Harrison continued his trek forward until he happened on a cavern. The cave entrance was crisscrossed with wood and appeared abandoned for quite a long time. Although it may provide concealment, the cave was too obvious a hiding place for serious consideration. Harrison began walking away from the cave when he stopped abruptly and headed back to its entrance. The cavern may indeed be too conspicuous, but it may provide a decoy and consume his enemy’s time—time that he needed desperately.
Harrison removed easily the rotting wood covering the entrance. He retrieved a flashlight from his backpack. Harrison proceeded carefully, shining the light in front of him. He exaggerated his steps as he walked so that the imprints in the dirt would not be overlooked. Harrison did not walk in far as the terrorists were nearby. He retraced his steps backward to the cave entrance, carefully stepping lightly in the tracks that he made. Prior to exiting the cave, Harrison dropped several boxes of his food rations that were visible in the dim light. He hoped that he could deceive sufficiently the terrorists on the duped hunt and provide him time to escape.
Harrison exited the cavern and walked on the rocks forming the base of the cave in order to mask his footprints. As he reached a grassy area, he jumped from the side of the cave onto the leafy ground. Harrison took out his binoculars and searched the area. He spotted one of the terrorists in the distance heading in the direction of the cave. Harrison would not know immediately if his ploy succeeded. He hoped that the terrorist would contact other patrols to investigate the cave and tie up personnel in a wild goose hunt.
Harrison returned his binoculars to his backpack and headed away from the cavern. He continued his search for a spot that would conceal him to initiate another transmission to Mentor.
Chapter 26
Mirror, Mirror
Harrison estimated that twenty minutes passed when he finally came upon an area that provided the camouflage he needed. He noted a small opening in the brush. Harrison used both hands to push away a bush and soon find himself in a secluded area. Harrison released the backpack and dropped it roughly to the ground. He pulled out quickly his short wave radio and extended the antenna to its limits. Harrison grasped the mike and hurriedly transmitted the sequential security code without delay: “Alpha - Bravo -Zulu - Alpha - Bravo - Zulu -Uniform - Sierra - Hotel -Whisky - Mike, over.” He shook his head in disgust as there was no reply and the airwaves were still replete with static.
Harrison was growing short of patience and retransmitted the security code that he hoped would link him with Mentor: “Alpha – Bravo – Zulu – Alpha – Bravo – Zulu – Uniform – Sierra – Hotel – Whisky – Mike, over.” However, the familiar static crackled over the speaker. Harrison stood slowly to survey the area around him, but he saw nothing alarming. He knelt down and transmitted the security code again, adding a personal remark to the all familiar code: “Alpha – Bravo – Zulu – Alpha – Bravo –Zulu – Uniform – Sierra – Hotel – Whisky – Mike, over—damn it, Mentor!” Whether it was the timing of the message or his elegant personal remark (and Harrison did not care which at the moment), the static of the air waves was interrupted by a familiar, comforting voice: “Yankee – Zulu – Alpha – Yankee – Zulu – Alpha – Uniform – Sierra – Mike – Hotel – Whisky, over.” There was a brief pause and the security code was repeated: “Yankee – Zulu – Alpha – Yankee – Zulu – Alpha – Uniform – Sierra – Mike – Hotel – Whisky, over.” Harrison responded, “Harrison here. It’s good to hear your voice, Greg.” “Yours too, Harrison” returned Mentor. Mentor continued: “What is your status?” “Not good” was Harrison’s reply. He continued in a trembling voice, “The worst of it is that Hawthorne assassinated President Ashton. I saw her decomposed body. I…” Harrison choked on his words as images of Elizabeth Ashton’s body flooded his mind. There was no immediate response from Mentor. Then the familiar voice said reassuringly and apologetically, “Harrison, that was not the President. Elizabeth Ashton is here. She is safe. She never left the oval office. No time to explain. The person you saw was Marilyn Hawthorne. Until this moment, only President Ashton and I knew that.”
