by H. L. Wegley
Brock chuckled. “Hannan would literally have a cow if he knew he’d been hacked by the Mossad.”
“Yes, he hates Israel with a passion. Hopefully, he will never know … at least not until it’s too late. Well, that’s pretty much it. Now we wait until the encrypted codes appear on the dark side server.”
“Dark side?” Julia asked.
“Don’t ask, Julia. Some pretty bad people hang out there. But I don’t think anyone can discover what I’m doing or find us if I hide among them.”
KC was bright, brave, and it sounded like she could be a little bit crazy, but Julia admired this brave young woman who, at twenty-two years of age, held a nation’s destiny in her hands. At least that’s how it seemed today. “I think it’s time for me to go.”
Julia stood, but Brock drew her gaze. “It’s good to see Steve and you together. You know, he told me six weeks ago, he had been looking for someone like you. He’s a good man, Julia.”
Brock’s eyes had the look of a lion stalking its prey … Julia Weiss. She needed to leave, now.
Brock’s powerful arms lifted KC off his lap and set her on the floor. He stood, facing Julia. “I wish you two could iron out your—”
“Iron out our differences about violence?” Brock had started this, and Julia would finish it. He shouldn’t have inserted himself where he didn’t belong.
“He’s a good man who loves people and hates oppression. He defends good people against evil. That’s his job”
“He's trained to kill people, Brock. And my experience has shown me—”
“Experience? Julia, God gave us general revelation, you know, creation, and He gave us special revelation, the Scriptures. Then He gave us the life of Jesus to show us what God is like. But you're not accepting that. Sure, God is love, but He's also just. He is truth and He is light, but He says over and over He hates oppression and injustice. He tells us to defend the weak. You've got some points of tension in your pacifistic thinking, things that don't jive with the God of the Bible. And they will give you problems until the day you die, if you don't let God show you who He really is instead of you trying to—”
“But He’s shown me a lot through what I saw in Africa.” This was beginning to sound like a repeat of their heated discussion at Jeff’s house. “Haven’t we already had this conversation?”
“The universe, the Bible, Jesus, you can rely on those. But never place your experience before them, especially when your experience leads you to a contradiction of the only sources of truth you can count on.”
“Brock, what I saw was wrong and—”
“Sure it was wrong. Bad people did evil things. But don't let evil teach you about God's ways, Julia. Steve has seen a lot of evil. He saw treacherous killings and Islamic men systematically abusing young boys and girls in Afghanistan. Steve knows that’s from Satan, not God.” Brock paused.
He stopped, probably because he saw what she felt, her face growing red hot.
KC shook her head at Brock. “By the way, is Steve going to DC to help Craig, Julia?”
“I don't know.” She needed to end this before the harsh words she was forcibly stifling leaped out of her mouth and assaulted Brock.
Brock’s eyes focused on her again. “If he is, you need to—”
“What I don't need is you intruding into my relationships … with God or with Steve.” She turned and walked out.
Before Julia turned to go down the hallway, KC stepped into Brock's arms, looking up into his eyes. “This is important to her and she's hurting, sweetheart…”
Julia walked out of hearing range, curious as to how KC's conversation with Brock would go, but too angry to stay and find out.
Chapter 24
On the other side of Hannan’s desk in his private study, Eli Vance sat, stroking the ends of the mustache that spanned the width of his gaunt, narrow face. “About time for the meeting, Abe. Why don’t we use the Oval Office anymore? I miss that presidential seal in the carpet.”
“The study has fewer holes in the wall than the Oval Office. More privacy.”
A knock sounded on the door.
“Come in, Harry.”
Secretary of Defense, Harrison Brown entered, followed by Greg Bell, Attorney General.
Harry took the seat on Hannan’s right. “White House security is really sparse. Have more people bailed?” He met Hannan’s gaze.
“You mean deserted, don’t you?”
Harry broke eye contact. “I’m sure they don’t see it that way.”
“They will when I have them executed for desertion in a time of war. To address the issue, I’ve called in more troops to secure the entire area.”
Greg Bell, shuffled some papers in his lap. “There’s someone else you’d probably like to execute, after his latest blog post.”
“What blog post?”
Greg’s eyebrows raised. “You mean you haven’t seen it?”
“I’ve been a little preoccupied with Russia’s constant probing, threatening our underwater cables with their subs, sending military aircraft close to our air space. Now the Chinese have hinted that they could take down any nation’s satellites any time they choose—a subtle warning to—has Daniels posted again? I thought we’d kept him on the run so—”
“Mr. President, he’s painting you as an incompetent failure. He even lists your failures in great detail.”
“You sound like you agree with him, Greg.”
“Only with the fact that you have failed to eliminate Mr. Daniels. He is emboldening the resistance and it’s growing. We just lost Eastern Oregon, maybe Southern Oregon, too. The most populated areas in Oregon will remain blue, but … you really ought to read this.” Greg tossed the papers he’d been holding onto Hannan’s desk.
He picked up the first page and started reading. One failure after another. The itemized list of Hannan’s failed military operations burned in his mind like a red-hot poker jammed into his head, searing every nerve until—Hannan took a calming breath. He would not let Daniels drive him into a rage, which was probably the blogger’s intent.
