Green File Crime Thrillers Box Set

by James Kipling

  “Officer,” he said, while putting the driver's license back into his wallet, “God never loses. God's plan has been established from the beginning of time. His word will not return to Him void. Have a nice night.”

  Tom walked back into the gas station and went for the coffee. Brian began to follow, in order to harass the pastor but, when an accident report came through, he stopped and was forced to leave the gas station. Jacob watched Brian speed away from the gas station like an angry child, nearly sliding into a tree in the process.

  “Okay, we can go back to the van now.” Jessica had been watching Tom and the cop. She looked up at the darkening sky and thanked God for His mercy. Alvin and Mandy both let out a sigh of relief and followed Jessica back to the church van while Jacob covered the rear. Inside the gas station, Tom filled a cup full of hot coffee.

  “I have other people who will be wanting coffee soon,” he told the redheaded woman. “Do you have a drink carrier?”

  “I sure do,” the redheaded woman stated. She walked out from behind the counter to locate a drink carrier for Tom while asking, “Pastor?”

  “Yes?”

  The redheaded woman nodded at the bitter-cold, darkening night that was reportedly filled with violence. “It's all over, isn't it?”

  Tom looked outside and sighed. “Yes, I'm afraid it is.”

  ((((((((((*))))))))))

  Don't go to the church, Jack's voice warned within Jessica's mind like a flood gate that had been opened. She slowly lowered the cup of coffee in her right hand, just as Tom passed over the Whitfield County line. Whitfield county was large and home to several small towns, including Hope Springs…the town Jessica called home.

  Don't go the church, Jack’s voice repeated urgently.

  “We can't go to the church,” she called out in an equally urgent voice. She turned in the front passenger seat and grabbed Tom's right arm, pleading, “Don't go to the church!”

  Tom was approaching Deep Springs Road, a lonely road mostly lined with run-down houses and trailers. Drunks, druggies and criminals lived along the stretch. Tom visited them at least twice a month, hoping to save souls. Tom knew the road well; for that matter, he knew the entire county well.

  “Hold on.”

  The van’s occupants hung on, as Tom took a hard right on Deep Springs Road which had not been plowed. It was barely passable, forcing the van to slip and slide. The back road that Tom chose to sneak into the county wasn't much better. At least it was passable.

  “Hey, you're going to get us stuck!” Alvin called out from the back of the van. “Pastor, we don't need to be walking.”

  Tom reached out and patted the dashboard, confidently telling the van, “You can do it.”

  Even before a second could pass, the van launched forward as if a mighty Angel had given it a powerful shove. Tom’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he drove down the road.

  “I know a place,” he told them.

  Alvin wiped at his forehead. “For a second there, I thought we were gonna be walking.”

  Jacob stared at Tom. How had the van escaped the snow? The van should have been stuck. Instead, the van was somehow moving down a road layered with enough snow to give a four-wheel drive a run for its money.

  “I need to make a call.” Jacob took out his cell phone and called General Garcia.

  General Garcia picked up on the second ring. “I'm standing outside the Capitol building dressed in civvies,” he told Jacob, tucking his head down against a hard snow and bitter wind. The roar of a hungry, murderous crowd was mutating in size by the second. Trash cans, car tires and other assorted items were burning in the frozen streets, acting as statements of rage as well as tools to keep a person warm.

  Jacob heard the crowd’s roar in the background, then clearly heard one man yell, “Burn it all down, baby! Yeah!”

  A woman followed up by screaming, “We're taking our country back. You're all gonna fry!”

  The woman's voice was accompanied by the sound of breaking glass and gun fire.

  “We're in Whitfield County, General,” Jacob reported.

  General Garcia backed through the crowd, passing a group of teenagers firing handguns into the air. The teenagers, all dressed in black, looked like creatures from some diseased horror movie.

  Yes, General Garcia thought, spotting a secure location to talk, it is all over.

  The violent people demanding justice were no better than the violent politicians who murdered with the stroke of a pen.

