by Akart, Bobby
“I know what you’re thinking,” interjected Cort.
“Me too,” added Tom. “The question is whether this is over. Chepe and his anarchist buddies were readily available to attack us and to get to Cort. Whoever gave him the orders, whether Schwartz or someone else, is still out there. It’s possible they’ll make another run at—”
Tom’s sentence was cut off by a call to Ryan’s two-way radio. “Front gate to Haven House. Over.”
Ryan held his index finger in the air, stopping Tom from continuing his thought. “Go ahead, Front Gate.”
“Um, sir. There are two men here for Mr. Shelton. Uh, they’re wearing Air Force uniforms.”
Tom’s eyes grew wide as he stared at Ryan’s radio. A puzzled look came over his face.
“Stand by,” said Ryan into his radio before turning to Tom. “Who knows you’re here?”
“Nobody,” he replied. “I mean, oh god. The girls. Our kids know we’re here. What if …” A look of shock overcame his face and he raced for the door.
“Tom! Tom!” shouted Ryan as he and Cort chased after him. “Don’t assume anything.”
Tom ignored Ryan and found Donna in the living room with the ladies and Hannah. They noticed the look of alarm on his face and stood to greet him. Then Tom caught himself.
“Um, sorry to interrupt,” he began, intending to hide his concerns from Donna. “I’ve gotta run down to the front gate with Ryan and Cort for a moment. Donna, will you wait here for me?”
She took a step toward him, but he backpedaled. “Dear, of course. But what’s wrong?”
“Oh, probably nothing. We’ve just got a visitor to deal with. We’ll be back shortly.”
Tom turned to the guys and guided them to the front door with his eyes. They picked up on the cue and led the way.
Once outside the house, Ryan reiterated to Tom that he shouldn’t worry, but the older man remained unconvinced. He was the first to enter the Ranger and tapped his leg impatiently until Ryan had them heading to the front gate.
When they arrived, two Air Force officers stood solemnly in front of the gate, being held in place by the security guards’ rifles. Ryan drew closer and Tom squinted in the bright sunlight to get a better a look.
“Oh, God, I know one of them. It’s Major Hicks from Joint Base Charleston. His rank, um, he outranks my oldest daughter, who is a captain.”
Tom was making reference to the fact that a death notification contingent generally requires one of the personnel to be at an equal or greater rank than the deceased soldier.
The Ranger had barely come to a stop when Tom flung open the door with his noninjured arm and dashed to the gate.
“Major Hicks? I don’t understand. Is it my daughter?” Tom’s voice was hopeful, but full of trepidation.
“No, Colonel. I’ve been asked to deliver a message to you. Eyes only, sir.”
“What?” Tom was dumbfounded as the major extended his arm through the gate with an envelope enclosed. He took the letter and then studied the major. “Major, how—?”
“Sir, there’s more,” Major Hicks continued. “I’ve been instructed to tell you that a chopper is parked nearby and is available for your use, if you so choose. In addition, I’ve been asked to give you this.” He nodded to the captain, who stood stoically by his side.
The man removed a satellite telephone from his jacket pocket and handed it to Tom. “It’s encrypted, Colonel. There are preset phone numbers programmed for you. It’s chargeable with any USB device, sir.”
“Thank you, Captain,” said Tom as he rolled the satellite phone. He addressed the major. “What’s this all about?”
“Sir, the correspondence is self-explanatory,” he replied. “I’m not authorized to add to it other than to say the chopper is at your disposal.”
Tom turned and looked at Cort and Ryan, who’d inched closer to listen to the conversation once they heard it didn’t have anything to do with Tom’s family.
Tom opened the sealed envelope and read the short letter. He shook his head and looked to the ground. Then he took a deep breath and turned to Cort.
“It’s your father-in-law. He’s dying.”
