***
1:45 p.m. – Virginia Beach
As was his custom, Benjamin Leibowitz was the first to arrive at the Virginia Beach office building that had served as the base of operations for President Nelson Armando’s administration since the February 21, 2017 attack on Washington. He sat alone in one of the soft leather chairs at the oak conference table. A Presidential seal adorned the wall behind the high-back chair at the head of the table. An American flag stood at its right, and several large pictures of President Armando graced the walls. Armando wore a dark suit, crisp white shirt and red tie in the pictures, which had been taken shortly after he ascended to the presidency. He had a dark complexion and slicked-back black hair.
Anthony Russo, a top Homeland Security staffer who been with the agency for nearly a decade, was the next to arrive. Armando had appointed Russo to his former post as Secretary of Homeland Security, but no confirmation hearings had been held because the U.S. Senate had not been reconstituted in the wake of the terrorist attacks. Russo’s jet-black hair was neatly parted on the right side, and he wore a black suit, neatly pressed white shirt and black tie.
Others gradually made their way in, filling all but three of the twenty seats at the table. Everyone rose as President Armando entered the room, followed his two top lieutenants, Abdar Al-Haziz and Adilah Hassan. Armando, whose hair had turned noticeably grayer in the 20 months since the pictures on the walls were taken, seated himself at the head of the table. Abdar, who was in his upper thirties and stood just over six feet tall with thick, black hair and dark, squinted eyes, functioned as chief of staff. He sat on the president’s right. Adilah, a young middle-eastern woman who rarely spoke up but seemed to wield considerable influence with Abdar, took the seat to his right. Her jet-black hair was perfectly styled in a low twisted chignon with a neat side sweep, and she wore a forest green skirt suit with a single-button silhouette. The same four Secret Service Agents who were always present at cabinet meetings assumed their customary positions behind President Armando.
Benjamin’s blood boiled at the mere sight of Abdar and Adilah, both of whom were of Arab descent. In his mind, they were enemies of Israel and of everything the United States stood for. He knew in his gut that they were actively undermining President Armando’s administration. He wondered how they had managed to secure positions of power prior to the terrorist attacks, and struggled to understand why Armando allowed them to remain in his administration. For now, there was nothing he could do about it.
“Take your seats,” Armando said in his heavy New York accent. “The meeting will come to order. What’s first?”
Abdar spoke up. “Mr. President, we are continuing to see citizens carrying out vigilante justice throughout the country. We must put a stop to this unlawful behavior if we are to restore order to the nation.”
“Mr. President,” Anthony interjected. “The Federal Protective Service has this issue well in hand. There is no need to waste our valuable time discussing it here.”
“If your Homeland Security Police are doing such a good job, then why are instances of citizens taking the law into their own hands increasing, not decreasing?” Abdar asked.
“Abdar, there is no quick-fix,” Anthony responded. “Mr. President, we are enlisting locals who are supportive of our efforts, like Austin Phillips in North Carolina, to help rein in the outlaws who are executing vigilante justice. This requires boots on the ground who are familiar with the area.”
“That’s why we need to involve our military, Mr. President,” Abdar said.
“You can’t even keep one Marine General under control,” Anthony fired back. “Until you fix that problem, we can’t trust you with anything else.”
Abdar shot up out of his chair. “General Cloos—"
President Armando raised his right hand. The room went silent and Abdar returned to his seat. “I agree that this is a problem,” Armando said. “For now, we will give Russo’s Federal Protective Service an opportunity to handle this.”
Abdar spoke up. “Mr. President--"
“Abdar, it’s settled,” the President said.
Benjamin swallowed hard as he raised his hand. “Mr. President, may I say something?”
“Go ahead, Leibowitz.”
“Mr. President, I’m not saying the issue we just discussed isn’t important. However, I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that AIS is still conducting attacks on American soil. We are picking up increasing discontent from citizens who feel that this administration isn’t doing enough to combat AIS.”