  “We have an agent at the church,” he told Jacob, finally moving back far enough to hear his thoughts. “And—” General Garcia was interrupted by an incoming call. “One minute...I have another call.” General Garcia answered the incoming call. “Yes?”

  FBI Agent Caroline Johnson, an African-American woman who was a true Patriot, eyed Hope Springs Baptist Church from the front seat of a black SUV. She was parked across the street from the church, sitting like a faithful friend rather than an enemy.

  “Sir, enemy presence has been spotted,” Caroline informed General Garcia. “The church is releasing a Bible Study as we speak. I counted twenty-one people attending the service. As it stands, all but three people have left the church.” Caroline focused her attention on a homeless man who was walking toward the church. The vagrant began asking mostly old ladies for money.

  “Our enemy is dressed as a homeless man. Instructions?”

  “Fall back to Pastor Braston's residence,” General Garcia ordered in a firm but kind voice. Caroline was an exceptional battlefield solider who had earned his respect. “Do not make any contact with the enemy.”

  “Yes, sir,” Caroline answered, and did as ordered without any hesitation.

  Tim, who was begging a sixty-nine-year-old woman for a few bucks, watched Caroline start the black SUV and drive away.

  “Say, when is the Pastor getting back. He feeds me, you know.” Tim bugged the old lady he was standing in front of.

  “I don't know when Pastor Braston is returning,” Faye Alberston informed Tim, staring into the face of a cold man with a dirty face. “Here. Please use this money for food, not beer.” Faye handed Tom a five-dollar bill and pointed north. “There is a shelter a few blocks north of here. A man named Andy Divers will put you up out of the cold.”

  “Oh, sure. Thanks, lady,” Tim told Faye and wandered back down to the street to start walking north. “Where are you going?” he whispered under his breath, as his eyes searched for the black SUV. “Why did you leave?”

  Tim was worried that, somehow, the enemy had seen through his disguise.

  But so what, Tim thought, as he started to jog toward a gray SUV that was parked a block over from the church. So what if the enemy has spotted me.

  What worried Tim even more was the fact that the enemy had left the scene. Tim wasn't sure why. By the time he reached the gray SUV, all his mind could focus on was tracking down the black SUV.

  “Edwin Green is aware,” Tim whispered, as he started the SUV and tore out of his parking space.

  Caroline, fully aware that the enemy would track her movement, eased toward the center of town and began making loops. Soon, the headlights of the gray SUV that Tim was driving appeared in the rearview mirror. Caroline nodded her head, and aimed the black SUV toward Pastor Braston's residence. Tim carefully followed, while General Garcia spoke to Jacob.

  “The church is being watched. Fall back to a new location.”

  “We're driving toward a new HQ right now,” he explained and glanced toward Jessica. How had the woman known the church was a no-go zone? “How is President Green?”

  “Safe,” General Garcia answered Jacob. “For now.”

  Jacob heard a deep worry in General Garcia's voice that sent a strange and painful dread into his heart.

  “General, what is it?” he demanded.

  General Garcia monitored the crowd. He looked into young, angry, violent faces that were not American.
No, the faces General Garcia was looking into were cruel and evil, hungry for destruction and lies instead of justice and truth. These faces hated the very principals of freedom on which America had been founded. America—the America General Garcia loved—was being murdered.

  “Reports are coming in that Russia and China have made an alliance with Iran and North Korea.”

  “Those four countries have already made a pact of—” Jacob began to state.

  “No, son. I'm speaking about a war alliance,” General Garcia informed Jacob. “The meeting I held with the Russians and Chinese failed. I was ordered to start evacuating women, children and the elderly from America within the next seventy-two hours.” General Garcia shook his head. “On the outside, the meeting was presented as a smoke screen. No one except those present in the meeting knows that the Russians and the Chinese issued an evacuation order. Canada and Mexico have been ordered to silently open their borders and, in all terms, keep their mouths shut or suffer dire consequences.”

