by C. G. Cooper
Cal thought on that a moment. “You said your agents. You’re Russian.”
The man flicked his spent cigarette into the street. “I know much about you, Cal Stokes. I know that you are as honorable as your father. And that is why I will tell you this now. My name is Aleksandr Volkov. I am a Belarusian by birth, though that life was erased long ago. I am currently employed by a certain Russian intelligence apparatus, and I have a feeling that we might be of use to one another in the near future.”
“Why tell me this now?”
“A very good question. Very good. My friends in Russia say our president is up to something. Why would he risk himself by requesting a meeting with you? Yes, I know about your talk at Camp David. And why, despite the danger he faced in the Yukon, would he not retaliate in some way, fight back?”
Volkov let that sink in.
“Because he’s planning something,” Cal said.
“Exactly.”
“What’s he planning?”
“We don’t know. If I did, I would tell you.”
“Why should I believe you? Seems like a convenient time for you to come out of hiding. How do we know this isn’t Yegorovich trying to plant his plague in our backyard?”
Volkov shrugged. “You will have to trust me.”
There was only silence and the sound of cars passing for two long minutes.
Cal shifted in his seat, accepted Liberty’s head in his hands. “You were there, in Canada?”
“I was.”
“And you have… my friend.”
“I did. He got in the way. Though he’s well on the mend. To say I was surprised to see him… well, Mr. Wilcox and I are old friends. From our time together in the Philippines. I’m sure he’ll find you soon.”
The Philippines. The hut on stilts that looked like a relic from a Rambo movie.
“You were the guy that interrogated him,” Daniel said.
Volkov held up his hands. “I spoke to him, yes. It was the Russians who played dirty. But you handled them nicely. Thank you for that. The brute in charge was a true sadist.”
“I still don’t get it,” Cal said, shaking his head. “What is in it for you?”
Daniel answered for Volkov. “Lena. She means something to you.”
Volkov nodded, and Daniel thought he detected the first hint of emotion from the Belarusian. “She was taken by the man who killed Ms. Mayer. After losing his wife in Germany, he returned with great vengeance. He was reckless on missions, but we let him be as long as his skills were used to our benefit. Then, when we’d fully accepted him into the fold, he took one of our children. Lena. We looked for years and finally found him, though the girl got away. He escaped earlier this year and somehow found her, steered her to you. I’m sure she told you she was supposed to kill you. That was his plan. How many years had he festered in that hate? It broke him, and without your father here to attack, he came after you.”
“Are you back to take Lena?” Daniel asked.
Volkov didn’t immediately reply. Instead he clasped his hands together and bowed his head, like he was praying.
“I know much of you as well, Mr. Briggs. I was hoping—no, I was praying that you might watch over her. Teach her what it’s like to be with good people. Then, maybe one day, I would like to tell her the truth. Maybe even introduce her to her family.”
“Why don’t you do that now?” Daniel couldn’t imagine not knowing who his family was.
“It is not the right time. We’ve only just told her father. And the mother doesn’t believe. They need time. Can you give us time?”
Daniel looked at Cal who just shrugged. What did they have to lose?
Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Five
STOKES — WASHINGTON, D.C.
In the end, the Mayers allowed Cal to come to the funeral. He didn’t stay for much more than the service, but he watched from afar as they lowered her body into the earth. He’d already said his goodbye.
Now he was being ferried to the White House, for an introduction the president was eager to make. Since everything had ironed itself out with Yegorovich, all was well between the two friends.
Cal walked into the Oval Office and accepted the hug from his friend.
“How was the funeral? I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.”
Brandon had expressed a wish to attend, but the president showing up to the funeral of a woman he wasn’t supposed to know would raise questions.
“It was good. She had a strong family. They’ll get through this.”
Brandon nodded. He ushered Cal to a U-shaped sitting area where an older man with a navy-blue suit waited; hands folded in his lap. He looked like a leftover used car salesman.
“Cal, I’d like to introduce you to man I appointed to be the new director of the CIA. He’s got a long and storied history with the Agency, and he’s offered to be of service in any way he can. He’s aware of some of the details from our Yukon adventure, and his assets are ready to help in any way you think we need.”
