Patriot Play

by Don Pendleton

  In the early days the Brethren carried out low-key operations against federal targets. They were small and more of an irritant at first. But then the Brethren’s strike teams hit out at larger targets. They stole equipment and arms. Seeger sought and recruited men with professional skills that would become vital when his long-term operation became ready to launch. It was big, ambitious enough to create the situation that would lead to a massive rejection of federal authority, and if it went to plan, oust the government by showing it was helpless when it came to protecting the American public.

  The deeper he went into his intentions the harder Seeger worked to bring it to fruition. He saw a desperate need to hit out at the establishment, to split it wide open and to make it look ineffective in front of the American public. He was aware that what he was planning would become nonnegotiable. Once the operation actually got under way there would be no turning back. It would be a one-way street. Full commitment would be expected from everyone involved. He received this assurance from his people, and that solid confirmation gave him the confidence to move ahead.

  The plan took many months to conceive and move forward. There were people to put in place, covers to establish. He had to recruit specialists who would help to create the tools the Brethren needed to go ahead with the planned strikes.

  A bonus came in the form of an anonymous benefactor who gave his support through an intermediary named Harry Brent. From what Brent explained, the benefactor hated the government with a passion. He would do what he could to aid the Brethren. He had contacts that would help bolster the group’s continuing need for finance. This was demonstrated by the first of a number of donations of diamonds from a source in West Africa. Brent explained that the diamonds had been obtained cheaply because the source was dealing illegally. Through Brent’s continuing brokerage the diamonds were sold for a considerably higher sum. The infusion of such a large amount of cash realized Seeger’s dream of his planned attacks to be able to come sooner rather than later.

  The attacks, which would result in death and injury on U.S. streets, did nothing to quell Seeger’s intentions. The sacrifice of a few to benefit the many was not a new concept. It had happened before and would again. The dead could rest in the knowledge they had helped to wrench the future of a nation from the hands of a repressive and heartless government.

  Through Brent, Seeger’s benefactor had been taken off guard when he first heard of Seeger’s plan. He came around to accepting it very quickly though when Seeger expanded its potential. The benefactor had agreed that he would stay in partnership with Seeger, but remain a sleeping partner until he saw the outcome. He would provide assistance that would help to draw in more financial assistance and personnel through covert organizations and deals. Seeger had no objections. Money was still needed to fund the Brethren and its schemes. On top of the supply of illicit diamonds from a West African, there were weapons. Brent had his own man named Jack Regan, who gave the Brethren a solid source for guns and allied equipment.

  The months passed, details were worked out and people put in position. The manufacture and distribution of the bombs took place in secrecy, so that the attacks could be coordinated to the minute.

  The day came for the first strikes. The bombs were delivered and did exactly what they had been designed for. Shock and outrage followed. There was panic. Again, as intended. The second and third strikes followed, increasing public unrest as the administration in Washington, fed by its agencies, was in the dark as to who and why. The outcome was a total success as far as Seeger was concerned and in his isolated compound in the Colorado mountains, they celebrated this initial assault of their war against the federal government.

  Seeger’s satisfaction, however, was shortly to be interrupted by news of a betrayer in their midst. One of their own had initiated his own campaign. The reason was the most bitter pill to swallow—sheer greed.

  Jerome Gantz, the bomb maker. The man who had concocted the compound, manufactured and placed the detonating devices, had turned against them. He had engineered the theft of four million dollars’ worth of the African diamonds, and though his scheme had been uncovered, the diamonds had not been recovered. The money the diamonds would have brought represented a significant contribution to the continuing campaign. Gantz may have been the best at manufacturing the explosive devices Seeger wanted. Unfortunately for him his skills as a thief left a lot to be desired and his complicity in the double-cross was exposed by one of Seeger’s security people. A team had been sent to Gantz’s Tyler Point home to get the information of the diamonds’ whereabouts. The mission had failed due to armed interference and Seeger’s military commander had returned empty-handed. Because of the seriousness of the events Seeger had called a council of war at his Colorado home.

