by Jerry Ahern
Three miles later, Rourke pulled into the parking lot of the emergency clinic. As he was removing the blonde’s restraints; two cars carrying Tim Shaw’s men arrived with red and blue lights flashing. They skidded to a stop; four men from the first car jumped out and moved to set up a security over watch around Rourke. Four from the second vehicle rushed over to Rourke’s side. Rourke recognized the senior agent but couldn’t recall his name. “We’ll take it from here, Mr. Rourke. Are you armed?”
“Yeah,” Rourke said. “If two of you can get her inside I have to get to my family and make sure they’re alright.”
“Like I said, we have it here,” the agent said, turning to address one of his men. “Jenkins, take Mr. Rourke to his home... watch your asses. Mr. Rourke, please stay with Agent Jenkins. Phillips...” The agent called over a man from the over watch. “You go with Jenkins and Mr. Rourke as back up.” Turning back to Rourke he said, “SSAC Shaw should be there already. We’ll secure the scene and the prisoner here. HPD has already been sent to the ambush site to secure it. Go, Mr. Rourke, go!”
Rourke nodded and ran to the sedan where Agent Jenkins already had the engine started. Rourke jumped into the right passenger seat as Agent Phillips jumped in the rear seat behind Jenkins. Before either had their seat belts snapped, Jenkins was out of the parking lot and running Code 3 toward Rourke’s home. The unit’s radio cracked from under the dash, it was Tim Shaw. He told Rourke he was on the scene with Emma and the kids. “They’re fine John—looks like the attack was focused on you. I have alerted the President and the First Family; Paul and Annie are safe also and I have agents with them.”
“Thanks Tim. That’s great to hear, I’ll be there...” He shot a glance to Jenkins. “Traveling at this speed…” Jenkins, with his eyes focused on the road, held up his right hand, fingers splayed. “I’ll be there in five minutes,” Rourke finished. As he replaced the corded microphone, he said, “Step on it Agent Jenkins.”
Jenkins stayed focused, “I’ve got my foot all the way to the carburetor Mr. Rourke. You just hang on.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Jenkins dry slid the sedan into the driveway; Rourke was out of the car before it fully stopped. He charged past the agent on the front porch and through the front door, “Emma!” he shouted.
“In here, John,” she answered from the kitchen.
Rourke turned the corner and saw she was making a pot of coffee; the kids, still half asleep, were sitting at the dining room table. Emma’s father, Tim Shaw, sat on a bar stool. Rourke grabbed Emma in a hug, “I’m so glad...” He didn’t finish the statement.
Emma hugged him hard, “Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked.
Rourke nodded and went to the kids, “You guys okay?”
“Dad, what is going on?” Timothy asked, sleepily.
“I’m not sure yet,” he said then turned to Shaw. “Thanks,” was all Rourke could think of to say.
“No need for thanks John. Look, here’s what we know right now. The Highway Patrol recovered the body of an as yet unidentified white male at the ambush site. What the hell did you use on him, a chain saw?”
“No,” Rourke said, pulling out the Fighting Bowie. “This; they knew about my Detonics and the Sting 1A but not about the Bowie.” Rourke went to the sink and ran water across the blade and handle to remove the blood that had not come off on the blonde girl’s skirt. Satisfied, he ran water over his hands to wash away the residue that remained. He picked up a dish towel to dry the knife and his hands but Emma hollered, “No you don’t Mr. Rourke!” She handed him several paper towels, “Use these please and throw them away.” Rourke complied.
“I couldn’t find any identification on the woman either,” Rourke said as he disposed of the paper towels in the kitchen garbage container.
“Any clues what this is all about?” Shaw asked.
Rourke shook his head, “Not a one. They didn’t give me any time for conversation; when I dropped her off she was still unconscious. It was definitely a snatch job. She called me by name and she knew almost everything about my personal weapons. Any word from the clinic on her condition?”
“They moved her to a military hospital and she’s in surgery,” Shaw said. “They called in an orthopedic surgeon; his initial exam determined they will be able to save the hand, but he’s not sure how much use of it she’ll have.” Glancing at his wrist watch he continued, “Doc said the surgery should take about two hours. We can talk to her in the morning, but not until.”
“I want a 24-hour guard on her,” Rourke said.
“Already in place,” Shaw nodded. “Looks like she is our only source of information.”
Rourke poured sour mash whiskey into a shot glass and slammed it down his throat. “Rest of the family is secure?” Shaw nodded. The adrenal rush was starting to leave Rourke’s body as the sour mash warmed his belly. “Guards on them too?” Shaw nodded.
Emma snuggled close into the crook of Rourke’s left arm and squeezed him tightly. John kissed her on the head as he poured another shot with his right hand. “How about one of those for me?” Shaw said.
Rourke smiled, “Sorry, thought you were on duty.”
“I am, pour me one anyway.” Rourke kissed Emma again and reached around her for another glass. As he finished pouring Shaw’s drink he said, “We secure outside?” Shaw nodded again. Rourke hugged Emma and said, “Honey, why don’t you guys get back to bed. Nothing more is likely to happen now. Tim, lets step out on the patio...”
