by C. G. Cooper
“You son-of-a…”
“Let’s not call each other names, Senator. Why don’t we just finish our business and move on to more glorious times for both of our countries?”
“So what are your terms?” Zimmer asked through gritted teeth. He’d hoped to be rid of the Nakamuras and not have to follow through on all the silly promises he’d agreed to.
“Simply this: I kill the President, all his friends over there…” he motioned to the four immobile Marines, “…and I walk out of here with my son.”
“What about my son?” Zimmer asked, warming to the idea.
“Take him with you, as long as you think he can keep his mouth shut.”
“I’ll take care of my son. How do I know that you won’t detonate those phones if I let you go?”
“You don’t. But it would be much better for me to run the new Empire of Japan with the help of a healthy American ally. Besides, I’ll be more than happy to give you a detailed list of all the recipients of our…upgraded phones once we land in Tokyo.”
“What am I supposed to do with this mess?” Zimmer motioned to the piles of dead men.
“We’ll use the same story we agreed upon. Those men were a rogue terrorist unit aligned with the growing Chinese communist threat. My government will be very apologetic and supply information corroborating your claims. We already have the documentation produced. It will all be taken care of.”
The senior Senator from Massachusetts wasn’t sure, but he didn’t have much choice.
“Okay. If your son is still alive, take him and…”
His comment was cut short by six loud gunshots from the handgun Congressman Zimmer had taken from one of the dead Secret Service agents.
Kazuo Nakamura looked down at his pockmarked chest and dropped his pistol. Very slowly, he gazed up as blood seeped out of the corner of his mouth. His final mumbled comment, as he fell dead, was muffled by Ishi’s crying.
“What have you done, Brandon?” Zimmer asked his son in shock.
“I was sick of listening to the little fucker.”
Brandon struggled to stand on his one good leg. He managed to get up and face his father and the President. The Senator’s pistol was pressed to the side of the President’s head.
“What now, Dad?”
“Shoot him.”
Brandon raised his gun and fired two shots.
Chapter 41
Las Vegas, Nevada
7:11am, September 19th
The Senator’s lifeless body crumpled to the floor as Cal rushed to help the President. He looked up at the Congressman in surprise. “How’d you learn to shoot like that?”
“Didn’t I tell you that Dad made me join the Yale pistol team?” Zimmer deadpanned. He still couldn’t believe he’d done it. He’d killed his own father.
Cal shook his head in wonder as his friends surrounded the President. “Mr. President, would you mind if I borrowed your phone?”
The President looked embarrassed that he’d forgotten the small bomb in his pocket. He carefully extracted the phone and handed it to Cal.
Stokes grabbed the Opel phone and dialed a number from memory.
“You think you should do that, Cal?” Brandon interrupted.
“You heard what the man said, Congressman. We have almost thirty minutes until this sucker explodes.” He turned his attention back to the phone and dialed a number from memory. The other end picked up after the first ring. “Neil, we have a problem.”
Chapter 42
Las Vegas, Nevada
5:00pm, September 19th
The five friends sat on the large couch and watched the kickoff of the Democratic National Convention. Within a minute, Neil was snoring soundly.
“Poor guy. He’s been up since we got here,” Brian observed.
Cal yawned and went to stretch before remembering the stitches in his side. “Son-of-a…”
Everybody that was awake chuckled. Cal looked around the room, still amazed that they’d all made it. It had been a close call, but in the end, the technological genius of the imperialist Japanese hadn’t come close to matching the skill of Neil Patel. Rather than search through the haystack for the trigger, Patel simply wiped out Ichiban’s entire system. He had, of course, already made a copy of all the files for future use. For now the threat was no more.
With the help of the President’s phone call to the Japanese Prime Minister, all of Nakamura’s associates were being rounded up as they arrived back in Japan. In Las Vegas, the Secret Service gathered up the Russian clan under Japanese contract. Rather than postpone the convention, the President was patched up, the convention center cleaned, and the show continued.
It was decided between Zimmer, the President, and Cal that allowing the convention to run as planned would be what America needed. Cal had to give the President credit. Rather than use the whole episode as a stepping-stone in the election (if the entire plot got to the public, they were all sure the incumbent would receive more than his fair share of sympathy votes), he chose to direct the Secret Service to keep the whole thing quiet. They’d mourn for the dead soon.
It was also agreed that certain stories would be concocted for the various deaths and injuries the team had endured. The President would pretend that he’d fallen and dislocated his elbow while dancing with his little girls. Congressman Zimmer, who received a personal invitation by the President to sit in his skybox, would tell his staff and the media that he’d shattered his knee mountain biking.
The Opel smart phones were also being quietly “recalled” through coordination with the FBI.
To further show his gratitude, the President agreed to let the Silent Drill Marines skip the convention. They’d all regained consciousness almost an hour later. By that time, the arena had been cleansed by the Secret Service and the Marines were moved to a new location in another part of the convention center. It was explained that an exhaust valve had leaked and rendered them all unconscious. The Marines were all smart enough to realize they’d never smelled anything like exhaust, but let it go when they were carefully warned by Capt. Andrews not to say anything about the incident. It hadn’t hurt that the President had stopped by and apologized for the malfunctioning trailer.