  The meeting had been convened hastily, following the Tyler Point incident. By the time the attendees were gathered, it was midday. They waited in the well-appointed lounge of Seeger’s home. From the lounge windows lay a wide panorama of timbered land and distant mountains. It was lush country, quiet and unspoiled.

  Food and drink had been prepared and laid out on a large table for everyone to help themselves. With the mood that hung over the gathering more drink than food was taken.

  Deacon Ribak, who had been in charge of the aborted mission on Tyler Point, was the least affected. His attitude was considered almost cavalier by some of the gathering, but Ribak himself saw it in a less disastrous light. He was seated in one of the deep leather armchairs, a drink in one hand and a chicken leg in the other, watching the hushed conversation with amusement.

  The door finally opened and Zac Lorens came into the room just ahead of Seeger. As always, Lorens was immaculately dressed in a suit and neatly knotted tie, his thick hair neatly brushed back from his high brow. Being second in command, as well as lawyer to Liam Seeger, was a position Lorens prized highly and he was never slow in reminding others of his position. The first thing he did was fix his stony glare on the seated Ribak. It was admonishment for daring to sit in the presence of Seeger. It was lost on Ribak. He sat defiantly, refusing to be intimidated.

  Liam Seeger strolled into the room, glancing at the assembly, and his imperial air almost demanded a fanfare. He was dressed in casual clothing. As with everything he wore, his clothes fit his lean frame perfectly. A black patch covered his empty eye socket, and the hand of his crippled arm rested in his jacket pocket. He scanned the room, pausing briefly on Ribak, then sat.

  “We all know why we’re here,” Lorens said, taking the lead. His words and his scathing look pinpointed Ribak. “The disastrous screwup at Tyler Bay.”

  Ribak placed his chicken leg on the plate beside him on a side table and emptied his glass of wine. He used a paper napkin to wipe his lips and hands before looking in Lorens’s direction and feigning surprise. “You talking to me, Lorens?”

  He changed tack instantly. “Nice glass of wine, Mr. Seeger. Just the right temperature.”

  Lorens’s face had become flushed with rage. “You know damn well I’m talking to you, Ribak, and you will address me in the correct manner.”

  “Lorens, this isn’t the Army and you sure aren’t an officer. Now I came because Mr. Seeger asked me. Any problems I’ll answer to him.”

  Lorens took a step forward until Seeger’s outstretched hand halted him. “Zac, go and get yourself a drink. The rest of you, take a seat.”

  Seeger allowed the moment to pass before he addressed Ribak. “Actually, Deacon, I do feel an explanation is in order.”

  “Yes, sir, I agree. The operation was running smooth. We waited until dark. Shore party went into Gantz’s house and followed procedure. Beringer was in charge. He radioed that they had Gantz and the interrogation was under way. At that point Gantz was holding out. He refused to give Beringer the information, and they couldn’t find what they were looking for in the house. Next thing I heard was automatic fire. Hell of a lot. I got a message from Beringer that they had been hit by unknowns and they’d taken cas
ualties. Whoever it was came storming out the rear of the house and took down the beach team. We opened up with the .50-cal. It didn’t go our way. So I called the assault off and we got the hell out of there. Nothing else we could do, sir.”

  “So you ran,” Lorens said, unable to hold back.

  “You ever been under fire, Lorens? I doubt it. Little pink-skinned lady-boy like you would dump in your pants if one of Mr. Seeger’s saddle ponies farted behind you. Now my assault backfired on me and I lost half my team, but don’t you ever accuse me of running, or I swear I will rip your fucking throat out here and now.” Ribak had leaned forward in his chair. He caught himself and sat upright again. “I apologize for my outburst, Mr. Seeger. Shouldn’t have let myself get upset.”

  “No problem, Deacon,” Seeger said. “What is more important is, do you have any idea who the intruders were? Could they have been a government agency? FBI? Homeland Security? Anything like that?”

