by Mark Nolan
Easton holstered his pistol. “You men can stand down.”
The two men pointed their rifles at the floor but stayed where they were and kept their eyes on Jake.
“Wolfe, you might want to work on your people skills,” Easton said.
“You made a joke Easton, way to go,” Jake said.
Brinkter got up off the floor and sat in his chair. “Wolfe I could send you to prison right now for assaulting a federal official.”
“No, I was simply acting in self-defense after you waved that knife at me in a threatening way.”
“I was just buttering a roll with a dull piece of silverware. Who would believe that you felt threatened?”
Jake grabbed a butter knife from the table next to his, and he threw it forcefully at the wall behind Brinkter. The knife flew in a silver blur, and its blade stuck deep into the sheetrock. “Any questions?”
McKay started the meeting. “Jake I wanted to meet with you because the Secret Service is trying to track down the man who impersonated you at the Moscone Center. I’d appreciate your help with that.”
“What can I do to help you? I’m in your debt. But why is Brinkter here?”
“He’s here as someone you and I both know in common. I brought him into this meeting because I’d hoped he’d be a positive influence. Apparently he was doing the opposite.”
“I have several good friends in the CIA, but Brinkter isn’t one of them,” Jake said. “How can I help you with your mission, McKay?”
“Before I tell you any more I have to inform you that this information bears the classification of Above Top-Secret. The highest level of classified information under Executive Order 13526, and it is limited to authorized personnel only.”
“Understood. Are my clearances still in effect?”
“Yes you still hold an active Department of Defense collateral clearance and a blanket TS/SCI—Top Secret/Sensitive Compartmented Information clearance. Please reaffirm your responsibilities now.”
The woman with the headset placed a Bible on the table. Jake put his left hand on the Bible, and then raised his right hand. “I understand my responsibilities regarding these Top Secret clearances, and I hereby swear an oath to uphold them, so help me God.”
McKay made a notation on some paperwork as Jake recited the memorized response. “Reaffirmation Oath accepted and recorded. It is my duty to remind you that if you violate any top secret clearances you could be charged with high treason and face life in prison or the death penalty.”
“Noted and agreed.”
“We’re holding a late night meeting that concerns you. There are people here that want to have a personal word with you.”
The camera zoomed out and showed Congressman Daniel Anderson, seated next to McKay. He looked like he’d aged several years overnight, but his jaw had a determined set to it and his eyes still had a fight in them. He reminded Jake of a boxer who’d taken a hard punch but had got back on his feet for another round.
“Congressman Anderson, I hope Katherine and the baby are doing well,” Jake said.
Anderson said, “Yes there are complications, but they are both getting the best of care. I’ve been informed that the person who shot a paintball at Katherine was wearing a mask to impersonate you, Jake.”
“That’s true, I was nowhere near the scene. The shooter called my phone to gloat about it.”
“You must be almost as angry as I am right now.”
“If that means you want to beat the man half to death with your fists, then yes, we both have that in common.”
“I’d prefer to be with my wife in San Francisco right now. But Katherine argued that it was my duty to fly back to Washington, because that seems to be what the shooter wanted to stop me from doing.”
“Why? What was the shooter’s motive?”
“The NSA picked up some phone chatter that indicates there are people who will make massive profits if they can keep me out of DC for a few days. We don’t know how or why yet, only that there may be innocent lives at stake.”
“The FBI can hunt down the people who are responsible and make sure they never do anything like this again.”
“I’m in this meeting because my hope is that we can talk you into helping to do that, And do it with what you call extreme prejudice.”
Jake’s eyes narrowed. “You have the wrong guy. I’ve had enough fighting. I’ve done my duty and now I just want to live my life in peace.”
“A taxi driver overheard you saying you wanted to help with the manhunt to capture the impostor.”
“I said I wanted to help investigate, not assassinate.”
Agent McKay saw the look on Jake’s face. She knew every detail of his CIA file and was expecting this resistance. Jake had been through hell and back. He was weary of war, and killing. He felt that he’d already done his part, far more than his share. “Jake, there are two other people here in the Oval Office who want to have a word with you.”
At the words “Oval Office,” Jake sat up straighter and watched in surprise as a second TV display came on and showed another area of the room.
The President of the United States was sitting at his famous desk. And seated across from President Kaufman was four-star General Lloyd Clemens of the US Marine Corps, his uniform ablaze with ribbons, badges, and insignia.
Chapter 102
“General Clemens, Sir,” Jake said. He got to his feet and stood at attention.
“Have a seat Jake,” President Kaufman said.
Jake ignored President Kaufman. He remained standing, and looking at General Clemens.
“As you were Marine, have a seat,” Clemens said.
Jake sat down and folded his hands in front of him on the table.
He noted that President Kaufman didn’t appear offended when he looked to General Clemens instead of him. His guess was, the president had learned a lot about Marines, because they flew his Marine One helicopters and guarded Camp David. They worked closely with the Secret Service to help protect the president and his family.
“Jake, I have three questions for you,” General Clemens said.
