The activist knew that the stretch of jungle wasn’t too thick between where he was and the clearing for the L-Z. Nevertheless, he had to chop incessantly with his large knife at the vines hanging down. He really could have used a machete, but that wouldn’t have been very practical to carry when he was hanging upside down under the truck earlier in the evening. He was almost to the clearing, and could even hear the whoosh of the helicopter blades, although several decibels lower than your average Blackhawk. Suddenly, he had a leopard attack from the brush and land on his back! The cat had apparently ambushed him, probably able to locate him by the frantic noises he was making as he had to chop through the foliage and undergrowth of the jungle. The activist was a strong man, so he was able to stand his ground as the leopard pawed at the black shirt and began clawing the fabric away. The Kevlar he was wearing underneath once again saved him; the jungle cat’s claws had not reached the activist’s skin yet. The man in black grasped with his left hand for any body part of the cat he could find. He found the back of the leopard’s neck and flipped the cat’s large body over by bending forcefully at his hips. As soon as he threw the cat through the air, the activist followed through with his knife, and he buried it into the back of the cat’s neck as it landed on its feet. The leopard convulsed and hissed, but then fell limp under the weight of the activist. He got up and dusted himself off. He twisted and pulled his knife out of the leopard’s neck and wiped it on some nearby vines. He could see an opening ahead to the clearing for the L-Z, and he broke into a run.
A highly trained member of the Delta Force unit named Paul Sorsky was the last soldier running towards the Blackhawk. He was about 40 yards away, when he heard some footsteps come up quickly by him and then he watched a hooded man in black, with ripped and tattered clothes, out-pace him to the whirly-bird. He wasn’t that surprised; the guys form Delta were used to working with the black hooded figure. He just shook his head as he slowed to a jog and jumped up into the helicopter, helped up by the hooded man who had just beat him in a foot race. “Thanks!” he yelled to the man in black over the roar of the jet turbine. The activist just nodded in acknowledgement and sat down in the jump seat against the interior wall of the Blackhawk. He was tired, and he was going to have to get some rest before taking a trip to the Big Apple.
16
Fort Benning, Georgia
The office of Colonel Bob Thornton
Colonel Bob Thornton was the man in charge of the entire base at Fort Benning. Benning was where all the Army Rangers received their training. It was also a hotbed for all forms of special-forces training, as well as training by special-forces soldiers of recruits of the CIA. He wasn’t a particularly tall man; probably only 5 feet 11 inches. But he had a voice that filled a room at the slightest word. He had a fruit salad of medals and pins on his chest, and had an impossibly correct posture that exaggerated proper form for a soldier. His booming voice would soon fill his office as he gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk. Agent John Knox and Agent Beth White from the FBI had come to ask some questions, and the Colonel had been more than happy to cooperate with them. Apparently the Colonel had heard through certain channels that Agent Knox was a University of Alabama graduate, and the Colonel’s father had played football for the Crimson Tide a long time ago. So when the two federal agents came into his office, he was beaming with a very welcoming smile. The two agents were followed by a Major
Mike Willis who stood at attention next to the Colonel’s desk and announced the arrival of the guests, “Colonel Thornton, Sir! Agents Knox and White with the FBI here to see you, Sir!”
He clicked his heels and saluted, and the Colonel casually returned the salute and calmly replied, “Thank you, Major. Please hold all my calls but stand by in case I need you. Dismissed.”
The Major saluted again and gave a quick “Yes Sir, Colonel Sir!”
He then snapped around in a sharp turn and left the room. The Colonel sat down comfortably in his large leather office chair and looked over at Agent Knox. He smiled warmly again, and welcomed his guests.
“Sorry about the formalities there. Major Willis takes his job quite seriously as my aide. Sometimes he overdoes it, but I wouldn’t trade him for anybody else. Now how can I help y’all out today?”
Knox had told his partner that he would be happy to do most of the talking, because he knew Beth always felt a little awkward when interviewing or speaking with high ranking military personnel. Her grandfather and father were both retired colonels in the Marine Corps, and she said it always made her feel like she was talking to another carbon copy of her dad.
Knox started in with the Colonel, “Colonel, thanks for meeting with us on short notice like this today. As I told you on the phone, my partner Agent White and I are investigating a crime that is sensitive in nature, and we have reason to believe the subject we’re looking for has been trained by US military.”
“I see…well, son, I don’t mind telling you that there are plenty of other military installations around the United States that train our soldiers,” the Colonel responded.
“Yes, Colonel, but the specifics in the training are what brought us here. It appears our killer has been trained in the art of…well, not being detected by other military personnel. The guy we are looking for does seem to have a knack for picking locks, breaking and entering, and other modes of tradecraft. We are interested in the agents of the CIA that you have trained here at Fort Benning,” Knox finished.
