THE ALEX FLETCHER BOXSET: Books 1-5

by Steven Konkoly

  “I’m looking at the entire facility. We have two interior roads lined with nine massive warehouses on each side. Night vision isn’t registering any light sources inside the complex,” said Alex.

  “We could be here all night searching thirty-six warehouses,” said Ed.

  “We’ll have to split up and search,” said Alex. “I’m going to open the perimeter gate. Ed, bring the Jeep and trailer down. I think we’re good to go.”

  “Copy that. We’re on our way. Is it all right to use lights?” said Charlie.

  “Wait until you reach the turn,” said Alex. “See you in a few minutes. Ryan, bring up the BMW.”

  Alex crossed the street and flipped his night-vision goggles up. Using a small flashlight to read his notebook, he entered the same code on the keypad. The fence gate sprang to life, retracting along its metal track. He tensed, half expecting klaxon alarms to sound and bright lights to flood the perimeter. Instead, the small city of two-story-high, corrugated warehouses stood dark and silent against the thin clanging of the gate. The SUV pulled next to him.

  “Go ahead and hit the lights,” said Alex.

  A moment later, the center boulevard was awash in the SUV’s high beams, exposing a sterile concourse flanked by gray buildings. The vast sea of faded asphalt looked pristine. Untouched. He could barely believe places like this existed, waiting for a “Category Five” disaster. The whole concept still seemed wild, almost unfathomable—until last August.

  “Holy shit,” mumbled Ryan. “We should just move everyone here. Tell Colonel Grady we’ll keep an eye on it for him.”

  “I’d be lying if I told you the thought didn’t just cross my mind,” said Alex, gawking at the buildings.

  It could work, if Governor Dague didn’t stumble upon the codes to open the former 3rd Battalion commanding officer’s secure pod.

  What are the chances of that, if she hasn’t already figured it out?

  Even if she searched the commanding officer’s house and found the document-sized safe, only the battalion’s commanding officer knew the code. He might have been required to transfer the pod and sealed codes to the unit’s executive officer prior to leaving the state on vacation. Alex had no idea what type of protocol was in play here, and it didn’t matter. Even the slightest risk of discovery wasn’t worth taking. They would stick to the plan. He hopped on the SUV’s driver’s side running board and gripped the roof rack.

  “Pull between the first pair of warehouses,” said Alex. “Time to go shopping.”

  Alex jumped to the pavement when Ryan stopped the vehicle between two towering storage bay doors. Beams of light struck the face of the warehouse next to the SUV, grabbing Alex’s attention. Two headlights appeared on the access road. Probably the Jeep. Alex didn’t like probably.

  “Charlie, did you just make the turn?” Alex signaled for Ryan to stay in the SUV.

  “That’s us,” said Charlie. “Did you think someone got through us?”

  “Just being cautious.”

  “Or a little paranoid. We’re in the clear, man…holy smokes that’s a big place,” said Charlie.

  “You’re only seeing half of it,” said Alex. “Pull up behind us until we figure out the best way to proceed. We’re going to take a look in one of the warehouses. Get a feel for the general layout.”

  “Can’t wait to go shopping,” said Charlie. “Looks like thirty Costcos put together.”

  “This is better than Costco,” said Alex. “More like Cabela’s, for Special Forces.”

  “I hope so. We need some more night vision.”

  “See you in a minute,” said Alex, turning to Ryan. “I want you wearing your helmet.”

  “Dad, I don’t need the helmet out here,” Ryan protested.

  “Just do me a favor and wear it. I’d wear one too if we had extras,” said Alex. “Never know what’s out there.”

  “All right,” said Ryan, killing the engine and reaching behind the seat for the ballistic helmet.

  Alex and Ryan jogged to the warehouse on the passenger side of the SUV and approached the smaller entrance to the right of the massive rolling steel door. A covered keypad greeted them where the doorknob should be. Alex pulled the crumpled notepad out of one of his cargo pockets and flipped on the flashlight, punching a new fifteen-digit code into the keypad. He paused before hitting the # key.

