“Abdar, how the hell did you let this happen? Is the Secret Service asleep on the job?”
Abdar rocketed up out of his chair and pointed at Russo. “Don’t you lecture me! Your meddling and self-promotion are the cause of this!”
Russo clenched his fist and took two steps toward Abdar. When he did, the two Secret Service agents behind Abdar stepped forward and drew their weapons. Benjamin felt the tension grip the room as the Homeland Security police behind Russo responded in kind, drawing their sidearms and stepping to his side.
Benjamin rose to his feet and raised both hands in front of him. “Let’s all calm down.”
Abdar jabbed his index finger in Benjamin’s direction. “Shut up, Jew! No one cares what you think!”
Benjamin slipped his hand into his pocket and gripped his semi-automatic SIG P229. He took a deep breath and slid his hand back out of his pocket. “Abdar, I don’t think any of us want the president to be assassinated on our watch. Russo, now is not the time for the blame game. Let’s focus on finding the president.”
Russo glared at Benjamin. “Liebowitz is right.” He shifted his glare to Abdar. “I’ll deal with you later.”
Abdar shoved Russo, who stumbled two steps backward, caught his footing and launched a right hook that connected with Abdar’s cheek. The Secret Service agents trained their weapons on Russo as Abdar went to the floor.
Benjamin took a step forward. “ENOUGH!”
An angry silence consumed the room as the Secret Service agents shifted their sights to the Homeland Security officers whose weapons were trained on them.
Abdar jumped to his feet, his fists clenched, and took a step toward Russo. Adilah grabbed him on the arm. “Abdar, now is not the time,” she said softly.
Abdar unclenched his fists and exhaled loudly, his glare focused on Russo. After several seconds he turned to Adilah and nodded. They turned and silently exited the conference room, the Secret Service Officers close behind. The Federal Protective Service officers lowered their weapons.
Benjamin cocked and eyebrow and looked at Russo. “If you’ve ever wondered why I’ve pushed so hard for the president to name a VP, now you know.” He pivoted and left the room.
***
11:46 a.m. – Fontana Dam
Joshua spoke to those who had gathered near his porch, with Reagan planted at his feet. “Folks, we are preparing to defend the dam against a potential AIS attack. We’re working with Ray Sawyer and Mordecai Stone to mount our defense. Jack and I will go to a location provided by Mordecai today to secure weapons he says he has. Ray is rounding up manpower. Several of us will be involved in various aspects of the operation.” He took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts. “Given our proximity to the dam, and given that we’ve seen AIS on the trail, there is a possibility that they will attack the camp. Chuck Jones has agreed to coordinate our defensive preparations.”
Chuck’s eyebrows lowered. “We’ll be ready.”
“Tommy Page and Billy McGee will be his lieutenants. Everyone else, men and women alike, needs to be locked, loaded, and alert.”
Thomas approached Joshua as the crowd began to disperse. He removed the toothpick that had been dangling from his mouth and twisted it between his fingers. “Man, I’ve made contact with my folks at the TVA. They’re going to get us inside the control room. Also got schematics.”
Joshua put his hand on Thomas’ shoulder. “Good work. We’ll go to the dam after I get back with the weapons.”
Thomas returned to the toothpick to his mouth, nodded, and walked away. Joshua turned to Rebecca and put both hands on her shoulders. “I know you want to go with us, but I need you here. You are a smart, tough cookie, and we’re short-handed in the camp. Chuck will need your help.”
Rebecca nodded and kissed him on the cheek. He knelt and scratched Reagan on the head. “You stay here and take care of ‘Becca.” The dog pawed at his leg. He scratched Reagan one more time and made eye contact with Rebecca before stepping off the porch and joining Jack in his Charcoal Crew Cab Sierra.
Jack put the Sierra in gear and hit the gas. “So where is the crazy old man taking us?”
Joshua pulled out a crudely drawn map. “Here are the directions he gave us. I think it’s his house.”
“This should be interesting.”
Jack guided the Sierra down Highway 28 for several miles, then turned south on route 143. After several miles, he turned right onto a secondary road, drove for several miles, and then turned onto a dirt path that wound upward through the woods.
