Corps Justice Boxed Set: Books 1-3: Back to War, Council of Patriots, Prime Asset - Military Thrillers

by C. G. Cooper

“I know, I know. I’m just giving you a hard time. Look, consider it payback for all those times you hooked me up with your rejects. I promise to wine you and dine you and nothing else.”

  Brandon took a second to respond. What could it hurt? “Well, as long as we stick to food, shows and a little gambling…I guess I can go.”

  +++

  Congressman Zimmer wished he’d said no. The trip started out like any other fact-finding junket. Lectures and meetings followed by expensive dinners and more meetings. It all fell apart for Zimmer on the third night.

  After a long day hobnobbing with local gaming contacts, Brandon needed a break. He slipped away and headed back to the swanky new hotel-casino, Zeitaku, owned by one of Ishi’s clients. Ducking into one of the many bars he’d toured earlier in the week, he soon found a dark corner and made himself at home.

  Halfway into his third martini, a gorgeous blonde walked into the almost deserted bar. Wow. Look at the body on that one.

  She sat down at the bar and ordered a drink from the Japanese bartender. After a couple sips from her cocktail her eyes wandered around the nearly empty bar. Almost squinting, she caught Brandon’s eye. She smiled sheepishly and went back to her drink.

  Five minutes later the young woman walked towards the restroom but veered over to the Congressman’s alcove.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bother you, but are you by any chance Congressman Zimmer?” she asked shyly.

  It wasn’t every day that Zimmer was recognized in public, but his ego always loved it.

  He plastered on his best man-of-the-people-smile. “Yes I am.”

  The blonde smiled ecstatically. “I thought so! Do you mind if I sit down?”

  Brandon gestured to the other seat. “Please.”

  Her name was Beth. She was also from the East Coast, and had gone to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. They hit it off immediately after ribbing each other about the strength of their alma maters’ basketball teams. Zimmer conceded that UNC was a perennial powerhouse on the court. His concession made Beth beam with pride.

  They stayed in the bar until it closed, drinking countless martinis in the process. One thing led to another and the pair eventually made it back to Zimmer’s penthouse suite.

  The next thing Zimmer remembered was waking up with his face cradled in Beth’s perfect breasts. He felt severely hung-over, but that was nothing new. Must have been a really good night, he thought.

  Something felt strange as he started to move. He didn’t remember getting into any kinky jello stuff, but his hands and midsection felt sticky.

  His eyes were still blurry and he could just make out Beth’s peaceful face. Man was she sleeping hard. He pushed himself off her naked body, looked down, and screamed.

  Everything came into stark focus. Beth’s beautiful body was completely dismembered. Her arms and legs had been cut off. A huge amount of blood was soaking the king-size mattress. Still screaming he looked down at himself and saw that he was covered in blood as well. Even worse, he raised his hands to his face and realized that his right hand held a long serrated knife, caked with congealing, sticky blood.

  He screamed once more and fainted.

  +++

  When he came to, hotel security staff was wandering around the bedroom. All were Japanese. They’d apparently wrapped him in a robe but neglected to clean off any of Beth’s blood. He started to panic as he took in the scene. Beth’s body was barely visible because it was surrounded by camera-wielding security crew. He even noticed one man casually taking videos of the room.

  The cameraman noticed Zimmer awake and motioned to one of the other men. The man nodded and headed towards the fallen congressman.

  The security guard walked over to Brandon and addressed him in heavily accented English. “Congressman Zimmer, I am head of hotel security. Would it be possible to take your statement now?”

  Brandon didn’t know how to answer. Was he going to jail? What the hell was happening?

  “I’d like to call my attorney first,” he forced out with as much conviction as he could muster.

  The head of security nodded. “I understand, Congressman. However, this is a highly sensitive issue. I would recommend cooperating with us. Failure to do so could make the situation much worse.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Let me just say that you would not want these videos to get leaked to the police or the public.”

