“Did you bring a breach kit?” Cal asked. The man nodded and went back to get it. When he returned, it took him less than a minute to mount it to the door.
They ran back around the corner and ducked down. The charge blew and the explosion rocked the hallway. After assessing the damage, they found it had bent the sliding door inward and it dangled off the edge. Cal looked over. The shaft was lit from below, and there was a chain running from a winch at the top of the shaft down to the water. There was something in the water, and it was glowing like a submerged chem light.
“What the…?” and then he realized what it was. “Who’s got rope?” Cal asked. Someone produced a coil of black rope. “Tie the other end off.” He handed his weapon to one of the men and stripped down to his boxer briefs. Before anyone could stop him, Cal took the other end and dove into the dark water below.
+++
“This is where things might get interesting,” Baxter announced. The descent had gone smoothly and now they were drifting on the natural current that would take them into the bay and then out to sea. He’d designed the craft himself. He knew every capability it had and the only feature he wished he had added was a form of propulsion. No matter, the ocean would do the work, and like a hamster ball inside another hamster ball, they would remain relatively level the entire ride. There was enough oxygen stored to last them three days and, the further they went out to sea, the craft was programmed to sink increasingly deeper. Once they’d signaled for help and help was on the way, it was as simple as releasing an inflatable tether that would float to the surface, get snatched by the rescue helicopter, and they would be airlifted to safety.
He’d gone simple with this one. Baxter’s fear had been the more advanced the escape pod was the more likely it could be found. That wouldn’t do. So, instead they would hide and wait. They would live like astronauts in space, suspended, a bit uncomfortable, but otherwise safe. Baxter closed his eyes and waited. I should have brought a book, he thought. I’ll have to remember that for the next time.
+++
Cal was almost out of breath when he finally reached the craft’s hull. He scrambled to find where it had been attached before, and he found it just as the blackness came to the edges of his vision. After breaking the surface and taking a few seconds to catch his breath, he swam back to the opening, now clearly marked by the flashlights of his men overhead. The current was strong, but at least he was sheltered by tons of rocks above from the onslaught of the storm.
There was another rope dangling near the surface when he made it back. He grabbed it and looked up, “Pull the other rope, but take it slow.” The last thing they needed was for the rope to break.
It did not break and, even though it took longer than he thought it would, Cal watched as it inched back toward him. When it reached his position, he took the hefty chain and latched it back onto where it had been minutes before.
He gave the guys at the top of the shaft a thumbs-up, and then he and the craft were slowly hoisted into the air.
Chapter 36
Great Sale Cay
The Bahamas
August 29th, 9:37pm
The use of explosives was not an option because Cal didn't know who was inside the pod. Johnny Powers came up with the solution.
“How about we knock?”
There were incredulous looks all around but, after a minute, Cal did just that. He rapped on the sealed door with the butt of his rifle and waited.
+++
The four passengers hadn’t felt the shift. Baxter’s design was so flawless that when Cal caught them during their outward drift, and they were once again hauled back into the complex, none of the occupants ever felt it.
So, when the tapping sounded at the door Baxter’s first thought was that they’d somehow drifted into some underwater abyss and were being crushed by the immense pressure of the deep ocean. How long had he been asleep? And then he remembered that there was no such chasm near Great Sale Cay.
The tapping resumed and Baxter frowned.
Perlstein asked, “What is that?”
Baxter leveled him with a bored look and said, “Someone’s obviously knocking on the door.”
Baxter ignored the shocked look on the Israeli’s face and unfastened his harness. As nonchalantly as if he’d planned it this way, he typed in the correct code, and the door slid open.
He was greeted by the muzzles of multiple automatic weapons.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Baxter said grandly. “I assume you’d like to chat.”
+++
“Come out, slowly,” Cal said, his sights trained on the billionaire and master of Great Sale Cay.
If the man was worried, he didn’t show it. Once Baxter was safely cuffed by one of the TJG operators, Cal entered the escape pod. He recognized Dr. Nahas immediately. The man looked like he’d just seen a ghost. There was another man there and Cal was about to ask who he was when the man spoke up.