Static filled the air, as Harrison was too confused to formulate an immediate response. However, Mentor needed some critical information and asked urgently, “Harrison, where is Hawthorne’s headquarters and what is the estimated strength of his organization?” Harrison was still in shock, but managed to provide Mentor with a summary report including the information he required about Hawthorne, his men, defensive sensory devices and explosives. He also noted Hawthorne’s “main target” operation scheduled for tomorrow. Harrison could not keep from stumbling over his words as he asked Mentor: “But how? Why?” Mentor knew that he could not review the details of the mission and hoped his words would suffice for the moment: “I’m sorry, Harrison. It was necessary to convince the co-conspirators that they indeed kidnapped the real Elizabeth Ashton by sending you to search for her. You provided us the time we needed to track down and uncover Hawthorne’s contacts here in Washington. I’m happy to say that their immediate threat has been compromised.”
There was a brief pause and then came gravity in Mentor’s voice: “What is your status?” “Not good” was Harrison’s reply. I’ve become the personal target of Hawthorne and he’s determined to capture his trophy—dead or, well, dead. If you’re a betting man, Greg, the odds are not in my favor.” Mentor’s response came quickly and assuredly, “The company men are on their way, Harrison. I ordered them in the air about one hour ago in anticipation of your contact. They will be redirected to your coordinates. Their ETA is about one hour direct flight time. You must hold on. Repeat. You must hold on.” There was a pause before Mentor attempted to lighten the mood: “Besides, they have your paycheck!” The two men permitted a slight chuckle between them before Mentor broke into the airwaves: “I spoke with Hannah this morning. She is concerned about you, but she says to tell you that she is ‘fine.’ I’m sorry about the death of Pope Josetta. I know you were very close to him. It seems that each time I send you on…” Harrison abruptly broke through the airwaves: “Targets approaching. Will attempt to contact reinforcements. Hardware out.”
Harrison ended the transmission and hurriedly replaced the devices in his backpack. He secured the pack on his back and focused his attention in the direction of the approaching voices. Harrison rose to a crouching position and pushed away the brush that interfered with his vision. The voices were distinct and sufficiently clear that he needed nothing more than his naked senses. Harrison observed three approaching men, one of whom was Hawthorne. The terrorist leader was armed this time and had his weapon drawn. Harrison estimated that at least twenty-five yards separated him from his enemy. He found himself in a dilemma that he had to resolve quickly: attempt to conceal himself from the militants or try to outgun the hunters.
The dilemma soon turned complicated and was no longer a dichotomous decision. Harrison thought for a brief moment of a third possibility: the capture of Jacob Hawthorne. Such personal vengeance, however, would put him in the position of defying Mentor’s direct orders and run the risk of perishing himself. People have already died at the hands of Hawthorne and countless others will lose their lives and political positions before this ugly chapter in America’s history is closed.
Orders or no orders, Harrison decided that he could not pass up the opportunity afforded him. Hawthorne must be captured alive. Harrison believed that there was a higher risk of Hawthorne being killed in the melee of bullets fired by numerous agents than those discharged by a single man. Two quick shots would fall Hawthorne’s guards leaving the leader alone to spray the brush that concealed Harrison with a volley of bullets. Perhaps Harrison would survive and capture Hawthorne…Perhaps.
Harrison was not afforded time to debate the issue as the three men grew closer, marching directly toward him as if they knew he was there. The issue was now moot as Harrison’s survival depended upon quick, accurate action. His adrenalin rushed as his gun hand stiffened wit
h uncertain anticipation. He was weighing his skills and training against those of the insurgents. Hawthorne hired skilled and merciless men or they would be of no use to him. Harrison squinted his left eye as his right arm and right eye funneled the line of fire. He aimed his weapon at the terrorist on the left and fired several bullets into the man’s head. This savage kill was necessary. Harrison was uncertain as to whether Hawthorne’s closet guards wore body armor. The guard on the left slumped sharply backward and dropped to the ground. One of two men was eliminated. Harrison quickly swung his gun toward the terrorist on Hawthorne’s right. This time, accuracy was left to chance and he would use a larger target than the man’s skull. Harrison aimed quickly and shot four rounds at the body of the terrorist, hoping that at least one bullet found its lethal mark. The terrorist stumbled to the side while shooting his weapon into the air. By now, Hawthorne had time to react and began emptying his rounds ahead of him at his unseen, yet known target. Harrison dove to the ground and attempted to roll his body away from the spray of bullets. Yet, the secluded area that he chose so carefully now seemed small and unyielding. Hawthorne continued to fire at will spending his rounds like there was no tomorrow…and perhaps for Harrison, tomorrow may never come.
