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

by C. G. Cooper

  Cal pulled up in a black Ford Excursion. After loading all their gear into the back, the two Marines got in. Briggs keyed the hotel’s address into their GPS as Cal made a phone call.

  “Trav, we’re on our way to Teton Village.” Travis Haden was CEO of SSI, a former Navy SEAL and Cal’s cousin.

  “Good. Trent, Dunn and Gaucho’s boys are spread out on the next couple flights. They should all be there by noon tomorrow.”

  “Thanks again for setting that up. Any updates on Neil?” Neil Patel, one of Cal’s best friends and SSI’s head of Research and Development, had disappeared two days earlier. He’d been in Jackson Hole for a small conference with some of the world’s top technology firms. It was an annual invite-only-event and Patel’s third year attending. Haden had received a call from a friend attending the conference. The guy told Travis that Neil hadn’t shown up for his lecture; something about the importance of battlefield innovation on civilian product development. The man was frantic because the entire group of enrollees was waiting anxiously for Patel’s popular talk.

  It wasn’t like Neil to miss anything. After calling Patel’s cell and hotel room repeatedly, they couldn’t track him down. Finally, Travis placed a call to the hotel security staff and convinced them to search Neil’s room. The head of security conducted the search personally. Neil’s room was empty. Despite an unmade bed and used hotel toiletries in the bathroom, all of Patel’s personal belongings were gone.

  Due to the sensitive information Neil stored in his genius-level brain, Travis initiated a complete lockdown of SSI’s systems. In spite of Patel’s insistence to the contrary, Todd Dunn, SSI’s head of internal security, had warned against allowing one of SSI’s key assets to travel alone. Always planning for the worst, Dunn came up with a backstop: Neil was required to have a micro transmitter (of Neil’s own design) surgically implanted in his ankle. It would lie dormant until needed. The transmitter allowed SSI to turn on the tracking feature and find Patel anywhere in the world.

  The first thing Dunn did after getting the news from his boss was to turn on the tracking device. Nothing happened. That meant one of three things. One, the device malfunctioned. Two, Neil disabled the device. Three, someone had kidnapped Neil, extracted the transmitter, and destroyed it.

  They had to plan for the worst. First, it wasn’t natural for one of Neil’s gadgets not to work. He’d tested it on multiple subjects, and it had always performed above expectations. Second, Neil had no reason to take the thing out. Third, Patel was a big target. If someone wanted to find a goldmine of technological knowledge, Neil was a human treasure trove. With his near photographic memory and world-class hacking skills (he regularly trolled the vaunted systems of organizations like the CIA, MI6 and FBI just for fun), he was an invaluable asset.

  On the surface, things remained calm. Travis thanked the hotel security team and apologized for the inconvenience and had given them the excuse that he’d just found out that Neil left early due to a death in the family. He gave the same story to the colleague who’d called to ask about Patel.

  Behind the scenes, SSI worked overtime. Not only was Patel a vital part of ongoing SSI operations and R&D, but, like a seasoned CIA station chief, Neil knew everything. His capture and the exposure of SSI’s covert operations would mean disaster not just for the company, but for various players within the American government. There were implications all the way up to the President. It wasn’t a scenario Travis wanted to have play out.

  “Did you have Neil’s guys go over the list of people attending the conference?” Cal asked.

  “For the third time, yes, cuz. We’re doing everything we can on this end. We haven’t even had a whiff from any of our sources.”

  Cal huffed in frustration. He knew the headquarters team was doing everything they could, but Cal wasn’t a patient man. Travis had even placed a secure call to the President to give him a heads-up. Because of Cal’s recent rescue of the American President, the politician promised to help however he could.

  “Sorry. I’m just worried.”

  “You and me both. I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure this thing out. Have any wild ideas on your flight out?” asked Travis.

  “I had too many ideas. Name one group of bad guys that wouldn’t want their hands on Neil. It’s like having the ultimate cyberweapon.”

