American Terrorist Trilogy

by Jeffrey Poston

  The tech guy nodded. “I agree if they want to kill us, it’s a simple matter to set explosive charges in the stairwells and elevators.”

  Carl shook his head. “They won’t do that. They need to try to follow us in the hope that we’ll lead them to the president. I will take the elevator up alone. You and your men secure the ground floor. I should be back shortly.”

  Carl boarded the first available elevator and emerged on the thirty-seventh floor. He locked the elevator open and the alarm echoed in the hallway. There were two penthouse offices on that floor, one to the left and one to the right. Two armed guards dressed like the ones on the first floor stood by the frosted glass door of the office on the left. Their posture was relaxed, and their short-barrel machine guns were hanging at rest by their shoulder straps. Carl approached the pair and head-nodded behind him.

  “Take the elevator down, but you should probably leave your weapons up here. There’s half a dozen trigger-happy government agents down there.”

  They’d clearly been coached on their exit strategy because both men disarmed without protest and left on a different elevator. Carl tried the doorknob and found it unlocked, so he stepped into the office. The door hissed closed behind him.

  The former vice president sat at the far end of an expensive mahogany conference table large enough to seat two dozen executives. As Carl walked around the table toward him, he gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the cloudless blue sky. Far below, thousands of cars clogged the streets and thousands more people packed the sidewalks, completely unaware of the matrix they toiled all their lives in while mindlessly serving the whims of the corporate power brokers like those Rainman worked for.

  Rainman stood as Carl stepped up beside him. He was about the same height as Carl, maybe a dozen years older. Carl knew him to be a former military officer forty years ago, but he’d long ago lost any form of physique remotely recognizable as military. He was round in the paunch and carried fifty pounds of extra flab inside his expensive blue pinstripe suit. The man was silent, seeming to understand there was nothing he could say to get out of his current predicament.

  Carl stood right in front of the man. He could see the fear and finality in his eyes. He wasn’t trying to intimidate him, but he knew the emptiness in his own eyes that were completely devoid of emotion was eating at the insides of the former power broker.

  Finally, the man spoke. “Can there be a peaceful understanding between us?”

  Carl shook his head. “No understanding. No peace.”

  “I have information. The people I work for…they are still vulnerable because—”

  Carl held up his hand. “Deflection serves no purpose here. The Koll brothers already tried that. You’re important to them, so they tried to make me think you work for them and their corporate interests. This makes your pending death all the more satisfying to me. You see, I believe they work for you. People always tend to think corporations are evil, but they’re not. They are run by evil people like you. Unfortunately, I can’t kill every evil person on the planet whose corporation supports a piece of shit politician. But face it, Rainman, a corporation didn’t kidnap the president’s daughter and infect her with the Contagion. A corporation didn’t try to kill the president twice. You did that.

  “Walter Breen, you set in motion a sequence of events that got my son killed. You used a sixteen-year-old child as a weapon of mass destruction to kill a quarter of the sitting government.” Carl grabbed Breen by his tie. “I may not be able to kill this Atlas Corporation, but I can kill you.”

  He pushed the man hard against the window wall behind him, then stepped back to the conference table. He set his Glock on the tabletop and grabbed the chair the man had sat in. It was a heavy black leather appliance that sat on a five-wheel base. He spun around with the chair, and on the second full turn, he let the heavy chair fly at Rainman.

  The man moved surprisingly fast for his size and ducked under it. Otherwise, he would have preceded the chair through the now-shattered window and down thirty-seven floors to the concrete sidewalk.

  Carl’s ears popped as pressure from the wind racing around the upper floors of Manhattan skyscrapers invaded the office. Instantly, he could hear the drone of street-level city noise, a cacophony of engine sounds and the nonstop blaring of horns. Rainman straightened, then Carl grabbed his gun and approached. He placed the barrel of his weapon against his chest. The elder politician stuck out his chin defiantly, apparently accepting his fate.

  Carl wanted to shoot the man, but he realized how desperately he wanted the man alive and fully aware for the next few seconds. He shoved his arm with the gun forward and forced Rainman out the window.

