Patriot Play

by Don Pendleton

  Carson watched and quietly fumed, and in his own mind understood the way to change things was by direct action. His association with the then Senator Eric Stahl made him aware he wasn’t the only man with a vision for the country. Drastic, yes. Needful, yes. Carson had seen Stahl’s attempt, and failure, over the Zero affair. It had been a wild, and in Carson’s eyes, brave attempt to set things right. Stahl had lost his senatorial status, while Carson had watched from the wings. He knew one thing. Eric Stahl would not let his desires drift away. Carson and Stahl had worked together over the years, the general dealing with many of the weapons contracts that went Stahl’s way. He saw no reason why that should end.

  Stahl Industries produced fine ordnance for the military complex. The two men had shared many weekends together at their country retreats and the practice continued. During long evenings, over dinner and drinks later, they had discussed their feelings concerning the fate of America. Piece by piece, like a jigsaw of the mind, the overall picture revealed itself to the pair. With quiet determination they drew their plans, each coming up with a new angle, a different slant, until the battle plan was complete. Complex and requiring deep planning, the scheme was bold, had parts that needed strong nerves and stomachs, but would, if successful, present them with their one and only opportunity to succeed.

  Carson sat on his own on a number of occasions, long after Stahl had retired, going over the plan. He asked himself questions that veered toward his personal loyalties to country and President, first accusing himself of a traitorous act, then countering with the justification. The suggestion he might be turning away from America and becoming nothing less than a terrorist himself gave him long, sleepless nights. In the end his conscience cleared itself of that accusation. He was not turning away from America, he was making a sacrifice so that America could be strong again in body and mind. He understood that to achieve that, there would be a need for sacrificial action. Drastic as it was, it had to be seen as a wake-up call, incidents that would make the American public suffer; incidents that would frighten and put them in a panic because the government would not be able to stop them.

  The President would be seen in a weak position, the leader of the most powerful nation on Earth having to stand by while the nation cowered beneath the shadow of some unknown threat laying waste to sections of the country. As the incidents increased, the less in control the Washington administration would appear. It would go on until Stahl and Carson decided the right moment had come. Their moment. Then, Stahl would use his substantial radio and television links to put to the people that enough was enough. The President was failing and it was time for a new leader, one who would not flinch from the harsh realities. At the same time military forces acting under orders from General Carson would make their planned strikes at the Brethren. It would be an overwhelming surgical strike against the militia group, destroying their compounds and routing their forces. In the aftermath conclusive evidence that the Brethren had been responsible for the attacks on the nation, painting them as heartless radicals intent on uncalled-for death and destruction, and the current administration had allowed it to happen through ineptitude and a reluctance to make a strong defense.

  In his reflective moments Carson had admitted, only to himself, that it was a reckless and dangerous action he and Stahl were contemplating. So much could go wrong. But he reminded himself that through his military career he had witnessed, and had been involved in, similar wild actions. Some thought up by others, many of his own. But war required decisive and off-the-wall decisions. The very nature of war begged for operations that had to come from moments of sheer audacity, simply because the moment required just that. In combat situations, with the tide flowing in opposite directions to what had been planned, instant decisions had to be made. And many of those instant solutions worked, changing the status quo. Veritable losses had been changed to resounding victories by quick thinking.

  In the end Carson made his decision. However chancy the moment, it had to be taken. The need of the nation outweighed the fate of those trying to make a difference. It was as simple as that. The facets that went to make up the fabric of the action, unpalatable as they were, had to be faced. General William “Bull” Carson was prepared to shoulder that responsibility. He would live with the burden and face the consequences, and God, in his own way.

  “Your man Ribak. He’ll keep us updated on what the Brethren is doing?”

  “Don’t you worry about Deacon. He might be a hard-assed, insolent son of a bitch, but he’ll do whatever I want. I recruited him because he’s just the right man for the job. Seeger believes Ribak’s one of God’s chosen soldiers, come down off the fuckin’ mountain to train his rednecks how to fight. They’re just a bunch of loonies. Give me a single squad of my trained boys and we’d wipe that sorry-assed bunch of yokels off the face of the earth without raising a sweat.”

  “I’m confident you could,” Stahl said. “My real concern is this man taking on the Brethren. I’m sorry to bring the matter up again, Bill. I’m starting to have a familiar feel about him.”

  “No need for apologies. Better to be concerned than to just ignore any kind of threat. From what you’re saying, is there a chance you might know who he is?”

  “I may be wrong. If I am, I’ll apologize in advance, but if I’m right we could have more on our hands than we thought a few minutes ago.”