“Yes sir.”
“Do you believe it is true that once a Marine always a Marine?”
“Yes sir, I know that’s true.”
“If you were in this office, and a terrorist tried to harm the people here, would you fight like a patriotic American to protect them from harm?”
“Affirmative. You know I would, and I know you would too sir.”
General Clemens nodded in agreement and looked thoughtfully at Jake for a moment. “Right now, a known terrorist is threatening Congressman Anderson and his wife, Katherine. The killer is right there in San Francisco where you are. We need a patriot who can put him out of business.”
“Understood General. What is your third question, sir?”
“My third question is this. Will you listen to what the President has to say and give it your full consideration as a civilian who agrees that once a Marine always a Marine?”
“Yes sir.”
President Kaufman said, “Jake we have a situation. One that requires a particular set of skills and someone who is willing and able to use those skills in the defense of his nation. A terrorist threat has to be stopped and I’ve been told that you’re the right man for the job.”
“With all due respect Mister President, there are other people who are far more qualified than me to perform this mission.”
“That’s true, but you might change your mind when you hear the details. This is a highly covert op, and it concerns you personally.”
“How does it concern me, besides how I was impersonated?”
“The assassin who shot the paintball at Katherine Anderson is a former FSB Agent and Russian mafia hit man named Ivan Zhukov. The KGB may have changed their name to the FSB, but it’s still the same old business as usual.”
“Understood.”
“Zhukov did wet work for the FSB, but he left the service due to severe injuries.
After he recuperated he went to work for the Russian mafia oligarchs for a time. Now he has gone out on his own as a freelance killer. He’s been leaving a trail of dead bodies all across the world.”
“Zhukov sounds like a dangerous snake.”
“Exactly, and we need someone to cut off the head of that snake.”
“The US Marshals hunt down and capture thousands of dangerous fugitives every year. They’d be your best choice to capture Zhukov.”
General Clemens spoke up. “No one said we wanted Zhukov captured. If you accept this mission, your orders will be to kill the enemy combatant by whatever means necessary. The way you were trained to do on overseas missions.”
Jake stared at Clemens for a moment. “How can that be legal here in the United States?”
Kaufman answered Jake. “I’ve issued an Executive Order for Ivan Zhukov to be killed as an enemy combatant. Under the same legal precedent that guided our Navy SEALs on the raid that killed Osama bin Laden.”
“There must be a specific reason why you want me for this mission.”
“You are correct. The NSA picked up Zhukov’s voice on a mobile phone threatening to kill a US Congressman. He also mentioned your name.”
A grainy surveillance photo of Zhukov appeared on the third TV monitor. Underneath the photo was a written quote of something Zhukov had said. Jake read the words as a recording played the familiar accented voice he’d heard taunting him on his phone.
“If Congressman Anderson tries to get on a flight to Washington, I will kill him, no matter what. I guarantee that.”
“What about the photojournalist Jake Wolfe who is causing problems?”
“Stalin said that death solves all problems; no man, no problem. If Jake Wolfe gets in my way again, I will start killing his family and friends, one by one, until nobody is left alive. I already know where his parents and his sister live. I know the school where his friend Alicia is a teacher. And I know where police inspector Beth Cushman lives with her young son. There are many ways to get to Wolfe.”
Jake felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. His gun hand twitched, and he placed the fingertips of both hands together in front of him. His eyes narrowed, and his anger at terrorists awakened and started to hum in the background of his nervous system like a battle hymn.
President Kaufman saw the look of cold fury on Jake’s face, and he knew this meeting was having the desired effect. “The Secret Service had to smuggle Congressman Anderson out of the hospital by having him lie down on a gurney, covering him with a sheet and then putting him aboard a medical helicopter. They took him to a private airstrip so he could board Air Force Two and fly straight to Washington DC. He had to go through all of that just so he could do his job in Congress.”
“I’d say that is an unacceptable situation for America to be in.”
General Clemens nodded at Jake in agreement. “This assassin is a clear and present danger to the government and the citizens of the United States. Maybe you’re familiar with the George Orwell quote that says people sleep peacefully in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.”
“Yes sir, my boot camp drill instructor said that.”
“That’s what the president and I are asking from you right now. To be perfectly clear here, we’re asking you to kill Ivan Zhukov.”
There was a pause while everyone thought about what Clemens had said.
“If the assassin walked into this room right now, armed and dangerous, I’d put a bullet in him,” Jake said. “But I thought it wasn’t legal for CIA case officers to operate on American soil.”
President Kaufman said, “You will not be working as a CIA case officer this time. You’ll be temporarily deputized into the U.S. Marshal’s service. To make sure you have nationwide federal jurisdiction to hunt down Zhukov.”
“Similar to the way Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday were deputized for the shootout at the OK Corral in Tombstone?”
