by David Spell
“Amigos,” Vincente broke the silence, “we need to talk about what’s next. I don’t think we need to send Juan back to Virginia right now. Every cop in the area probably has a picture of him in their cars. For the time being, we’re going to have to let that operation go. But, I have an idea.”
The cartel leader stood and strode to a wall map of the United States. He poked his finger at another city and glanced over his shoulder.
“Our operation in Atlanta is small and struggling to gain traction. This might be a good time to look at expanding. Atlanta is the key to the southeast. The other cartels and gangs already have a strong presence there. Maybe it’s time to show them who the Nueva Generación is. What do you think, amigos?
“Juan, you’ve shown great skill in establishing pipelines in new cities. At the same time, you’re a wanted man by the American federales and all the other cops in Estados Unidos. I think it might be too dangerous for you, amigo,” Villarreal said, looking at Guerra. “I’ve got plenty of things that need to be done here in Mexico. I can send someone else this time.”
Guerra felt the eyes of the other four men in the room staring at him. The cartel head had very subtly just questioned his machismo. If he accepted Villarreal’s offer to stay and work for him in Mexico, Juan would lose face with the other gang leaders.
For sure, it would be very dangerous to return to America. At the same time, Juan really enjoyed living in the US. His English had gotten pretty good and he enjoyed the quality of life in America. The gangster also liked the challenge of starting something new, recruiting gang members and creating a new operation in a new city. Guerra did not want to spend the rest of his life in an American prison. At the same time, he wasn’t going to show himself as weak in front of his boss and peers.
“Señor Villarreal, I’m the best man for the job. I’m not worried about the gringo policia. They’re too busy eating donuts and drinking coffee to catch me.”
Vincente nodded and gave his lieutenant an approving smile. “Muy bien. I knew that I could count on you.”
The cartel head returned to the table and took his seat. “You’ll take over from Pablo Cortes. He’s a nice guy, my cousin, but he hasn’t produced in the year that he’s been in Atlanta. I’d like you to keep him around if you can work with him. If not, you can send him back to Mexico and I’ll find something for him to do here.”
Juan nodded. “Si, Señor. I know Pablo. I think maybe we can work together. If it’s OK with you, Señor, I’ll go visit my mother for a few days before going back to America.”
Villarreal smiled broadly. “Of course! Visit your mother and let the heat die down in Estados Unidos before you go back.”
Winchester, Virginia, Saturday, 1530 hours
“Gentlemen,” General Perkins held up his tumbler in a toast, “I’m very excited about working with both of you. Here’s to a successful launch of our new venture.”
McCain and Clark both lifted their own glasses of bourbon. The three men had spent the day poring over the business plan which the general had created. Kevin and Chuck had been impressed with the older man’s work and, other than a few minor changes, were ready to sign off on it and get started. Wallace was listed as the president and CEO of Century Tactical Solutions, with Chuck and Kevin as his two vice-presidents.
For the time being, they would set up shop on the general’s farm, utilizing one of the modern outbuildings behind the main house. The plan would be to find a more central location to conduct business in the next few months. The general even had an outdoor firing range on the rear of his property.
“I’ll have my attorney file all of the paperwork on Monday so we can get started putting things together. One of the things that we haven’t discussed yet is our staff. Early on, I see you both conducting the majority of the training, but I’d like to put a team of contractors together that will allow us to have a greater reach. I also see the need for a small administrative staff to keep us organized. I’m sure that between us…”
A knock on the office door interrupted the general’s thought. His aide, Sam Mercer, poked his head in and said, “He’s here, sir.”
“Thanks, Sam. Please bring him in.”
Perkins looked at his two VPs. “I think that it’s time for you both to meet the primary financial backer for our business venture. I’ve put some money in, but this man is providing the bulk of our startup capital.”
The door opened and a familiar figure strode in, causing both McCain and Clark to jump to their feet. It wasn’t every day that the President of the United States showed up for a private meeting.
“Wallace, I’d love a glass of whatever you fellas are drinking,” President Benjamin Asher said, in his familiar Oklahoma twang. He then turned his attention to the other two men in the room.
“Colonel Clark, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, extending his hand. “Your reputation precedes you and I was glad to be able to sign the paperwork a while back bumping you up to a full bird colonel.”
“Thank you very much, sir. It’s an honor to meet you.”
Even though Kevin had been out of the military for a while, he still found himself standing at attention in the presence of the Commander-in-Chief.
“And Mr. McCain, your old boss, Admiral Williams, spoke very highly of you. In fact, according to him, it was you and your men who kept the bio-terror attacks from becoming much worse than they were. I also read your after-action report from that mess in Los Angeles. You provided excellent leadership in keeping that situation under control, as well.”
Chuck was seldom at a loss for words but hearing that the President had read his report left him almost speechless as they shook hands.
“Thank you, Mr. President. Those are very kind words,” he managed to reply.
General Perkins handed Asher a heavy crystal tumbler with two fingers worth of whiskey. After the four men were seated, the general started the conversation.