“I am an Israeli citizen, a friend to the prime minister himself, and I demand that you take me to the nearest consulate immediately.”
You had to admire the man’s bluster but Cal saw the fear in the man’s eyes so he ignored him. He attended to Hannah Krygier instead, gently unbuckling the harness that held her in place. Her skin was cold and her eyes vacant.
“Where is Maya?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper.
“I don’t know, Ma’am,” Cal answered honestly. The last time he’d seen Maya was just before they’d plunged off a cliff. She was probably dead. He didn’t want to tell Krygier that, although he believed it to be true. He helped her up and he handed her off to one of the operators.
“Take Dr. Nahas with Ms. Krygier. Bring this one up to Baxter’s office,” Cal ordered. Then he padded back down the hallway, gun in hand, feet still bare, wearing nothing except his boxers.
When Cal entered Baxter’s office, he was wearing the only set of clothing he could find. Liberty was once again at his side, and she didn’t seem to mind all the TJG newcomers. She pranced along like she’d won the day and maybe in a way she had.
“Where is Layton? I want to talk to Layton,” Baxter insisted as soon as he spied Cal entering the room.
“Why? So you can buy some goodwill from a fellow billionaire? Well, sorry pal, but I’m in charge here.”
Baxter actually had the nerve to turn his nose up at him.
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with, young man.”
Six months prior, Cal might have done something different. He might have walked across the room and decked the smug asshole.
However, he’d been through the pits of hell since that time. He’d lost Travis and, if he was being honest with himself, he’d almost lost his own life. That fact hit him hard as he stared back at the billionaire. Men like Baxter were what was wrong with the world. They thought that their billions of dollars provided them a free pass to whichever show they chose. No, that wasn’t right. Men like Jonas were the good guys, using their money to serve the greater good, not merely to inflate their egos or self-worth. Baxter’s billions were used foremost to serve himself, despite what his philanthropic efforts might be.
Cal didn’t feel anger for the man, just a raw sadness for the world that it should have to contend with men like Baxter.
“So, tell me, who am I dealing with, Mr. Baxter?” Cal asked.
He expected a torrent of lies to spew from the man’s mouth, deluded thoughts brought on by a lifetime of percolating narcissism.
“I’m just like you, Mister —?”
“Stokes. Cal Stokes.”
“I’m just like you, Mr. Stokes, a patriot and a warrior fighting for the betterment of my country.”
“So, that’s why you came up with this plan to wage war against the United States?”
Baxter’s eyes twinkled with merriment.
“Oh. Oh, this is very good. You really don’t know, do you?”
There was something in the man’s tone that Cal didn’t like. He saw N
eil look up from where he was working on the computer they’d nabbed from Baxter’s escape craft. Neil was confused too and Cal took a moment to try to read his friend’s face.
Baxter clapped his hands together despite the cuffed wrists and pointed at Neil.
“See. Tell him, my friend. Tell Mr. Stokes my little secret.”
Neil looked down at the computer screen and then back up to his friend in utter disbelief.
“What is it?” Cal asked. Neil’s expression was more disconcerting than Baxter’s glee.
Neil shook his head and then said, “He works for the CIA, Cal.”
“Wait, what?” He must have misheard. Maybe the salt water was clogging his ears or maybe the breach charge had dampened his hearing.
“It’s all here. He’s been working for the CIA for years. It was their idea to put this operation together.”
As Cal’s mind spun down the dark path of possibilities, Chance Baxter laughed at them. He roared as if it were the funniest thing he’d ever heard. When he finally settled down, he smiled at Cal and said, “Now that you know the truth, why don’t you go along and inform the CIA that you have me in custody? I cannot wait to see what happens next.”
Cal didn’t move. Everything suddenly became clear. He remembered what the others had told him about Brandon’s speech at the U.N. He remembered Travis going on endlessly about the broken political process. He remembered who he was.
