“Well,” the colonel said. “This looks bad, but it doesn’t confirm the stories.”
“What do you mean?” Claire asked. “You heard what he said. And those DHS agents murdered him!”
“He shot first,” Cooper replied. “If they had gone in with guns blazing, I could say that at least this group of operators were murders. But I can’t smear the entire government based on this video.”
Claire sat down, exhausted, realizing that the Colonel was correct. The only incriminating evidence on the recording showed a retired Marine sergeant making the first kill.
“So if DHS forced all the residents out of their homes,” Castro asked, “then who were the four we put down?”
“Probably looters,” Cooper said. “Opportunistic criminals that worked the neighborhoods cleared by our Homeland friends.”
“Makes sense,” Castro added. “They didn’t wear uniforms and definitely had evil on their minds.”
“Doctor Kramer,” Cooper said after a moment, “please don’t think I’m whitewashing this. There was no reason for those agents to kick down his door or force someone to abandon his home. I know that something is going on out there. I believe your father and I believe the First Sergeant. Most importantly, I believe you.”
“So what are you going to do about it?” Claire asked.
“Tonight? Nothing. It’s late, and I need to get home.” The colonel pushed some more buttons on his phone and spoke to the front guard. “Have Doctor Kramer taken to the VIP apartment and set her up for the night.”
“I’m fine to go home,” Claire protested.
“Just get some rest,” he said. “You’ve been through a lot and it’s showing. We’ll continue this tomorrow morning with my XO and another team leader. In the meantime, if you need anything, just ask. Any of the guards know how to get me.”
Claire suddenly felt exhausted. The adrenalin she’d been living off the last few hours had finally given out, and she almost collapsed as she stood up.
“Doctor Kramer!” Cooper yelled as Castro caught her.
“I’m alright,” Claire replied weakly.
“Yeah, you look great,” Cooper said. “Get her to the apartment and call Doc Adams to check her out.”
“No, really,” Claire said. “I’ll be fine. I just need some rest.”
Cooper shook his head. “Castro, go get Doc Adams. I’ll have the front guard take her to the apartment.”
“Yes sir!” Castro replied and spun on her heels to leave the room.
But before she was out the door, Claire felt a weakness fall over her and the room began to spin. A dark tunnel started to form in her peripheral vision. As the tunnel narrowed and her vision turned dark, she knew she was passing out. The last thing she remembered was floating toward the ground as two pairs of hands cushioned her from behind. She thought that it felt nice to let go. As her day came to an end, she smiled and closed her eyes, knowing that she was finally safe.
CHAPTER 10
DHS HEADQUARTERS
ORLANDO, FL
THE MORNING AFTER CLAIRE KRAMER arrived at the Smyrna airport, John Drosky, the special agent in charge of the personal protection detail for Undersecretary Bedford of the United States’ Department of Homeland Security, was having one of those days where he wished he had just stayed in bed. As he stood guard outside the office door, he had nothing but time to think.
What had started as a means of staying close to Bedford had rapidly deteriorated into a babysitting job. While John “attended” every meeting, he was always outside the room and only heard the rare raised voice or gleaned the occasional parting comments as the door opened when the meeting concluded.
Any number of Washington dignitaries had been coming and going, enjoying the Central Florida winter weather. Bedford had even set up a helicopter shuttle service to take the visiting government bigwigs to one of two confiscated resorts. Both The Breakers in West Palm Beach and a gulf-front resort on Anna Maria island were now property of the U.S. government. In the Orlando area, the Hyatt at Grand Cypress had been the site of a couple of Washington powwows, and the golf course had been opened for the events. Bedford had attended both meetings, but John had not been privileged to enter the conference room, spoiling any opportunities for further intelligence gathering.
“Another exciting day planned?” asked Dixon Bruner as he approached.
“Bru, if life got any better, they’d make it illegal,” Drosky deadpanned. “I assume that Mrs. Bedford is on premises.”
