergate brought down a president, I think this president will want to talk with me,” Trace said. “That’s what I want, for now, to talk privately with the president.”
“I’ll need more than that to take to my boss, Mr. Austin, to convince him to take this to the president. Give me something I can work with.”
“Tell the secretary of defense to tell the president I read and copied the REPORT ON OPERATION TESTING GROUND. The president will know what I’m talking about. Now, Sir, that’s all I have to say to you.”
The deputy took two rapid steps over to Trace and stopped just one foot away, facing him. He narrowed his eyes, pointed his finger at Trace’s chest, almost touching Trace’s shirt, and looked directly at the bridge of Trace’s nose.
“Mr. Austin, the federal government does not appreciate threats, especially threats made against the president. That utterance is another felony committed by you. You’re digging your hole deeper.” He paused a beat, then added, “We can cause you and your family more harm than you can possibly imagine.”
He continued to stare at Trace, continued to point his finger, and waited for Trace to reveal some sign he was intimidated by this staged show of righteous, patriotic indignation.
Trace remained silent and inscrutable.
“With just a few taps at a keyboard, we can irrevocably ruin your life, Mr. Austin, destroy your credit, render you forever unemployable, seize all your assets, and turn you into such a pariah you won’t be able to find a doorway to sleep in. And that’s after you finish your long prison term.”
He paused to gauge Trace’s reaction, then said, “Don’t fuck with us, Austin. I’m warning you.”
Trace looked at him and slowly shook his head.
“I’m finished here,” Trace said. “You have my terms.” He started to turn away.
“Reconsider, Mr. Austin. You won’t get another chance. Think of your wife, if not yourself.”
Trace spun around to face the deputy and took a quick step toward him. The deputy back-peddled away.
Trace pulled up, and said, “Listen here, you pissant, two-bit bureaucrat. I know you can do those things to me, even worse if you want. But I can bring down the president of the
United States even as you do your worst to me. And I will, believe me, I will, if anything at all happens to me or my wife. It’s arranged, even if we’re dead or missing. It’s unstoppable. So take your threats and shove them.”
The deputy said nothing in response. He turned and walked away, over to the sofa, sat down, and crossed his legs. He folded his hands together on his lap and looked at Trace. He took a long breath, sighed, then let his breath out.
“Okay, Mr. Austin,” he said, speaking from the neutral distance of his seat across the room, “let’s both of us calm down and start over.” He nodded and smiled as he said this.
“Speaking hypothetically, Mr. Austin, what’s it you want from the president? Be specific so I can pass it on to my boss. You have to help me here so I can help you.”
“I have conditions. If they’re met, I’ll keep the secret of what I found. If they’re not met, or if anything happens to me or my wife — ever — the secret will be turned loose by third parties.
“In that case the president, and everyone involved with him in this matter, will fall, will likely go to federal prison. Tell that to your boss, Mr. Deputy Secretary.” Trace paused, then added, “That should be enough help for you.”
Trace waited a few seconds, then added, “And, by the way, Mr. Deputy Secretary, in spite of this so-called hypothetical exercise of yours, that part’s not hypothetical. It’s my promise.”
The deputy frowned. “Still speaking hypothetically, if you will, Mr. Austin, if you don’t get to speak to the president, then what?”
Trace paused, looked at the him, and said, “In that case, here’s what I expect. My wife and I will be removed from the Quarantine Zone, back to our home in Washington, immediately. We’ll have full immunity for any crimes we committed or the government thinks we might have committed. That’s absolute, blanket immunity, in writing from the president himself. Nothing less.”
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