  Jacob could barely believe his ears. “General—”

  “The first attack is to be on our power grids and will take place within seventy-two hours, son,” General Garcia continued in a defeated voice. “After the grids fall, Iran will shut the Straits of Hormuz. When that happens, after we send a high percentage of our military to guard against Iran, North Korea will carry out an EMP attack. A nuclear strike by Russia and China will soon follow. I'm certain that Roger Alden is aware of this.”

  Jacob wanted to yell at Tom to stop the van but feared that, if the man did, the van would become trapped in the snow. He wanted—no, he needed—fresh air. His mind felt suffocated.

  “And this information came directly from the Russians and the Chinese?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” General Garcia nodded his head, as a bitter wind mixed with the smell of burning car tires, marijuana, liquor and violence struck his face. “The Russians and the Chinese have assured President Green that he would be spared,” he informed Jacob. “Politically, in the eyes of the world, Russia and China are justified in their attacks. Roger Alden has pushed both countries into a corner.”

  “And we're just going to sit back?” Jacob asked in a sour voice. “General—”

  “Son, our country is in no position to go toe-to-toe with Russia, let alone Russia and China,” General Garcia fired at Jacob. “We have a country that is filled with traitors that far outnumber our patriots. If you saw what my eyes are seeing right now, you would understand my position.” General Garcia turned his back to the mob. “Russia and China have warned that, if America tries to stand firm against the attacks, it would allow Iran, Pakistan, Syria, Jordan and Iraq to unleash the terror cells that are planted inside of our country. We're talking about the mass murder of innocent people. Sickening dogs, taking automatic weapons and walking into crowds, shopping malls, grocery stores. Suicide bombers. America is already killing itself. If hundreds of terror cells are ordered to activate, there would be no way to stop the slaughter.” General Garcia’s face turned red with rage. “Our hospitals and nursing homes would be attacked first, and we're not talking about one or two locations, son. We're talking about every hospital across the nation. And the attacks wouldn't stop. Think about how long we've had boots in Afghanistan.”

  “I realize—”

  “What do you realize?” General Garcia asked Jacob. “Son, the White House is burned to the ground. The Capitol building is about to follow. Law enforcement is overwhelmed. Cops are deserting their posts. Soldiers are going AWOL. Reports are coming in that the USS Gerald R. Ford is suffering mutiny. Naval soldiers have taken up arms against their superior officers.” General Garcia turned and faced the mob. “Ft. Stewart, Ft. Carson, Ft. Jackson...reports of soldiers turning on their superiors and going AWOL. And the list keeps growing. We're in no position, militarily, to even launch an air strike right now.”

  “How did this happen?” Jacob demanded.

  “Our enemies are watching the news and making constant changes to their attack plans,” General Garcia explained. “Any minute now, the Russians or Chinese could contact me and alter their plans. Why? Because of the American media. Because of Roger Alden. Because of the lack of loyalty to freedom and truth! Our enemies have sat back and watched America crumble right before their eyes. Instead of America uniting as one nation to battle a great evil, people have splintered off into hate groups. Soldiers, cops, firefighters that, in the old days, once served honorably, are now men and women who hate our country. Not all, but most. Enough to weaken our nation.”

  Jacob heard gunshots erupt again. “General, what if we locate the virus?”

  “We can cripple the Russians and the Chinese. The North Koreans and Iranians will follow,” General Garcia explained, feeling the anger and energy drain from his body. “Son, it's too late. I'm standing here to say goodbye to our nation. President Green will address the nation at ten o’clock sharp and issue the evacuation order. However, he will be forced to lie, to state that the evacuation order is because there is a solid threat that America will be struck by nuclear weapons. All blame will be taken away from Jessica Mayes. Roger Alden will be the new target. These are the orders our enemies have issued.”

  “I still have seventy-two hours,” Jacob insisted. “General, we can find the virus before the first strike is carried out against our electric grids.”

  “Perhaps,” General Garcia nodded his head, “but even if you did locate the virus, son, the American people are not capable of being healed.” General Garcia bowed his head. “Perhaps it's wise if we allow America to fall. She has become a nation of demons.”