  “Stay at the door and watch our six when I go inside,” said Alex, pressing the final key.

  The door clicked, opening inward several inches. Alex pushed the door gently, illuminating a sliver of the pitch-black warehouse with his flashlight. A short buzz sounded inside the building, causing Alex to douse the flashlight and raise his rifle. He aimed through the dark two-foot crack, waiting for more input. A hollow, jolting sound echoed from the interior, immediately followed by the steady, industrial hum of a generator. Bright lights replaced the darkness beyond the partially closed door, clunking as they activated row by row, back to front.

  “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop,” said Alex.

  “What does that even mean?” asked Ryan.

  “I have no idea,” said Alex, pushing the door open.

  He couldn’t see it at first. Alex took several steps into the well-lit warehouse, his mind simply refusing to acknowledge the obvious. He squinted like it was an optical illusion until it finally registered.

  There’s nothing here. Oh, fuck!

  “Turn the car around. I want it facing the gate,” said Alex.

  Ryan aimed his rifle in the direction of the other warehouses on the road. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s empty. I’m checking the one on the other side. If it’s empty, we’re getting the fuck out of here.”

  Alex sprinted past the SUV, ignoring Charlie, who was yelling something from the approaching Jeep. He punched the code into the keypad and kicked the door after it opened, directing his flashlight inside. A bare concrete floor and rows of empty industrial-sized shelves stared back at him.

  Motherfucker.

  Grady had used them. He was back on the asphalt before the warehouse’s generator started, running toward Ed’s Jeep.

  “Get in the SUV now!” he said. “We have to leave.”

  “What are you talking about!” yelled Ed, pounding the hood of the Jeep.

  “The warehouses are empty, and Grady fucking knew it. He just needed us to confirm it,” said Alex, mumbling the rest. “I knew there was something wrong with this. Fuck.”

  “I don’t see why we’re leaving the—” started Ed.

  “If they can see that we opened the gates or the warehouses, we need to get as far away from here as possible. Right now! In one vehicle! We don’t have time to fuck with the trailer. Let’s go!” he said, pushing Charlie toward the SUV.

  Ryan completed a three-point turn between the buildings, stopping in front of them.

  “Ed, you drive!” yelled Alex. “Charlie behind the driver. Ryan behind me.”

  “Why am I driving?” asked Ed.

  “You want to shoot instead?” said Alex.

  “Come on! I think you’re overreacting here,” said Ed, pulling the front door open for Ryan.

  “If I’m overreacting, we can come back and get the Jeep. Right now, we’re getting the fuck out of here—together. Trust me on this,” said Alex, walking behind the SUV.

  He freed his rifle from the sling ready position and smashed its buttstock into the taillight housing, hitting the plastic cover repeatedly until he was certain that the bulbs were shattered. Pieces of red and white plastic trickled onto the pavement at his feet.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” yelled Ed.

  “Smashing the brake lights!”

  He aimed the buttstock at the aerodynamic fin above the lift gate’s window. He hit the thick plastic fin, which resisted the rifle strike. His next blow skimmed off the fin and spider cracked the window below it.

  “Press the brake pad!” yelled Alex.

  Light from the fin’s imbedded taill
ight enveloped him in a red aura. He hit the plastic piece three times, until the light failed, turning the buttstock’s attention to the entire rear window. A few solid blows broke through the safety glass, covering the road in hundreds of small, opaque pieces.

  “Let’s go!” he said to Ed, who stood next to the open driver’s door, mumbling obscenities.

  Ed climbed in and slammed the door. Alex slid into the passenger seat and buckled his seat belt, verifying that all of the doors had been shut.

  “Your job is to get us to the interstate,” he said, patting Ed on the shoulder. “Windows down and rifles out. I have a bad feeling about this ride.”