  STAHL HAD ALWAYS been known as a hard-liner. The epithet neither embarrassed or fazed him. His views on the way America was going were well-known and had been printed in newspapers and magazines for years. Stahl, the industrialist, commanded his massive armament industry with unlimited zeal. He was a powerful man, still so even after he had been forced to step down from his senatorial position following the Zero fiasco. Because the administration was required to keep Zero out of the public and global eye as much as was humanly possible, Stahl’s involvement in the failed attempt to gain control had been kept under wraps. Eric Stahl, always one to grasp any opportunity, plea bargained and promised to remain silent if he was freed from any kind of prosecution. The concession was that he stood down from public office. Stahl was disappointed. He had enjoyed the privileges the position granted him, but he reasoned that at least he was maintaining control of his vast business empire, and that would still give him the opportunity to carry on with his personal agenda—that being the toppling of the U.S. government. He reasoned that he could still do that without the need to be in office during its inception. When the time came Eric Stahl would assume the mantle of commander in chief and take charge of the country.

  There was no doubt in Stahl’s mind he was the man for the job. His vision of a superior America, powerful and able to quell any threat, was no mad scheme. He understood the discontent that ran throughout the nation. Past administrations, through weak leaders and feeble policies, had plunged the country into a state of malaise. No one dared stand up and point the finger. Even after the terrible events of 9/11 America was still in the grip of terrorism. Attempts to crush the opposition had resulted in the disastrous war against Iraq. That still lumbered on, with more U.S. troops, equipment and money being poured into the country. Stahl had watched and listened, and to his dismay he saw very little that promised it would be over soon. More American lives would be wasted under the guise of cleansing Iraq and establishing democracy. Afghanistan was still very much in the headlines, with the supposedly defeated Taliban once more raising its brutal head, while at home bad government policy was doing nothing to ease the condition of the country.

  Staying below the radar had been Stahl’s wisest move. Walking away from a prison sentence had allowed him time to regroup his thoughts, step away from direct involvement with the Third Party, despite it having been more his creation than any of the other members. He made it clear he was doing it so there would be no slur on the party, and they could maintain their campaigns in good conscience. Once he had severed his links he was able to let the dust settle and concentrate on his business empire. Was
hington had much on its mind, and an ex-senator soon lost out to other more pressing matters at home and abroad. Stahl still had powerful friends, mainly in the military-industrial complex, and a number of those still favored his vision of a harder-edged, defiant America. Stahl decided that taking his time and rethinking strategy was an advisable concept.

  The emergence of the Brethren had been a gift for Eric Stahl. He had heard about the isolationist, antigovernment group. He dug into the history of the organization, learned everything he could about the people and their policies, and after assimilating the facts, realized that here was a group he could assist in their aims and at the same time strengthen his own position.

  The first and most important thing to establish was his need to remain anonymous. Stahl had reasoned from his investigation into the Brethren that its manifesto encouraged the use of extreme violence as a means of exposing Washington’s weakness when it came to protecting its citizens and its organizations. Stahl had no problem with that kind of methodology. Shock tactics were needed to make the American public aware. If a few civilians had to be injured or die, to hammer home the need for a stronger administration, so be it. But it also called for a careful orchestration of the program. So until the country was backed against the wall Stahl decided he would remain in the shadows, ready to step in at the critical moment.

  He recruited a go-between, Harry Brent, someone who could bridge the gap between benefactor and recipient. His in-depth investigation of the Brethren showed that their main obstacle was obtaining enough funding so they could run their program of violence. As with any complex plan, money was a deciding factor. The Brethren needed money. Stahl would help them get it. From the start he realized he could not do this openly. He would have to organize a means by which the organization could receive its much-needed funding without his name being known.

  His scheme involved using illicit diamonds purchased directly from a source in West Africa. A subsidiary of Stahl Industries had been approached in the past by agents of rogue African groups looking for hard cash. The concept was simple: illicitly mined diamonds of both industrial and high quality were offered at a low cash price. These could be resold on the European and American markets for a much higher yield. The African sellers had no way of getting to these markets because of their status, so they were happy enough to take a percentage of what the diamonds were worth. Through his contacts Stahl’s intermediary was able to set up meetings with a chosen seller and arrange for regular purchases. As an added incentive, Stahl brought in an arms dealer, Jack Regan, who would offer to supply ordnance to the rogue groups for their internecine struggles over tribal territories at subsidized prices. Stahl’s involvement was as a benefactor who wanted to help the Brethren, providing he remained anonymous.

  It worked. For a few months. The Brethren benefited from the large cash amounts the illicit diamonds brought in. It enabled them to bring forward their planned demonstrations of the government’s inability to protect the nation and its people. Through his go-between, Stahl learned about the Brethren’s command structure, the people within the group and how it worked. Stahl read about and watched on television the results of the group’s indiscriminate strikes. He was also able to witness the dismay, the anger and the frustration of America’s people. Faced with these savage acts they turned to local and national representatives, demanding something be done. Which only encouraged the Brethren to commit more destructive acts, emphasizing how ineffectual the administration had become. America was under siege within its own borders, and no one seemed to be able to even point their finger at who was behind the strikes, let alone stop them.

