Convergence

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Convergence Page 25

by Frank L. Williams


  “Mr. President, it’s time,” she said. “Today marks the culmination of two decades of planning. Abdar and I, we trained under Osama Bin Laden in Afghanistan. Before 9/11. We came here, even before 9/11, to infiltrate the highest levels of your government. And it was far easier than we ever imagined. Your government granted us student visas two years before 9/11, and your taxpayers paid for our scholarships. Because we volunteered for our Congressman’s campaigns, your inept government allowed us to stay here after 9/11. We both interned for the Congressman, and thanks to the connections we made in his office, we secured internships, then our citizenship, and then jobs with Homeland Security in 2003. Your government gave us the access we needed to learn everything about you. We used that knowledge to plan and orchestrate the nuclear attacks that brought your corrupt nation to its knees, all while working inside your own government. Today, your nation will watch as I slaughter the President of the United States. But first, they will watch as I kill the First Lady. And you will watch. That will be the last thing you see before we fulfill our destiny, complete the destruction of America, and take the next step toward establishing an Islamic caliphate here, on what was once your soil.”

  She rose from the chair and donned her black hood. “Allahu Akbar!”

  ***

  6:29 p.m. – Virginia Beach

  Caroline led the way down the dark stairwell toward whatever awaited them in the building’s basement, her revolver drawn. Perry guarded the rear. A dank, musky odor greeted them as they exited the stairwell. Cobwebs dominated the corners along the ceiling, and a pool of stagnant water occupied the concrete floor ahead of her. They slowly made their way down the eerily quiet hall. Caroline jumped and managed to suppress a shriek when an over-sized rat scurried across the hall, brushing her feet in the process. Perry was less disciplined in restraining an audible snicker. Caroline shook her head and gently elbowed him in the stomach.

  After passing several closed doors that offered no light from within, they reached one with light emanating through the space at the bottom.

  “I think this is it.” Caroline swallowed hard as she looked at Perry. “I’m scared.”

  Perry put his hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be fine. I’m sure we’ll be in and out of there in minutes.”

  Even though he sometimes got on her last nerve, his smile always comforted and reassured her. She lowered her weapon and embraced him.

  ***

  1829 – Virginia Beach – Opposite End of the Building

  Kane had the shortest trek to his assigned room. He inserted a flash drive provided by Caroline into the computer’s USB port and executed a program that copied all hard drive data, downloaded the browser history and retrieved the internet upload and download history. He repeated the process with a second flash drive. Computers had never been his forté, so he hoped he had done everything correctly.

  After securing one flash drive in his haversack and the other on his person, Kane decided to take another look at the computer just to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. After perusing the hard drive again, he clicked on a strange icon he had not previously noticed. He was horrified as a video feed that appeared to be a live stream flared to life. A chill shot down Kane’s spine. He spun, rocketed through the door and sprinted down the hall.

  ***

  1830 – Military Ocean Terminal, Sunny Point (MOTSU)

  General Cloos stared at the tablet computer in disbelief. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

  The young lieutenant holding the tablet asked, “Do you want me to play it again, General?”

  “That won’t be necessary. Dismissed.”

  The lieutenant saluted Cloos, who returned the gesture. After the lieutenant departed, Cloos activated his satphone and dialed. The call went to voicemail. “Dammit, Chinn, answer the phone. Be advised, AIS has captured and assassinated President Armando. You are in the hornet’s nest, and the hornets have stung.”

  He rose to his feet, clasped his hands behind his back, and walked away from the campfire, seeking a few moments of solitude. How the hell did it come to this? The AIS Supreme Leader had just killed the First Lady and then the president, live-streaming the barbarous acts for all the world to see. While he had certainly had his differences with Nelson Armando, this was not the outcome he desired. He would have preferred that the president take aggressive action to destroy the terrorist organization that had now, somehow, captured and killed him. With no one holding the office of Vice President and no legitimately appointed cabinet, the power vacuum in America had just spiraled into an unprecedented Constitutional black hole – one that could suck the last bit of life out of what was once the United States. Cloos knew that America was at another crossroads, and sensed that his role had just grown dramatically in importance.

