Presidential Shift

by C. G. Cooper

  “Is everything ready?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. You know where to find me.”

  +++

  “Gaucho, get the boys up. We’re hitting the road,” commanded Cal.

  “Where to?” Gaucho was up and ready.

  “Just down the road.”

  Twenty minutes later, the team, scattered in five vehicles throughout the target neighborhood, sat waiting. Each vehicle had one remote drone aloft, reconnoitering the area with infrared video.

  “We’ve got at least ten bogies patrolling the property. Looks like there’s at least five more inside,” announced Daniel.

  Cal sat, watching the small screen as Daniel maneuvered the tiny craft. The vehicles were version 2.0 of Neil’s ‘Baby Bird’ invention. Launched and controlled via a pair of glasses, the little crafts were a mainstay in the SSI arsenal. Silent and versatile, the operators never started an operation without them.

  “What are our options?” asked Cal, eager to take action.

  “We can sit and wait,” said Gaucho. “Maybe your guy will come out.”

  Cal didn’t like the idea of waiting around. It wasn’t his style. “I’m going in,” he announced.

  “No way, boss,” said Gaucho. “Too many bad guys.”

  “I’ll go with you,” said the ever unflinching Daniel. “You’re not going in alone.”

  “Fine. Just the two of us.” Cal grinned. The past months had seen the Marine through tight spots. Cal trusted the sniper implicitly. Plus, he liked the idea of making Stricklin and Quailen a little uncomfortable.

  “Where do you want us?” asked Gaucho.

  “We’ll wear earpieces. Listen up. We might have a nice conversation. You’ll know if it’s time to pounce.”

  +++

  Minutes later, Cal and Daniel pulled up to the gate leading to Congressman Quailen’s mansion. Cal pressed the button on the call box.

  “May I help you?” came the scratchy voice from the box.

  Cal waved to the camera, smiling. “Cal Stokes to see Congressman Quailen and Special Agent Steve Stricklin.”

  There was an extended pause, then the gate creaked open.

  “So far so good,” Cal murmured.

  +++

  “Looks like your old buddy’s here,” Quailen stated nonchalantly, walking into the library where Stricklin sat nursing another drink. He looked up with semi-bloodshot eyes.

  “What? Who?”

  “Stokes. He’s coming up to the house right now.”

  “What?! How did he—.”

  “Settle down, Stevie. Looks like he’s not as stupid as you let on. Let’s just see how this plays out. He can’t do anything with my security staff watching us.”

  Stricklin downed the rest of his drink and nodded, hoping his churning stomach wouldn’t betray him.

  +++

  Congressman Quailen greeted the visitors at the door, two security personnel standing at the stairwell.

  “Welcome, gentlemen. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “Sorry to bother you at this hour, Congressman, but I received a phone call from this location, and since I was in the area, I thought I’d stop by and have a face-to-face,” said Cal, casually.

  “That’s okay. You must be looking for my nephew.”

  Quailen chuckled at the confused look on Cal’s face.

  “Stevie, I mean Steve Stricklin, he’s my nephew on my ex-wife’s side.”

  “Right. He and I go way back.”

  Quailen nodded. “You’re more than welcome to come in. I hope you don’t mind if I have my bodyguards do a quick search?”

  “No problem,” said Cal, raising his hands good-naturedly. He wouldn’t give the prick the satisfaction of being set back a single step.

  +++

  After a thorough frisking, no weapons were found, and neither were the tiny earbuds they’d implanted deep into their ear canals. They were led into the house.

  “Would you like something to drink, gentlemen?” asked Quailen, playing the role of model host.

  “I’ll take some Jack if you’ve got it. On the rocks, please,” requested Cal.

  “And your friend?”

  “He’s fine.”

  Once Quailen had poured Cal a glass and topped off his own, they rounded a corner and entered the spacious library.

  +++

  “What do you mean he went in there?” asked Travis. “Is he fucking crazy?”

  “Can’t say I disagree with him,” said Gaucho, who’d called Haden on Cal’s orders.

  “You wanna explain that to me, Gaucho? Don’t you think it’s a bit of a risk?” Travis fumed. Not only had his cousin repeatedly undertaken self-imposed assignments bordering on recklessness, now he was confronting a United States Representative and an FBI agent.

  “We’ve got nothing right now. If Cal can get some answers, put the bad guys back on their heels, maybe something will open up. He’s no idiot. Cal knows what he’s doing.”

  Travis willed his temper under control. Maybe he was getting soft. It was something he’d talked to Todd Dunn about. Years of sitting behind a desk dulled the warrior within, whereas Cal continued to fight on the front lines. While the CEO in him doubted the tactics by which his Marine cousin exploited situations, most often being in your face, right up the middle, Cal got results. In the time since Cal had joined the ranks of SSI, operational effectiveness had increased dramatically. Cal’s teams found and went after the bad guys, period.

  “Okay. Let me know.” Travis replaced the phone on his desk and ran a hand through his dirty blond hair. What now?

  +++

  “Stokes,” sneered Stricklin, obviously drunk.

  “Stevie, how the hell are ya?” answered Cal, raising his glass.