  Police units were deployed as show of force. There were localized riots against these units, purely from frustration by members of the public who had no other way of showing their emotions. Racial attacks increased as rumors spread that the strikes were the responsibility of extremist terrorist groups within the U.S. These attacks were repelled by the police, and it soon developed into American against American. The Brethren found its membership increasing as individuals responded to the call, as did many other militia groups.

  Much of the rumormongering was initiated by the Brethren itself, though the group was careful to only issue statements espousing its shock at the cruel strikes. There was never any suggestion the Brethren was involved, only that its members were repulsed by such attacks against America. But its spokesperson reminded the public it had been warning of such violence. The propaganda was cleverly worded, designed to discredit the government and to raise the Brethren’s credibility as a group to be listened to.

  Eric Stahl devoured the reports with relish. He was finding his shadowy participation with the Brethren to be paying off handsomely. His covert activity was bringing his day closer. That time was not due yet. Not until the voice of America demanded a change. When the great mass of the people became overwhelming, then he would put into motion the second strategy.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Clear of Tyler Bay, Bolan headed for the interstate and picked up speed once he was on the highway. He estimated a four-to five-hour drive, depending on conditions.

  “Apart from the disturbance last night, that was a nice town,” Lyons observed.

  “You’ll tell me next you could live in a place like that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Too cozy for you, Carl. You need noise and color. A place where the action buzzes.”

  “Whoa, whoa, where do you come up with that profile?”

  “Carl, I know you too well.”

  “Yeah? Well there’s no need to spoil my illusions so early in the damn day.”

  “Okay.”

  “By the way, are we being politically correct today? Or are we going in hard?” Lyons asked.

  “The Brethren has already shown its disregard for law and order,” Bolan said. “How high does the body count need to go before we get the message?”

  “I’m getting the feeling it’s leveling out already, Mack.”

  “Carl, no illusions on this. We’re in a war situation here. Plain and simple. The Brethren has declared that, so we respond in kind. Search and destroy. Go for everything that has the Brethren written on it.”

  Bolan glanced at his partner. His expression told Lyons all he needed to know. The Able Team commander settled back and checked the Philadelphia city map he’d taken from the rack back at the hotel.

  “Pedal to the metal, Chief. Let’s go see a man about a boat rental.”

  Bolan handed Lyons the plastic bag holding the cell phone. “See if you can get anything from that. It’ll give you something to do and stop you from making funny remarks about my driving.”

  Lyons switched on the phone and began to go through the various functions. In the phone number list there were no more than half a dozen saved contacts. The recent call list only had three registered. Lyons used his own phone and contacted Stony Man. He spoke to Price and quoted the information from Gantz’s cell.

  “Have Aaron check these numbers. See if he comes up with any names for us.”

  “Will do. Anything else?”

  “Let you know. We’re on our way to Philly. Update when we make contact.”

  IT WAS EARLY AFTERNOON. The sky over Philadelphia had a sullen, cloudy aspect. It didn’t promise a great deal, but then Bolan and Lyons weren’t in vacation mode. Both were aware that the Brethren could launch another attack anytime, anywhere within the United States. That very thought motivated them as Bolan drove into and through the city, Lyons guiding him from the Philadelphia map he had open.

  South Star Investments was painted on the door, directly above the name Arnold Petrie, CEO. The office suite was on the fourth floor of a building that housed a collection of business enterprises with less than exciting prospects in their immediate futures.

  “This place makes tacky look good,” Lyons muttered as he and Bolan emerged on the landing from their walk up the stairs.

  “You never learned that appearances don’t always tell the fu
ll story?”

  Bolan leaned on the handle and pushed the door open. There was an outer and an inner office. The outer office held a desk, chair and a row of filing cabinets that looked straight out of the showroom. On the desk a computer showed a dead screen. Papers were strewed across the desk, a pen dropped in a hurry lay on top of them. A nameplate sat at the front edge of the desk: Val Paxton, Assistant. The door to the inner office was ajar and hurried movements could be heard coming from the room beyond.

  Lyons closed the main door behind him and locked it. He took out his Colt Python and held it down by his side. Ahead of him Bolan, Beretta 93-R in hand, stood at the door to the inner office. He extended his right foot and nudged the door wide open.

  Arnold Petrie’s office was well furnished. Everything looked new: thick carpet on the floor, pale wood desk large enough to act as a dining table. The executive chair behind it was the best money could buy. A large-screen laptop sat on the desk beside two telephones.

  The lone man in the office was throwing files into a box. A wood filing cabinet against the wall had all its drawers pulled open.