  ***

  6:31 p.m. – Virginia Beach

  With Perry at her side, Caroline pushed open the door and stepped through, suddenly finding herself in what looked like a slaughterhouse. The stench of human blood greeted them, and two decapitated bodies were strapped to chairs in front of a camera.

  “Caroline, get down!” Perry exclaimed.

  Three shots rang out as Caroline dropped and rolled. She lost control of her revolver, which skidded out of reach. Caroline vaulted to her feet, her eyes fixated on a young, angry-looking, blood-covered Middle-Eastern woman holding a compact pistol. You, she thought. You killed my babies. Caroline’s blood turned white hot with rage.

  The woman spun toward Caroline and fired another shot. She felt the round whiz past her head. The woman again squeezed the trigger, this time resulting in only a click. Images of Charlie and Allie flashed before Caroline’s eyes. She charged the woman and landed a broadside kick to her chest. The woman recoiled, then assumed a fighting stance.

  Fueled by her rage, Caroline again charged. The woman deftly avoided her onslaught, then went on the offensive and hurled Caroline against the wall. Caroline grimaced as her right cheekbone impacted the cinderblock wall, then dropped and rolled just in time to avoid the blade of a knife the woman now wielded. As the knife impacted the wall Caroline kicked the woman’s legs out from under her, then rolled backward and rocketed to her feet.

  The woman resumed her fighting stance, her knife raised, silently glaring at Caroline. Caroline returned the stare, and the two squared off like wild animals fighting over territory or a mate. Caroline could think of nothing other than her two beautiful children. This was her chance for justice. Adrenaline surged through her veins. Finally.

  The woman kept her steely glare focused on Caroline, but did not seek to attack. Caroline dropped to one knee and reached under her loose-fitting shirt with both hands. The woman cocked her eyebrows, appearing perplexed. Then, in one smooth motion Caroline launched to her feet and deftly launched two throwing knives through the air. The left knife found its target, tearing into the woman’s abdomen, and the right one impaled her bicep. The woman’s knife flew from her hand, skidding harmlessly across the room as she screamed and dropped to the floor.

  Caroline rose to her feet and strutted to the woman’s position. She knelt beside her, glared into her eyes and slowly twisted the knife that still protruded from her abdomen. “You killed my babies, you sick bitch.” She twisted the knife again, smiling as the woman winced in pain. “Now it’s your turn to die.”

  Caroline calmly opened her haversack, pulled out a half-used roll of duct tape and an item wrapped in paper, then removed the paper and held up the contents. “Do you know what this is? This is bacon. Pork. Pig. Unclean meat.” She stuffed the pork into the woman’s mouth, taped it shut with duct tape, then violently jerked the knife out of her bicep and plunged it into her throat. She slowly twisted the knife as the woman bled out.

  Caroline removed her knives from the woman’s body and wiped the blood off on the black AIS robe. She stood up, closed her eyes and exhaled. She could feel the pent-up rage flowing out of her being. Justice has been done, she thought.

  When she
turned around, her euphoria transformed into horror. “Perry!” She shrieked and ran to her husband, who was lying in a pool of his own blood. Two bullets had pierced his abdomen, and he was gasping for breath. Caroline knelt and put her hand on Perry’s cheek, tears flowing from her eyes. “Please don’t leave me, Perry. Please!”

  Perry struggled to speak, but was unable to formulate words.

  Caroline cupped his face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. “No, Perry! Noooooooo!”

  Perry struggled to raise his hand. She felt a spark as he gently touched her face. And then his hand went limp and collapsed onto his chest.

  Caroline uttered a primal scream and collapsed onto her dead husband’s body, sobbing. How could I not know my husband had been shot? she thought. I could have saved him. What do I do now? She stared at her left wrist, which still bore scars from her failed suicide attempt a year and a half earlier.