  And then the man was gone.

  He stepped forward, braced against the wind, and watched his nemesis flail all the way down. Then the man hit the sidewalk in the empty space near the government SUVs with a splash of red.

  Carl backed away from the window feeling an intense dissatisfaction with Rainman’s demise. He was unworthy of such a fast and painless dispatch. Sure, he’d spent the last ten seconds of his life scared shitless, likely screaming his guts out during his terrifying fall, but Carl had wanted to punish him more. He wanted him to hurt more. He wanted him to truly feel some of the agony he’d caused other people. But he’d been forced to put his own needs, desires, and hatred aside…

  …for the president.

  And now the last piece of his head fake had to be played. He spoke into the air, knowing his enemies were somehow listening. “Wizard, is the president secure?”

  “Affirmative, Boss.”

  “Good. What’s Aaron McGrath’s position?”

  “Huh?”

  “Off grid? What do you mean, he went off-grid? Find him!”

  “Um…I’m not following you, Boss. He’s on this channel.”

  McGrath’s voice said, “Go with it, Wizard.”

  Carl added, “McGrath probably figured once I dispatched Rainman, I’d be coming for him. He knows he has to answer for my son’s death.”

  McGrath said, “My men tell me Rainman is dead.”

  Carl stepped over to the window and looked down. “That mission is accomplished. He’s a splotch on the sidewalk far below me right now.” He continued the pretend conversation. He wanted to paint a picture for Grainger Koll that he was a revenge-seeking man wanting to tie off loose ends. First, Rainman, then McGrath.

  Grainger Koll no doubt knew from Rainman that Carl blamed the TER director for the death of his son. McGrath had intentionally laid low for the last few months and their OPSEC protocols had masked the government man’s involvement in Carl’s operations. TER agents were involved, but Carl had inadvertently created the illusion that McGrath was on the run.

  “Relocate all our assets and mercs to my fortified ranch in southern Mexico A-S-A-P, and deploy all defensive packages. I want antiaircraft guns and antimissile batteries armed and ready. Put everyone on-site on a twenty-four-hour war footing. DEF-CON ONE everywhere. I want around-the-clock drone coverage too.”

  “Um, okay, Boss.”

  “That’s right, we need to find him first. Now that Rainman is dead and the president is safe, that man is our top priority. He may try a counterattack, but he’ll have to bring the whole army and air force if he wants to take us down.”

  Wizard said, “I assume you’re misdirecting listeners and by that man you are referring to Grainger Koll.”

  “Correct. When he comes, I’m prepared to escalate again.”

  McGrath added, “Coating your knife blade with the same isotope they injected into President Mallory was a shrewd move, Mr. Johnson. It’s in his blood stream for the next three days, and we are tracking him now. He’s on a private jet that just left Newark. His destination is Europe.”

  “Let me know when you have his location. I want to hit him first, before he hits us. Meanwhile, everyone go off comms. Tell the TER agents I’m coming down in the elevator, then I want complete radio silence until we have tha
t man’s location. I have a nasty surprise in store for him, and it’s something he won’t see coming in a million years.”

  Chapter 31

  Senior Administrator Thaddeus Leak knocked on the metal doorjamb of Grainger Koll’s office and stepped in with a tablet cradled in his left arm. “It took the better part of a whole day, but I found the civilians,” he said when both Koll brothers looked over at him. “Well, I found most of them, anyway.”

  Leak crossed the threshold between the subterranean bunker’s control room and Grainger’s office. He swiped an icon on his tablet as he walked that put his view up on the wall monitor. Grainger and Hollis sat at the small conference table, so Leak stood at the end of the conference table to their left and faced the monitor, then talked them through what he’d found. “This is a private ranch about thirty miles west of Taos in New Mexico. We tracked their helicopter from—”

  Grainger held up a palm. “Never mind all that. What makes you think they’re there?” He stood and stepped over next to Leak and also faced the monitor. Leak sensed Hollis didn’t want to be left out as the man stood and walked over to Leak’s left. The wounded man seemed to breath with loud gasps and his eyes were glassy from the massive amount of painkillers he was taking, but Leak decided not to ask him if he was okay when he saw a look of pure evil in his eyes.