  Quailen took the seat nearest the fire, enjoying the back and forth. “So how might we help you tonight, Mr. Stokes?”

  “I got a call from your nephew about an hour ago. He wasn’t very nice, so I thought I’d come over and see who pissed in your Wheaties.”

  “You know why I—.”

  “It’s okay, Steve,” interrupted Quailen. “I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding.” He didn’t want to make it easy for the upstart from Nashville. “How can we help you?”

  Cal sipped his drink. There were several scenarios he could play. In the end he went with the most direct. “I’d like to know what evidence you think you have on me, Stricklin.”

  Stricklin looked at his uncle, who nodded. “We have documentation stating that your company was involved not only with the false allegation against my uncle, and the manufacturing of that ridiculous video, but also that you were key contributors in the attacks against the first lady in Washington, D.C. and Alabama.”

  Quailen waited. The part about their involvement with his video was true. His source had given him that piece of the puzzle. The other part, alleging SSI’s involvement in the assassination of the vice president and the attempted murder of the first lady, had been fabricated by a very talented writer friend the congressman had used over the years to frame certain political opponents. Quailen had found early on that the truth almost never mattered. A simple allegation and a good story were usually enough to get politicians and their constituents in an uproar. The use of anonymous sources sprinkled with half-truths was one of the Louisiana congressman’s favorite tactics.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Stricklin. You better get your facts straight before you come at me with some bullshit charge. Don’t they teach investigative skills at the FBI Academy anymore?”

  Before Stricklin could reply, there was a knock at the library door.

  “I said we were not to be disturbed,” yelled Quailen, looking annoyed.

  “There’s an important phone call for you, sir,” came the muffled reply.

  Quailen huffed and hauled his large frame out of the chair. “If you gentlemen will excuse me.”

  No one said a word as they waited. Cal took the opportunity to stand up a
nd peruse the impressive collection of books arrayed neatly on the congressman’s oak shelving.

  Congressman Quailen re-entered, followed by members of his security detail. Cal looked up from his examination.

  “Well, gentlemen, that was the president. He’d like us all to join him in the Oval Office.”

  “What’s this about, Congressman?” asked Cal.

  In response, Quailen shrugged, turning around, heading for the exit. Cal and Daniel looked at each other questioningly, and then followed Quailen and a slightly staggering Stricklin out the door.

  Chapter 24

  Falls Church, VA

  12:22am, December 20th

  “Did I hear that right? Did he say the president?” asked Gaucho. The other men in the SUV nodded. “I better call Travis.”

  +++

  A driver pulled a black Lincoln Navigator up alongside Cal’s vehicle. “We’ll follow you?” suggested Quailen, standing on the other side of the vehicle, now wearing a heavy overcoat and a thick scarf that obscured half his face and muffled his voice in the cold air.

  Cal nodded and went to open his car door. As he did, a loud SPLAT sounded, followed by a high-pitched scream.

  Cal and Daniel crouched and moved around the black SUV. Stricklin stood screeching, illuminated by the bright porch light. Blood covered his face and front, as he looked down to where his uncle’s body lay, head ripped in half like a dropped watermelon.

  All of a sudden, security personnel swarmed the area, yelling for Cal and Daniel to get down on the ground.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, guys. We’re not armed,” calmed Cal.

  “Get down on the ground! Get down now!” came the repeated screams.

  Cal looked at Daniel. Both men eased their way down to the ground as Cal whispered, “Gaucho, congressman down, unknown shooter.”

  +++

  The helicopter banked to the south.

  “Nice shot.”

  “Thanks. Easy.”

  The two men grinned as they settled in for the short flight back.

  +++

  “We didn’t see where the shot came from. It could’ve been one of the guards with a silenced round for all we know,” reported Gaucho.

  “What are they doing with Cal and Daniel?” asked Travis.

  Luckily, they’d kept all drones in the air during the wait, monitoring the situation on the ground. “It looks like they’re loading them into one of the vehicles. Want us to bust in there?”

  Travis didn’t want a gun battle in the middle of the affluent neighborhood, but he didn’t want his men captured either. “Follow them and we’ll play it by ear. I’ll wake the rest of the team and support you with whatever we can.”

  “You got it. All teams, time to duck and trail,” Gaucho ordered, watching, waiting.

  +++

  “Where are you taking us?” Cal asked the driver. They’d been cuffed and latched to the child car seat tether anchored in the back of another Lincoln Navigator. The last he’d seen of the dead congressman was when they’d hauled his body away, along with his piss-stained nephew.

  “Keep your mouth shut,” said the burly man in the passenger’s seat.

  “Fine by me. Just wanted to make some pleasant conversation, fellas. You know we’re not the bad guys, right?”

  No response came from the driver or his companion. Cal could only hope that the cavalry wasn’t far behind.

  +++

  “What happened?” Vice President Zimmer asked into the phone.

  Travis told the former Senator everything he knew. “We’ve got a team following. Did you know anything about the president asking for a meeting?”

  “I didn’t,” admitted Zimmer, wondering what else he wasn’t being told.

  “I think you better talk to him. I’ll monitor the situation and keep you posted.”

