When the subject of Reverend Cartwright’s bigotry came up during the campaign, the president, a former Muslim who had converted to Christianity and joined the reverend’s flock, denied all knowledge of his preacher’s racism. When the issue wouldn’t go away, the future commander in chief dropped out of the congregation and denounced Uncle Nehemiah as a man he thought he knew but really didn’t.
“Yes, I am referring to Cartwright,” Judd answered, “and I also know all about the president’s association with a mutual acquaintance of ours from Chicago who he claims he barely knew. I know about the president’s connection to him because the man was an associate of mine and told me all about that community-organizing fraud who sits in the White House. He told me how close they were and that he was the force behind the president’s rapid rise to political power.”
“What mutual friend might that be?” Bizek asked.
“You know damned well who I’m referring to. I’m talking about Professor Bill Delgadillo. Don’t pretend you don’t know he was recently turned into a briquette, along with his wife and nephew,” Judd replied.
“Yes, yes, the professor. Poor man. He’s the one that the president knew as just a guy from the neighborhood.” Bizek laughed.
“Yeah, that’s him. I can make a lot of trouble for the president about his relationship with the Delgadillos. And if he doesn’t realize it, he’s a bigger fool than I thought he was,” Judd threatened.
“Yeah, well, a fool he certainly is, Mr. Judd. He’d have to be to hire someone like you to be one of his advisors. But that’s not my problem. I’m only here to see that you leave. Do you suppose we can get on with that now?”
Judd had to have the final word. “I’m not bluffing. I’m going to go to the press and fuck him up good. His days of using and discarding people are over. Do you hear me? They’re over!”
“Let me repeat my advice to you, Mr. Judd. Give the threats a rest. If you keep saying things like that, you’re liable to wind up like that landfill garbage you so eloquently referred to a few minutes ago.”
Judd realized there was no use engaging in any further debate with Bizek and started to clear his desk. “It’s going to take me about twenty minutes to get my things together. Is it necessary for you to stand there and watch me like a sentry, or can I have a little privacy?”
“No, I guess I can give you that. I’ll just step outside and have a cup of joe. But make it snappy. I don’t want to be hanging around here any longer than necessary.”
Bizek left the room and entered the outer office. Judd closed the door behind him and retrieved the tape recorder. Hitting the off button, he placed it in his briefcase along with several documents. After grabbing a few articles of clothing from the closet, he looked around and, satisfied that he hadn’t left anything important behind, stepped into the outer office. He found his receptionist silently glaring at the two intruders.
“What about her?” Judd asked, pointing to Florence. “What’s going to happen to her? She’s a single mom and needs this job. She shouldn’t be penalized because the chief of staff has a beef with me.”
“That’s been covered, Mr. Judd. She’s a civil servant. She will remain here in this office and will work for your replacement. He’ll be arriving shortly. Now, if you’re ready, we should think about leaving,” Bizek said.
Judd nodded. Looking at his secretary, he said, “Sorry it had to end so abruptly, Florence. I appreciate all you’ve done for me during my tenure here and I’m sure you’ll do just as fine a job for my successor.”
“I’m sorry, too, Mr. Judd. It’s been a pleasure being your secretary. I hope everything works out okay for you,” she replied.
“I’m sure it will, Florence. I’m sure it will.” Judd turned and walked out the door with Bizek and his assistant.
CHAPTER
41
Ryan left Judd’s house and drove back to the hotel. It was shortly before noon and he decided to watch the news before going out for lunch. Flipping through the channels, he came across coverage of a press conference and watched as a New York City Police Department public information officer was grilled by journalists demanding a status report on the case now being referenced as the “Finnegan Massacre.”
The PIO, Sergeant Peter McDougall, appeared uneasy and was having a difficult time convincing reporters that progress was being made and that several persons of interest were being looked at.
Some of the journalists were outwardly antagonistic and went so far as to imply suspicions that shoddy police work was hampering the case.
“Come on, Pete, quit stalling us. You’ve been alluding to these people of interest and throwing around the word progress for a week now. Give us something besides a bunch of double talk,” yelled a reporter from the back of what looked more like a mob than a roomful of journalists.
“Look, Dan, I’ve already told you that I can’t give you all the information you think you’re entitled to. I’d be compromising the investigation if I did. You have my word that we’ve been making steady progress and that the persons of interest I’ve referred to are being checked out as we speak.”
“So what are we supposed to make of that? What do you mean, they’re being checked out? Are you saying you’re giving us your word that these suspects are being located and interrogated, or are you just trying to shovel a load of BS our way?” yelled another reporter.
“They’re not suspects. They’re persons of interest and, as stated earlier, I can’t discuss the details. I’ve already explained the reasons why and I don’t appreciate you questioning my veracity with your innuendos,” answered McDougall, who was now visibly annoyed.
“Okay, they’re not suspects, they’re persons of interest. What the hell’s the difference? I don’t think you guys have anything. You’re just stringing us along. If that bothers you, then so be it. I’m just calling it like I see it,” the reporter countered, refusing to apologize for impugning the integrity of McDougall and others close to the case.