Abdar again rose to his feet. “Leibowitz, you leave that to us. We will deal with the terrorists.”
“Mr. President,” Benjamin said calmly. “The point I’m trying to make is that the increase in so-called ‘vigilante justice’ is likely due to the people deciding that if we won’t act, they will. If we want to prevent citizens from acting on their own, we should take more aggressive action ourselves.”
“Mr. President, I agree,” Anthony interjected. “We have more than enough Federal Protective Service agents to handle AIS if you will give the order.”
“Mr. President, I disagree with Anthony’s approach,” Benjamin countered. “A moment ago, Abdar said we should use our military to quell instances of citizens taking the law into their own hands. Instead, why not use them to take out AIS? We’ve had our military sitting on its hands for nearly two years.”
“How dare you question my strategy?” A still-standing Abdar waved his fist at Benjamin. Adilah put her hand on Abdar’s back, and he took his seat.
“I’m just offering a different point of view,” Benjamin said. “We need to at least look like we’re trying to make a stand.”
“Enough!” President Armando raised his right hand. “We’ll continue discussing this at our next meeting. What’s next?”
Benjamin pondered whether he had spoken enough for one meeting, then raised his hand anyway. “Mr. President?”
“What is it now, Leibowitz?”
“If I may, I’d like to raise a couple of other issues for discussion purposes.”
“Go ahead.”
“Thank you, Mr. President. First, we’ve received reports that other nations may be attempting to influence events here. I don’t have specifics, but wanted to bring the possibility to your attention. Further, an increasing number of citizens, as well as some governors, are calling for us to take steps to reconstitute Congress. It has been nearly two years, so it may be time.”
“Thank you, Leibowitz,” Armando said. “I have heard the pleas for us to begin that effort, and it has been on my mind. Perhaps we should--"
“Mr. President, that would be a waste of time,” Abdar said. “It’s hard enough for you to get things done now. Wasting time trying to recreate Congress now would prevent us from bringing law and order to the streets.”
“Mr. President,” Anthony raised his hand. “For once I agree with Abdar. While we will eventually need to reconstitute Congress, now is not the time. We need to finish off AIS first.”
Armando heaved a deep sigh. “Very well. Now is not the time.”
Disappointed but not surprised, Benjamin swallowed hard. “Mr. President, one more thing if I may.”
“Proceed.”
“I believe it is time to appoint a Vice President. We have gone nearly two years with no VP. That is dangerous.”
Abdar weighed in. “Mr. President, I agree. If something were to happen to you, the chaos would be beyond anything we can imagine.”
Russo chimed in with a counterpoint. “I disagree, Mr. President. Trying to identify and appoint a Vice President at this juncture would not only be a waste of time, it would convey weakness on your part. Beyond that, anyone you select would become an immediate threat.”
A heavy silence overcame the room as President Armando leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed. He stroked his chin and stared off into the distance, remaining silent for what seemed like an hour before speaking. “While I understand the need t
o appoint a Vice President in case the unthinkable should happen to me, I agree with Russo that doing so at this time could communicate weakness on our part. I can think of no one trustworthy to appoint, and appointing someone untrustworthy would create an unnecessary threat to our administration. Now is not the time.” Armando rose from his seat. “Meeting adjourned.”
***
7:10 p.m. – Fontana Dam
That night, the smell of frying fish permeated Joshua’s cabin. The tan couch, loveseat and two leather recliners from his farmhouse were still in place in the living area. His parents’ family Bible was displayed atop a small accent table in one corner of the room. The print of George Washington at the signing of the U.S. Constitution hung over the couch, as it had at their farmhouse. His wife, Rebecca, had truly made the cabin feel like home.
Joshua’s brain acknowledged the fact that Rebecca was talking, but her words did not register. His mind was elsewhere. Who was that crazy old man on the trail? Is there really a mole in the camp?
“Josh, what do you think?” Rebecca spoke loudly, a hint of frustration in her voice.