The colonel was nodding his head.
“Well, now that is a bit more specific. I am afraid I can’t answer any questions on any of those trainees we have had here on post. However, I can get Major Carson over here from the Ranger school. Not only is he in charge of the training of our Rangers, but he also makes sure those spooks from the Farm are ready for the field.”
The Colonel pressed a button on his phone and spoke into the air with his commanding voice, “Major Willis, could you get Major Carson to come over here to the office and meet with these agents? Oh, and bring our guests some coffee while they wait.”
Major Willis seemed a little less over the top on the phone.
He gave a customary “Yes, Sir” and the Colonel ended the connection by taking his finger off the button. The Colonel looked over at Agent White.
“Agent White, you’ve been quiet. Do you have anything to add to what Agent Knox has told me?”
She glanced over at Knox, and he just shrugged.
“Actually, sir, you might know my father - Colonel William H. White, II; retired. He was a colonel over in Vietnam. They put him in charge of an entire brigade of code breakers. And my grandfather did the same thing during World War II over in Japan.”
Colonel Thornton scratched his chin and glanced up towards the ceiling for a second, as if he were pulling out old files in his head.
“Ah yes – Colonel White, out of Lejeune! One of those jarheads. I do seem to recall meeting your dad at one time. Helluva man. And how is your father?” the Colonel asked Beth.
She grinned and replied, “He’s living it up on the Outer Banks with my mom. He lives a quiet life. I don’t talk to him as much these days. But I will make sure I tell him you said hello.”
The Colonel nodded and answered, “You do that, Ms. White – I mean Agent White. Tell him from one Eagle to another, thank you for his service.”
About that time, Major Willis brought in a tray and set it on the corner of the Colonel’s desk. He filled two coffee cups, and glanced at the Colonel.
“Would you like some coffee as well, Sir?”
The Colonel shook his head slightly and waved the Major away.
“Thank you, Major. I’m sure our guests can fix their coffee how they like. Please let me know when Major Carson gets here.”
Major Willis saluted with another “Yes, Sir!” and walked out of the room.
Then Agent Knox spoke to the Colonel.
“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, how long before we m
eet Major Carson? I don’t want to rush you, but we will need to check with another investigator working on the case with us. He is checking things out from the CIA angle at Langley,” he finished.
Colonel nodded and answered, “Son, I am afraid Major Carson is as unpredictable as a soldier in his field is expected to be. But he follows orders, so he will be here.”
The Colonel then stood up and grabbed a small silver pitcher and looked at Agent White first; “Would you like some creamer in your coffee, Agent White?”
Beth smiled in surprise but replied, “Yes, Sir, if you don’t mind. Oh – and just one sugar cube, please. I think Agent Knox could learn some manners from you Colonel,” she said.
Knox just waved her comment aside. The Colonel then looked at Knox as he handed Agent White her cup.
Knox nodded for the creamer, and added, “Three cubes for me, Sir. Thank you.”
The Colonel finished doctoring Knox’s coffee and handed his cup to him after a quick stir.
“So what all does this case entail, Agents?” the Colonel asked nonchalantly.
Knox took a sip of the piping hot coffee very carefully, but shook his head.
“Sir, I am afraid we can’t give you too many details. We can tell you exactly which questions we were going to ask either you or Major Carson if you like.”
The Colonel declined and replied, “Well no – if that’s the case I can wait for the Major. But I will sit in if you don’t mind.”
Knox looked at Beth and shrugged.
“It’s your base, sir. I guess you can pretty much be where you want when we talk to the Major.”
Then the Colonel’s phone rang. He answered it after one ring.
“Hello. Already? Great – send him in, Major.”
The Colonel hung up the phone and said, “Major Carson is coming in now.”
The office door opened, and a rugged, muscular middle aged black man wearing fatigues walked in and stood at attention.
He popped off a sharp salute, and the Colonel immediately responded, “At ease, Major. Pull up a chair and join us will you?”
The Major fetched the only other chair in the room from the opposite wall, and as he was placing it closer to the agents, Colonel Thornton introduced them.
“Major Carson, I want you to meet Agents John Knox and Beth White – they’re with the FBI. They have a particular interest in the recruits from the Farm that you have overseen the last several years.”
Major Carson shook the FBI agents’ hands and had a seat.
Now that they had gotten past the greetings, Agent Knox started things off again.
“Major Carson, thank you for coming on such short notice. The Colonel informed us that you were in charge of all the special-forces training here, including the recruits you train in weapons and self-defense tactics for the CIA. We were looking for a recruit in particular,” – The Major interrupted.