After what seemed like an hour the dirt road leveled out and emptied onto a small plateau. A small log cabin was centered in the clearing, flanked by a small wooden barn that backed up against the mountainside on the left. Two layers of fencing surrounded the house and led to the barn, and at least a dozen pigs were confined to the space between the two fences. Four cows grazed in a larger pen off to the right, and at least a dozen hens and two roosters were scattered throughout the clearing. A large pond sat off to the right of the house, and a dozen solar panels were positioned outside the fences near the pond. Mordecai’s classic Ford F1 was parked in front of the cabin, and a passageway was open through part of the fence.
Mordecai stood leaning against his truck, slowly whittling a stick. “Before I invite you in, did you bring your dog?” He scratched his bloodhound, Annabelle, on the head. “Gotta protect my baby’s honor.”
“Nope, he’s not here,” Joshua said with a chuckle. “Your girl is safe. For today.”
“Come on in, fellers.”
Jack drove the truck through the opening in the fence, which Mordecai closed behind them.
Mordecai motioned for them to follow him. The horde of squealing pigs tried to follow them, restrained only by the interior layer of fencing. Jack drove behind the house.
“Back yer truck up to the barn door,” Mordecai instructed.
Jack followed Mordecai’s instructions, and the three men exited the Sierra. Jack lowered the tailgate. “What’s with all the pigs?”
“Terrorist repellent.”
“You are one strange individual,” Jack said.
“That may be true, sonny, but I’m still alive.” Mordecai emitted a creepy chuckle. “And so are you, since I keep saving your arse.”
Joshua shook his head. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Mordecai was right – he had now bailed them out on multiple occasions.
“Come on in.” Mordecai motioned for the men to follow him into the barn.
An obnoxious braying sound greeted them as they entered the dimly lit, musky barn. Mordecai scratched the donkey, which appeared to grin in response before returning to its trough. As Joshua’s eyes adjusted to the darkness he noticed shelves full of small pouches on the left wall. Seeds, he thought.
Joshua watched as Mordecai ran his fingers along the back wall. The old man removed a well-camouflaged sheet of plywood, revealing the entrance to a cave. The passageway into the mountainside was illuminated with two strings of what appeared to be Christmas lights. Joshua made eye contact with Jack, who shook his head. While he had no idea what they would find on the other end of the passageway, at this point nothing would surprise him with Mordecai. The old man was still quite the mystery.
Joshua followed Mordecai down the narrow, winding cavern, with Jack pulling up the rear. After about two hundred feet they emerged into a larger opening, which had a variety of cobbled together light fixtures mounted on the rock ceiling. The walls were lined with plastic cabinets, each of which was filled with weapons that would have been illegal to buy or sell prior to the terrorist attacks. Rows of cabinets filled with ammunition, gunpowder, lead fishing weights and other items that could be converted into bullets, and boxes of empty shell casings stood back-to-back throughout the cavern. Each cabinet featured a clear plastic front cover that snapped shut.
Jack ran his finger along one of the plastic covers. “Watertight?”
“Pretty much. Gotta protect the merchandise.”
<
br /> “You said you ran gun shows,” Jack said. “But all of this stuff would have been illegal to sell.”
“Yep,” Mordecai answered. “My official supply is in a warehouse outside of Bryson City. Sold a few of these here to special customers, but this is mostly my rainy day stash.”
Joshua nodded. “And today is a rainy day, in a manner of speaking.”
“You got it, sonny.”
“How did you get your hands on this many prohibited weapons?” Jack asked.
“It helps to know people.” Mordecai opened the front of a cabinet stocked with H&K MP5s. “You boys ready to get started?”
Mordecai supervised as Joshua and Jack loaded the Sierra with 17 MP5 automatic rifles, 7,000 rounds of 9mm ammunition, eight M67 hand grenades, three AT4 rocket launchers, twenty high explosive rounds and numerous other weapons.
Joshua extended his hand to Mordecai after they loaded the last round of weapons and ammunition. “Thanks for your help.”