“That sounds good,” Joshua answered without the slightest clue as to what his wife was talking about.
“You weren’t listening to a word I said, were you?” Rebecca twisted her shoulder-length brown hair between her fingers.
“Of course I was!”
“Then why did you say, ‘that sounds good’ when I told you we’re eating your dog for dinner tonight?”
Joshua looked down at Rebecca, who stood about five inches shorter than him. “Sorry, Becca.”
“What’s on your mind?” Her brown eyes met his with a deep, penetrating gaze. “What’s got you so preoccupied?”
“A lot of things,” Joshua said, not sure where to start.
“Tell me.” Rebecca grabbed his hand with her left and rested her right hand atop his forearm.
Joshua heaved a deep sigh and closed his eyes for a moment. “Well, for starters, AIS reared its ugly head again today. That plume of smoke everyone saw was from an AIS attack on a farmhouse.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I saw it happen.” Joshua said. “I was able to zoom in on them with my telescope while I was on the trail. I saw them getting ready to execute a poor farmer.” He choked up. “That’s when I had to stop watching.”
Rebecca grimaced. Joshua paused and watched as she closed her eyes and bowed her head. He knew his wife well enough to know that she was offering a silent prayer for the man.
“Then I ran across this strange old man on the trail,” Joshua continued after she opened her eyes. “He said we have a mole in the camp. At first, I thought he was just some lunatic, but then he mentioned Bob Kendall’s death. He even called him by name.”
Joshua’s stomach roared to life as the smell of grilled trout penetrated his nostrils. Rebecca put two plates on the coffee table and sat down on the couch beside him. “How could he know about Bob?” she asked.
“No clue. He was behind me when he mentioned Bob’s name. By the time I turned around, he was gone.”
“Gone where?”
“I have no clue. Just gone. Like he vanished.”
“What are you going to do?” Rebecca asked.
“I’m not sure,” Joshua said. “For now, I’d like to keep this completely under wraps. Please don’t mention it to anyone. I’m going to talk to a few select people, but we need to keep this quiet for the time being.”
As Joshua finished speaking his beagle-bulldog mix, Reagan, ambled down the hall, hopped onto the couch and planted himself beside him. The dog was emblazoned with black, white and tan splotches like a beagle and had a thick upper torso that revealed his bulldog heritage.
“Hey buddy.” The dog’s tail thumped against the couch as Joshua scratched his ears. “How’s that paw?” He held up Reagan’s right paw – the one that had suffered a gash during the recent altercation with a now-deceased possum. “Looks good as new.”
“He’s healed up quite nicely,” Rebecca said.
“You did a good job with those stitches,” Joshua said. “Maybe you missed your calling. You should’ve been a vet.”
“Hardly. Let’s not forget he tried to take my hand off when I was stitching him up. I hope we don’t have to try that again any time soon.”
CHAPTER 2
Tuesday, October 9, 2018 – 5:35 a.m. – Fontana Dam
The ripples that rolled across Lake Fontana were barely visible in the pre-dawn darkness. Joshua hung two plastic bumpers he had acquired from a trader at Fontana Village Marina between the two canoes, then tied the two vessels together. Reagan sat at the front tip of Joshua’s canoe, surveying the horizon. Perry Edwards, Joshua’s best friend and longtime fishing buddy, was joined in the second canoe by Jim Davidson, a former pastor who had introduced Joshua to Rebecca. Perry was also a member of the camp’s council, and Jim had been a longtime personal mentor to Joshua. Apart from Rebecca, these men were Joshua’s two closest confidantes, and he needed their advice now more than ever. Once the two canoes were securely tied to each other, the three men baited their hooks and dropped them into the lake.
Perry broke the silence. “Joshua, what the heck is so important that we needed to talk at this time of day? With this much privacy?”
“First, I want you both to know that you’re here because, other than Rebecca, you are the two people in this camp that I trust the most,” Joshua said. “Something has come up that has me worried about the security of our camp, and I wanted your take on it.”