  When they reached the perimeter fence, Alex held his breath, exhaling when the gate started moving along the track. He wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if the gate had remained in place, locking them inside. As Ed edged the SUV up to the painfully slow gate, Alex swiped the ROTAC from the center console.

  Chapter 30

  Main Operating Base “Sanford”

  Regional Recovery Zone 1

  Lieutenant Colonel Grady sat in the troop compartment of a UH-60M Black Hawk helicopter at the far western edge of the main tarmac, alternating glances between his ROTAC and the RRZ authority compound framed by the compartment door window. Staff Sergeant Jackson sat directly across from him in the main troop compartment, which held six more combat-loaded Marines.

  His Black Hawk sat at the end of a staggered line of six helicopters waiting mission approval to fly north. Orders that would originate from Grady when Fletcher called with final verification that the storage facility was empty. Of course, Alex might not call at all. If the warehouses were empty, as they suspected, Alex would immediately know that he’d been conned into visiting the storage complex. He might smash the ROTAC and speed off, knowing damn well that Grady needed the information.

  Anything was possible with Alex, which was why the commanding officer of a Marine infantry battalion was watching his phone like a giddy teenage boy after a text to his high school crush.

  Come on, Alex.

  A voice materialized in his headset. “Colonel, we’ll have to shut down and top off if we don’t launch in five minutes,” said the pilot. “I can go cold now to save fuel. In ready launch I can have us in the air within two minutes.”

  “Negative. Should be any minute now,” said Grady.

  Damn. Maybe he’d played the schedule too tightly. He’d received a text message from Alex when they were a mile from the interstate exit, which put the verification phone call a minimum of ten minutes out. He figured Alex would be careful approaching the site, so he added another ten to fifteen minutes to the timeline. They’d started the helicopters when the text message arrived, waiting ten minutes before loading the Marines. Ten minutes would give all of the RRZ folks enough time to hear the helicopters and ask their questions about the unscheduled flight operation.

  Tower controllers, pilots, and ground personnel in the hangars had been briefed to say it was scheduled engine maintenance; thirty minutes to run live diagnostics. The Marines entered the tarmac from a gate on the western fence line, using the closest hangar to mask their approach to the helicopters. With the port-side troop compartment doors closed, RRZ security officers or observers within the walled compound couldn’t see inside the helicopters. If they could, they would undoubtedly raise further questions.

  Grady peered through his window at the row of dark, open hangars facing the RRZ compound. Armored vehicles lingered in the shadows, waiting for the order to speed across a recently cleared section of eastern tarmac toward the main RRZ compound gate. Additional vehicles hid behind the cluster of tents between the primary runway and auxiliary taxiway. In undisclosed locations, snipers sighted-in on the visible security officers, ready to take them out if they fired on the approaching soldiers. When the order was passed, a reinforced company of infantry soldiers would descend on the compound, with the ultimate goal of detaining Medina and her staff. All of this hinged on a phone call from Alex Fletcher, which was ten minutes overdue.

  Almost on cue, his ROTAC vibrated, dragging his eyes from the menacing hangars.

  “Grady,” he answered, knowing he was about to take an earful.

  “That’s all you can manage?” Alex snapped.

  “Alex, I don’t have time to explain what’s going on. I just need to know if the warehouses were empty,” said Grady. “We can sort out the rest later.”

  “The rest?” said Alex, and the line went quiet.

  “Alex?” said Grady.

  “The first two were empty. We didn’t stick around to check the rest,” said Alex.

  Grady turned to the second lieutenant seated next to him and nodded emphatically. The young officer passed the confirmation order over the mission’s primary VHF frequency, instantly telling designated units that Operation Quick Switch had entered the final execution phase.

  “Where are you now?” said Grady.

  “Driving as fast as fucking possible to get out of here,” said Alex. “Who has the equipment? I get the impression it’s not Governor Dague’s people.”