  Brandon’s head started to clear as did his bravado. “Are you trying to frame me?”

  The security man looked almost contrite and bowed before answering. “Of course not, Congressman. You do see our dilemma…”

  He was interrupted by Ishi Nakamura bursting through the door.

  “What is the meaning of this?!”

  The guard bowed in deference. “Nakamura-san, I did not know that you were acquainted with the Congressman.”

  Ishi looked enraged. “Of course I am, you idiot. Does Mr. Saito know about this?”

  “He does. Saito-san wanted me to take care of this personally.”

  Ishi calmed and replied, “Tell him that I am here and wish to speak with him.”

  The head of security bowed and stepped outside to make the call.

  Ishi turned to his friend. “What the hell happened, Brandon?”

  Brandon’s composure slipped as he answered, “I…I…I don’t know. Last thing I remember I was having a great time with this girl, and then I wake up straddling a corpse. What the fuck, man?!”

  Ishi put a sympathetic hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Calm down. I’ll take care of this.”

  “How the hell are you gonna take care of this?! They’ve got my prints all over and they keep taking pictures!”

  Ishi paused and looked squarely at Brandon. “Do you trust me?”

  Still panicking, Zimmer couldn’t think of anything else to say. “I...I guess.”

  Shaking his head Ishi scolded, “That’s not good enough. Do you trust me?”

  Brandon looked at his old friend momentarily, then nodded. “Yes I trust you.”

  The corner of Ishi’s mouth turned up in sly grin. “OK. This won’t be easy, but I may be able to call in a few favors. The owner of this hotel, Mr. Saito, is a client of my firm and a friend of my father. Let me see what I can do.”

  Now in tears, Brandon pleaded, “Do whatever you have to and get me out of this, Ishi.”

  +++

  That was six months earlier. At the time all he wanted was to be out of that bloody room. Congressman Zimmer never had time to think about the consequences. Little did he know how much that favor would cost.

  Chapter 2

  Turks and Caicos, Providenciales Island

  9:00am, September 13th

  Cal stretched lazily on the king-size bed and looked across the huge suite. Neil was still monitoring the surveillance cameras. They’d been in Turks for just over a week, and had taken full advantage of the local amenities. That fact was clearly illustrated by the massive headache threatening to overtake Cal’s attention.

  Cal snapped his fingers at Neil. “Anything new?”

  Not looking up from the monitor, the genius known as Neil Patel answered, “Nope. Our boy is still sleeping off his hangover.”

  “I feel like I should be doing the same thing.”

  Neil chuckled and looked back at his friend through his stylish Prada glasses. “You were pretty funny when Brian dragged you back in here last night. What the hell did you get into?”

  Cal rubbed his hands over his eyes. “I was the idiot that thought he could match Master Sergeant Trent drink for drink.”

  MSgt Willy Trent was an enormous man. Standing just under seven feet with the physique of an NFL linebacker, Trent was a hard man to miss. He and Cal were both former Marines and competed in anything and everything possible. There was only one problem. Despite the fact that Cal was a very fit five foot ten former grunt and a deadly warrior, not many people could match Trent’s athletic abilities.
>
  Cal changed the subject, not wanting to make his headache even worse. “When does my shift start?”

  “It’s nine o’clock now. You’re not on until eleven.” Neil went back to his vigil and coffee.

  Cal tried to shake the cobwebs. “Sweet. That gives me some time to marinate under a nice hot shower.”

  “You need it. You smell like a brewery,” Neil answered sniffing the air.

  Cal gave his friend a middle-finger salute and trudged off to the bathroom. As he soaked in the shower, his mind drifted. He thought about his entrance into his deceased father’s company, Stokes Security International (SSI). Had it really been a year since he’d started working at SSI?

  It seemed like only yesterday that he had accepted the position as head of SSI’s covert division. His cousin, Travis Haden, was CEO of SSI and a former SEAL. He’d not only enticed Cal into taking the position, but had also allowed the former Marine to utilize SSI assets to avenge his fiancé’s murder.