Concluding that there was apparently no end in sight to what was now nothing more than an accusatory shouting match, McDougall announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, due to the redundancy of the questions and your dissatisfaction with my answers, I can see no reason to continue wasting any more of our time. I am therefore suspending this press briefing. Thank you for attending. Good day.” Sergeant McDougall left the podium and walked out of the room, leaving the reporters to mumble and complain among themselves.
The television coverage switched to the outside steps of the precinct, where Detectives Mueller and Hanratty were just arriving from the field. They were immediately converged upon by reporters who asked the same predictable questions. “What can you tell us about the case, detectives?” “Are there any new leads?” “Is it safe to say that you have several persons of interest?”
Ignoring them, the detectives elbowed their way through the crowd, ascended the stairs, and disappeared into the station.
Ryan sympathized with the NYPD detectives but was reasonably confident that their ordeal would probably end within a day or two. He would kill Judd and leave his body to be found next to the note that expressed his suspicion that agents of the president were planning to harm him. After that, the focus would likely shift away from New York and take on a federal twist.
Ryan turned off the TV and headed out for a bite to eat. He planned to spend another day relaxing in town before he concluded his business with Jonas Judd. Perhaps he’d check out the railroad museum, which housed relics from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, when rail was the primary means for transporting tourists to and from the peaceful bayside resort.
CHAPTER
42
The Group filed into the room and took their seats around the table. Three days had passed since the men first arrived at the rural Virginia farmhouse. This would be the last session they’d attend together before leaving for their respective areas of operation.
Markowitz entered and took his seat at
the head of the table. “Grab some coffee and get comfortable, gentlemen. We’ve covered a lot of ground in the past few days and I’m sure you’re all anxious to depart and meet up with your teams, so I’ll try to make this as brief as possible. As you all know, the mission is scheduled to commence the day after tomorrow at 0830 Zulu. It’s now 1000 hours here in Virginia. So before you do anything else, I want all of you to set your watches to 1400 hours GMT.
“If you want to carry a second timepiece for local purposes, feel free to do so. Doing that will remind you that, although you’re starting at 0730 GMT or Zulu, it will be 0030 hours PST, 0230 CST, and 0330 hours EST, depending on the geographical locations of your respective AOs. There shouldn’t be any confusion, in as much as you’ve all operated under Zulu in the past.” Markowitz continued, “After everyone has made the time adjustment, I’ll get on with the distribution of the throwaway cell phones and chargers.”
Several seconds passed. When he was sure that all watches were synchronized, Markowitz had one of the command post technicians hand out the phones. Then he advised, “The only time these phones will be used is when the operation kicks off. We here at the command post will call each of you beginning approximately one half hour prior to the time of your team’s move out and let you know that the green light is on. At that time, you will be instructed to proceed to your destinations.
“At yesterday’s briefing, you were given maps and satellite images of your targets, which are all within twenty minutes of the safe houses you will be using as your jumping-off points. The close proximity of these locations to each other will assure near simultaneous arrival on target by all teams.
“After receiving the go-ahead, you will refrain from using the phones, except in the event that you encounter an urgent problem that requires immediate assistance. They will be kept off at all other times. Although the chance of discovery is remote, we want to minimize even the slightest possibility that we will be detected, tracked, and compromised. Are there any questions regarding phone usage?” asked Markowitz.
“Yes, I have a question,” Voytko piped up. “Should we dispose of these phones after the completion of the mission or bring them back here and take care of it during the debriefing?”
“Bring them back. We’ll take care of their disposal here. That way we’ll know we’ve accounted for all of them,” Markowitz responded.
“Okay, gentlemen, if there aren’t any other questions, I’m going to call the roll. When I do, you will read off the names of your team members and explain how they will be utilized. Following this, you will give me the identity and location of your target. I will compare the information to mine in order to assure that it’s the same. All of this may sound redundantly elementary, but it’s imperative that we’re all on the same page. I don’t want any foul-ups because someone overlooked a minor detail.”
Tucker was the first to be called and began reciting the names and assignments of his team members. “My team members are Donald Hatcher, John Meeker, Dominic Fachini, Walter Coleman, David Lutcher, Orville Dodge, and Floyd Young. All of these men are qualified to take over if something should happen to me. I will lead the entry team, which will consist of Hatcher, Meeker, and Fachini. Coleman, Lutcher, Dodge, and Young will handle perimeter security and be in radio contact with us should unforeseen contingencies arise. The radios are equipped with small earpieces and won’t be audible to anyone except the team members they’re assigned to.
“All of my team members have extensive experience in this type of operation. Hatcher served in the Special Forces. Fachini was an Army Ranger. Meeker served as a Navy Seal. Coleman and Lutcher were with the CIA. Dodge was with D.I.A and Young was with MI. Our target is Jonas Judd, an anti-Semitic communist and former domestic terrorist who will be neutralized at his home in Chesapeake Beach, Maryland.