Part III
Chapter Twenty-Seven
George Trowbridge’s Residence
Near Pine Orchard, Connecticut
Cort, Meredith, and Hannah were excited at first as they climbed aboard the Bell 525 Relentless helicopter, one of three owned by George Trowbridge. With its use of fully integrated avionics coupled with an advanced fly-by-wire controls system, it provided the highest safety rating of any personal helicopter. Capable of holding twenty passengers, the Bell 525 cruised at a hundred thirty knots as it flew toward the Trowbridge residence. The crew made a quick stop for fuel at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware and then hugged the Atlantic seaboard, allowing the Cortlands an unparalleled view of Atlantic City, New York City, and Long Island as it descended toward Meredith’s familial home overlooking Long Island Sound.
Full of apprehension, the family hastily departed the helicopter ducking under the massive blades rotating above their heads. They were greeted by Harris who filled them in on Trowbridge’s condition as they walked to the main house.
“Meredith, it has been some time since you’ve seen your father, so I want to prepare you,” said Harris as he glanced at the estranged daughter and the granddaughter he hadn’t seen in many years. “His health has steadily declined since he was diagnosed with kidney failure. You combine that with the other ailments that beset a man of his age, such as vascular disease, and, well …” His voice trailed off as he became filled with emotions.
Meredith stopped and reached for Harris’s arm. “You’ve been very loyal to my father, and I can’t thank you enough for being there for him on a personal level. As he grew older, he had the opportunity to change his life. Most people his age look for a quality of life that is far simpler. You know, reading the daily newspaper, watching their favorite programs in the easy chair, and solving ever-more-difficult sudoku puzzles.”
Harris regained his composure and laughed. “Yes, my father was that way. Yours was not. He was a driven man. Um, still is, excuse me. He just never found a way to release the reins of power that he’d become accustomed to wielding. I think he’s now aware that it’s almost over. That’s why I took the extraordinary measures to reach you.”
Cort asked, “Does he know we’re coming?”
“No, not really, although in his weakened state, he will still be aware that the chopper has arrived. He’ll be asking questions, but I suspect once he sees you, he’ll understand.”
Hannah looked up at Harris. “Is my grandfather going to die?”
Harris didn’t attempt to respond, looking instead at Cort and Meredith. Talking with children about death was above his pay grade.
“Honey, we don’t know yet,” replied Meredith. “Let’s go see him and say hello, okay?” She’d already asked the question when she caught herself.
Cort turned to Harris and whispered, “Is there any reason Hannah can’t see him?”
“No, it’s fine. He’s under the best of care. Now, there are lots of machines and medical personnel around. I hope that doesn’t frighten her.”
Cort chuckled. “Um, she’s been through a lot. I don’t think much will frighten her.”
Harris nodded and continued toward the house. Within a minute, they were standing in the grand foyer.
“Excuse me for a moment while I check in with the doctor,” said Harris as he ran up the stairs, taking two at a time.
Meredith showed Hannah around, explaining to her that this was where she grew up before she’d met Cort. Hannah had been very young and didn’t remember the last visit to the estate. Cort had been there recently, but Meredith hadn’t returned home in many years. There were some new paintings adorning the walls and several photographs of her father with foreign dignitaries as well as Washington politicians. Cort pointed out some of the more notable people pictured, especially those whom Hannah might recogni
ze.
After a few minutes, the medical team emerged from the master suite and descended the stairs to introduce themselves to the Cortlands. They made small talk and then the team explained Trowbridge’s diminished condition.
Harris took Hannah on a tour of the home’s main level, which included the piano room, the enclosed swimming pool and gym, and her grandfather’s study. While they were away, the doctor brought the Cortlands up to speed.
Meredith listened intently as she was bombarded with a barrage of complex medical terms like uremia, hemodialysis, fistula, and shunt. She asked for explanations to help her understand the medical jargon. Ultimately, they provided her a history of her father and the blood-purifying machine that kept him alive. And then his primary physician brought them up to his current condition.