  ***

  1839 – Virginia Beach

  Adrenaline pulsed through Kane’s veins as he kicked the door open and did a forward roll into the room, launching to his feet with his Springfield 1911 raised. The scene was among the most horrific he had ever witnessed: two decapitated bodies strapped to chairs, with the heads positioned on the floor in front of them, a young middle-eastern man who had been shot in the head and back, and a young Middle-Eastern woman whose throat was cut. Worst of all, Perry Edwards was down, and Caroline was kneeling over her husband’s body. Kane realized she had not even flinched when he burst into the room.

  Kane holstered his pistol, leaving the holster unsnapped, then knelt beside Perry and checked his pulse. He made eye contact with Caroline and shook his head. “I am so sorry.”

  Caroline jumped to her feet. “You don’t have to tell me he’s dead, I know that!” She broke down into tears. “I should have helped him. I am a terrible wife!”

  Kane stood up and stepped toward her. “You could not have anticipated this. This is not your fault.”

  “Shut up!” Caroline raised her hands, then turned and walked away.

  They didn’t cover this in basic, Kane thought. He tensed up as Caroline bent over, picked up the same revolver she had shown him on the ride from Fontana Dam to Virginia Beach and pointed it at her own temple. He froze for a moment, then sprang into action. He grabbed her arm and gained wrist control just before she squeezed the trigger. The round she had intended for herself disappeared into the cinderblock.

  Kane relieved Caroline of her revolver. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that.”

  Caroline turned to face him, tears streaming down her face. She clenched her fist and hit him three times in the midsection, then buried her face in his chest, sobbing, and wrapped her arms around him. Kane hesitated for a moment, then returned the embrace. “We need to get out of here, or we’ll be next.”

  Caroline released the embrace and wiped the tears from her face. “Let’s see what we can get off these computers. Maybe this trip won’t be for nothing.”

  Kane knelt beside the two severed heads positioned in front of the headless bodies, studying one of them. His stomach twisted into knots. “Oh my God. Do you know who this is?”

  “No, I didn’t have a chance to check his ID.”

  “This is President Armando.”

  Caroline stopped in her tracks. “The president?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “What… what do we do now?”

  “Get whatever intelligence we can and get the hell out of here.”

  Caroline began frantically working on the computer to which the camera was connected, while Kane used a sat phone to take pictures of the dead bodies and the scene.

  Two minutes later, Kane felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He spun and raised his 1911 as a tall, dark-skinned man with wavy black hair and bushy eyebrows stepped through the door. “Freeze!” Kane bellowed. “Who are you?”

  The man raised his hands. “Benjamin Liebowitz. I work for the president.”

  Kane looked at Caroline, then back at the man. “The president is dead.”

  Kane watched as Benjamin’s eyes scoured the room before settling on the two decapitated bodies. “And the First Lady. How?”

  Caroline stepped away from the computer. “They were dead when we got here.” She pointed toward the young woman. “She was the only person alive in the room.”

  Benjamin studied the young woman’s corpse. “Adilah.” He made his way over to the young Middle-Eastern man’s body. “Abdar. Why am I not surprised?”

  Kane kept his weapon trained on Benjamin. “You know them?’

  “They were in the president’s inner circle, but I always suspected something was not right with them.” Benjamin turned to Kane. “You know who I am. Who are you? And what are you doing here?”

  “Corporal Kane Martin. United States Army. Here on a top-secret mission. She’s with me.”

  Benjamin pointed to Perry’s body. “And him?”

  “He was with us.”

  Caroline audibly sobbed.

  “Someone special to you?” Benjamin asked.

  “My husband.”

  “I am very sorry for your loss.” He turned to Kane. “Corporal, you can lower your weapon. We need to get out of here.”

  Caroline zipped up her haversack. “I’ve got what I need.”

  ***

  1852 – Virginia Beach

  Major Chinn deleted the second voice mail from General Cloos, then watched from the Explorer as four armed Homeland Security officers entered the building where he had left Perry, Caroline and Kane. He was parked far enough away to avoid attracting attention, but close enough to see what was happening – and what he saw was not good, especially in light of the revelation that the AIS Supreme Leader was in Virginia Beach and had apparently just killed President Armando. His gut told him that Kane, Perry and Caroline had inadvertently waded into the middle of it, but at this point all he could do was wait. If he went into the building, he would be captured or killed.