“Judd is currently an economic advisor to the president and is one of the authors of the stimulus package. He is also an active member and/or supporter of several subversive organizations, including the Movement for Revolutionary Change and the Messengers of Medina. His activities include involvement in communist causes and the smuggling of arms to Middle East jihadists, who use them to commit acts of terrorism against Israel,” Tucker concluded.
Markowitz nodded and asked, “Are you familiar with all points of ingress and egress to and from your target, as well as all other general topographical details in the area?”
“Yes, I’ve studied the satellite images, photos, and maps that your command technicians have furnished. I will also conduct a reconnaissance prior to the operation,” Tucker replied.
“Very well. You’ve got two days to get that done. Call ahead to your team and tell them to be ready when you arrive later tonight. I’m assuming they’re all at your assembly point by now,” Markowitz instructed.
Tucker responded, “They were there before I came here. I left Hatcher in charge. When I found out that Judd was the target, I called and gave him the information and told him where the house was located. I instructed him to run the rest of the men through some preliminary drills and to familiarize them with the location. He checked in with me last night and confirmed that he’s complied with my instructions.”
“It sounds like you’re good to go, Frank. You can take off now if you want. Unless you’d rather wait and hear what the others will be doing,” Markowitz said.
“No, that’s not necessary. We’ve all talked among ourselves already. Besides, once we commit, we’ll all be doing our own thing anyway. We won’t have any contact until we assemble back here at the end of the mission. There’s really nothing more to discuss.”
“Okay, Frank, in that case you can leave. Have a good hunt and bag us a nice big commie trophy.” Markowitz smiled and gave the former G-man a thumbs-up.
Tucker made his way around the table and shook hands with the others. After wishing them good luck, he left the house and got into his car for the trip north. Road conditions permitting, the five-hour drive would put him in Chesapeake Beach by 1700 hours.
After Tucker departed, the remaining group leaders recited their respective personnel rosters, assignments, target profiles, and areas of operation. When Markowitz was satisfied that his copy of the mission’s objectives, participants, and locations corresponded with all the others, he made one final statement. “Men, I can’t overemphasize how crucial it is that this mission succeed. The time has come when we must do what gutless political leaders, who are long on wind and short on courage, refuse to do.
“We no longer have the luxury of waiting while our elected officials keep their collective heads buried in the sand and deny the existence of an alliance between communist and Muslim fanatics whose goal it is to destroy our country. It is increasingly clear that our politicians have no intention of employing the necessary military, intelligence, and law-enforcement resources necessary to address what has become a national crisis. Therefore, we will do the job for them.
“The silent surprise attacks we will carry out two nights from now will be the opening salvo in a war that will be waged until we have removed these malignant, subversive bastards from our midst. Be swift and ruthless when you attack and don’t leave any witnesses. Bear in mind that this is just the first of many similar missions that will follow. From this point forward, we will use the same tactics and inflict the same horrors on terrorists that they use on their victims. We will hunt down these subversive human lesions wherever they fester. They will be annihilated without exception and we will stop only when they have been rendered incapable of proceeding any further.”
Markowitz concluded, “Godspeed, gentlemen, and good hunting. We will see you back here in four days. This seminar is now adjourned.”
CHAPTER
43
Ryan exited the hotel at eleven p.m. and walked across the parking lot to his car. Rested from his two days of self-imposed R and R, he was anxious to get down to the business of dealing with Jonas Judd.
He drove the mile and a half to Judd
’s house, parked, and took the same path to the beach that he’d taken two days earlier. As he walked along the shore and approached the rear of the residence, he noticed a light coming from one of the windows and waited until the room became dark before climbing the hill and jimmying open the door to the basement.
Using his penlight, he proceeded slowly up the stairs to the kitchen and entered.
Gun in hand, he moved quietly across the kitchen, through the dining room, and into the living room. Careful not to silhouette himself in the moonlight coming through the window, he stayed close to the interior wall and made his way to the steps leading to the second floor.
He stopped twice on his silent ascent of the staircase to listen for movement and, once at the top, noticed light coming from beneath a door at the far end of the hallway. He cautiously advanced and then paused momentarily before gently turning the knob on the bathroom door.
He found Judd sitting in a Jacuzzi facing in the opposite direction, completely unaware of his presence. Coming up behind his unsuspecting quarry, Ryan extended his arm until the gun made contact with Judd’s back.
Judd jumped as he felt the cold steel of the .41 magnum touch his spine just below the neck. Ryan pushed forward with his free hand, causing Judd’s head to briefly disappear beneath the bubbling water.
Springing back up, a choking Jonas Judd spat, spun, and focused his eyes on the stranger.
“Mr. Judd, I presume,” Ryan jested, borrowing a line made famous by Mr. Stanley when he’d found Dr. Livingston in the jungles of Africa.
His voice trembling with fear, Judd managed to stammer out the beginning of a question. “Are you from…?”
The Rampage of Ryan O'Hara Page 19