“The medical equipment that we’ve employed in his care is the best money can buy. Frankly, it’s better than what most community hospitals have at their disposal. His treatment, however, is not a cure. It’s a life-extending mechanism designed to prevent the toxic substances from building up within his body that would necessarily have resulted in his death some time ago.”
“He was fully alert when I saw him on New Year’s Eve,” Cort interrupted.
“That happens sometimes before a patient’s condition worsens,” explained the doctor. “Over the past week or so, Mr. Trowbridge has complained of constantly being cold. His aches and pains have worsened. He is increasingly short of breath. And despite our constant monitoring of his condition and, frankly, due to his excessive need to converse with others …” The doctor’s voice trailed off as he cast a glance in the direction that Harris had taken Hannah for a tour.
“What do you mean?” asked Meredith.
“He’s developed mouth sores and has increased difficulty in swallowing, which has resulted in a loss of appetite. Elderly people in general have a tendency to cut back on their food intake in their later years. For Mr. Trowbridge, the lack of sustenance can hasten his death.”
“I have to ask something,” began Cort. “Does my father-in-law have a DNR order?”
A DNR, or do not resuscitate order, is a legally recognized document executed by a patient while he is still of sound mind and body. Also referred to as a living will, it details a person’s desires on how they are treated medically in the event they are unable to communicate their wishes on their own. Oftentimes, the DNR orders health care professionals not to take extraordinary means to keep the patient alive. This includes withholding cardiopulmonary resuscitation, or CPR, as well as other forms of advanced cardiac life support in the event their heart stops working or their breathing fails.
“He does, as well as a durable power of attorney for health care,” replied the doctor. Unlike the living will, which generally applies to a patient who has little or no hope of recovery, a durable power of attorney appoints someone, usually a trusted family member, to make health care decisions, as well as financial ones, in the event the patient becomes mentally incapacitated.
“Good,” replied Cort. As a former attorney, he was thoroughly familiar with the legalities surrounding these two health-related documents, as well as the use of living trusts to avoid probate when settling an estate. He’d created similar documents for him and Meredith, which also provided for the care of Hannah should they die before she turned eighteen. “Well, I assumed that George would have something like that in place. I’m glad that Harris summoned us. With Meredith here, she can make the decisions—”
“Um, excuse me, Mr. Cortland,” interrupted the doctor. “Actually, Mrs. Cortland is not the person named in the durable power of attorney. You are.”
“Me? Why wouldn’t he—” Meredith answered his question for him by catching herself. Then she continued. “Because his daughter was being a selfish brat at the time and he probably didn’t trust me to do the right thing.”
Cort tried to console his wife. “Honey, we don’t know that.”
“It doesn’t matter, Cort. He was right. I trust you with those decisions, why wouldn’t he?”
Cort was anxious to change the subject, especially since Hannah was returning. “Can we see him now?”
“Yes, he’s unaware of your arrival, but he is awake and lucid,” replied the doctor.
“Doctor, how much longer does he have?” asked Meredith.
“It’s hard to say,” said the doctor.
Meredith pressed him for an answer. “Hours? Days?”
“Well, I meant what I said. Mr. Trowbridge is a fighter and he could manage to live for weeks or a month. There are so many variables to consider. Might I suggest that you focus on today? When I took him under my care, we had an understanding. One day at a time.”
Cort smiled and reached out to shake the doctor’s hand. “I agree. Thank you so much for all you’ve done for him. One day at a time, starting with today.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
George Trowbridge’s Residence
Near Pine Orchard, Connecticut
Tears flowed as Meredith and her father reunited. Apologies were exchanged and heartfelt words of love were spoken between the estranged daughter and father. Also, Hannah was reacquainted with her grandfather. Trowbridge perked up as she told him about her life and what her interests were. She talked about her school studies, her hobbies, and gave him a full briefing on the exploits of Handsome Dan.
Cort was proud of Hannah for not burdening Trowbridge with the story of her abduction and rescue. Cort planned on discussing Chepe and his ties to Schwartz when the opportunity presented itself. His father-in-law did not need to know how close Hannah had been to being killed.