“Not a problem, sonny. You should be getting used to my help by now.”
“Sometime I’d like to know more about your background.”
“Maybe one day.”
Jack fired up the Sierra. They wound through the woods, turned left onto Route 143 and then right onto 28. After two miles they turned right onto another dirt path, which wound through the woods for about a quarter-mile. At the end of the path they found a beat-up, green Ford F-150 with a large dog box in the bed and a red, hard-top Jeep CJ7. Ray Sawyer was seated in the Jeep, and two men Joshua had seen at Ray’s barn stood leaning against the Ford.
Joshua stepped out of the Sierra after it came to a stop. “Good morning, Ray. Are your guys ready?”
Joshua flinched as a deep, primal growl arose from the dog box, followed by two deep barks, then another growl.
“Easy, boy.” Ray slapped the top of the box. “That depends on what you’ve got in that truck.”
“Then you’re good to go.” Joshua removed the tarp and exposed the cache of weapons.
Ray’s eyes lit up. “We need to get to know this Mordecai guy better if he can get us stuff like this.”
Jack chuckled. “If you figure him out, let us know.”
One of the men lifted the top off the dog box, revealing a large, hidden compartment in the back and smaller compartments down both sides. The caged pit bull growled continuously as they transferred 14 MP5s, 5,500 rounds of ammunition, six M67 grenades, two AT4s and twelve high explosive rounds to the secret compartments. The man re-positioned the top on the dog box, concealing the cache of weapons.
“Are you guys clear on our plan of attack?” Joshua asked.
Ray nodded.
“When will your men be in ready for a crash course on these weapons?” Jack asked.
“Two hours,” Ray said.
“Good work,” Joshua said. “Thomas, Jim and I will be in the control room at the base of the dam. Jack will join your men up top.”
Ray inserted a magazine into one of the MP5s and placed it and 500 rounds of ammo on the floorboard of his Jeep. “Let’s go kick some AIS ass.”
***
6:14 p.m. – Virginia Beach
Dusk was overtaking Virginia Beach, and Caroline’s heart raced as she watched Major Chinn pick the lock on the side door between the two buildings. He had blinded the security camera in the narrow alley with a paintball gun, a fact she hoped would not give them away. Inside, they hoped to find the server through which General Cloos believed the AIS Supreme Leader’s transmissions were being routed.
Caroline clenched her teeth as images of Charlie and Allie flashed before her eyes. Charlie learning how to swim. Allie with her favorite kitten, Callie. Charlie climbing a tree on Joshua’s farm. Allie playing with her favorite dolls. Caroline gripped the Ruger SP101 .22 caliber revolver concealed beneath her untucked shirt. Maybe today would be the day she finally got revenge on the animals who killed her precious babies.
Chinn slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside, his Glock 19 drawn. Caroline drew her revolver and stepped in behind him. Perry followed her in, and Kane silently closed and locked the door behind them. Most of the interior lights were off.
They tiptoed single file down the exterior aisle for forty feet before turning down an aisle that led into the center of a maze of cubicles. Caroline opened her haversack, removed a small laptop and plugged it into an Ethernet adapter. Within two minutes she had bypassed the network’s security features. She activated a program she had developed for her employer prior to the terrorist attacks.
“I hope this works,” she whispered, talking to herself as much as the others in the group.
The program ran flawlessly, and a graphic representation of the network overlaid on the building’s floor plan appeared on the screen. Boxes throughout the network map turned varying shades of yellow, orange and red, with each color representing current data transmission at that location. Three of the deep red locations were pulsating on the screen.
Caroline cocked an eyebrow. “Not sure what to make of this. Three locations are off the chart in terms of data transmission.” She pointed at two boxes on opposite ends of the rectangle on the right. “Especially these two.” She pointed at the third box. “This one is showing high usage, and it appears to be in the next building over.”
“Can you track usage history?” Chinn asked.
Caroline clicked three subsequent options on the menu, expanding the scope of the search. The two boxes in the right rectangle still far exceeded the rest. The one on the left was still far above anything else on the screen.
“We’re going to have to split up,” Chinn said.