“Well, I don’t have all day,” Baxter said, irritated now. Cal grinned. “Oh, I see, this is where you act tough and tell me what a shit I’ve been. Go ahead and get it out, Mr. Stokes. I am sure you have plenty to say about my carte blanche status, about how ironic it is that your government allows me to kill - so many I’ve killed. Yet all the while they keep you chained to a stake. It is fun, you know. I live the life of a socialite by day while playing 007 by night.” He chuckled. And then he traced his bottom lip with his finger and mused, “What I wouldn’t give to have seen the looks on your friends’ faces as they plunged into the roiling sea.”
Cal’s smile disappeared.
Baxter cocked his head in amusement. “Ah, so you haven’t found them – such a pity.”
Cal brought up his weapon. It would never end. Baxter had learned to skirt the law and the law had given him everything he wanted. Some asshole in the CIA was going to get his due. However, the handler would probably just make excuses for the power they’d given Baxter. But Cal was no longer listening; it had to stop.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Baxter, you must have me mistaken for someone who actually gives a damn.”
Baxter’s mouth was just opening to respond when the burst from Cal’s weapon tore into his face. Baxter fell back over the chair in which he previously been seated. There he remained lying motionless.
No one moved. Then there was commotion coming from the hallway. Top burst in, Maya’s unconscious form cradled in his huge arms. He had cuts all over his face and along his arms. Daniel arrived virtually unscathed with Gaucho's arms draped over his shoulders. The Hispanic was grumbling something about water and how he would never go on a boat again.
“What happened?” Top asked, laying Maya gently on a couch.
Neil and the TJG operators who’d just witnessed the altercation remained speechless. Everyone was waiting for Cal to speak; finally, he did.
“I took out the trash.”
Trent looked down at Baxter’s body and then back at Cal. He put out his hand and Cal accepted it gratefully.
From behind them Daniel whispered, “Welcome back, Cal.”
Epilogue
Wild Dunes
Isle of Palms, South Carolina
September 6th, 11:29am
They gathered where Cal’s rebirth began. After laying their fallen comrade to rest, they’d flown back as a family to the beach. Some were broken and bloodied, but they were all happy to be together again. Even Diane had flown in with Dr. Higgins.
Another memorial meant another opportunity to celebrate life. Finally, they had a few moments to relax after the potentially cataclysmic events of one week prior.
With the combined efforts of Neil's technical expertise and Chance Baxter's mighty ego, they’d unearthed the remaining pieces of the plot. Dr. Nahas filled in what details he knew, namely that his exploration vehicles had been retrofitted to carry different cargo. When Neil told him the cargo consisted of nuclear warheads, the doctor had withdrawn completely. His innovation, a tool intended to scour the depths of the oceans and unearth hidden treasures for his homeland, had been stolen and twisted to fulfill the evil desires of supposed patriots.
It hadn’t taken much digging to find Baxter’s CIA contact either. For someone with his intellect, Baxter truly believed that he was going to walk away a free man. Years of employ from a single handler at the CIA had given him that cocky assurance that he would remain untouchable.
When the director of the CIA found out that one of his top advisors, not only a good friend but also a fellow field agent with him during the eighties was the driving force behind the plot, he tendered his resignation on the spot.
When President Zimmer told the British and Israeli prime ministers of their countries’ intelligence agencies’ roles in the operation, they more forcefully demanded the resignations of the heads of MI6 and Shin Bet. The resignations were received; the world moved on.
Both prime ministers called to personally apologize. Zimmer’s British counterpart had gone to the extent of offering Baxter’s island to the Americans. The president said he would take it under advisement, informing The Jefferson Group that it might make a handy getaway for their covert team.
The plan had been quite simple. Barring interference, Baxter’s yachts would launch Dr. Nahas’s creations and the metal beasts would crawl to predesignated locations off the coast of every major power in the world. Then, with the weapons hidden, and the delivery vehicles only needing an occasional boost in power, subtle whispers would find their way to the ears of leaders worldwide. Who wouldn’t listen to a rumor that nuclear missiles lay within easy shot of their nation’s capitol? Thankfully, that didn’t happen.