With Trowbridge finding a newfound strength, Cort took the opportunity to slip into the hallway to speak with Harris alone. They gently pulled the master suite doors shut and spoke in hushed tones just outside the door so that they could be close by in the event of a problem.
“I need to bring you up to speed on something,” Cort began as Harris provided him his undivided attention. “The Haven, which you’re clearly aware of, was attacked a couple of days ago. Hannah was abducted and taken into Charlotte by a guy named Chepe.”
“Chepe?” Harris’s recognition of the name was instantaneous. “He’s one of the top guys in Schwartz’s anarchist army. What’s he doin’ in Charlotte?”
“I don’t know for certain, and now that he’s dead, we won’t get it out of him.”
Harris wandered away from Cort and thought for a moment. “Why would Chepe come after the Haven or kidnap Hannah?”
“He was after me,” replied Cort matter-of-factly.
“You? I don’t get it.”
Cort offered his theory. “I understand that Schwartz and Jonathan have this rivalry thing going with George. They’re like big political bulls in the arena, fighting one another for supremacy.”
“The old man was arrested,” interjected Harris. He thrust his hands in his pants pockets and stared out at the Bell helicopter and Long Island Sound beyond it. “Cort, we initiated the FBI raid that took him down in order to take advantage of the president’s martial law declaration.”
“Are you saying this is an act of revenge?” asked Cort before continuing. He gave his assessment. “Jonathan couldn’t get through all of the security around here and decided to send his henchman to come after me and my family.”
“Possibly,” replied Harris.
Suddenly, the master suite doors opened, and Meredith emerged from her father’s bedroom. “Guys, he’s getting tired, and I need to get Hannah some lunch. Daddy asked that you two come inside for a moment.”
Harris and Cort exchanged glances before walking into Trowbridge’s inner sanctum. They didn’t have an opportunity to finish their conversation, and as they approached Trowbridge’s bedside, the tension showed on both of their faces.
“Gentlemen, I am dying, but I am not yet dead. Nor am I blind. But let me assure you, my patience is thin, and one of you had better start talking.”
Cort nodded to Ha
rris, indicating that he should shut the bedroom doors. He took the brief delay in responding as an opportunity to gather his thoughts. He wouldn’t lie to Trowbridge, but some facts would be omitted.
“I’ll get right to the point,” began Cort, hoping the direct approach would prevent Trowbridge from questioning his account of the events. Even then, the man in his weakened condition could still discern fact from fiction.
“Please do,” said Trowbridge as his eyes opened a little wider.
“The Haven was attacked by a group of anarchists led by a guy known as Chepe, real name Joseph Acuff.”
“Schwartz’s man,” muttered Trowbridge. “Jonathan’s retaliating against me.”
“Harris and I were discussing this in the hallway, and we believe that to be the case,” said Cort. “The attack was repelled, not without loss of life on our end, however. The group mounted a posse to hunt Chepe down, and he was killed when they found him.”
Trowbridge nodded his acknowledgment, but he was still deep in thought. His tired eyes focused on Cort’s, peering deep into the younger man’s soul, searching for the truth. “There’s more.”
Cort continued. “Yes, sir. I have a question about the initials MM. Is that related to you?”
Trowbridge swallowed hard and his mouth suddenly became dry. He pointed to the glass of ice chips that was a constant fixture by his bedside. Harris quickly helped him moisten his mouth with the ice.
“There is lots to discuss, Cort, and the Minutemen are part of that conversation. My network of allies and operatives stretches around the globe. Within this country, the Minutemen are my version of the deep state—a clandestine government within the government. These are people who are loyal to me.”
“Politicians for hire,” added Cort.
“More than that,” said Trowbridge. “Bureaucrats, military, media executives, and business owners are all Minutemen within my control. They are widespread throughout the country and offer services that have proven to be indispensable to what I believe needs to be done.”