Former Ocoee policeman Dixon Bruner had been assigned security for Tanya Bedford as she recovered from the gunshot wound suffered a few months earlier.
“Making her obligatory appearance at one of her husband’s social gatherings. She’s taken the kid down to the commissary for some ice cream. Any idea where we’re going today?”
Drosky shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Standing guard outside the director’s office at DHS headquarters had become both a frustrating waste of time and the fodder for any number of jokes from his friends. Nightly dinner with Bru and his fellow agent friends, Big Mike and Beth, inevitably brought out dark humor—and almost always at Drosky’s expense. Just last night, the trio presented John with a roll of toilet paper in a gold-colored box. “For the most royal wiping anywhere” was written on the front of the box, along with directions on how to properly apply the “gift” to Director Bedford’s backside.
“Probably another worthless planning session,” Drosky replied. “No doubt Captain Carlson and his wife will be meeting with our newest dignitaries out at the Grand Cypress.”
“Getting pretty dicey out there if Mike’s even close to accurately describing what he’s come across.”
“The entire south side of the city is a no-go zone,” John said. “Since they pulled Mike and the others out of the area, we’ve been knee-deep in refugees at the airport.”
Bruner sat down in one of the many chairs that lined the wall outside Bedford’s office. Leaning his rifle against the muted grey plaster, he adjusted his battle belt and pulled a pack of gum from his vest pocket. Throwing a couple of sticks into his mouth, he began contentedly chewing as he leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling.
“I feel worthless,” Bru said absently. “Tanya’s on the mend, and her daughter’s got two nannies. It’s a waste of time hovering over them. They never go outside the safe zone, so I’m nothing but a chauffeur, driving them around in a six-block radius. What a joke.”
“How is Lillie doing?” Drosky asked. “She better with mommy out of the hospital?”
“Yeah,” Bru replied, still staring up. “She’s not having as many nightmares now. Most nights she sleeps with her mother, except when you guys show up with Bedford for his ‘quiet time’ with Tanya.”
Drosky smiled, watching Bruner stew over the way Bedford treated his wife. The director barely tolerated Lillie, the woman’s daughter, and only used Tanya as arm candy for social gatherings and for pleasure on the occasional conjugal visit. Other than that, she didn’t exist in Bedford’s world as far as Drosky could tell. But it was obvious to John that his partner had become smitten with the woman.
“Bru,” Drosky said, “be careful.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tanya. Keep your distance. There are no positive outcomes for anything other than staying clear of her.”
Bruner’s head snapped up and he stared back defiantly at his friend.
“Seriously,” Drosky said, “she’s toxic. Off limits. You’ll disappear faster than a fat kid chasing the ice cream truck if you get between the director and his family.”
Bruner snorted, shaking his head in disagreement. “What family? He’s there when he has his needs, and nothing more.”
Bru stood and began to pace back and forth. Until that point, Drosky had assumed that his friend had an infatuation on the director’s exotic and beautiful wife. Now, it looked like the crush had developed into something much more. John put his hand out and gentl
y grabbed his friend’s arm.
“Don’t tell me you’ve…”
“No! Of course not,” Bruner replied. “But the way he treats her and Lillie. I mean it’s enough to turn my stomach.”
Drosky released his friend’s arm as he looked into his partner’s eyes. “She’s got you,” he said.
“I don’t know, John.” Bruner replied. “It’s so confusing. Some days, I’m happy to be there and other days I resent the heck out of being her babysitter.”
“What does she say?”
“Nothing really.” Bruner said. “She thanks me, talks to me. And Lillie likes to climb all over me. But Tanya and I have never crossed any lines. As much as I want to sometimes, we haven’t done anything even close to wrong.”
“Hmm,” Drosky mused. “Sounds like you’re becoming the father and husband without the romance.”
“The way the two of them look at me…I wish I was.”