  “What are you looking at?” Hollis hissed.

  “Nothing.” Leak turned back to the monitor.

  Grainger bent forward at the waist and peered across the front of Leak. “You okay, Hollis? You don’t look so good.”

  Hollis’s left arm was in a sling and he massaged his bandaged upper arm with his left hand.

  “I’m making a mental list of all the ways I can fuck up Carl Johnson’s life once we eliminate the president.”

  “Or before,” Grainger added. He gestured at Leak. “You were saying?”

  Leak made another swipe and the monitor showed metallic reflections of light from a poorly camouflaged plane. “They attempted to hide the Twin Otter with netting and tree branches.”

  “Show me more.”

  He hit more keys, starting a slightly grainy video from a high-altitude spy plane showing the civilians moving about a log cabin. One armored mercenary was always visible near the cabin and three others had guard duty on the perimeter of the ranch.

  Grainger stood. “How soon can we get a mop-up team out there?”

  Leak tented his eyebrows. “Sir, it’s clear they chose this ranch because they know the territory. They’re likely well armed and have every advantage imaginable. A mop-up team is unlikely to be sufficient.”

  Grainger smiled and said, “I meant a team for mop up after the cruise missiles take out the ranch house.”

  “Oh.”

  “Is everybody there?”

  Leak looked down for a moment. “We’re not sure. We haven’t seen any indication that Officer Bonhardt is there. His family is, for sure, and so is Agent Cummings’s family.”

  “My guess is Carl has the cop sequestered somewhere, but we’ll find him later. It troubles me that only four mercenaries are on-site.”

  “Four that we can see.”

  “You’re implying the rest are intentionally in hiding.”

  “It fits Johnson’s tactical playbook. He likes to create disinformation.”

  “Johnson is a former engineer. He’s undoubtedly found a way to shield her from our satellite sensors, so she could be anywhere.” Grainger paced his small office, examining the featureless concrete ceiling for a few moments. Then he waved a hand at Leak’s tablet. “That means this is all a sham. Maybe they left the plane partly visible so we’d find it. Maybe they’ll have a counteroffensive in place. Maybe they have an escape plan. Johnson is known for elaborate head fakes.”

  “Or,” Leak added, “maybe it’s exactly what it appears to be. Maybe they have limited personnel because Johnson and the rest of his team are somewhere else hiding and protecting the president. What if…?”

  Grainger Koll stopped pacing. “Go on. Speak your mind. This is important.”

  Leak shrugged. “He’s a masterful tactician, and Rainman always thought he was a deep-cover operator. And he’s always been several steps ahead of us. Have you considered that he’d use these civilians as a distraction…as bait? His primary mission has always been to save the president.”

  “Bait? No, he wouldn’t…” He shook his head. “No, absolutely not! You think he’s been pretending to care about the civilians to distract us?”

  Leak shrugged again. “Clearly, there was a strategic gain to saving Cummings because she’s on his team now.”

  “There’s no way he could have predicted that outcome. No way he could have predicted I’d send a team after her.”

  “Maybe he simply took advantage of the opportunity. And maybe he figured out the cop is immune to the Chicago experiment,” Leak said. “Maybe he’s just protecting the family so the cop will cooperate and help figure out what we’re doing. Same with Agent Cummings’s family. After all, he did order a drone strike on his own agent to kill our soldiers. It fits.” The technician shrugged again.

  “In addition, Randal Cunningham, Johnson’s close friend, has gone off the radar, and he doesn’t appear to be at this ranch.” Leak pointed at the monitor. “That man’s a brilliant problem solver, known in the government contractor world as the Thinking Machine. With the president hidden, this guy can help Johnson concentrate on our weapon.”

  Grainger Koll paced the room again, but his gaze was a thousand miles away. “Okay,” he said, turning to face Leak. “Let’s rethink everything we thought we knew about Johnson.”