  The two men were silent for a moment as they both tried to envision the possible fallout. It wouldn’t be good. They had to get Neil back.

  Cal switched gears. “How many people knew Neil was coming out for this conference?”

  “Obviously everyone attending. That’s just under fifty people. Then, of course, there’s his staff here and our leadership team. Seventy-five people tops?”

  Seventy-five people. It could be worse. “I assume you’ve already got our people doing background checks on all of them, right?”

  “Yeah. Nothing yet. There are some competitors we need to take a closer look at, but I think the guy that organizes the conference has already done a pretty good job vetting attendees.”

  Cal figured that was the case. These were high-profile executives. Most of them probably had the equivalent of Top Secret clearances in the tech world. Still, at this point, everyone was a suspect.

  “I’ve got a really bad feeling about this, Trav. Please let me know if you find out anything new. Me and the boys will hit the pavement here.”

  “No problem. Let’s stay in touch.”

  Cal ended the call and put his phone in the cup holder. He’d hoped to have something to go on before starting the search. Best case, they’d find Neil soon. Worst case, someone had already shipped him off to another country.

  +++

  Neil sat shivering in his small cell. He was wrapped in an old olive drab wool blanket. It wasn’t much, but it warded off some of the chill.

  The only light in the room came from a tiny window the size of a brick. He’d already tried banging on it but the damn thing felt like it was a foot thick. One of the guards paid him a visit after checking the window and gifted him with a hard jab in the sternum. The spot still hurt.

  He laughed at the pettiness of the recollection. Compared to the rest of his predicament, the blow was a minor inconvenience. Neil had a bad feeling about why they’d kidnapped him as he’d walked back from the sushi restaurant two nights ago. It made it even worse that they’d known exactly where his remote locator was. That was, until they’d taken care of it.

  Neil reached down to the neatly bandaged stump that used be his ankle and winced. At least they’d had the courtesy to knock him out and supposedly had a real doctor cut his foot off. Look on the bright side, right?

  He sat back and adjusted his Prada eyeglasses. Neil wouldn’t be walking out anytime soon, but he started to prepare mentally for whatever horrors awaited him. A small part of his subconscious hoped Cal would come bursting through the door at that very second.

  +++

  “You’re sure?” Nick Ponder asked into the phone.

  “Yeah. They just landed. You want us to follow them?”

  “No. I’ve got another team waiting in Teton Village. We already know they’re staying at Hotel Terra. With the slow season it’ll be easy to keep tabs on them. I want you to stick around and let me know when the rest of their guys land.”

  “Okay, boss.”

  Nick Ponder, a fifty-five year old former Green Beret, hung up the phone. He stood up from his simple metal desk and stretched his hulking six foot six frame. Over the past few years he’d grown out his beard into an unruly black tangle. He kept his head shaved bald. Being imposing and ruthless were two of Ponder’s gifts. He’d learned it in the military and carried on the tradition when they’d kicked him out in 1996, and he’d started his own company.

  He still worked out daily and could best most men half his age. Seven years ago he’d relocated his company headquarters to Wyoming. Ponder enjoyed the wilderness but liked the secluded fortress much more. There wasn’t much he couldn’t do
out here. It was perfect for staying under the radar.

  After the little incident with that prick Calvin Stokes Sr. back in 1999, business was harder to come by. Before that, Ponder was a growing force within the mercenary world. At that time, he’d leveraged his contacts to recruit close to one hundred men and had them deployed to most of the world’s shitholes. Well, at least the ones where some little dictator needed some real warriors to protect him.

  Looking back, he knew his expansion into protection for the Mexican drug lords had been stupid. It’d seemed so easy though. The money was ten times what the majority of security contracts were. If it weren’t for that fucking Marine Colonel, he’d probably be smoking Cohibas in Antigua right about now.

  It was gravy up until he got the ultimatum from one of his competitors. He still replayed the conversation in his head whenever he didn’t get a contract he thought he deserved.