“She’s in a precarious situation,” Drosky said. “The kid can tell that Tanya looks to you for security. You’re the man her husband isn’t capable of being. But Tanya has to keep Bedford happy or else he might just get rid of her.”
“Not while I’m around!”
The sound of approaching footsteps from within the director’s office stopped further conversation. Bruner retrieved his rifle and both men stood at attention, flanking Bedford’s door.
“Thanks Mr. Director,” a voice said just as the door opened. Another new player from D.C. exited Bedford’s door. Captain Carlson and Micah Bedford followed him out.
“See you tomorrow on the first tee,” the fat little man shouted as the Washington bureaucrat strode away, disappearing down the long, dim hallway. Bedford then turned to the captain. “You up for eighteen in the morning?”
“Do we have a choice?” Carlson replied, acting as if they were being sentenced to hard labor at a federal prison.
“See you for dinner at six tonight. I’ll drive.” Bedford said, dismissing Carlson.
The captain nodded and left the three at Bedford’s door.
“What are you doing here?” Bedford asked Bruner.
“Sir, just checking in with Agent Dixon.”
“I like to get a daily report from the men guarding your family,” Drosky stated. “They’re in the commissary for some ice cream. With guards at the entrance to the building and several armed agents in the dining area, he felt it was safe to report to me.”
“Getting ice cream?” the rotund man stated with disdain. “I hope she isn’t down there getting fat.”
“No sir,” Bruner said. “It’s for Lillie. Your wife’s doctor wants her to eat more to help her heal, but she’s hasn’t been too compliant with his wishes.”
“Good,” Bedford said with relief.
Both men started contemptuously at their boss as Bedford turned to go back into his office.
“Sir, with your permission,” Bruner said to Dixon, “I need to get back.”
“Dismissed,” John replied, returning Bruner’s salute.
“Director, a word please.” Drosky said before Bedford could close his door.
“Sure, come inside,” he replied, waving Drosky into the room.
“I have a recommendation,” Drosky said after the director had taken a seat at his vintage mahogany desk. Salvaged from a high-end antique store, the massive partner’s desk was inlaid with ivory and decorated with gold leaf. The hundred-year-old brass hardware gave off a dusky gleam rather than the shine of new metal. The desk easily would have fetched five figures in the “before” economy. Now, months into the country’s recovery, it was being used by his corpulent boss to impress the visiting dignitaries.
“Recommendation for what?”
“Your family,” Drosky began, standing at parade rest in front of the desk. “I think we need to start the rotating agents guarding Mrs. Bedford and your daughter.”
“Why?” Bedford asked, looking up from the paperwork he had been scanning. “Is there a problem?”
“No sir,” Drosky replied. “But there is value in having fresh eyes on any situation, and I think that rotating agents would be of benefit.”
“Agent Drosky,” Bedford said, giving John his full attention, “My wife trusts Agent Bruner with her life. You two saved her from those MS-13 gang members. You’ll have a hard time getting her to agree with this.”
Bedford marched around the desk, his eyes almost a foot below Drosky’s own, Glaring up at the agent, he poked John’s chest rig and said, “Just what’s going on? I know you two are friends, so don’t bullshit me. Is there something here I need to know about?”
“No sir!” Drosky confidently replied. “But I worry that if you leave Bruner in his present assignment, he may become too attached to your family.”
“What! Are you telling me that something is going on between them?” he hissed, venom in his words.
“Not at all, sir, at least not yet. Please let me explain.”
“Please do!” Bedford shot back, his face still flush with anger.
“Sir, it is our responsibility to protect you. Not your wife. Not your daughter. You are the primary asset.”
“Go on,” Bedford said.
“If I may be blunt,” Drosky said, “I don’t want any of my men becoming more attached to your wife than they are to you. If we get into another situation like the one where MS-13 attacked our convoy, I need to know that the men I command will think of you first.”
Slowly, the director’s face began to return to its normal color. A slight smile twisted his lips.
“Yes,” Bedford said. “I see your point.”