Joshua explained what had happened on the trail the day before. “When this Mordecai guy said we had a mole in the camp, at first I just thought he had a few screws loose and too much free time. But then he mentioned Bob Kendall. By name. And then he just vanished before I could question him about it.”
Jim’s removed his tan baseball cap and scratched his thinning, brown hair. He spoke with a noticeable Georgia twang. “Any idea how he knew about Bob?”
“No,” Joshua said. “But he knew his name, knew that he was dead, and even knew his rank. That’s what got my attention.”
“Do you think there is any truth to his comment about a mole?” Perry stroked his brown goatee, which featured splotches of gray.
Joshua shook his head. “I wish I knew. It came completely out of left field to me. Like I said, I wouldn’t have given it the time of day if he hadn’t had his story straight about Bob.”
Perry reeled in his line, revealing an empty hook. “Crap. Something already stole my bait.”
“Thank God we’re not relying on you for our food supply,” Jim said with a chuckle.
“Very funny,” Perry said. “Good thing you were a pastor and not a comedian.” He dropped his freshly re-baited hook into the water. “Joshua, let’s assume this Mordecai person is right about a mole. Any thoughts on who it could be?”
“It’s dangerous to even start speculating on that,” Jim interjected. “We need to be careful not to point fingers at people without legitimate cause for doing so.”
“I agree, and that’s why I’ve only shared this with Rebecca and the two of you,” Joshua said. “But we do have to consider who it could be.”
“My first thought is Drew,” Perry said.
Drew Thompson had been the source of much controversy in the twenty months since they had moved to the camp. He often left the camp without a security escort and refused to tell anyone where he was going. He seemed aloof, and many camp residents felt he was shady. Despite camp members’ suspicions his mysterious trips had paid dividends eight months ago, when he enlisted his local contacts to rescue Joshua, Perry and Jack McGee from the AIS terrorists.
Jim shook his head. “I’m having a hard time believing I just heard that. If it weren’t for Drew, the two of you wouldn’t even be here. He saved your lives.”
“That’s true, and I’m grateful for that, but there is still something shady about him,” Perry countered.
Joshua grimaced
“Who else?”
“Well, Kane has been acting a bit squirrely lately,” Jim said. “He looks lost.”
A hard-core army man, Kane Martin’s primary connection to Joshua and the others in the camp had been through Bob Kendall, with whom he had served during Operation Enduring Freedom. Joshua had never known what to think of him. Kane had been blindly loyal to Bob, and had become increasingly distant in the eight months since Bob’s death at the hands of the same AIS terrorists who nearly killed Joshua, Perry and Jack. While Kane had been focused and disciplined under Bob’s tutelage, Joshua increasingly viewed him as a wild card.
“Kane definitely hasn’t been himself lately, but I have a hard time seeing him playing both sides,” Joshua said.
“Jim could be on to something,” Perry chimed in. “Joshua, you said Kane hasn’t been himself lately, but do we even really know who he is? He was basically whoever Bob told him to be.”
“Interesting observation.” Joshua leaned back and scratched his chin. “Anyone else?”
“Thomas?” Perry said with a laugh.
“Not much chance of that.” Jim chuckled.
“Thomas is about as laid-back as they come,” Joshua agreed. “On a different note, I’m going to ask Jack to help me find out who Mordecai is.”
“What if Jack is the mole?” Perry asked.
“That would be bad,” Jim said with a grimace.
“Yes, it would, but we have to consider all possibilities,” Perry said.
“That we do,” Joshua said. “And we have to keep our guard up.”
“There is one other thing to consider,” Jim said. “If there is a mole, who are they working for?”
“That’s a very good question.” Joshua leaned back and heaved a deep sigh. “Guys, please keep this between us. No one else should know at this point. I will talk with Jack about Mordecai, but will not mention the possibility of a mole to him yet. This will be a good test.”
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