  “No!” Jacob yelled, scaring everyone inside of the van, “America is still the greatest nation on earth, General! I refuse to...” Jacob grabbed his head. “How has it come to this? This cannot be possible. It can't be.”

  Jessica left the front passenger seat and crawled back to Jacob.

  “What is it?” she demanded, reading Jacob's tortured eyes.

  “I'll be in touch, General.” Jacob ended the call just as Tom turned off the snowy road. He forced the church van down a narrow dirt road that nearly caused the van to meet its end. A set of three deserted trailers sat at the end of the dirt road. The trailers appeared in the headlights of the van, like beaten down skeletons covered with ice.

  “We might as well get used to hiding,” he told Jessica, throwing down the cell phone and kicking the back seat. “Listen up, everybody. I have news.” Jessica looked at Mandy and Alvin who reached out and touched her arm for comfort as Jacob continued, “I've just spoken with General Garcia, and this is what he told me.”

  Tom left the van running and moved back to the seat Alvin was sitting in to listen to Jacob talk. Each word that left Jacob's mouth caused horror to fill his heart. By the time Jacob had finished speaking, tears were spilling from Jessica's and Mandy's eyes, as well as his own.

  “So, it's really over,” Tom whispered in a shaky voice.

  Jessica wiped at her tears. “We have to find the virus. We can't let this happen.”

  Mandy reached out and grabbed Alvin's hand. Alvin squeezed Mandy's hand and looked at Jacob with eyes that were quickly losing life.

  “What now?” he asked. “Huh? What now? Do we run to Canada, huh? What do we do?” Alvin pointed his finger at Jacob. “What do five people sitting in a van do now? Tell me!”

  Jessica’s eyes locked on Tom's pale face. Tom was the answer. Tom knew where her husband had hidden his journal. Inside the journal was the virus.

  “We have to find my husband's journal,” she whispered, as she reached out and took Tom's hand. “You know where my husband hid his journal, Pastor. You have to help us. Please, before it's too late.”

  “Mrs. Mayes,” Tom responded, in a voice that scared Jessica, “I'm afraid it's already too late.”

  Chapter 7

  EMP

  The Russians and the Chinese were preparing to carry out a preemptive strike against A
merica. That fact was now resonating around the entire world. American allies were consumed with dismay and shock at how quickly America had turned into a fallen country. Nations watched in horror as millions of people stormed the Capitol building, forcing hundreds of cops and soldiers to fire live rounds into the angry mob. Bloody bodies fell onto the frozen, snowy ground and were quickly trampled by people determined to destroy America, people who had turned into rabid dogs. The world watched in shock, as the cops and National Guard soldiers were forced back, as they frantically killed as many people as possible. Ultimately, the vicious mob just swarmed over the cops and National Guard soldiers, like hornets erupting from a bee hive. The sounds of screaming and gun shots filled the snowy night, staining Washington with a massacre that would resonate for ages. The Russians and the Chinese both watched the massacre take place and quickly decided to attack, canceling out the seventy-two-hour grace period.

  A Russian General, appearing cold, cruel and soulless, picked up a red phone and said in a cold, soulless Russian accent, “Strike the Americans with the EMP. We must cripple them when they are weak.”

  Four Russian stealth submarines, strategically stationed off the east and west coasts, went on high alert. The Pentagon had been fretting over them for the last decade because they were virtually undetectable. Although the Americans had been told the North Koreans would launch the EMP attack, only the Russians possessed the capability to do so.

  North Korea had been thrown into the mix to make the Americans focus time and resources on the country; time and resources the Americans could not afford to spare. With most of the American Navy rerouting to the Persian Gulf, the American coastlines were patrolled by skeleton crews that were no match for the Russian submarines.

  “We attack in twenty minutes,” the Russian General ordered the Commanders of the four submarines. “We will cripple the American defenses and then destroy their cities.”

  The Russian General glanced at a Chinese man standing next to him. The man nodded his head and made a call.