  Zimmer was worried. The first lady’s life threatened. A congressman murdered in the middle of a Virginia suburb. Cal and Daniel whisked away by a group of mercenaries. What next?

  +++

  Maynor was monitoring the situation from the SSI safe house. He felt helpless listening to radio chatter, wishing he could do something, anything to aid his fellow Marines. An idea came. He picked up his phone.

  +++

  “I didn’t request a meeting. Who told you that?” asked the president, still wearing workout clothes from a late night basketball game with some of the White House staff.

  Zimmer relayed what Travis had told him.

  “Quailen is dead?” blurted the president.

  “I’m afraid so, sir, and they’ve got Cal and Daniel.”

  “Who are they?” It wasn’t good. The president had entrusted Stokes with the ability to take action. Just the thought of his asset falling into the wrong hands made his stomach turn.

  “I have no idea, sir, I’m still new to the whole thing. Who would you like me to contact?”

  “No one. Let’s see if Cal can get out of this himself.”

  “But—.”

  The president raised his hand to stop the forthcoming rebuttal. “Look. If there’s anything I’ve learned in the past year, it’s that you should let good men do what they do best and leave them to it. The second we press the alarm button, half the politicians in this town, and not to mention the media, will know what’s going on. I say we let SSI take care of their own.”

  Zimmer didn’t like it, but he saw the president’s point. It was what SSI did. Covert action. There was no one better group to rescue Cal than his own men. Zimmer exhaled. It was going to be another long night.

  Chapter 25

  Northern Virginia

  1:10am, December 20th

  Cal kept up the charade and chatted like he was on a road trip with friends. He could tell that the driver was carefully covering his tracks, turning at the last second, zooming through a yellow light, backtracking.

  “You guys are pretty good at this. You learn it overseas? Army?”

  The guards continued to ignore his questions, instead glancing at the side mirrors.

  “You have any water up there? I’m kinda thirsty.” Knowing that his team was listening, Cal wanted to make sure they knew he was okay. The last thing he wanted was for them to make a foolish decision and do something reckless in the middle of a D.C. suburb.

  +++

  SSI’s drones made the chase almost easy. Instead of having to stay within eyeshot, which would’ve been hard to do inconspicuously with the near empty streets, their vehicles maintained a loose web, never crossing paths with the vehicle being followed.

  Guacho tapped his fingers on the dash. He knew Cal and Daniel could take care of themselves, and yet something felt wrong. It was like going on a raid knowing that you were probably walking into a trap.

  It didn’t matter. They wouldn’t leave their men. Gaucho cracked his neck and focused on the picture streaming from his tiny drone.

  +++

  Maynor scribbled a note and left it on the kitchen table. Next, he downed the coffee sludge in the bottom of his mug, grabbed the keys to his rented Harley, and walked out into the chill. He had an appointment to keep.

  +++

  Their vehicle was just passing a hospital, but Cal couldn’t make out the name from the distance. The driver pulled the wheel hard to the left. They went under a large hospital walkway, and then sped down a ramp. “Can you guys drop me off at the ER? My stomach’s a little queasy from your shitty driving.”

  The man in the passenger seat whipped around, pistol drawn, aimed at Cal’s face. “Time for you to shut your mouth, pretty boy. We’re almost there.”

  +++

  “Where did they go? Does anyone have eyes on?” asked Gaucho.

  “Lost them when they went under that overpass,” came the voice of one of the vehicles. “They didn’t come out the other side.”

  “Me too. Anyone picking up audio?” said another SSI operator. They’d maintained radio silence, wanting to hear Cal, who was broadcasting on the same frequency through his earpie
ce. His voice had gone silent.

  +++

  Cal looked back to see a motorized gate slam down behind them. They were in an underground parking garage, except that there weren’t any other cars. Worse still, Cal couldn’t hear anything except a bit of static in his earpiece.

  The Navigator eased it’s way across the huge expanse, passing dimly lit pockets. No signs of life. Up ahead Cal saw a double door, light streaming from its seams.

  “We headed to those doors?” asked Cal, hoping that the rest of the team could still hear him. No verbal answer came, but a smack from the butt of a pistol did. Cal’s head snapped back to hit the leather seat behind him.

  “I told you to shut up,” sneered the man with the gun.

  Cal glared at the man, hoping to have the chance to repay him soon.

  +++

  Gaucho directed his driver to pass by, casually. They saw the ramp underneath the walking bridge where they’d lost contact. He picked up his phone and dialed the only person he could think of who might be able to help. The call picked up on the first ring. “Yeah?” came the hoarse voice.

  “Neil, we need your help.”

  +++

  Four men, dressed identically to the escorts, also armed with submachine guns, emerged from the far door and helped unload Cal and Daniel. They were led through the double doors and into the brightly lit hallway. It smelled new. There were places along the wall that still had fresh drywall patches and had yet to be covered in paint.

  Cal and Daniel exchanged looks. A second later, Cal felt a hand over his mouth and a familiar scent in his nostrils. He struggled, but couldn’t stand up to the strength of the two thugs holding him or the power of the drug now entering his airway.