  Ribak admitted he had no idea. “They came at us out of the fog, weapons up and firing. No warning. No announcement. FBI will normally throw a challenge first. These people just hit us hard and fast. I can’t give you an answer, sir.”

  “Perhaps they represented the group Gantz was negotiating with?” Lorens suggested, neatly bringing himself back into the conversation. “We can’t ignore that possibility. Gantz must have known that what he’d done was liable to bring retribution if we found out. We did find out, and maybe Gantz had a team around to offer protection.”

  “Could be, Mr. Seeger,” Ribak said. “Could be a coincidence, but they damn well showed up fast when we went to work on Gantz. He was in to us for a lot of money. He’d want backup.”

  Seeger appeared amused at Ribak’s comment. “As usual, Deacon, you are a master of understatement. Only you could class four million dollars’ worth of diamonds as a lot of money. But as you say, it is a possibility that both you and Zac have a valid point.”

  “You want it checked out, sir?”

  “It needs checking out, Deacon. Only this time just send a small force. No more than two or three. Let them do some discreet gathering of information. Find out if Gantz is alive or dead. Where he is. And we had better check out Mr. Petrie in Philadelphia, too. In case he was involved.”

  “I’ll get straight on it, sir.”

  Ribak took his leave from the meeting. Lorens waited until the door had closed before he turned to Seeger. The Brethren leader lifted a hand briefly.

  “Deacon was man enough to accept the failure of his operation, Zac. I cannot, in all truth, censure him for that. And he is our best man when it comes to military know-how. Let’s move on, shall we?”

  Lorens understood he was being instructed to back away from the subject. He dismissed what he had been about to say.

  Seeger nodded. He turned to the rest of the group. “A failure, gentlemen, but one we can learn from. As Deacon has admitted, he was caught unprepared being confronted by an unknown force. If this force was part of the group aiding Gantz in his theft of our diamonds, then we have the answer. However, the possibility it was some government agency means we should ask ourselves how and why. Had Gantz tipped them off himself in the hope of escaping our wrath? Or was it an unfortunate coming together of opposing sides by a simple twist of fate? We know this government has its insidious tentacles spread far and wide. It intrudes into every aspect of American life. They monitor the communications networks. Bug phones and have spy cameras everywhere. Maybe they had prior knowledge of our intent. We will check every possibility. Foremost we must learn a valuable lesson. Not to take anything for granted. Trust no one we do not know. Consider every stranger a potential enemy. If we allow ourselves to become too confident we invite betrayal, and as we all understand, this administration feeds on betrayal. Turning American against American. They do it with such deceit that the masses have no idea how they are being manipulated.”

  Lowell Rogerson, commander of the northeastern Brethren unit said, “The bombings showed how lax the authorities are. It’s thrown them into total confusion. But it will make them more vigilant. They’re going to be watching out for us next time. Perhaps this incident with Gantz proves they are becoming more alert.”

  “A good point, Lowell. We do need to be sharper. On your other point, though. You feel they’ll be watching out for us? Their blind spot is the fact that they have no idea where, when or how we strike. If we keep changing our targets, I don’t see how they can anticipate.”

  ERIC STAHL GLANCED UP. “Well, is he still a believer?”

  General William Carson smiled. It made him look like a hungry wolf ready for the kill. “Eric, that one-eyed idiot is ready to march up Pennsylvania Avenue right this minute. Believe me, son, Seeger is close to pissing his pants with the pure joy he’s experiencing, according to Ribak.”

  “He’s saving America. Allow him his moment.”

  “He’d be advised to make the most of it.” The general filled his tumbler with more of Stahl’s malt. “Oh, you don’t mind?”

  “You can take the whole bottle, Bill. Now let me ask you something. Is this really going to work? Dropping the whole of the blame for the atrocities on the Brethren? You can’t see any backfire coming our way?”

  Carson had already taken up his seat again. He swallowed a mouthful of his drink. “Not going queasy on me, Eric?”

  “Not at all. Just my cautious side rearing its head.”