“We’ve got our people working around the clock, Mr. Stokes. And if I may say, you come highly recommended by the president, sir.”
Cal reached out a hand. “Please, call me Cal, Director.”
The career grin flashed with the reply. “And you can call me Edmond. Edmond Flap.”
Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Six
FLAP — WASHINGTON, D.C.
He drummed his fingers on the bare desk. Years hadn’t imbedded an ounce of nostalgia in the former spy. What the years had taught him was how to be more careful. That mess in Germany was him being stupid. He’d gotten cocky. Too big for his britches.
Luckily, he learned from his mistakes. He requested the nastiest postings and the CIA was all too happy to send him to Mongolia, Nigeria, and Oman. He’d done his penance all the while rebuilding his network. The beauty of civil service was the exit door. Superstars bolted when they had the chance to make real money.
Flap didn’t care about money. What Flap longed for was revenge. So, he waited. He learned the value of true patience. With patience came power. With temperance came control.
It was the Russian spy sent to deal with him who had turned the tide. He’d made Flap a promise, and normally Flap didn’t give a lick for promises. But this one he’d held on to. Maybe it had started as a mark of weakness, but through the years the Russian’s promise held true. A mole uncovered here. A terrorist unearthed there.
Yes, it was good to have friends in high places.
“Congratulations on your new assignment,” the President of Russia said through the encrypted phone.
“Thank you. I’ll have to order a new desk.”
The Russian laughed. “I’ll buy you a thousand desks! Just say the word.”
It was an old joke. Flap had never taken a ruble, despite being offered the equivalent of many millions of dollars over the years. “And please tell me. Stokes. He had no idea?”
“Not at all.”
They’d done the legwork. Files destroyed. Witnesses killed. It wasn’t hard. Nobody cared about 1986 anymore.
“Then I will congratulate you again, old friend. I look forward to our continued working relationship.”
Flap ended the call and looked out over his new domain. He’d made it. After so much groveling and scut work, he’d done it.
Now it was time to turn to his true purpose. He was going to take down the son of Major Calvin Stokes and every single one of that goddammed Marine’s friends he could find.
Epilogue
Cal sat staring but not seeing. He wasn’t sure how he was going to go on. Deep down he knew he would. He just couldn’t see it today.
He got up from the fallen tree and headed back toward The Lodge. He’d live at SSI headquarters for a while. Get his bearings. Spend time with old friends. Even Cal knew he did not need to be alone.
As he crested the final rise before hitting the path that led to his new home, a figure appeared at the bottom of the trail. He looked familiar. Cal picked up his p
ace, curious.
It couldn’t be.
Not far apart now, and Cal wondered if he was hallucinating. A spirit back from the grave.
“Cal?” said the spirit.
“Dad?” He froze. The apparition had stopped to stare back at him. “What is this?”
A tear ran down Cal’s cheek. He didn’t want to move for fear that he might wake up from a dream. So real. His dad looked so real, if a bit grayer than he remembered, a few more lines. But still his dad.
The ghost shook its head, then, cautiously, it reached out a hand.
“I was sorry to hear about your… well, Ms. Mayer.”
Liberty ran up and nuzzled next to the ghost. Definitely a ghost.
“What are you doing here? Where’s mom?”
Cal looked all around, but the look on his dad’s face made him freeze.
“I’m sorry I took so long to get here,” said the phantom.
“What? What are you—”
The ghost took another step forward, hand offered again, and a knowing smile on its kind face. “I’m not your dad, Cal. I’m your Uncle Adam.”
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A Letter To Readers
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed this latest adventure of Cal and the gang. Getting back to Corps Justice was like traveling back in time, finding my old pair of neon jams, and putting them on for a few months. It felt so good that I dove right into book 17 after I was done with this one.
Then the virus hit…
It’s the middle of 2020 as I write this, and the world is still coming to grips with all manner of upheaval. Kids don’t know if they’ll go to school this Fall. Parents don’t know if they’ll have jobs. Uncertainty bleeds into every aspect of our lives as we don masks to visit the grocery store and shun handshakes like the plague.