  “Okay,” Leak nodded. “Johnson said over his comm that his next target was McGrath, and he told his people to get defenses in Mexico ready for an assault.”

  Grainger nodded. “Which is why we sent Admiral Montmarkle’s carrier group south. So what if he’s not at any of his estates?”

  Leak said, “So we waste a few cruise missiles.” He ended the comment with another shrug that included his entire upper body.

  “That’s a small price to pay to deny Johnson future sanctuary down there if he survives our next assault.” Grainger took a deep breath, feeling energized with the direction of their conversation. “Okay, so what if Johnson isn’t really hunting McGrath?”

  “What if they’re working together? Hell, what if Johnson didn’t recruit Agent Palmer after the Contagion like we thought? What if she was assigned to him…by Aaron McGrath! All this time we thought President Mallory was giving Johnson government assets.”

  “That’s a dangerous thought, Thad. If Johnson and McGrath are working together, then we need to seriously and quickly adjust our strategy.” He rubbed his chin. “The only place on the planet we’re not searching for McGrath is actually on Johnson’s estates.”

  Leak said, “What if he’s directing ops from one of Johnson’s estates?”

  “Very well, have the admiral accelerate her timeline. Target all of Johnson’s estates immediately with cruise missiles. Decimate them all. We’ll never know if we actually kill McGrath, but still…” Grainger nodded as if to himself. “And ignore the civilians at the ranch.”

  “Well,” Leak countered. “If I may…?”

  Grainger nodded.

  “We don’t know what Johnson is thinking, but if we ignore the ranch, then we tip our hand that we see through Johnson’s deception.”

  Grainger smiled a sinister grimace that never quite reached his eyes. “Brilliant. We employ a head fake of our own.”

  Leak nodded. “We go in heavy. Don’t let Johnson think we know the civvies are just pawns to him.”

  “Good. Have the admiral dispatch a cruise missile to the ranch, then send in a ground team. How long?”

  “The team can be assembled and air-dropped nearby in under six hours.”

  “Good. Time the missile strike just before the insertion on the ground by the mop-up team. Two dozen men ought to be sufficient to handle four mercs a
nd a half-dozen civilians. Make it look good, Mr. Leak…assault rifles, RPGs, hand grenades, flamethrowers, mini-guns, tear gas, food and water for a two-day siege. The whole package.”

  “Yessir.”

  “Wait!” Grainger looked at Thaddeus Leak, then at his brother. “Johnson will expect a cruise missile because we’ve used that tactic before. So he’ll make sure his people are ready for that. I want the admiral to send two missiles—no, three. Then the ground team will hit them again and again. Shock and awe, Thaddeus.” Grainger pointed at the monitor. “We’ll overwhelm them with massive and constant force.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he said, “And make sure the team is equipped with anti-drone missiles. And antimissile missiles too, in case they launch at our forces or cruise missiles. That’s the kind of thing Johnson would do. Even if he’s not there, he won’t let his people just sit and wait for us to strike.”

  Thaddeus Leak cradled his tablet again and headed back to the command center, but paused in the doorway when the device beeped. “Well, how about that,” he said as he consulted the screen. “I just found Carl Johnson and the president.”

  “Where?” When Grainger looked at his technician, he saw a mixture of fear and amazement in the man’s eyes…and a hint of respect.

  “You’re not going to like this, sir.”

  Chapter 32

  Outfitted in her black hard-shell combat armor, former FBI Special Agent Lenore Cummings led her mother and daughter as well as the Bonhardt family from the old propeller cargo plane known as the Twin Otter toward the log cabin. The rear of the civilian detachment consisted of the airplane pilot and Mercs Six, Sixteen, and Seventeen.

  The pilot had made a quick deceleration landing, literally using barely a hundred feet of the dirt road connecting the ranch to the paved road known as US 285. They were roughly thirty miles west of Taos, New Mexico, and twelve miles south of Tres Piedras, a town so small it barely registered on a map. The pilot wrangled the plane off the road, and the entire gaggle worked to camouflage the plane with shrubs and netting.