Chapter 27
Back to the Hornet’s Nest
If there was one thing worse than eating crow, it was ingesting dirt…and Harrison was consuming his fair share of the latter. Fortunately, Hawthorne did not know his precise position. Harrison’s acrobatics were keeping him out of harm’s way and the spray of bullets thus far. The random near misses made it clear to Harrison that his defensive mode would soon turn fatal. As he considered his options, the shower of bullets stopped abruptly. Harrison figured that Hawthorne was reloading his clip and would soon start the barrage again. Not willing to test his theory, Harrison shot up and began firing in the direction of Hawthorne. He caught a glimpse of the terrorist moving away, blasting rounds as he went. If Harrison thought he might capture Hawthorne, he must do it quickly. The cavalry had not yet arrived. However, Hawthorne’s men were scattered across the acreage and undoubtedly heading toward the noise and confusion.
Harrison moved away quickly from his pinned down area and began a short end run in hopes of ambushing Hawthorne. He remained alert to the planted sensory devices and explosives, but worried more about the latter than the former. The sudden appearance of patrols that would shoot first and perhaps never bother asking any questions was also foremost in his mind. Harrison continued to move cautiously, but steadily, maintaining as fast of a pace as circumstances permitted. He was not long into his end run before he spotted Hawthorne slumped behind a pile of rocks. Harrison’s heart jumped as shots unexpectedly rang out. However, they were not aimed at him. Hawthorne was firing rounds in the air attempting to signal his patrols for help. That would not do, thought Harrison. He continued his pace through the brush toward the treacherous man. No sooner was he concerned about Hawthorne’s men, he spotted a group of insurgents, maybe seven or eight of them, heading toward their self-proclaimed leader. The men yelled out for their comrade in terrorism and were rewarded with a redundant “Over here!” in response.
Harrison realized that he was now outnumbered. His concern about disobeying Mentor’s direct order was no longer a liability. For his own survival, Harrison chose to head back toward the ranch house. Hawthorne and his men likely assumed that he would continue making his way toward the ranch’s perimeter, not back in the direction of the hornet’s nest. It was exactly that kind of thinking that kept Harrison alive all these years—doing the unexpected, betting against the odds. Just how long he could extend his play before the “house” demanded its due was uncertain.
Harrison heard gunfire in the distance, but not sufficient fire to suggest that the Mentor’s marauders had arrived. It was more likely that Hawthorne and his men were shooting blindly, hoping to bag Harrison purely by chance. Harrison figured that Hawthorne was cursing his “benevolence” of providing him with an opportunity at freedom instead of just killing him on the spot when afforded the convenience. No matter. Hawthorne’s loss was Harrison’s gain.
Harrison continued his cautious, but steady pace toward the ranch house. He kept a close eye on the ground beneath his feet and the trees above him. Harrison could ill afford to alert the terrorists of his whereabouts as their emotional rage would mean certain and immediate execution. He still heard sporadic gunfire in the distance, but was stopped by a closer vision. Harrison crouched lower as he spotted ten-to-twelve militants patrolling guard near the ranch house. Perhaps he sold Hawthorne short in his tactical savvy. The main path to the house was blocked formidably. Harrison could not remain in his present location, as terrorists in retreat from the attack by government agents would overrun him eventually.
