by Alex Howell
“He—I’m just going to go with he—wants immunity from all crimes, safe passage to a country of his choice, and a billion dollars. Frankly, if that’s all that he wanted, that would not be difficult to handle. It would be the delusions of some low-life criminal we’d find in no time. However, he has a much bigger and more significant demand from us, one that has, let’s say, made this situation much more unstable. He wants a nuclear war with North Korea, and he wants me to start it.”
Jesus. It’s back to the possibility of World War III all over again.
So much for whatever time off I had. I guess if I’m going back into this world, I’m going in full force. No stopping now.
The room did not, however, seem tense at all. It had the respectful silence and attention afforded to the president, of course, but Mason was impressed with the team’s calm. The only people who seemed on edge were Chris and Case, and Mason suspected that had more to do with their personalities than anything else.
“This Warrior character has given me three days to comply or he will murder my nieces and nephew. The First Lady, understandably, is in hysterics. I don’t need to say that this is a situation that needs resolution immediately. However, between everyone in this room, let me make one thing clear. I want this cockroach squashed and crushed. I will not have this nonsense going on. We will not comply or negotiate with any terrorists, domestic or foreign, no matter what they pull. And the reason for that is because we have you.”
He motioned for the secretary of state to head out and he did so immediately. He shut the door behind him. Mason knew this meant that the president was about to say something he could not say in public, could not say officially.
“We hired you because of your experience and your expertise with this type of situation,” he said, scanning the room, though Mason noticed his eyes fell on him the most. I will not let you down, sir. “You can do whatever it takes. You are not bound by military law or anything like that. Obviously, I do not expect you to indiscriminately kill civilians or do anything that would jeopardize the good name of this country, but I do expect you to rescue those kids. Do whatever it takes. If you need something and you get turned back, you come to me directly. We’re keeping this out of the press, out of official briefing, and out of as much bureaucratic nonsense as we can so you can do whatever you have to do. Clear?”
“Yes sir,” everyone said in unison.
“Good,” President Morgan said. “I am not going into a third World War. I am sick of the threats, from Saudi Arabia to this. See to it that not only do you wipe out this threat, you make it clear to the rest of the world that we will not tolerate any kind of national or global threat like this.”
There was absolutely zero doubt in Mason’s mind that they would do just that.
5
When the President of the United States of America said that he was “sick of threats,” Mason and every other member of Onyx in the room knew that the time for all official, diplomatic talks had come to an end, if it had ever even existed in the first place with Warrior.
Sure, the theater of politics would always go on. President Morgan would, at some point, get in front of the press, issue some statement about how they are actively working with countries and not negotiating with terrorists, and discuss all the steps in place on a very broad level to make it happen. The theater of it all could never end, as much for the sake of the public as for their own well-being and health.
But to Mason and the six crew members in that room, all of them serious—even Case—about what they had to do, their mouths would close in conjunction with their fingers activating, either over triggers or over something that would eventually lead to the pulling of said triggers. The theater would deal with things the press and the American population could handle. This, for the time being, was not that. There was no theater, only reality.
And the reality was that Mason, and Onyx as a whole, could not and would not fail, no matter how difficult the circumstances became.
The president left the room seconds later, a scowl evident on his face that said it all. “Do not fail me and kill this Warrior man.” As soon as the door closed, Luke stepped to the front, calm as Mason always knew him to be. It was nice to have a leader he could believe in, unlike General Jones.
“All right, here’s how this will go,” he said, handing out small folders of information. “Marshal is the leader of Onyx and will take over from here for coordinating all the various operations. I will remain with the president to answer any questions or concerns he has. I suspect that President Morgan will want to remain involved, but I will act as the buffer between everything. Let me make one thing clear. What you see in these folders remains in this room. Understood?”
Everyone nodded and said yes sir, including Mason. He had to admit, though he wasn’t sure about going back into war, mostly for the sake of Clara still having a father, he did enjoy this aspect of it. The feeling of uniting as a team for the purpose of going into combat, of preparing for a showdown to kill the enemy—there was a tribal, deep spirit that stirred in him in such moments that he could not quite explain, but when he felt it, it was like everything else in the world made perfect sense. This reason only made Mason feel like he had made the right choice—there were more, of course, but this was by far the most notable one.
“The only phone call made by Warrior came from Kansas,” Marshal said, taking over the room as Luke remained to the side. “That’s as much as we know before the call ended. Otherwise, nothing on his location. President Morgan outlined all of his demands and the situation. There is nothing more that we know about this case.”
Well, not the first time I’ve had to operate on phone tracing. Kansas is a little bit bigger than D.C., but not likely he’s on some farm five hours from the nearest city.
Although, if I were going to hide the president’s family from him in a capture, maybe I would hide on a farm five hours from the nearest city.
Guess that’s why this is a team and not a solo op.
“You all know each other and know what needs to be done,” Marshal gruffly said. “Mason, you’re the newest one here. Anything you want the team to know from your experience?”