  The helicopter jolted as the landing gear left the tarmac. Through the window next to Grady, the murky tarmac drifted away, dark silhouettes racing across the airfield toward the RRZ compound, and flashes erupted from the main gate. The Black Hawk tilted forward and gained speed, quickly leaving behind the scene below.

  “Hello?” Alex prompted.

  “We just launched an assault on the RRZ compound. I’m in a Black Hawk headed to Augusta to secure Governor Dague,” said Grady. “It’s a little hectic over here.”

  “Sorry if this is a bad time for you, Sean, but I’m a little worried about making hard contact on my way out of here. What am I looking at?”

  “Paramilitary types. Government sponsored, so most likely professional security contractors,” said Grady.

  “Most likely? Wait a minute, you don’t fucking know?”

  “We’ve received reports of similar groups being used in other trouble spots. We think they arrived a month or so ago,” said Grady.

  “How did they get here?” said Alex.

  “We’re not one hundred percent sure. RRZ compound security was augmented about a month ago with personnel and vehicles from a C-17 Globemaster. 4th Brigade’s Prophet system picked up encrypted UHF signals from the west at the same time. The signals changed position rapidly, heading north. We think additional aircraft delivered the rest of the group. Possibly by parachute,” said Grady.

  “How many?”

  “Four to five hundred would be consistent with reports from other military commanders,” said Grady.

  “Five hundred? That’s a small army, Sean.”

  Grady heard him talking in the background of the phone call.

  “Sean, if we’re caught, our families will be in serious danger. I can’t believe you did this to us!”

  “Alex, it was the only way to get eyes on the warehouse without tipping off the RRZ,” Grady explained. “Medina was on the cusp of launching something big against the state, and she didn’t trust the military.”

  “Yeah, well, I kind of understand where she’s coming from,” said Alex.

  “I wouldn’t leave your ass totally hanging in the breeze, Alex. Two of my sanitized Matvees will arrive in your neighborhood within five minutes. I have a squad of Marines watching over your families. Two of my helicopters will continue to your position to provide support. They’ve been armed with hellfire missiles in case you run into any armored vehicles,” said Grady. “I’m sorry it had to go down like this, but I knew you wouldn’t agree to check out the site if I leveled with you.”

  “I can’t eat an apology, Sean. If we pull through this intact, I better be looking at enough MREs to build a floating dock across the lake.”

  “I’ll personally deliver them, Alex. Get your ass south on the turnpike and run like the devil. Two Black Hawks will contact you when they hit Waterville in roughly thirty minutes.”


  “Shit. We have company,” said Alex, followed by frantic yelling on the line.

  “Alex? You there? Alex!”

  The call disconnected. Thirty minutes might be too long. Grady pressed the transmit button on his headset.

  “Contact Hellfire zero-five and zero-six. Tell them to proceed north at maximum speed. Troops in contact,” said Grady.

  Chapter 31

  Main Operating Base “Sanford”

  Regional Recovery Zone 1

  Bethany Medina stood in front of a row of glowing computer monitors, speaking rapidly into her ROTAC.

  “I just received a call from Homeland telling me that 3rd Battalion, 172nd Infantry Regiment’s Category Five storage site has been accessed.”

  “With the codes?” asked Jerold Berkoff.

  She wanted to call him ‘Jerkoff’ so bad she had to pause.

  “Yes, Berkoff. I didn’t say breached. I said accessed.”

  No wonder none of this was working. The RRZ had thrown one incompetent idiot after another in her lap.

  “I don’t have any personnel at the site, ma’am,” said Berkoff. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “How about telling me ‘I’ll get someone out there right away to check it out,’” said Medina. “I need to know who’s out there.”

  “Copy that. I have a team close to the site,” said Berkoff. “What are my rules of engagement?”

  “I want to know who sent them—how they got the codes. Detain and interrogate using any and all means at your disposal. Time is critical,” said Medina. “And, Berkoff?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Put all of your teams on ready alert. We may have to execute the plan tonight.”

  “Do you want me to pre-stage any of the teams closer to their targets?” he asked.