“Mr. President, I sent you our business plan. The three of us are agreed that we’re ready to get started. We’re going to focus on training SWAT teams for local and federal law enforcement, as well as small military units. I believe that with all of our varied contacts, we won’t have any problem generating customers.”
The President sipped his bourbon as he listened. McCain got his first look at the nation’s leader whom he had only seen on television for the last three and a half years. He was an average-size man with graying hair. It had been light brown when he had first entered the White House. His eyes, however, had an intensity about them, seeming to peer right through you.
Benjamin Asher had joined the Marines right out of high school, serving for four years. The GI Bill then paid for him to attend the University of Nebraska, earning a degree in Computer Science. Over the next twenty-five years Asher had created a billion-dollar IT business, investing his profits in a number of other successful startups and creating even more of a fortune.
He had never been involved in politics but made no secret of his conservative leanings. Benjamin was eventually recruited by the Republican Party to run for president on a platform of rebuilding the floundering economy. Asher had been elected and done exactly that, reducing taxes and providing incentives for factories and large corporations to move back to the United States after being driven out by the policies of the previous administration.
President Asher had had an extremely challenging first term. After the zombie virus had been released, everything had changed. Thousands of Americans had been killed, billions of dollars’ worth of property destroyed, and, in many areas, the infrastructure had to be completely rebuilt.
And on top of all that, Asher had become a wartime president. After determining that Iran had been behind the development and release of the bio-terror weapon, the Commander-in-Chief had declared war on the rogue nation, unleashing the full might of the United States military. He had told his generals to utilize every weapon at their disposal short of going nuclear.
The war ha
d been over in a few weeks as Iran’s military, infrastructure, and government were totally destroyed. Even though he seldom mentioned his Jewish heritage, he was criticized by many world leaders as using the bio-terror attack as an opportunity to exact retribution on the large Islamic nation. Asher been raised in a secular Jewish home and didn’t practice his faith.
The President had also been severely attacked in the world press and in the United Nations for pulling American forces out of Iran as soon as most of the fighting was over. In a speech that forever endeared him to McCain and to many Americans, the President had made it very clear why he had done what he did.
“No one is helping America rebuild after Iran’s cowardly attacks upon our soil. No one is paying reparations to the thousands of families who have lost loved ones because of the evil weapon that was used against us. I sent American forces to Iran to eliminate them as a threat to us and to the rest of the world. I will not accept the responsibility to rebuild them.”
Sadly, these words were used against him, portraying the President to be a heartless warmonger. With Asher’s first term almost over, most experts were predicting that the Republicans would lose the White House to either North Carolina Governor Mason Wilson, or the up-and-coming Michigan Senator, Saleem Bashir.
“I’m very glad that you both were willing to work with General Perkins,” the President smiled. “He’s a bit of a hard ass, as you’ll see, but I think that the three of you will make a fine team.”
Looking over at Perkins, Asher asked, “Did you tell them about the other thing?”
“No, sir. I figured you’d want to have the honor.”
The President nodded, taking another sip of his whiskey.
“Gentlemen, what I’m about to say is for your ears only. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Chuck and Kevin answered.
“Even though I am underwriting this, it is being done very discreetly. It’s better that my name stays out of the mix. Like the general said, your primary mission is going to be to train law enforcement and military units in some of the tactics that you all developed in fighting the terrorists and the zombies.
“The intelligence unit will also be a very important part of the business. There are plenty of corporations, and even some nations that are willing to pay for good intel. With all the retired spooks floating around out there, you won’t have any trouble finding some qualified folks to work with you. I also have reliable information that that dumb son of a bitch, Sterling, is about to force some really good people out of the CIA. These are mainly some of the ones that worked with you in the Ops division.
“I have another mission item, though, that I’d also like you to focus on. Now, this one can’t go in the business plan, for reasons that will become very clear. But, what I’d like for you to do is create a couple of tactical response teams.”
Clark and McCain glanced at each other, unsure of where this was going.
“What would these teams be responding to, sir?” Kevin asked.
“Great question, Colonel. After the virus was released a couple of years ago, we found ourselves in a situation where all of our resources were tied up. Most civilian flights were cancelled and the military was being used in many other places. Sadly, we had some scientists trapped overseas and unable to get home. They might have helped us find a cure or antidote to that weapon but we couldn’t even get them back to America until much later in the crisis.
“There was also the case of the two American girls who were kidnapped by that cartel. You both were involved in different aspects of that mission to bring them home. Now, I know I shouldn’t pat myself on the back because you and your men and those SEALs did all of the work, but I do know that there’s no way the former president ever would have green-lighted that mission.”
Chuck and Kevin both nodded. The previous president had been weak, indecisive, and had allowed the military to shrink under his watch. There was no way that he would have ever sent a SEAL team into a foreign country to rescue American hostages, fearing the fallout from the international press.