Chapter Fifty-Three
The clouds that had been blowing in earlier now hung unmoving in the sky, obscuring the moon and stars completely. Rourke pulled one of the patio chairs back from the table; it slid noisily on the patio stones. He pulled out his last cigar, flicked the Zippo into life and sat down. Shaw pulled a cigarette from his pack and accepted a light from John. “John,” he said as he sipped his sour mash. “Are you sure you don’t know what this attack was about?”
“Tim, it could be anything... but to answer your direct question... no I don’t.”
“You ever see either of them before?”
Rourke shook his head, “Don’t think so. I might have missed the man, but not the woman—blonde Barbie Doll type with a single braid of hair going all the way to her waist.”
Setting down his drink and cigarette, Shaw wiped his face with both hands. “Well, it’s not like you haven’t had enemies; only good thing is most of them are dead.”
John inhaled deeply, let out the smoke slowly and took a sip of the whiskey. “Could be Dodd, could be the Progressives... I just don’t know. I want the whole family guarded until we find out.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Retired Captain Daniel Thomas Hasher, formerly head of operations at the Hopper Information Services Center, was part of President Michael Rourke’s ultra secret Lock Out Team; he was also a member of the Progressive Party. Hasher however, had made it clear to Rourke that he was an American first and a Progressive second. He had told Vice President Darkwater, “We can agree to disagree on policies but I hope you are not questioning my loyalty to this country.” Darkwater had assured Hasher he had complete faith in him.
“Dan,” Darkwater said during the first Lock Out activation, “If I had any questions about you, you would not be sitting here.” That was the beginning of a “delicate situation.” The investigation was not going to be allowed to go down the path of partisanship and turn into a witch hunt. Darkwater had stated also, “I believe that decisive action, decisive and immediate actions, are on the horizon. The very fabric of this country’s political processes are about to be strained and we have to be careful and professional.”
The discussions had taken place before the insertion of Wes Sanderson’s team on the Kamchatka Peninsula and subsequent rescue of the First Lady at Göbekli Tepe. The investigation was nearing completion and the results had the potential for, as Darkwater had said, “a major political situation of the gravest order.”
Chapter Fifty-F
ive
Peter Vale sat relaxed in the company of Phillip Greene and Captain Dodd. Dodd asked, “What progress have you been able to make?”
Vale smiled and said, “I am happy to report that on Friday, protesters seized the Chancellery Building; that is the seat of government for the German Republic. Occupying almost 130,000 square feet, it is also the largest government headquarters building in the world. By comparison, the new Chancellery Building is ten times the size of the White House. They also established a siege of several governors’ offices in the country’s west; needless to say, raising the pressure on the government.”
“After meeting with the new German President for several hours late Thursday, one protest leader told the crowds he wanted promises that would ensure the release of dozens of protesters detained after clashes with police, and to stop further detentions. They urged the protesters to maintain a shaky truce following violent street battles in the capital, but were booed by demonstrators eager to resume clashes with police.”
“So far the truce has held, but early Friday protesters broke into the downtown building of the Ministry of Financial Policy, meeting no resistance. One of the protestors told the media, ‘We want what is ours. We are the ones who invested our time, money and energy; we cannot have people sleeping in tents all the time. ’”
“After seizing the Chancellery, the demonstrators allowed ministry workers to go to work. Then, in other protests, they seized local governors’ offices in several western regions on Thursday. Hundreds of protestors broke into the office of the regional governor shouting ‘Revolution!’ They forced one local governor to sign a resignation letter but then continued to hold the building, refusing to let the workers in.”
“Protesters have also taken control of bank offices in four other western cities as of Thursday, though they suffered a setback in one town about ninety miles southeast of Berlin, where police barricaded the governor’s building from inside and prevented them from taking control. Police reinforcements arrived later, dispersing the protesters and arresting several dozen of them. The German President meanwhile called for an emergency session of parliament—which is controlled by his loyalists—next week to discuss the tensions. It wasn’t clear if his move Thursday reflected his intention to bow to some of the protesters’ demands, or was just an attempt to buy some time and try to ease tensions.”
Greene interrupted, “I understand that the German Interior Minister issued a statement late Thursday, guaranteeing that police would not take action against the large protest camp on Independence Square. He also urged police not to react to provocations.”
Vale nodded, “You are correct. However, with some... encouragement on our part. Remember the demonstrations began abruptly over an agreement with the Europeans who are in favor of a bailout loan from Russia. The protests have been largely peaceful, but we were able to incite the protestors; they turned violent Sunday after the government pushed through harsh anti-protest laws and stonewalled protesters’ demands that called for new elections. It has actually been rather simple to engineer. Mob mentality is much more easily manipulated than individual mentality.”
“So far, over 200 people have been fatally shot in the clashes Wednesday; the first deaths since the protest began, fueling fears of further escalation. The opposition has blamed the deaths on authorities, but the German Prime Minister said Thursday that the wounds were not caused by police weapons. The protestors claim that as many as fifty protesters were killed in Wednesday’s clashes, though they said they have no evidence because the bodies were removed by authorities.”