  “We have that arrogant prick just where we want him. Let him and those weekend soldiers run around making all the noise they want. Come the day, with the whole country up in arms and screaming blue murder because the President is wavering, that’s when we make our move. With the President having lost support, the public demanding his resignation, he’ll be on his own. If he tries to bring in the military, we stall him. Let his own statutes create delays to prevent him getting his assistance. We use your communications setup to blanket the country with the news he’s ready to quit. Force him to resign. Then I get the military to move. We take control. Have the streets full of armed troops. Planes overhead and we also send in cleanup companies to blast hell out of the Brethren’s compounds. Every damned one of them. No quarter. We put them down like the rabid dogs they are. When it’s over we produce the evidence that links them to the bombings. Once they’re dead and gone, who is there to point the finger?”

  “I can think of one.”

  “Not that one-man band running around poking sticks into wasp nests? Eric, he’s doing us favors. Think about it. Who is he going after? The Brethren. Every strike he makes it’s more likely to draw attention to them. Not us, because we’re not even in the picture at the moment.”

  “Assume he makes a connection. Starts to move on us?”

  “Then we employ our usual tactics and call in our people. Let them deal with him. Pulls the heat off us so we can move ahead. Trust me, this is what I do for a living. Jesus, Eric, nigh on thirty years. I think I have it worked out by now.”

  Stahl didn’t doubt that for a second. The career of General William “Bull” Carson was second to none. The man had joined the Army a year under the enlistment age and had seen combat before a year passed. Even at that young age he had proved his worth. His career went from strength to strength. His reputation for taking orders, coupled with a no-compromise attitude when in combat earned him quick promotion. He rose through the ranks as easily as some men breathed and thrived on challenges. Men under his command would walk through fire and brimstone for their commander. His tough stance in battle earned him the unofficial title Bull Carson. He accepted the name with pride, and it served him well as he pushed and fought his way to the top. Carson treated his men fairly, but expected the best from them, and to see him bawling out an offender for some misdemeanor was never forgotten. Once the reprimand was done with, it was over. Bull Carson never held a grudge. He would hand out his verbal punishment in the morning, and he would be seen sharing a drink with the man the very same night.

  Eric Stahl had known Carson
for more than ten years. He respected the man’s military judgment, and found that Carson had similar feelings about the state of the nation. Carson was secretly incensed the way America was going. He despised the slide into too many wars. Too many interventions abroad while the U.S.A. was struggling at home. He viewed the current administration as weak, opting for the quick fix instead of tackling problems over the long term and settling them once and for all. He sensed the U.S. Military machine as being betrayed. Given too much to handle with not enough resources. Sending young Americans to die in dusty streets thousands of miles from home, often never quite sure just what they were fighting for. And when the despots of those countries were caught and put on trial he had to watch them playing their sick games in the courtroom. Demanding this and that, refusing to acknowledge the courts and throwing tantrums. Vast sums of money and hours of wasted time were expended on these people. The courts backed down and let the ranting prisoners claim their human rights had been violated. Their human rights. These complaints coming from men who had no problems with human rights when they slaughtered men, women and children of their own countries. There would have been no human rights concerns if Carson had his way. The tyrants would get swift justice if he had his way; a merciful 9 mm bullet in the back of the skull and the matter would be settled.

  Carson had not earned his high rank by bucking the system. He knew the right time to stay silent and when to raise his voice. He also knew that his beloved America needed help within its borders. The hell with the rest. Let them squabble and fight, kill each other over some damned religious incident. His concern was the U.S.A. It needed a leader with a hard line, who would not bow to the namby-pamby decrees of the PC brigade, a President who would toughen the line and say enough. Clamp down on excesses and channel money and time into the ills of the nation. The trouble was the mass of Americans only had the two main political parties to choose from and at the end of the day they were interchangeable. Politics had become a brightly colored, yelling, screaming circus at election time. It was big-time entertainment, with millions of dollars cast to the wind. Candidates toed the party line, made promises that were little more than verbal placebos and once the raucous din settled down everything returned to what it had been before.