To some extent, this felt like getting put on the spot, a sort of hazing for the rest of the team to evaluate Mason. But Mason wasn’t having anything of it, most especially given the critical nature of the mission; he was here to rescue children, not prove a point to his team.
“Nothing that hasn’t already been said,” Mason said. “I served under Luke with a focus on tactical strategy and quick thinking. You get me to the right location, I’ll exterminate the threat and rescue the children.”
“Good ‘nough,” Marshal grunted. “Here’s how the breakdown will go. Duke, Case. You two will go to the last-known location of the kids. Examine it, talk to anyone who saw them before. I want that place turned upside down and over and under so many times that you’d think a tornado went through it. Every hint and clue matters. I want to know if a speck of pollen from the kids’ shoes is in there. Got it?”
Case nods, the silly humor and the winking all gone. His nod was much more pronounced than Duke’s, who just grunted and jammed his hands into his jacket. It wasn’t like Case had totally morphed his personality, but the two of them on site would make for an interesting combo.
But Mason and the crew weren’t there to see if any pairing would act as the odd couple. They were there on a hostage rescue mission—it really didn’t much matter if all of Onyx got along, wanted wine, and traded shots, or if Onyx hated each other so much that they wanted to trade a different kind of shot. They just needed to work together well enough, and the fact that Mason was an add-on and not an original member told him it was on him not to screw the chemistry up.
He recalled his days when General Jones had put him onto the black ops team, and how he had taken it upon himself to say as little as possible, the better so he could prove himself more quickly with his actions. It had worked quite well,
although Mason couldn’t say he had many friends from the unit. Time would tell if Mason would open up to anyone on Onyx, but for the immediate time being, silence and action ruled the day.
“Kyle,” Marshal continued. “Find out why the call was lost and then try and trace it further. There’s no reason that we can’t pull through and find more. Correct?”
“Got it,” Kyle said. “I imagine we can get a little closer, but there’s, uh, only so much I can do. I—”
“Just do what you can,” Marshal said, trying not to hide his aggravation at the quiet one.
The thought flashed to Mason’s mind of mentioning that he had worked with a woman, Tessa, who had hacked an encrypted phone call from the White House, but Mason figured that Luke would know. He’d make passing mention of it just in case, but if Luke really needed it, Tessa would be in this room right now.
That, and by all appearances, she had acted as an enemy of the state. Brainwashed or not, tricked or not, the politics of bringing someone in who had seemingly aided General Jones on his conspiracy was not going to be good in this team.
“Raina. You’re on comms. I need you to review the call that was recorded, listen to what was said, and then try and communicate with Warrior. Talk him down or out and do whatever you can to resolve the conflict that way. If we can resolve this without a bullet fired, it increases the odds that the kids won’t be casualties in this.”
“Got it,” she said quickly.
Good luck with that. If someone wants a nuclear war with North Korea, not a whole lot of talking that’s going to work. Most especially from everything that has already been said.
Despite Mason’s self-doubts, Raina didn’t seem even slightly hesitant about her task. Mason admired this and wondered to what extent she had pulled off such successful negotiations before, although in the high-stakes terrorist world like this, negotiations were less about “getting what both sides wanted” and more about “distracting the enemy until the SEALs could overwhelm them.” Mason was just happy to know that he was the one overwhelming the enemy and not having to play verbal tennis with them.
“Chris, standby. We will need you at some point, but we need to know more before we utilize you.”
“Acknowledged,” Chris said, clearly not happy with the turn of events.
“And Mason,” Marshal said.
You’d better send me out into the field. Don’t make me have joined just to be on stand-by again. I’ll turn right around and go back to that insurance sales desk.
“You’re heading to Wichita as soon as you can, at which point you’ll await further instruction. That’ll put you best in position to go just about anywhere in Kansas that you need to.”
Good, Mason thought with a nod, feeling like he was finally a part of the team for real. It was one thing to have Luke introduce him as if he was a new student to the class; it was another to be given an actual mission assignment from the squad leader.
“As said before, we do not know where in Kansas this call came from. But wherever it is, you’re going to get there a hell of a lot faster already being in Kansas than you will be here in D.C. I would suggest you take the bullet train—no reason to be flying with everything you’ll be having. It is up to you how you get there, but it goes without saying we need you there as soon as humanly possible.”
“Yes, sir,” Mason said.
“I’ll be coordinating from here with Luke, possibly jumping in as needed,” Marshal said. “Otherwise, we know what we need to do. Onyx, let’s move.”
The other six stood up and left the room, their pace deliberate but very much quick. Mason hung back, wanting to catch up with Luke, who went over some papers. Luke looked up, confusion on his face.
“Everything all good, Mason?”
He had seemingly switched from dear buddy to someone who now had a job to do and couldn’t let anything, most especially friendship, get in the way. Mason remembered the one thing that he wanted to say and then would move forward. And if it doesn’t work, laugh it off.