As for Senator Zimmer and the Nakamuras, Ishi died just before Neil killed the Ichiban network. He never uttered another word as he watched Brandon help coordinate the cleanup. Ishi’s body was later disposed at a local crematorium. Senator Zimmer and Kazuo Nakamura were transported by SSI personnel to a local pet crematorium. Their ashes were already scattered to the desert wind.
Just before he went into surgery to have his knee repaired, Congressman Zimmer chose the story to end his father’s life. He was lucky to have a team of top orthopedic surgeons flown in by the President.
He whispered it to Cal just as the Versed started to kick in, his smile giving away his drugged state. “Tell the media that my Dad died humping a hooker.”
Cal snorted as they wheeled the Congressman back to the operating room. Maybe that guy wasn’t so bad after all.
He made a call to Travis and floated Zimmer’s idea.
“How about we just tell them he had a heart attack?” Travis offered.
“Sounds good.”
Cal hung up the phone and wondered what would’ve happened if they really had leaked the hooker story.
+++
Ten minutes later, Cal’s cell phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Cal, it’s Brandon.”
Before his surgery, Congressman Zimmer had made Cal promise that he’d call him by his first name.
“Hey, man. How ya feeling?”
“Anesthesia’s almost worn off and they’ve got me on some good pain meds. Can’t feel my leg, so that’s good.”
Zimmer paused as he fought for the right words to say.
“Cal, I just wanted to thank you again for all that you’ve done. I…I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been there.”
“No pro
blem. That’s our job, remember?”
“Yeah, I know, but I was a real…”
“Don’t worry about it. Trust me. I’d have been surprised if you hadn’t been an ass when I first met you. You would’ve made me feel bad about talking so much crap about your political affiliation.”
Zimmer chuckled and paused again. “Cal, I…uh…was wondering if you could do me one more favor.”
“What’s that?”
“I was wondering if you could go with me to see President Waller.”
Chapter 43
Las Vegas, Nevada
11:36pm, September 19th
President Waller entered his suite and stared at the two guests sitting in his living room.
“Will there be anything else, Mr. President?” his Secret Service agent asked.
“No, we’re good Kurt. Thanks.”
The imposing bodyguard nodded and walked out of the room.
“Thanks for waiting for me, gentleman,” Waller said stiffly, “the President wanted to have a word with me.”
He walked to the wet bar and chose a bottle of Jack Daniels. After pouring himself half a tumbler, straight up, he headed over to the leather sectional and took a seat.
“What did you want to see me about, Congressman?” Waller asked impatiently.
Brandon had thought about what he would say to the father of his murdered lover. What could he say?
“I…I just wanted to say I’m sorry…and that if you want me too…I’ll turn myself in to the authorities,” Zimmer stammered uncharacteristically.
Waller sighed and his face softened. “Now, why in the world would you want to do that?”
“I just thought that after what happened to Be…I mean, Patricia…”
“Let me stop you right there. First, you were both consenting adults. Second, the fact that she was being used as a pawn by that Japanese murderer…” his eyes hardened then mellowed again, “…it wasn’t your fault, son.”
“I know, but I keep thinking that if I’d recognized her or if…”
“Don’t talk about what ifs, Brandon.” Waller said in a fatherly tone. “Patricia was a big girl. She made her own decisions. There’s no way you could’ve known who she was. She’d changed a lot since my days in the Oval Office. Besides, I’m guiltier than you are in this whole thing.”
“Why is that, sir?” Zimmer asked in bewilderment.
“Well, I’m guilty for not keeping a better eye on my little girl. I got too busy and didn’t follow up like I should have. If I had made the effort of spending more time out west, I’m sure I’d at least known SOMETHING was going on. But more important to this discussion, I’m guilty of leaking our organization’s existence to your father.”
Cal, with Waller’s permission, had already told Zimmer about the Council.
“Now, sir, I don’t know how…”
Waller held up his hand. “Let me finish. Once Cal told me it was your father who was scheming for the Presidency, all the pieces fell into place. I remember every conversation I had with Richard. I’m the one who gave him the opening. I’m the one who almost got us all thrown in jail. So you see, it’s really up to YOU whether I should turn MYSELF in.”
Cal and Brandon stared at the man in complete shock.
Cal broke the silence. “Mr. President, you know that I would never…”
“It’s okay, Cal,” Waller soothed, “I know you’d never turn me in. It’s one of the things about you and your guys. Dependable to the last man. You would never expose a secret operation. I only wish we had more men like you. So, I guess the ball’s really in the Congressman’s court, isn’t it, Brandon?”
Zimmer didn’t know what to say. He’d come here hoping to apologize and dreading the possibility of going to jail. Now, a former President was asking HIM if HE should go to jail.