  Chinn activated his sat phone and dialed General Cloos’ number. He explained the situation, and Cloos directed him to wait and watch.

  Chinn looked at the person seated beside him in the Explorer. “One more thing, General. I have acquired a high value person. It was unplanned, but I happened upon them.”

  Who is it?

  Chinn revealed the person’s identity, and Cloos instructed him to observe for thirty more minutes, then bring the person to Camp Lejeune.

  ***

  1854 – Virginia Beach

  Kane was caught off guard as four men in black uniforms burst into the room. Three of the men were armed with SIG P229s, the fourth with an MP5.

  A tall agent with a shaved head and a strong southern accent spoke. “Hands up! Federal Protective Service.”

  Kane cringed at the sight of these federal rent-a-cops, but he kept his cool. He nodded at Caroline, and they both raised their hands.

  Benjamin stepped forward and flashed a plastic ID card. “I’m Benjamin Liebowitz, special assistant to President Armando. The president has been assassinated by members of his own inner circle.”

  The lead agent stepped forward and examined the ID, then motioned for his men to lower their weapons. He looked at Kane, then Caroline. “Who are you?”

  “Corporal Martin, U.S. Army, here on a classified mission. Ms. Edwards is part of my team. That is all I am able to divulge.”

  The man surveyed the scene, then gestured toward Kane. “You two stay put.” He turned to one of his men. “If they try to leave, shoot them.”

  Kane looked in Benjamin’s direction, hoping to obtain a clue as to whose side he was on. None was forthcoming. He listened as the lead agent stepped to the side and activated a satphone. “Agent Barefoot here. We have a situation. Patch me through to Russo.” He noticed Benjamin shift uncomfortably.

  After a few moments the agent spoke again. “Mr. Russo, this is Agent Barefoot. The president is dead. Looks like an inside job. There is a man here who says
his name is Liebowitz. Claims he worked for the president. Also, two others who say they were on a classified mission. One is army.” The man was silent for a few seconds, then said, “Yes, sir.” He hung up the phone, turned to the other agents and pointed to Kane and Caroline. “Take these two into custody. They’re going back to headquarters with us.”

  Kane made eye contact with Caroline, whose expression indicated she was gearing up for a fight. He shook his head.

  Agent Barefoot nodded toward Benjamin. “Liebowitz, where do your loyalties lie?”

  “My loyalties lie with my employer.”

  “Good answer,” Barefoot said.

  “It’s kosher,” Benjamin said.

  “Jewish, huh?” The agent asked.

  “How’d you guess?”

  Kane clenched his teeth as the agents bound him and Caroline and confiscated their weapons and packs. He again studied Benjamin for clues as to his intentions, but was unable to discern anything. At first Liebowitz had seemed to have a bit of sense, but now it was beginning to look like he was just another government lackey who was in the back pocket of these Homeland Security thugs. Kane sensed that if Liebowitz didn’t speak up and implicate the two dead Middle-Easterners in President Armando’s death, the blame would likely fall on Caroline and him. Governments love scapegoats.

  After a few minutes Barefoot stepped toward the door and motioned for his men to follow. “Let’s move!”

  The agents pushed Caroline toward the door, then Kane. He watched as Caroline stared at Perry’s body until the agent shoved her through the door. He heard her sniffle as they were herded down the hall. Like cattle to the slaughter, he thought.

  Benjamin spoke up as they reached the stairs. “Agent Barefoot, there is a back entrance that is more secluded. We should go that way.”

  Barefoot paused for a moment, then nodded. They turned right, and Benjamin led them down a dark passageway to another set of stairs. Kane tested his restraints as they traveled up the stairwell, but found no opportunity to remove them.

  They exited onto a dark alley on the back side of the building. Two scraggly looking men stood near a dumpster, one wearing a well-worn green coat and the other a faded flannel shirt. Another man sat Indian style, warming his hands near a small fire beside the dumpster. He was wrapped in a brown blanket that had seen better days.

 

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