They got lucky with Baxter’s yachts. It wasn't until Neil uncovered the chain of correspondence between the billionaire and the yacht captains that they found out, with much relief, the yachts weren’t moving. They’d been ordered to sit tight and that’s where they’d remained.
The yachts were taken down by American, British and Israeli special forces. Only one crew put up a fight. All the nuclear warheads were recovered.
Efraim Perlstein was in Israeli custody. The confessions flowed after being informed his side had lost. For all his bluster, Perlstein developed a humble streak in record time. His minions were being rounded up and the complete picture was coming together.
Hannah Krygier and Maya Eilenberg had been reunited. Maya, during her fall to the ocean, sustained a serious concussion. She was being monitored by President Zimmer’s own physicians at Walter Reed until she could be released from the physician's care. Her Aunt Hannah hadn’t left her side. From Maya's bedside, she had briefed her brother, the contrite Israeli Prime Minister. Krygier hadn’t known much of what Perlstein’s plan involved. However, the information she did know was willingly shared. This assisted the Israelis in asking Perlstein the correct questions.
So, as they soaked in the late summer rays under the blazing hot sun, the men of The Jefferson Group had much to be thankful for. Most importantly, they had their leader back. Cal had returned from his sojourn with a worldly gaze. To his men, and especially to Daniel, Cal seemed calmer now. The sniper smiled at that as he watched Cal and Diane chase Liberty down the beach, the puppy running away with a dead fish that had washed ashore. Daniel laughed and sipped from the plastic water bottle. Such days were few and far between. Luckily, Daniel knew how to enjoy them and he had a pretty good feeling that now Cal did, too.
+++
The White House
3:35pm
The cameras were rolling and K
en Wick flashed his rehearsed smile at the camera. He was still in command of The Ludlow Report, courtesy of the fact its host had contracted a stomach bug during his Caribbean cruise. It was all gravy for Wick, whose star had continued to rise and now seemed to be reaching a new pinnacle, as he sat across from President Brandon Zimmer.
“Welcome back. Before our break, President Zimmer and I were discussing the challenges he’s faced in his first term in the Oval Office. Now if it’s okay with you, Mr. President, I’d like to delve into something everyone’s talking about. Might you guess what I’m alluding to?”
Zimmer smiled warmly at his interviewer.
“Let me guess, you want to talk about The Zimmer Doctrine.” It was said, almost in jest. Wick knew the president didn’t like to talk about it. His sources said Zimmer disliked the use of his name in conjunction with the doctrine. In a cynical town like Washington, Wick didn’t believe a word of it.
“Yes, Mr. President. The Zimmer Doctrine. There’s been a lot of speculation about exactly what it is and how you plan to implement it. I’d like to ask you to describe The Zimmer Doctrine in a single word.”
Wick expected the president to play word games and dodge his question. It’s what so many politicians did and they were good at it.
But, much to Wick’s surprise, the president did not hesitate.
“Ownership,” Zimmer said.
Wick couldn’t find the words to respond for a long moment. He’d been ready to pounce. Now his ploy had backfired.
“Ownership?” Wick asked. “Could you elaborate?”
Wick saw his producer behind the cameraman. He was grinning at Wick's gaffe which he tried to ignore.
“Of course,” Zimmer said. “I’ve learned a lot about taking ownership of my actions. I am fortunate to have surrounded myself with friends and advisors who are never afraid to call me out when I am wrong or make bad decisions. It can be very humbling and frustrating, but I believe it has made me a better and more effective leader. What I’ve come to realize is that my legacy will be based on one thing and it isn’t how many Twitter followers I have. My legacy will be built on my reputation, as both a man and as a leader. It is my sincere hope that history judges me not only by the things I’ve done right, but also by the fact that I have owned up to my mistakes, America’s mistakes, and my attempts to fix them.”
The Zimmer Doctrine (Corps Justice Book 11) Page 18