“Mr. President, if there’s one lesson I’ve learned through this whole ordeal, it’s that there’s a reason for secrets. I didn’t know how important it was until this week. It’s also imperative to have men like you and Cal fighting the good fight, taking it to the enemy day-in and day-out. I never understood that before. Call it ignorance maybe. I don’t know. But my eyes have been opened to a whole new reality. I only hope that I have the chance to go back to Washington and do what’s right for this country.”
Epilogue
Camp Spartan, Arrington, TN
9:47am, September 24th
Cal and Daniel rounded the last bend and slowed their pace down to a jog.
“How’s your side feel?” asked Briggs.
The doctors had told Cal not to excercise for two weeks because of his stitches, but he just had to go for a run and get the crud out. His wound was burning, but his body felt great. He hadn’t had a chance to work out in weeks.
“It’s okay. Just feels good to get out on the trail, you know?”
The sniper nodded, barely even winded.
“Hey, I’m gonna go over to the barracks and get cleaned up. Wanna meet for lunch at eleven?” Daniel asked.
The day after the convention massacre, Briggs accepted a position at SSI. He hadn’t even hesitated as Cal extended the invitation and a handsome compensation package. Internally, Daniel was overjoyed. His prayers had been answered and he’d found a new home.
His duties weren’t completely ironed out yet, except for being Cal’s constant companion, but the sniper was already making a name for himself on the live fire range. The operators around the campus all started calling him Snake Eyes.
He’d made one request as they’d said their goodbyes to the President in Las Vegas: that the President stop the processing of his Medal of Honor. Daniel still felt as if he didn’t deserve it. The President finally acquiesced. Two days later, a small package arrived at Camp Spartan for SSI’s newest employee. Daniel opened the box and found a Medal of Honor along with a note from the President. It read:
“Sgt. Briggs, I understand your reasons for not wanting this medal, but I must tell you that you are wrong. You are a hero to this nation and your sacrifices will always be remembered. I will keep my promise and not publicly give you this award. But, I did think that you should have this from a very appreciative Commander in Chief and a grateful nation. Semper Fidelis and God Bless.”
He’d only shown it to Cal who nodded and patted his friend on the back. As a Navy Cross recipient, Stokes knew how Briggs felt.
“Yeah, I’ll see you there at eleven,” Cal replied.
Daniel broke off towards the barracks and Cal continued on.
Winding up by The Lodge, a large log cabin style hotel for visiting VIPs, Cal noticed a black SUV parked out front. He wasn’t expecting any company.
“I wonder who that is,” Cal thought out loud.
He sprang up the steps and headed for his room on the second floor. It was great not having to drive to work. Before he got to the bank of elevators, he heard someone call his name.
“Cal!”
He turned around to see Congressman Zimmer, leg braced and walking with a cane, coming his way.
“Hey, Brandon, what are you doing here?”
“You know, I thought I’d stop by while I was in the neighborhood.”
Cal laughed. “Seriously, what are you doing in Nashville?”
“I was wondering if we could have a little chat.”
“Sure. You mind coming up to my room?”
They talked about how the Congressman’s rehab was going and Cal bitched about his stitches while they rode the elevator and then walked to Cal’s suite.
Cal held the door for Zimmer.
“Wow! Nice place you’ve got here,” Zimmer admired as he looked around.
“Yeah. One of the perks of being an owner, I guess.” Never one to beat around the bush, Cal dove right in. “So, how can I help?”
Zimmer winced as he took a seat on the closest chair. “Well, there’ve been some developments in my political career,” he said cryptically.
“Don’t tell me there’s another psychopath try
ing to blackmail you!”
“Nothing that much fun. No, I’ve been approached by the Democratic Party to run for my dad’s open Senate seat in Massachusetts.”
“Well that’s great, isn’t it?”
“Sure, but it’s not a given. I’ll have to run in a special election. I’m so young that I don’t know if I’ll win.”
“What’s the worst that could happen, you still get to be a Congressman?” Cal joked.
Zimmer laughed. “Yeah, I know. But I’m just not sure if I’m qualified.”
“I don’t mean to repeat myself, but how again do you need my help?”
“I wanted to ask you, as a friend, whether you think I should run for Senate.”
Cal was floored. Why is he asking me? How am I qualified to give that kind of advice?
“Look, Brandon, you know I stay way outside the political stuff. I wouldn’t know the first thing about…”
“I guess I’m just asking if you think I have a shot.”
Cal looked at his newest friend. They had been through a lot. He wondered how else the universe could’ve thrown the two men together.
“In my humble, dumb grunt opinion…I think you should do it. I mean, you’re not half the asshole your dad was.”
They both laughed at the macabre reference.
“Okay. Thanks, Cal.”
“No problem. But, I’m sensing there’s something else?”
“There is. I’ve been invited to a new club.”
“What, like Army-Navy?”
“No. President Waller has asked me to be a part of the Council of Patriots.”
Cal couldn’t conceal his surprise. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, Waller figured that I already know about it and now I’m in a better position to help. He’s even gonna quietly put his political backers behind my run for Senate.”
“But, all the members are RETIRED politicians. Isn’t that putting you in a precarious position?”