Caroline pointed at the box near the top of the right rectangle. “Perry and I will take this one. I have a hunch that’s where we’ll find what we’re looking for.”
Kane pointed at the second pulsating box in the right rectangle. “I’ll check this one out.”
“Then I guess I’m headed across the alley,” Chinn said. “Meet back at the Explorer in half an hour.”
Caroline gave Chinn and Kane instructions on what to retrieve from their target locations and how to do it. She unplugged her laptop and returned it to her haversack, raised her revolver and headed down the dark aisle, with Perry following.
***
1818 – Military Ocean Terminal, Sunny Point (MOTSU)
General Cloos sat beside the campfire on the vacant land between Routes 87 and 133 just outside the entrance to Military Ocean Terminal, Sunny Point. He knew the men inside that gate underestimated the threat that was coming their way. Whether it was inside the gate or outside, his Marines would protect the terminal. He had men stationed around the terminal’s perimeter, as well as along the river and major roadways leading to the area. One of his reconnaissance drones also patrolled the skies above.
A young lieutenant hurried to Cloos’ position. “General, I have a message from Colonel Brookhart.”
“Go ahead, Lieutenant.”
“Our intelligence sources have narrowed down the AIS Supreme Leader’s location to Virginia Beach.”
Cloos rested his cigar on a rock beside the fire. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Dismissed.”
“That’s not all, sir.”
Cloos cocked an eyebrow. “Continue.”
“We’ve finally cracked the Supreme Leader’s voice scramble.”
“Do we know who he is?”
“He is a she, sir.”
Cloos shook his head. “Amazing. I wonder how these goat-loving freaks would react if they knew that? Dismissed, Lieutenant.” Cloos activated his sat phone and dialed a number. “Dammit, Chinn, pick up.” The call went to voicemail. “Chinn, Cloos. Be aware that the AIS Supreme Leader is in Virginia Beach. Also be advised that the Supreme Leader is a female. Be advised, you are in the hornet’s nest.”
CHAPTER 14
Wednesday, November 7, 2018 -- 6:20 p.m. – Virginia Beach
Nelson Armando watched helplessly as the two robed figures conversed on the far corne
r of the room. How had he wound up in this situation? He was a former mayor and had served as Secretary of Public Safety for the State of New York before being appointed U.S. Secretary of Homeland Security. He had been the designated survivor during President Alan Wagner’s 2017 State of the Union address on February 21, 2017, a fact which had led to him being sworn in as President of the United States the following morning. And now he was tied to a chair, a gag in his mouth, being held hostage by American Islamic State terrorists. Terrorists who had been right under his nose the entire time. Two people he had trusted. Two people who had been in his inner circle. He had recognized their voices immediately, but had not yet revealed his knowledge of their identities. Perhaps they would have a change of heart and let him live. More importantly, perhaps they would spare his beloved wife. Armando closed his eyes. He could not bear the thought.
His meditation was interrupted by the sound of raised voices. The two terrorists were arguing. A male voice said, “I can’t do this. I cannot kill the president’s wife. Or the president. He has done too much for me. For us.”
A shrill female voice answered, “Abdar, we see this through. All the way. We finish what we started. That’s why we came here in the first place.”
The hooded male figure turned toward Armando, his back to his counterpart. “No.”
A deathly chill overcame Armando as the woman raised her pistol and coldly fired two shots into Abdar’s back. She stepped toward Abdar as he fell to the floor, firing a final kill shot into the back of his skull. At that moment, Armando knew his fate, and that of his wife, were sealed.
The hooded woman picked up a chair, positioned it two feet in front of Armando and sat down, facing him. She removed the hood, revealing the face of Adilah Hassan – the seemingly quiet, professional young woman who had been a part of his inner circle from the day he was thrust into the presidency. The woman who rarely spoke up, but who had seemed to be the only one who could rein in Abdar’s hair-trigger temper. Both she and Abdar had been employed with the Department of Homeland Security prior to his confirmation as Secretary, so he assumed their backgrounds had been thoroughly researched. Apparently that assumption had been a bad one.
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