Hannan finished reading the post. It was a damaging commentary coming at a time when Hannan didn’t need further damage. And it galled him to admit it, but Daniels was largely correct about the military. They were proving to be gutless wonders, men who failed or ran when the going got tough.
So, Hannan would take Brock Daniels’ advice and make sure Hannan’s forces had “overwhelming superiority.” Then they would crush this band of troublemakers. “We will soon be rid of Brock Daniels and his cohorts. I’ve done what I should have done in the beginning, ordered a full company of Rangers to locate them, surround them, and then tighten the noose until they are all hanged. We cannot let one nit survive.”
“If this fails, Mr. President, Brock Daniels’ ridicule will know no bounds, and his reputation as a modern-day prophet will only increase his influence. And as for nits, you will most certainly have a nasty lice infestation.”
Eli cleared his throat. “Abe, keep in mind that you no longer have support from Kingsley Air Force Base. In fact, they might interfere.”
As intelligent as the old man was, maybe Eli was finally getting senile. “Kingsley is primarily a training base. What can they do to stop us?”
“Uh … their pilots conduct live-fire training with guns and missiles,” Harry said. “They have enough weapons, sir, to wipe out a sizeable ground force.”
“Then we’ll take out Daniels quickly, monitoring the Air Force Base communications during the assault.”
Harry Brown had been shuffling his feet for the last minute of this discussion. “Sir, last night the Air Force Base cut all communications with the DOD network—phone system … everything. It was a sophisticated, surgical snip of all communication lines. They must have planned this well in advance.”
“Then the boys at Fort Meade will have to monitor them for us.”
The way Harry stared across the room, avoiding eye contact, said he still wasn’t
satisfied. “Suppose NSA detects preparations for air support for the insurgents?”
The troops had to move quickly, and possibly on foot, for several miles. He couldn’t send in anti-aircraft equipment. The Rangers would have to fend for themselves. If they got Daniels, that was all that mattered. If aircraft got them, it was worth the loss of a hundred Rangers or so.
“Well, sir?”
“Look, Harrison … you’re my Defense Secretary, you handle that contingency.”
“But, Mr. President, you’ve been handling these operations, personally. How can I—”
Hannan walked around his desk and opened the study door. “This meeting is over. I have some phone calls to make.”
Greg Bell left the room first, walking at a fast clip.
Harrison Brown left shaking his head.
Eli Vance waited until Greg and Harry were far down the hallway. “Abe, you’re willing to just sacrifice a company of Rangers to get Daniels, aren’t you?”
“Why not? My cabinet doesn’t think they’re worth much more than what Brock Daniels described.”
“Mercenaries, undisciplined men … isn’t that what he called them? You send those kind of men on a suicide mission without telling them, and they’ll turn on you if any of them survive. Like I said … someday someone’s going to shoot you, Abe.”
Chapter 25
Captain David Craig’s patience had worn thin. Not a good thing for a commander of a Ranger detachment on a covert mission to apprehend the President of the United States. He and his men had been hiding in this safe house in an older Arlington, Virginia neighborhood for the past week, planning the assault.
Craig had been forced to trust people before spending enough time with them to develop trust. That bothered him. But he had good instincts. One look into a man’s eyes, after blindsiding him with a carefully crafted question, revealed a lot. But one mistake and his mission would be over … as would the lives of his men, leaving the US as a failed state.
Craig’s problems had compounded when, two nights ago, his Weapons Sergeant, Gano—the man who had replaced Steve Bancroft—had stepped in an eighteen-inch-deep hole as they ran in the darkness to evade police. The compound fracture of the lower leg would take him out of the fray for at least two months.
What Craig needed now was first, the info from KC to make the final assault, which he believed would lead them down into the DUCC, and second, his old weapons sergeant, Steve Bancroft. Steve was a magician with explosives and this assault might require a complete magic show.
Daddy-O, his Operations Sergeant—AKA team daddy—snatched his M4 and moved to the door. “Sir, someone’s coming up the walk.”
“Do you recognize him?”
“Yes, sir. It’s that Secret Service Agent, Belino. He’s out of uniform—running shorts, tank top, and a baseball cap.”
“We’re in too deep with him to back out now. Let him in, Daddy-O.”
At the first knock on the door, Daddy-O pulled it open and Belino quickly stepped inside.
His gray tank top was dark with sweat around his neck, down the sides and on the back.
Belino pulled off his cap and wiped his brow with the back of his hand.
“You’re a sweaty mess, Belino,” Daddy-O said. “I hope you’re running by choice, not necessity.”
“It’s by choice, all but the timing. In DC, I don’t normally run in the middle of a hot August day. But I’ve got some news you’ll be interested in.”
“Good news, I hope.” Craig motioned toward a chair.
“No, I’ll stand. Like you said, I’m a sweaty mess. This won’t take long.”
“Let’s hear it.” Craig flipped his internal switch that placed his mind in observation mode, preparing to take in and digest everything.