But I don’t want to talk about the sad stuff. I want to talk about the good.
It’s been my experience that individuals are the key to a brighter future. When one friend helps another, that lifeline sends ripples through our connected universe. These little sparks happen all day and every day. We only see them if we take time to look.
I see the sparks. I see the opportunity. It’s there, a couple of layers beneath the noise.
As every group with an agenda beats their clanging drum, I seek quiet, away from the news, and closer to those who I care for most. My family is my everything. Throughout this year I’ve learned to be a better husband, a more patient father, a fair to middling homeschool teacher, and a more empathetic friend.
So yeah, there’s a silver lining to the real-life story. I hope that we all learn to take a step back, breathe, find the answer within us, and strive to do the right and honorable thing instead of paying attention to what the herd is mooing at.
I believe in you and every gift you bring to the world. I can’t wait to see how you use those gifts to make this thing called life a little better, a little brighter, a little more fun and joyous.
Here’s to you, reader. I look forward to meeting you in person someday soon.
Semper Fidelis,
C. G. Cooper
July 2020
Also by C. G. Cooper
The Corps Justice Series In Order:
Back To War
Council Of Patriots
Prime Asset
Presidential Shift
National Burden
Lethal Misconduct
Moral Imperative
Disavowed
Chain Of Command
Papal Justice
The Zimmer Doctrine
Sabotage
Liberty Down
Sins Of The Father
A Darker Path
The Man From Belarus
Matters of State (coming in 2020)
Corps Justice Short Stories:
Chosen
God-Speed
Running
The Daniel Briggs Novels:
Adrift
Fallen
Broken
Tested
The Tom Greer Novels
A Life Worth Taking
Blood of My Kin
Stand Alone Novels
To Live
The Warden’s Son
The Next Dawn (coming in 2020)
The Interrogators
Higgins
The Spy In Residence Novels
What Lies Hidden
The Alex Knight Novels
Breakout
The Stars & Spies Series:
Backdrop
The Patriot Protocol Series:
The Patriot Protocol
The Chronicles of Benjamin Dragon:
Benjamin Dragon – Awakening
Benjamin Dragon – Legacy
Benjamin Dragon - Genesis
About the Author
C. G. Cooper is the USA TODAY and AMAZON BESTSELLING author of the CORPS JUSTICE novels, several spinoffs and a growing number of stand-alone novels.
One of his novels, CHAIN OF COMMAND, won the 2020 James Webb Award presented by the Marine Heritage Foundation for its portrayal of the United States Marine Corps in fiction. Cooper doesn't chase awards, but this one was special.
Cooper grew up in a Navy family and traveled from one Naval base to another as he fed his love of books and a fledgling desire to write.
Upon graduating from the University of Virginia with a degree in Foreign Affairs, Cooper was commissioned in the United States Marine Corps and went on to serve six years as an infantry officer. C. G. Cooper's final Marine duty station was in Nashville, Tennessee, where he fell in love with the laid-back lifestyle of Music City.
His first published novel, BACK TO WAR, came out of a need to link back to his time in the Marine Corps. That novel, written as a side project, spawned many follow-on novels, several exciting spinoffs, and catapulted Cooper's career.
Cooper lives just south of Nashville with his wife, three children, and their German shorthaired pointer, Liberty, who's become a popular character in the Corps Justice novels.
When he's not writing, Cooper spends time with his family, does his best to improve his golf handicap, and loves to shed light on the ongoing fight of everyday heroes.
Cooper loves hearing from readers and responds to every email personally.
To connect with C. G. Cooper visit
www.cg-cooper.com
Thank you so much to my editing and beta reader teams. You push me to get better and better. There’s no way to give you a proper acknowledgment, so I’ll just say that I could not do this without you.
Special nod to my Beta Readers: Anne, Sue, Glenda, Carl, Bob, Coop, Don H., Chip, John, Earl, Marry, Michael, Gale, Nidza, Paul, Connie, Sue, Larry, Richard, Bernie, Don G., Nancy and Alex. You still rock…