Kaufman nodded. “Exactly. The US Marshals Service is responsible for apprehending wanted fugitives. Marshals are also called upon to protect government officials in the judiciary. Most of this assignment falls within the established parameters. The director is authorized to deputize you by US Code Title 28, Section 561. However, US Marshals don’t assassinate enemy combatants. You will claim that you had to kill Zhukov in self-defense when you attempted to arrest him. My Executive Order to kill Zhukov is classified as Top Secret, and you’re bound by your clearances to keep it a secret.”
McKay spoke up and said, “Jake we don’t have time to give you every detail right now. Briefly, congress has secretly granted a blanket letter of marque and reprisal for one specific small team of the U.S. Secret Service. The letter of marque and reprisal legally converts your private vessel, the Far Niente, into a naval auxiliary. You become a commissioned privateer with jurisdiction to conduct reprisal operations worldwide, and you are covered by the protection of the laws of war. In addition, you’ll be operating under admiralty and maritime law, which gives you broad legal powers on the water similar to what the Coast Guard has.”
General Clemens said, “Hardly anybody understands these legalities. That’s why you’ll be deputized and carry a US Marshals badge. People do understand a badge and a gun. Right now though, the most important thing is that your country needs you Jake. I am asking you as a Marine and a man of honor to step up and fight for what’s right.”
Jake thought of the friends and family he wanted to protect from Zhukov. He could try to fight the assassin on his own as a vigilante, but his odds of success would be low. By doing things this way he would have the ability, legal authorization and backup help to do what needed to be done. Jake felt that he didn’t have much choice under the circumstances.
President Kaufman said. “The other reason I’m asking you specifically Jake is that Zhukov seems to be angry at you and holding a personal grudge against you. My hope is you can draw his attention and act as a lightning rod.”
“Draw his fire you mean. So basically I’m acting as bait for a trap.”
“More like a challenge to a fight that his ego cannot ignore. I’m hoping you can make him so angry that he drops what he’s doing and comes at you instead.”
Brinkter said, “Making people angry is Wolfe’s specialty.”
President Kaufman ignored Brinkter. “Jake we have good people working on this. You’ll be the wild card, the troubleshooter. It’s similar to what you did overseas. Going after an elusive target on your own as an unpredictable lone wolf that the enemy can’t understand and can’t stop.”
General Clemens said, “Zhukov is too dangerous to be captured. He will never allow himself to be taken alive. He needs to be terminated, but the FBI is not in the business of assassinating high-value targets. You were trained to hunt and kill high value targets, as an operative in the CIA Special Activities Division, their covert paramilitary operations unit.”
“I put that all behind me when I was honorably discharged from the Marines, in a wheelchair.”
“I understand that, and I can’t order you to do this now that you are a civilian. However I am asking you to do it. For your country and in honor of all the veterans who gave their lives so that our nation can live in peace.”
Jake stared at General Clemens. He knew that the odds of him living through this were fifty-fifty at best. It was almost a suicide mission. He was the latest sacrificial pawn in a game of chess that had gone on for centuries. He paused and thought it over for a moment before agreeing to risk his life. His instincts told him he was being manipulated here. In a similar way to how Brinkter had done it in the past. They needed him, but his reward would be nothing more than a pat on the back. He’d already been there and done that. The old military saying “never volunteer,” had proven in the past to be something he should have heeded. This time, he decided to make them pay for his commitment and sacrifice, and to make sure that Brinkter could never threaten his family again.
�
��General Clemens and Mister President, I will accept your request to hunt down Ivan Zhukov and fight him to the death, but under three conditions.”
Chapter 103
There was a pause as General Clemens squinted at Jake, and President Kaufman took in a long breath and let it out.
“Let’s hear your conditions then,” Kaufman said.
“First, I want my own copy of that presidential get-out-of-jail-free letter that Easton used at the FBI building,” Jake said. “And it has to apply to my family and friends too. Brinkter has to stop threatening to have my loved ones arrested in entrapment schemes. Today he threatened to have my mother set up in a sting operation and sent to prison. Sir if my own mother and family and friends don’t have any real freedom here in the land of the free, then what freedom am I fighting for?”
In the image on the TV screen, President Kaufman frowned and he glared at Brinkter. “Brinkter, as of tonight, you cannot fabricate false evidence or do entrapments or sting operations of any kind on Jake or his family or friends. Is that clear or should I have you reassigned with a one-way ticket to the middle of a danger zone on the other side of the world?”
“Crystal clear and agreed to sir,” Brinkter said, and he looked at Jake as if he wanted to choke him.
Jake stared into Brinkter’s eyes for a long moment and then turned back to the TV screen. “Mister President my second request is that temporary Secret Service protection be provided for my family and friends who were threatened by the killer.”
“Not a problem. I’ll have Agent McKay take care of that starting immediately. I admire a man who looks out for his family and friends.”
McKay nodded her head and tapped her fingers on a small tablet computer as she made notations and sent text messages to Secret Service agents in San Francisco.
“Thank you, sir,” Jake said. “And the third request is that I want Brinkter and the CIA to wire one million tax-free dollars to the trust bank account of my attorney Gregory Bart Bartholomew. To be distributed by him to me upon completion of the mission, or given to my parents if I am killed in the attempt.”