“I don’t think I told you the last time we talked, but I have a friend who stayed behind to … well, basically to spy on Hannan.”
“And you trust this guy?”
“With my life, sir.”
“What does your friend have to say?”
“The White House is like a big computer data system, Captain Craig. It’s a system that’s complex, full of subsystems that have evolved over the years and over many administrations. It includes security, communications systems, office help, kitchen staff, but everything is coming unglued as people choose who they’re going to support, Hannan or the resistance.”
“Chaos is good. Well, for us, not Hannan. But, Belino, how do you communicate with your friend without someone detecting you?”
“Like I said, the system is badly broken. That’s how I’ve managed to keep my duty phone. I only use it to talk to my contact. But no one has even checked on it or tried to shut off service. So I can talk to my friend, until he leaves or …”
“Yeah, or …” Craig waited for Belino to continue.
“Well, sir, my contact says Hannan’s worried about his personal security, especially while he’s in the White House or working in the West Wing. He’s safer in the DUCC, but he hates going down there. And he’s as paranoid as … well, for example, he seldom uses the Oval Office because of the holes in the wall.”
“Holes in the wall? In the Oval Office?”
“Yes, sir. There are eighteen holes for observation by security. No mics. The holes are just used to make sure POTUS is alive and well.”
“Where is this going, Belino?”
“Hannan’s going to bring in more military to secure the White House and the West Wing. He would have done it already, but he doesn’t know who to trust and, like I said—”
“He’s paranoid.”
“Yes, sir. You see, his transformation of the military wasn’t as complete as he thought when this all started.”
“Tell me about it, Belino. Hannan’s Gestapo went down through the ranks finding all the unsuitable officers—Christians, practicing Jews, even some of the Muslims. The Gestapo trumped up charges to force us out by resignation or court martial. Back to your subject … any idea at all as to when this might happen?”
“It’s probably only days, a very few days. I don’t know the size of the force he’ll bring in, but I would guess something like a whole company of troops.” Belino ran his fingers through his hair and adjusted the cap on his head. “That’s all I have, so I’d better get back to my run.”
“Thanks, Belino. Feel free to stop by anytime you’re out for a run.”
Belino nodded and headed toward the door. “Next time I’m out this way, I’ll bet you’re gone.”
“Could be.”
Daddy-O opened the door.
Belino jogged outside and broke into a run when he hit the sidewalk.
The clock was ticking now. Craig could lose his only chance to stop Hannan if they didn’t make their assault before Hannan brought in an army to protect him.
If Craig’s team missed their chance, things would get ugly in the US. A fractured country with more states seceding—it could lead to civil war and a lot more deaths.
Craig had to go after Hannan in the next twenty-four hours, or less. But, if Hannan retreated to the DUCC before Craig’s Rangers cornered him, they would need KC’s access codes or the whole mission might fail.
Should he risk the lives of his men and the future of the nation by attacking without those access codes? As his gut knotted from something Craig seldom experienced, indecision, he pulled out his secure phone and keyed in Steve Bancroft’s number.
Chapter 26
Craig placed the call to Steve's secure sat phone and waited, hoping he could get enough information to make a decision on the assault. Steve could be here in approximately six hours from the time he reached the Redmond airport.
Steve answered on the third ring. “Hugo Boom, here.” Sharp, clear, and confident, Steve's voice.
“Bancroft, that's no way to answer your phone.”
“Sorry, sir. Just wanted to make sure it was you on the other end before revealing anything.”
“It's me, but we've got a problem.”
<
br /> “Yeah. It started seven and a half years ago. So, what's Hannan up to now, sir?”
“He's bringing a company or more of troops to do Deke's old job, secure the White House complex. We've got to nail Hannan in the next twenty-four hours or it could be too late. I need to talk to KC, then to you, again.”
“KC and Brock just walked in. Here she is, sir.”
“Craig, this is KC. Before you even ask, I'm still waiting on the cypher keys to arrive via the … well, you know.”
“Listen, KC. I've got to go after our target in the next few hours or it's too late. Without the codes, is there any way I can get into the DUCC?”
“Do you have Internet access?”
“At the moment I do.”
“Good. I'm sketching out your path to the DUCC as we speak. I'll put it in the secure drop box on the Israeli server. You can pick it up in about five minutes. What it will show you is the stairwell, locations of video monitors to avoid on the way down, and three doors. The first two you can probably blast through. But the final door—you'll never get through it unless you can open it, or get someone to open it for you.”
Craig sighed into the phone. “So we have to catch him before he enters the DUCC or we could end up trapped, deep under the West Wing.”
“We’re talking about the most secure location in North America,” KC said. “You can’t just waltz in, you know. Without inside help and an incompetent president whose administration is coming apart at the seams, you’d never even get to the West Wing, let alone inside it.”
“I’m just a little frustrated, KC. You didn't happen to memorize the key to that door, did you?”
“Craig, this isn't your run-of-the-mill four- or six-digit numeric key. It's a sixty-four-character, alphanumeric string.”
“Then how the heck is anyone supposed to use the blasted key?” Craig was losing it. Something he'd done only once in the past and he still regretted it. People had died that day.