  “Nick, this is Calvin Stokes with Stokes Security. I was wondering if you had a minute.”

  Ponder’s head was full of cocaine sampled from his client’s latest shipment. He only knew Stokes by reputation. The guy was a former Marine and apparently a real hard-ass. “What can I do for the Marine Corps, Colonel?”

  “I’m not sure how to relay this, so I’ll just go ahead and say it. We’ve been hearing rumors that you’re providing protection for the Jimenez cartel.” Stokes let the accusation hang. If Ponder had been clear headed he might have handled the situation differently. He would’ve denied it.

  “So fucking what? Even Mexicans need protection!” Ponder laughed out loud at the joke.

  Col. Stokes exhaled. He’d hoped to have an intelligent conversation with Ponder. Yes, The Ponder Group was technically competition, but a certain respect was assumed between American security contractors. He’d never dealt with Ponder directly, but had heard stories of the man’s exploits, both in and out of the service. The Army had drummed him out at the rank of Major after a little ‘situation’ in the Philippines. The unofficial report, provided by Stokes’s contact at the Pentagon, gave vague details of how Ponder had singlehandedly slaughtered the families of five men suspected of being conspirators in a planned terror attack. Ponder had freely admitted to the atrocity and thrown it in his superiors’ face. He even called them cowards for not doing the same.

  Apparently the rumors were true, and the idiot had just admitted it.

  “Look, Nick, I was just giving you a courtesy call before I turn this over to the authorities.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?!” Ponder yelled into the phone.

  “Without going into the details, I’ll tell you that we’ve been doing some contract surveillance work for a Federal agency. I’m bound by our contract to give them everything I have,” Stokes explained.

  “Bull-fucking-shit! You’re trying to torpedo my ass! I’ll have your ass…”

  “No, you won’t.” The cold menace in Stokes’s voice cut through Ponder’s cocaine high. “Like I said, I’m calling you out of professional courtesy. Either you wrap things up or prepare for the Feds to come down on you. It’s out of my hands.”

  It was the one and only conversation he’d ever had with SSI’s founder. He’d heard the prick died on 9/11. Asshole.

  None of it mattered anymore. He was about to make his retirement. One last op and he’d be fucking rich. They might have to fend off some of the competition but that didn’t matter. Ponder was on his home turf. Plus, with the promise of a king’s ransom coming his way, he could afford to up his firepower a bit.

  Unfolding his huge frame from the desk chair, he walked over to the large bay window overlooking his horse corral. Maybe he’d take a ride after visiting with his prisoner. It was time to make sure his little investment paid off.

  Chapter 3

  Hotel Terra, Teton Village, Jackson Hole, Wyoming

  5:39pm, September 26th

  Cal threw his bag on the twin bed. The room wasn’t huge but more than comfortable. Outside they had a little balcony that afforded a beautiful view of the ski runs. Too bad they weren’t on vacation.

  “How about we go get some food.”

  Daniel agreed with a nod. “Where do you want to eat?”

  “Let’s stay close. How about that restaurant right across the quad?” Cal pointed through the window. “What does that say? The Mangy Moose Saloon? I could use a beer and a steak.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Briggs grabbed the small backpack that Cal had recently discovered carried an assortment of reserve ammunition for his concealed weapons. Daniel took his new role as Cal’s security seriously. Always the first through the door, Briggs kept a vigilant eye out for his new boss. Hell, in the first week they’d known each other he’d saved Cal’s life no fewer than three times.

  The two Marines walked down to the first floor and stepped outside. It was a short walk across the outdoor common area to get to the Mangy Moose Saloon. The place had an old log cabin feel and fit right into the Wyoming wilderness vibe of the trendy Teton Village development.

  There weren’t many patrons as they walked into the two-story establishment. Briggs paused at the door and scanned the tables. He did a once over of the Japanese couple sitting nearest the stage and the four guys dressed in riding gear sitting at the bar. No threats. Satisfied, he led the way in.