Harrison angled away from the front of the ranch house to test the defenses around its perimeter. He hoped that Hawthorne’s shield was more penetrable elsewhere. However, pregnable or not, it was critical that he infiltrate the ranch and uncover physical evidence of Hawthorne’s conspiracy against the United States government. The hidden safe in the room where Hawthorne first discovered him was a good place to begin his search.
Harrison’s reconnaissance soon paid off as the eastern part of the ranch house was patrolled by only two visible men. He crouched and observed their movements to determine how best to eliminate them. Harrison watched as the two men separated and walked away from each other by 20 yards before they turned and closed their gap once again. He was still in terrorist dress and planned to replace one of them as they separated. Harrison chose the terrorist on the north end as a group of bushes would be an ideal place to hide the man’s limp body.
Harrison maneuvered his position to the eastside of the ranch house. Timing would be critical both in jumping and stabbing his assailant. Harrison withdrew his knife from its hidden holder and firmly grasped it. He had to surprise the terrorist and cover his mouth before the sounds of death escaped him and warned his partner. Harrison crept closer to his target and readied his stance. He calculated that fifteen feet separated him from his victim, the distance for which he must stalk his foe.
Harrison checked his watch. His reinforcements were still about 20-25 minutes out given Mentor’s estimates. The two patrolling men stopped as they met each other once again and began conversing. Harrison waited patiently for the men to split. They seemed to deliberate for a long time before leaving each other once again. Harrison stood ready and did his best to observe both men. He could not attack the terrorist unless his colleague continued to maintain his attention in the opposite direction.
Harrison’s adrenalin soared as the hand-to-hand battle approached. He stole one more glance at the other guard before quickly stalking his victim. Harrison approached the terrorist from behind. He placed his hand around his impending prey’s mouth while simultaneously stabbing the man in his back and twisting the blade of steel. The terrorist wanted to scream, but was made incapable of broadcasting his pain or warning. Harrison quickly pushed the collapsing body of the terrorist in the nearby brush. He grabbed his victim’s red bandana and rifle. Harrison nimbly wrapped the bandana around his head and shouldered his rifle. He continued walking forward on patrol realizing that about six feet remained before he would stop and turn as he witnessed previously. At the patrol perimeter, he turned around and began his walk toward the unsuspecting insurgent. He was unsure how close he could come to the terrorist before he realized that Harrison was not who he pretended to be. As Harrison paced his walked toward the unwitting sentry, he readied his knife once again. Their facial features became more distinct as they approached. Harrison turned his head away from time-to-time as if watching for an unforeseen enemy and hopefully disguising his direct profile from the advancing sentry. He glanced forward once again for any signs of recognition from the enemy, but deciphered none. The terrorist continued his approach apparently oblivious to his fate.
Harrison glanced away again estimating that twelve feet
separated him from the terrorist. He firmly grasped the knife in his right hand that was hanging stiffly down his side. His adrenalin surged as he returned his view to the approaching guard. However, Harrison kept his head down and eyes upward seeking signs of betrayal. The two men were soon upon each other when the insurgent spotted Harrison. The guard attempted to aim his rifle at Harrison. However, Harrison had the upper hand and brought his right-hand forward and into the chest of the militant. The sentry emitted only muffled sounds as the mortal knife lacerated the man’s heart, spilling blood profusely. The terrorist collapsed quickly to the ground. Harrison withdrew his knife from the dead man and dragged his body toward the ranch house. He dropped the body down one of the lower level window wells and headed toward a side door of the ranch house.
Harrison slowly opened the door and walked guardedly into the house. An eerie silence greeted him as he looked quickly for any signs of the enemy. Harrison surmised that most of the terrorists were guarding the front of the house and the perimeter of the ranch from the impending government forces. He made his way toward the main sitting room and the safe that hopefully held the evidence to expose Hawthorne and his conspiracy. The silence continued as Harrison paced his way through the ranch.
Mirror, Mirror at 1600 D.C. Page 19