“Agent Knox, are you aware of how many recruits those spooks send down here…every month…every year? That’s a large list of people to remember.”
Knox nodded in understanding, but continued, “Yes, Major, I am sure you’ve had your share of the ‘spooks’ come through here. But what I was going to say was we are looking for a recruit in particular that probably would have had specific political and religious views; probably conservative, and a known church-goer. We also have reason to believe that the subject we’re looking for was probably military before the CIA got their hands on him.”
Major Carson sat back in his seat, and glanced over at the coffee pot.
“Sir, do you mind if I have some? I am a little sleepy from the hours of training I’ve been overseeing,” the Major said to Colonel Thornton.
The Colonel smiled and started to get up to fix Carson his cup, but the Major waved him off and stood up.
“Colonel, I’m a big boy - I got this,” Major Carson chuckled.
The Colonel just took it in stride and recovered his seat behind his desk. It was apparent the Colonel and Major Carson had a good report with one another.
Major Carson fixed a cup and added a small amount of creamer; no sugar.
He began again, “Agent Knox, if I may ask…what makes you so sure this guy has all this training. Could you possibly just have an evil person who happens to be good at killing? I am assuming that is who you are looking for, right? A murderer?”
Knox confirmed his question with another nod and replied, “We’re looking for a guy who took a chance at sneaking into a virtual fortress, filled with security systems, guard dogs, armed guards, and the like. Our subject also killed another person with other people in a house next door, and they were totally unaware of what was happening. Whoever our subject is, he committed these crimes with efficiency, with stealth, and with boldness. Doesn’t that fit the bill for the kind of folks you train, Major?”
The Major nodded with his eyes closed for a second, sucking in his upper lip.
He responded, “Okay, I’ll give you that. Sounds like at least a former soldier. Can you be more specific on religious – do you mean he was a Christian? Because the Army has its share of those as well.”
Agent White cut in this time, “Major, he hates Muslims. Whoever our guy is has given us very specific reasons to believe he hates Islam. That’s why we have a working list of people who have trained here since 9/11. Because that’s the day that everything changed, and we think our subject could have some kind of connection to that day.”
Major Carson started to look like maybe he had the image of who they were looking for in his mind, but he still wanted specifics.
“How many armed guards are we talking?”
Knox shot back, “At least twenty.”
“Were there any signs that your killer had been at the incident location? I mean besides the obvious dead people.”
Once again, Knox fired, “Not a trace. It was as if a death angel came in and killed them.”
Major looked up at the Colonel. Colonel Thornton saw recognition in his training Major’s eyes.
“Major, do you know who they are talking about? If so, help these agents out. They’ve come a long way,” he told his subordinate.
Major Carson answered, “There was a man back in 2002 who everyone here at Fort Benning knew. We all knew him because he blew the doors off any training exercise we threw at him. He came in here as one of the spooks-in-training, and I knew he was military. Turns out he had gone to the CIA from the SEALS. The word was he decided to help the CIA with a new counter-terrorism team after his parents died in one of the Towers in New York. But I remember we had this one challenge in the woods that the recruits had to take on; we paired them up, and each set of partners had to have one of their team reach the mission objective in the course without being detected, after capturing at least one of the other pair’s flags. The deal was that one partner could try and capture flags while the other guarded their own. The only catch was that they couldn’t use any weapons. Whoever reached the end point first would call in on a radio that was left there for the winner. This guy got 7 of the 9 flags, and reached the mission’s end without anyone ever seeing him. Sure, his partner let them down and they lost their flag – but it didn’t matter. I mean he was so good at disappearing that he earned the nickname around here as Ghost.”
The Colonel had listened intently, and was nodding with familiarity of the Major’s story. Agents Knox and White sat there in anticipation, until Knox chimed in, “Well…did this Ghost have a real name?”
Major Carson nodded, but then had a disappointed look on his face.
He continued, “His name was Chief Petty Officer Robert C. Brady, retired. He went on from here to head up a counter-terrorism team for Langley. Word got around that he and his team were good. But then, while on leave for some R&R, something terrible happened. Brady and his family were whitewater rafting down the Colorado River without a guide. They traveled into a bad part of the river and their raft overturned. When the raft flipped
, they were caught in a strong undercurrent that pushed them under some rocks. Brady, his wife, and daughter all drowned. I’m afraid the only guy that we’ve had around here that could pull off what you are talking about – died about a year ago.”
Knox shook his head. He couldn’t believe that their closest thing to a lead took them to a man who was deceased. There had to be an explanation. He finished his cup of coffee and set it down and looked over at Beth. She had finished her coffee a while ago. She looked back at him, and he stood up and brushed his hands down his suit to shake out the wrinkles from sitting.
Misguided: The Jesus Assassin Page 8