“Yes sir, I appreciate the opportunity,” he said. “Just a little deja vu, huh? Remember how Tessa used her tech to trace the enemy call to the White House few months back?”
“Same tech here,” Luke said proudly. “Kyle’s never met a phone call he couldn’t completely trace before. It might take him some time, but he’s got it.”
Say no more, then. He would have said something about bringing on Tessa if he needed her.
“Roger that,” Mason said. “Thanks for bringing me on board.”
“Thanks for coming back on board, Mason,” Luke said, standing and shaking Mason’s hand. “It’s where you belong.”
Mason left shortly after, giving a quick handshake to Marshal on his way out.
It’s where you belong.
Is that so?
Seems like everyone knew this would happen except me. Or no one was in denial about it happening except for me.
But now that Mason had a mission to fulfill and a place to go, he didn’t have as much doubt about his place in all of this. Instead, he now had to break the mission down into intermediate steps.
And the first one was going to be to go home, pack up all his stuff, and catch the nearest bullet train to Kansas. Though it was the fastest train ever invented, it was not light-speed, and Mason would have time to figure out what to do.
But before even that, he’d have to somehow let Clara know that he would have to leave but would be back.
Ok, maybe this first part is the real hurdle.
If she’s as stubborn as I am, this is about to be a giant pain in the butt.
6
August 18th, 2028
10:40 a.m.
Baltimore, MD
Mason’s return home came courtesy of the same automatic, luxurious vehicle that had taken him over that morning. It practically glided back home, giving Mason the chance to contemplate what he would get to do while he was in Kansas. And, also, enjoy a nice massage en route.
Whoever this Warrior character was, he had some serious guts kidnapping extended members of the First Family. It was one thing to kidnap a senator’s or representative’s family—though all kidnappings were horrible and tragic, as Mason knew full well, the outrage would not be nearly as widespread as someone who had decided to take President Morgan’s nieces and nephew. No move could possibly have more signaled “I am a crazy man, and I am going to do whatever it takes to get what I want.”
He either had no fear of dying for his cause, a complete loss of sanity, or a disturbing amount of faith in his ability to elude the U.S. forces that were now attempting to find him.
But why did he want a war with North Korea? And why did he want the USA to do it? Why not steal a nuke and do it himself, or why not get a weaker country with equally bad ties to North Korea to do it?
Mason’s mind settled on a few possibilities, some of which made sense, but most of which were mere brainstorming exercises. His job wasn’t to be like Marshal or Raina, but to neutralize his target and save the children. Still, you never know…
Perhaps Warrior was a former defector from North Korea who hated the current administration and wanted it to go up in flames. But then couldn’t he just have made an attack and claimed it was on behalf of the Koreans to get them to attack? Maybe it was someone who just hated the United States and wanted to provoke it into a third World War. China did ally with North Korea, so an attack on one would lead to another.
Maybe Warrior was from South Korea and was something of an extremist in the country.
Maybe Warrior just wanted to see the USA suffer.
Maybe, maybe, maybe… Mason’s thoughts began to drift a bit too much into the probable.
Eventually, Mason remembered why, of all people, General Jones had always said not to worry about the perpetrator’s motivations, at least as soldiers on the ground—it was not his job. That was the job of Luke, Marshal, and others on the higher levels. The more time that Mason spent trying to understand why someone
had done this and who that person was, the less energy and effort he would have to kill or capture said person. Better to focus on what he had control of. Yes, he had had the same thought before diving into the cycle of possibilities—but it took that exact dive for Mason to realize the folly of his thought process.
And that focus, Mason realized, is what made him feel most alive—the joy of being in combat, the joy of being singular focused, the joy of having one task and one task only.
Maybe joy wasn’t the right word. It was hard to believe there would be anything joyful about killing someone, even a deranged psychopath. But there was definitely an elation of some kind when considering the sense of focus required on these missions.
Plus, simply put, the incident from a few months ago had shown Mason that there was no point in guessing, because shadow operators and perpetrators had a way of rising out of the ashes and surprising the crap out of everyone. And while Mason didn’t particularly care for any more surprises—the last thing he wanted was to imagine that Luke Simon was behind this somehow—there was something to be said for the idea that if Mason just didn’t think about who could be behind all of this, he wouldn’t be surprised because he’d have no expectations.
The government-issued vehicle pulled up to his house and Mason hopped out, heading inside. As soon as he got through the front door, he found Clara, arms crossed, standing in front of the box. Oh, no. Not right now, please. What the hell now…
“Clara? Everything ok?” Mason said, moving toward the box.
“I want to know what’s going on with the mission,” she said. “I can tell by the way you’re getting off of that bus that you’re going somewhere else. So, therefore, you’re obviously packing up. What’s happening? Where are you going? For what purposes are you going?”
Though Clara did not exactly have high-level government clearance, he figured the news would become public soon enough that there was no harm in telling her what would happen—although, if all went according to plan, it never would. Plus, what was she going to do, betray him by releasing said knowledge? If anyone not in government knew how such things operated, it was Clara.