The portly man returned to his leather chair. The springs that supported the antique groaned in complaint as the director leaned back and rubbed his chin.
“You’re right, of course. But I want you to stay with me. We can rotate security for Tanya and her kid, but you are to stay by my side. Is that understood?”
“Yes sir, completely,” Drosky replied crisply.
Bedford appraised John, nodding to himself. “I must say, I made the perfect choice putting you in charge of my security. You’ve just proven that again. I don’t like worrying about the men watching over my wife, if you know what I mean.”
“Completely, sir. Tanya is a beautiful woman, but the men respect you too much to take advantage of that. Besides, from what Agent Bruner tells me, she is completely devoted to you. I don’t think you need to worry about that.”
“True,” the bombastic man said. “But still, one never knows.”
“Might I suggest a solution?” Drosky asked. “I know someone that you could assign to your family who would never be a concern.”
“I’m listening,” Bedford said.
“Agent Beth Hildreth.”
“The female agent that stopped those gangbangers last month?”
Beth had been walking back to her apartment a few weeks back, when she spotted a group of MS-13 gang members raiding some of the nearby homes. She had called in support and personally took out one of the thugs with a well-placed bullet to his head, sending the rest scurrying out of the neighborhood. Beth had been hailed as a hero and was an asset in the field, but Bedford was more concerned with his own personal safety and controlling the population rather than confronting the gangs that were roaming the city.
“Yes sir,” Drosky said to his boss. “I can’t think of anyone more qualified. No distractions, if you catch my drift.”
“Is that all?” Bedford asked.
“I would still rotate a man from my command, giving your family a second person to guard your wife and child. But if you keep the men rotating through this assignment, they won’t forget who they are protecting, and Agent Hildreth can be the constant that would keep your wife satisfied with her protection.”
A smug look came over Bedford’s face as he pondered Drosky’s suggestion. “Agent Drosky, I want you to permanently re-assign Agent Hildreth to my wife. Commence with a rotation of your men as you deem appropriate.”
<
br /> “Very well, sir,” Drosky said. “As you order.”
“Dismissed. And have my vehicle ready to travel to the Grand Cypress tonight. We’ll be leaving around six.”
Drosky snapped a salute, and after receiving the director’s typical limp-wristed reply, he spun on his heels and left the room. Calling a replacement to take over his overwatch duty, John was finally able to leave the director’s office. Striding down the hallway, he couldn’t help but smile at the way he had accomplished three goals in one stroke. The first was to get his partner away from Tanya and Lillie. The young man was smitten, and leaving him in that position was a recipe for disaster. The second goal was to get Beth closer to him. He was more and more convinced that things weren’t going well for the government, given the increased levels of gang and citizen violence. If the whole thing collapsed, he wanted her close by so they could team up and escape. The third goal was to have Beth share in the babysitting responsibilities he had been enduring. No longer would he be the only butt of Big Mike jokes.
Now, if I could just get Michael James Jones reassigned to headquarters Drosky mused.
CHAPTER 11
DISNEYWORLD
ORLANDO, FL
“Whenever evil wins, it is only by default: by the moral failure of those who evade the fact that there can be no compromise on basic principles.”
— Ayn Rand
AS JOHN DROSKY CONCLUDED HIS meeting with Undersecretary Bedford, “Utter exhaustion” were the only words “Big Mike” could use to describe his physical and mental state. After being pulled out of Orlando’s south side, where he had been patrolling right after the EMP hit, he had been reassigned to a Rapid Reaction Group. The first few weeks of his new assignment were all training. He’d learned urban combat techniques including breaching and clearing buildings and other small unit tactics. The training period also gave him time to bond with the other members of his four-person squad.
Following completion of his training, the last months had been a blur of activity, each day bringing another dangerous situation that involved clearing a building or sweeping an abandoned neighborhood. Rarely did they come across criminal gangs. Rather, they were often confronted by families or groups of ordinary citizens scavenging for food, medicine, or other necessities.
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