  It was open seating, so Daniel chose a small table with a good view of the bar and dining area. A pretty, Nordic-looking waitress stepped up just as they were sitting down.

  “What can I get for you, gentlemen?”

  “Do you have any local IPA on tap?” Cal asked politely.

  “Sure. Sir, what can I get for you?” she asked the blonde-headed sniper.

  “I’ll have a Diet Coke, please.”

  As the waitress walked back to get their drinks, two men walked into the restaurant and headed to the bar. Neither man looked toward Cal and Daniel, but the hair on Briggs’s neck stood straight up.

  They were both wearing well-worn outdoor clothing. The first man was skinny, of average height, with slicked back black hair and a wind-burned face. His beak nose was the feature that made him really stand out.

  His companion was a full head taller and walked in with a swagger. He took off his grey beanie, shook out his light brown hair and sat down on the barstool.

  “Give me shot of Beam.” He ordered loudly enough for Daniel to hear across the room. His smaller partner quietly took a seat and ordered a beer.

  Briggs didn’t know the men, but he knew the type. It was the way they carried themselves. These guys were former military, and they radiated danger to the highly attuned Marine. Wouldn’t be surprised if they’re armed too, he thought.

  “Don’t look behind you,” Briggs mentioned casually to Cal, “but I think we’ve got a little trouble. Two new friends just sat down at the bar.”

  With his back to the bar Cal couldn’t see what Daniel was talking about, so he just nodded. He knew better than to question the Marine’s senses. Briggs was a man of few words, so when he talked you listened. Not to mention he had an uncanny sixth sense when it came to danger. The man could sniff it out like a hound dog.

  “So what’s our play?” Cal asked.

  “Let’s just see what happens. Maybe I’m wrong.”

  Cal smiled and nodded.

  Their drinks were served a minute later. Cal took a long pull from his large mug and savored the bitter goodness of the local beer. He’d have to ask what brand it was.

  “Any movement from our friends at the bar?”

  Briggs shook his head.

  “You think we’re good to order?”

  “Yeah. Let’s keep it casual. If I’m right about these guys, I don’t want to tip them off,” Daniel instructed.

  They ordered their food and made random small talk as they ate. Cal had hoped to use the time to plan their search for Neil, but it looked like that would have to wait until later.

  Finishing quickly, they asked for the check and paid. The two men at the bar were still downi
ng their second drinks as Cal and Daniel made their way to the exit. There wasn’t even a glimpse in their direction by bird nose and his companion.

  Briggs hoped the warning was just in his mind. It would make their search for Patel a lot harder if they already had a tail.

  “Let’s take a little walk around the village and digest some of those ribs we just ate,” Briggs suggested.

  They headed uphill toward the large ski lift that was running the last tourists off the mountain. Both men were in excellent shape but could still feel the effects of the elevation. During their time in the Marine Corps, they’d each trained at the Mountain Warfare Training Center in Bridgeport, California. They knew it would take a couple days to acclimate to the decreased oxygen. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to test their sea level legs quite yet.

  After thirty minutes of walking through the modern ski village, and ducking into most of the little shops, Briggs led the way back towards the hotel. He hadn’t spotted the two men from the restaurant. It didn’t really surprise him. Teton Village wasn’t big. It would be easy to be observed and not even know it. It would be easier to lose a tail once night fell. Darkness was already imminent.

  Daniel took a right turn past a small playground, heading toward the hotel’s front desk. Instead of walking into the hotel, he continued past. The darkness was almost complete as they walked by the little sushi restaurant and headed up the street toward the mountain. Briggs wanted a little free space to see if anyone was following.

  Just as they rounded the corner past the last neighborhood, a set of high beams switched on and blinded the companions. They heard an old truck door open and saw a man get out and walk toward them.

  “You two weren’t planning on going up the mountain were you?”

  Briggs could now make out the man’s shape. He was wearing a Park Ranger’s uniform.