  Cal had exacted his revenge in the gang leader’s underground lair, not far from SSI’s headquarters, Camp Spartan, just south of Nashville, Tennessee. It was a close fight (Cal had the scars to prove it), but he’d finally killed the criminal who’d taken his beloved Jessica’s life.

  He still felt the bitter sting of grief. It had lessened over time, but Cal still couldn’t bring himself to start dating again. His friends knew it would happen in time, but no one pushed the issue.

  Cal remembered Jessica’s funeral. It was a beautiful ceremony on a bright sunny day. They’d buried her on the grounds of Camp Spartan, and Cal often took a jog up to her grave. He liked to think that Jess was now watching over him as he continued his journey with SSI.

  After the funeral, Travis had introduced him to the men that would completely change his life’s path: the Council of Patriots.

  +++

  The Council was comprised of nine men. All were former U.S. political leaders, including three former Presidents, four senators and two congressmen. All were Republicans except for former President Hank Waller, a Democrat.

  He remembered that first meeting vividly. They’d each introduced themselves then told him the story of their formation.

  The Council had formed in the early 2000’s after the disaster of 9/11. It all started with a couple of former political opponents playing 18 holes at the Army-Navy Country Club just outside of D.C. Both men were former presidents. Hank Waller was a two-term Democrat from California, and John Kelton was a single-term Republican from Tennessee. They’d been bitter rivals for years, but the presidency has a way of broadening perspectives. Waller and Kelton had collaborated on various relief efforts after their presidencies, and grew to respect one another. They’d become close friends despite their political leanings.

  It was on that chilly May morning in Arlington that the two former presidents first conferred about the threats affecting the United States. What many Americans fail to realize is that retired politicians still maintain open lines of communication within the federal government, including sources within certain intelligence agencies. There are even times when sitting presidents call upon their predecessors for advice. Therefore, it was not surprising that the two friends were very well informed about the current dangers their nation faced.

  Cal had interrupted the story to ask why any Democrat would even be caught dead with a former rival. He prefaced the question by pleading total ignorance about the political process and the players involved.

  President Waller, the tallest of the group at around six foot five, chuckled and explained.

  “You’re not far off the mark, Cal. I won’t lie to you. I was as liberal as they come when I first stepped into office. Funny thing about becoming President is that it humbled me. All of a sudden I was thrust into a whole new world. Yes, I had access to a lot before I was sworn in, but nothing prepared me for the reality.”

  Cal didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”

  “Let’s just say it was like I’d been walking around with blinders on my whole life and then all of a sudden, they were gone.”

  Cal was beginning to understand. “So what changed for you?”

  Waller laughed and spread his arms wide. “Everything. Now I was getting daily reports from our intelligence assets. I really began to think the intel guys were just trying to spook me, no pun intended. It seemed like every brief I got was about some communist faction or terrorist cell trying to wipe us off the planet. I suddenly realized how naïve I’d been.”

  “I’m confused, Mr. President. You took office back in the nineties. You just said the Council didn’t form until after 9/11.”

  President Waller nodded, “First off, in this room we all go by our first names. We’re all putting our necks on the line, including you. So start out by calling me Hank.”

  Cal was clearly uncomfortable by the request, but conceded, “OK, Hank.”

  “That’s better. Now to answer your question. As a lot of my liberal predecessors have done, I moved away from the far Left toward the Center during my tenure. I couldn’t make drastic changes overnight. People would think I was crazy AND I’d lose my electoral base. Hell, I’m not vain when I say I wanted to get reelected.”

  “So what else changed during your presidency?”

  “I started listening.”

  “To who?”

  Waller motioned to the entire group. “Everyone. It’s a sad fact in the political arena that once you get a taste of power, you feel like you know everything. Now I wasn’t totally close-minded, but I sure had an ego. I can tell you that now without being embarrassed. So I started listening to the experts, namely the operators in intelligence and the military. I really had no idea how smart some of you guys are.”