“I understand,” Greene said, “protest leaders have set a Thursday evening deadline for the government to make concessions or face renewed clashes. But then pleaded with the crowds to extend the truce, even though the talks with the government have brought literally no visible progress; and, there was no word about meeting the main protesters’ demand for early elections.”
“Again, you are correct,” Vale said, consulting the report. “Goering just released another statement, this one saying, ‘When the currency revaluation did not go public for everyone—only for the privileged few who don’t need it—we went to the streets to demand it. We recognize this process has taken a long time; after all it affects all of the countries in the world. It takes time. ’”
“However, I received a call from several high ranking people in the banking industry who are very familiar with what is going on. They are saying that several bankers have called in their wealthy depositors to do the currency exchange. First, they called them and told them to buy the old currency and the next day bring it in and they will get rich. Well, they are saying that what the bankers don’t know is that many of those folks on the wealthy list are really our people, honest people; and, the only thing the bankers are going to get is a set of handcuffs as they leave the bank, headed to a jail cell somewhere in the US. Sounds like the bankers have bit off more than they can chew.”
“My sources say the reports are spot on and that we are doing the right thing. So, they are saying just hang in there and we will be at the banks or dealers to await the exchange that is supposed to be for everyone.”
Dodd interrupted. “I believe the founder of the World Economic Council has said, ‘It’s time to press the reset button on the world. The world is complex, it’s fast-moving, it’s interconnected, and we want to provide a mirror to the world as it is. It is not a meeting devoted to one set of issues. It’s a meeting that addresses the complexity of our world.’”
Vale nodded, “And that announcement is being seen as part of the efforts of the WEC for the upcoming yearly jamboree focused on global political and corporate elite. The WEC has as its goal its signature legislation, an ambition no less lofty than to foster an environment where the myriad problems and challenges facing today’s world can be tackled head on. It is time to push the reset button. We have been successful in creating a world still caught up in a crisis-management mode.”
“The crisis is coming and frankly, as long as we have control of the process, we will be successful. Now we are beginning to focus on some more conservative, constructive and strategic plans. We are getting ours, so to speak. The danger is we now have to allow some of the ‘little people’ to get theirs. But in doing so, it has to be carefully handled. This is where it can get complicated and dangerous. There has never been the opportunity at any time in the world’s history where so many ‘stakeholders’ of our global future have had this chance. And they are all united by the mission of improving the state of the world.”
“They believe, with some confidence I might add, that it appears the world is coming back into a stable global economy following the difficult post-financial crises years, but it has been like a runner struggling with a heavy load on his shoulders. It is in fact, the element of superstitious reinforcement that is working to our benefit. That irrational belief is that an action, or set of circumstances not logically related to a course of events, can influence an outcome. That is being perpetuated by a belief in a series of practices we have been able to irrationally maintain because they are ignorant of the laws of nature and their own faith in magic or chance.”
Greene asked, “So what’s next, Mr. Vale?”
Vale smiled, “The next part has two elements. Increased confusion and turmoil followed by our domination of the financial structure for the entire planet. In short gentlemen, we win. With our Chinese and Russian allies, the American Dollar and New Germany’s Mark will become devalued overnight. That will mean the German Republic’s currency will dominate the world along with the Chinese Yen and the Russian Ruble. We win without ever firing a shot. Captain Dodd, if you don’t mind me asking, how is our ‘little ally’ doing?”
Dodd smiled, “Very nicely Mr. Vale, he and his friends are making their presence known already.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
Paul smiled, able to finally walk with a cane. His last x-rays had shown the crack in his femur was healing nicely and h
e was glad. He had hated his time in the wheelchair even though he knew it was necessary. The doctors had finally released him from the walking boot and crutches, to the walker and now a cane. “The cane gives me more stability, particularly on uneven terrain,” he told Annie. “I think it gives me a rather distinguished, almost dapper appearance.” Annie just smiled. Paul knew the necessity of the cane would wane quickly away, but he toyed with the idea of keeping it. He particularly liked that it had a two-foot blade hidden in it.
John Rourke, his son Tim, Paul and his son Jack walked along the beach; these walks had become a habit. In the beginning it had been therapy for Paul’s leg but lately had simply been a good time for the guys to get together and chat. Recently, the boys had been focusing on weapons; especially Jack. Today, it was about knives; especially the new Fighting Bowie John was showing them. “John,” Paul asked. “I’ve always wondered why none of the knives you carry have a blood groove?”
“Actually, over the years Paul, I’ve had several that did.”
“Grandpa, what is a blood groove for?” Jack asked. “What does it do?”
“Good questions; there are several answers. In reality, the blood groove or blood curve probably came from a channel on a sword that is called a ‘fuller.’ A lot of folks believe the blood groove releases a vacuum when the knife is thrust into a person. Others believe it holds no functional use and is purely decorative.”
“The first theory states that the blood groove is present to help when pulling a knife out of a person or an animal. It has been said that a person or an animal’s muscles will contract around the knife blade, and that this causes a vacuum. That would make the knife difficult to withdraw. But with a blood groove, blood is supposed to run through the blood groove and break the suction, so the knife can be withdrawn with less difficulty.”