President Asher, though, had called the Mexican president just before the commandos launched telling him to make sure his forces stood down. Any police or military confronting the SEALs would be treated as hostiles. Of course, the Mexicans weren’t happy about this, but the US had deposited a generous gift into El Presidente’s personal account, making it easier for him to swallow his machismo.
“My concern now is that one of those Democrats might just get elected and there’s no way that they’re going to have the same concern for protecting American lives that I do. Politics is a funny thing. I’d like to think that my record in my first term would speak for itself, but I’ve made a lot of enemies in the press to go along with all the political enemies I’ve acquired. So, what I’m proposing is that you fellas train the hell out of them cops and soldiers, but also stay sharp yourselves. If the need arises, I’ll send you covertly to rescue US citizens who might need it.”
“That sounds great, sir,” McCain commented, “but is that legal?”
The President waved his hand dismissively. “Of course not. But here’s what I know. You guys are really good at what you do so I’m not worried about you getting caught. And, if by chance you did get caught, I’d spend every dime and all the influence I have as the president, and eventually as the former president, to take care of you. Plus, for any missions that you and your teams undertake, there’ll be a significant bonus check.
“In reality, I don’t foresee a lot of operations like this and I figure you’ll spend most of your time training SWAT teams. But, like I said, I want you to stay sharp so you can respond as needed. What do you think? Would this be something that I can count on you for?”
The two former CIA employees looked at each other. Clark shrugged and McCain smiled. Why not? They had both been impressed that the President had done the right thing by sending them in to rescue those two young women. The idea of treading the line between legal and illegal was definitely something to consider, but in reality, that’s exactly what they had been doing with the CIA missions that they had been a part of on American soil and abroad.
Kevin spoke up. “I’d like the option of vetting each job based on threat analysis and chance of success. Plus, for any type of op that you order, Chuck, the general, and I have the final word on planning, personnel, and prep.”
The President locked eyes with General Perkins.
“I can live with that, sir, if you can,” Perkins answered.
Asher smiled. “Those are reasonable requests. I think that we have ourselves a deal. I look forward to watching Century Tactical Solutions develop and grow.
“Oh, one other thing,” the President said. “If, by some miracle of God, I get re-elected, I’ll be in a position of strength to make some cabinet changes, like firing that dumbass who’s running the CIA. Maxwell Sterling is one of my biggest mistakes, but he has a lot of friends on the hill so I can’t get rid of him just yet. But, if I win and can put someone decent over the Agency,” Asher glanced over at Perkins as he said this, “we’ll have another talk about how you gentleman can best be utilized.”
With that, the President of the United States stood, downed the rest of his bourbon, and shook everyone’s hands.
“It’s time for me to get back to DC. My Secret Service detail hates it when I make them stay outside. I’ll have to buy them all something nice for Christmas,” he laughed.
And with that, he was gone.
“You’ve got some interesting friends, General,” Chuck commented.
Perkins chuckled. “That’s true. But, he’s a good one and we can trust him to keep his word.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
FBI HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON, D.C., Monday, 1040 hours
Burns re-read the police report that one of his agents had just handed him. A van had been located during the night, near the border in Brownsville, Texas. The Georgia license plate showed that it was registered to one of J
uan Guerra’s associates, Daniel Guzmán. An officer from the Brownsville Police Department had rolled up on the abandoned vehicle in a remote area near the Rio Grande River. The rear of the Econoline was filled with bloody bandages, bottles filled with urine, and fast food wrappers.
The senior FBI agent had just gotten off the phone with the special agent in charge at the Brownsville office. Thomas had caught him eating breakfast, preparing to head into work. After a short conversation with the Assistant Special Agent in Charge of Counter Terrorism, the Texas-based G-Man quickly made several phone calls, mobilizing his people to get them moving to one of two locations.
One squad was sent to the remote spot where the van had been found. Burns suspected that there was a tunnel in the area, but he needed boots on the ground to locate it. A smaller team was enroute to the Brownsville Police Department’s headquarters where Guzmán’s vehicle was being processed by their CSI Unit. Now, all Thomas could do was wait.
He hoped the local cops and FBI agents could locate a tunnel. Not that it would do him any good. It wasn’t like he could march into Mexico and arrest Guerra or Villarreal. Maybe I could pass the information to McCain, he thought, laughing to himself. That guy might actually give it a try and go after them.
Thomas reached across his desk, retrieving a manila folder. This one contained the report from the shooting at the hospital. It would go to the local district attorney this week for review. Burns was certain that McCain had nothing to worry about, having acted in self-defense and to protect Dunning.
The more he thought about the situation at hand, the more the FBI agent realized that he wanted to see Chuck. He had come to respect his opinion and value his judgment. Even though the big man was no longer a spy or a cop didn’t mean that his insight wasn’t valuable. Plus, I’d love to hear what he’s doing since he’s no longer employed. There was no telling with McCain.
As Burns picked up the phone to give his friend a call, it vibrated in his hand indicating an incoming call from Andy Fleming.