  President Kelton motioned to his colleague. “Let me chime in for a second, Hank.”

  Waller grabbed his drink and toasted his friend. “Have at it, Johnny.”

  Kelton toasted back, “I just wanted to tell Cal that our red-headed Democratic stepchild was not the only one to experience a wakeup call. I think if you ask each man in this room, he’ll tell you about some event that opened his eyes to the threats confronting America.”

  Waller nodded and replied, “That’s right. And I guess that’s the point. The nine men you see here today experienced an awakening. First and foremost, we are all American patriots. We believe our nation is the greatest in the world. We are a beacon of hope for so many. We are also a perfect target.”

  “So you guys came out of retirement?”

  Kelton answered, “I don’t think politicians ever retire. We just move on to other things. You know, fundraising, support, opening libraries, consulting…”

  “I’m assuming you don’t publicize this group.”

  Waller shifted in his seat. “That’s right. Could you imagine what would happen if the media found out that a bunch of retired politicians are working to save America? They’d either think we were a higher form of radical militia or just put us in jail. No, we won’t ever be going public.”

  Kelton looked back to Cal, “Cal, we all take this risk willingly. We know that we can’t just stand back and do nothing. I’m thinking that you would understand that more than most.”

  Cal nodded and thought about his recent out-of-bounds operation to take down the gang leader, Dante West, who killed Cal’s fiancé the year before. Did these men know what he’d done?

  Cal nodded seriously. “Okay. So tell me how I fit in.”

  “Well, Travis tells us that you’re about to take over the reins with us,” said Waller.

  “I’m still not entirely sure what that entails,” Cal shrugged.

  “Obviously, we don’t get together much, what with our Secret Service entourage and all. We usually have to come up with some excuse. This go-around, we’re accepting Travis’s invite for some hunting in the area. It’s not the easiest thing to cart us around. But from time to time, we come upon certain intelligence that has to be exploited outside the normal channels. SSI ha
s become one of the tools we use to go operational.”

  “So how did you guys find us?” Cal asked.

  Waller took a sip of his drink. “I met your dad back in the nineties when I was in office. Didn’t know him well at the time. SSI handled some of my personal security just after 9/11 too. The Secret Service was stretched so thin that they had to augment with outside personnel. Travis came down with the crew he’d assigned to me. We hit it off after he found out I liked duck hunting and football. When Johnny and I came up with the idea for this group Travis was the first person I contacted.”

  “But why SSI? Why not go through your old government contacts?” Cal prodded.

  Waller answered with a shrug, “We tried. Believe me we tried. Problem was that in the aftermath of 9/11, all of our agencies were overwhelmed. We had to find another ally.”

  “So you guys met with Travis and then what?”

  “He agreed to take a look at what we found. It took a couple times to work out the kinks, but we’ve got a better system now,” answered Waller.

  Travis, who’d kept quiet, finally entered the conversation. “Normally we communicate over a secure network Neil developed. The Council will send over the intel they want analyzed. We do some digging and give them our answer.”

  The look of incredulity gave away Cal’s next question. “I may be stating the obvious, but this feels way off the reservation.”

  Waller lost all the humor and his eyes and responded seriously. “It is. Just like your Corps Justice.”

  Cal’s eyes went cold for a split second. He’d have to remember that these were men of power. They were used to knowing everything. They knew about his completely illegal operation to take down Dante West. Calm down, Cal. You should’ve been prepared for that.

  Waller nodded and continued, “Yes, we know about your dad’s credo. That’s actually what convinced us to go with SSI.”

  President Waller reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a business card. Cal knew what it was. He had an identical, if somewhat worn, version of the same card. It was the Corps Justice card his father had given him before his death. Cal took the ex-President’s card and read it for maybe the thousandth time.