Hannibal is at the Gates

by David Kershner

  He set it down in front of her and said, “How fast can you read?”

  * * *

  Dallas answered his phone in the usual manner, “Go for Dallas.”

  A smart sounding woman replied, “Please hold for the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.”

  “Whoa,” Dallas said aloud as the Pentagon switchboard Muzak kicked on. This oughta be good.

  After a few seconds, the droning noise clicked off and a commanding voice said, “Dallas McKutcheon, this is General Brent Howard and I need a favor.”

  “OK. And a good afternoon to you too, sir,” Dallas replied sarcastically.

  “I don’t have time for niceties. Can you to come up here to D.C. and pick up my granddaughter and return to her to her father’s farm,” the General said coldly and abruptly.

  “I see. And who would that be exactly?” Dallas asked.

  “Heather Simmons. I believe you are good friends with her father, Josh. He gave me your number.”

  Dallas couldn’t resist the opportunity to continue playing the smartass and said, “Maybe you should lead with that next time.”

  Exhaling loudly though the phone’s receiver, the General said, “I’m sorry, son. I’d take her myself, but I can’t get away. Josh specifically asked me to call you.”

  “Why didn’t Josh call me?” Dallas asked.

  “I don’t know that answer, but the last encounter between those two didn’t go so well. If I had to guess, I think he feels that she needs to hear a few things. She’s not exactly receptive to hearing from him right now. Do you understand my meaning?”

  “Yes, sir, I do. What’s the address?”

  General Howard gave him directions to his brownstone and Dallas said, “I’ll be there in about five hours,” and disconnected the call.

  Huh, I just hung up on the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. I wonder how he feels about that nicety?

  Dallas quickly showered, shaved, and packed an overnight bag. He thought about hopping in the farm truck he typically used, but thought better of it once he figured it’d be a nineteen hour round trip. Instead, he jumped in the Gator and went to the barn next to James’ house. James was working in there with the acetylene torch when Dallas pulled up.

  “Hey, you up for a road trip?” Dallas asked the large man.

  James stood up, cut off the flame, and placed his hand on his lower back and stretched.

  “Where we going?”

  “D.C. to pick up a package,” Dallas said cryptically.

  The big man removed his protective shield and placed it on the workbench. He thought about the prospect of getting away from the monotony of the mountain retreat as he turned the dials on the cylinders to shut off the gas.

  “No Congress this time?” he asked.

  “Nope,” Dallas replied.

  “Is this package something I might enjoy?” James asked.

  “I think so, yes.”

  “Is it live like ammo or people?”

  “Will you stop with the twenty questions already? Do you want to come or not?” Dallas answered.

  James loved toying with Dallas’ impatient nature. He paused again and feigned the contemplation of the road trip once more, just to irritate him.

  “Oh my word!” Dallas bemoaned at his indecision. “I’m leaving.”

  Dallas then turned and started heading toward a sedan that was under a canvas cover in the corner of the barn, tucked out of the way.

  “You didn’t say you were breaking out your Lexus!” James decried.

  “Does that mean you’re comin’?” Dallas shot back.

  “Hell yes I’m comin’! This should be good. Gimme five minutes to clean up,” James responded.

  “Clocks tickin’ jarhead! Trying movin’ with some purpose for a change!” Dallas barked at him like a drill instructor.

  Half an hour later, after James showered, packed a bag, and fixed some sandwiches, the pair was on the road. As the clock struck 10:00 PM, they were parked in front of the General’s brownstone.

  Dallas and James approached the building, but before they could knock the General opened the door.

  “Come on in, gentlemen,” the General said without any fanfare. “You boys are gonna have to rack here tonight. My granddaughter’s fast asleep.”

  “What’s he talkin’ about? You didn’t say anything about –,” James started to whisper to Dallas before his friend interrupted him.

  “Classified, need to know,” Dallas sarcastically answered in a hushed tone.

  When they got to the back of the house, the General reached into the refrigerator and handed each a beer. “How was the drive?” he asked the pair.

  “Uneventful,” Dallas answered.

  “Good. I’m guessing you’re Dallas?” the General asked.

  “I am, sir,” he answered as he stepped forward.

  The two men exchanged handshakes. Brent turned and said, “That means you’re James.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, sir,” he said and they too shook hands.

  “The pleasures all mine, son. Josh used to tell me about you and another non-com he had when he first graduated the Academy. You guys made a hell of an impression on him.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. And he us, sir,” James replied.

  “Whoa,” the General exclaimed. “That’s a lot of sirs. Just call me Brent,” he added.

  “Roger that, sir,” James said reflexively. “The other NCO was First Sergeant Ernesto Mattone. He was killed in Anbar Province during the surge,” James offered.

  “Sorry to hear that,” Brent answered reflectively.

  After letting the awkward pause linger for a few moments, Dallas cleared his throat and said, “So what is going on? Why are we being tasked with transport duty?”

  “Right,” Brent said abruptly. As they stood in the kitchen sipping their beers, Brent proceeded to tell Dallas and James about the conversation he and Josh had on the farm, albeit abbreviated. It was the same one that Josh had tried to have with Heather when she bolted from his car and hopped the first train to D.C.

  When he finished, Dallas said, “That’s great and all, but that doesn’t explain how she’s his kid. Does she even want to go back?”

  Brent slumped down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table and exhaled loudly and slowly. He took another sip of his beer and said, “I entrusted my daughter, Jessica, to Josh when she came to visit me as part of a USO trip in Bosnia. She was starting to show signs of falling in with the wrong crowd out in LA. She had lost a lot of weight and you could tell she was into some things that were more than highly questionable, legally and morally. There were whispers in the papers and magazines and stuff that her mother and I tried to ignore, but when she showed up,” and his voice trailed off.

  He cleared his throat and continued, “I could see that she wasn’t taking care of herself. The bags under the eyes, the weariness, and the temperamental behavior; all of it pointed to Jessica turning into all of the things we feared when she first decided to become an actress. I figured if she was exposed to men of character and principle she would see the error of her ways and realize that the path she was headed down only led to tragedy. What I didn’t figure on were those two becoming lovers. The fleeting romance produced Heather.”

  He sat more upright and concluded with, “Josh somehow cleaned her up and the pair was inseparable. She had a light in her eyes when she was just near him. He gave her that. I don’t know what he did, but he managed to relight that spark. She was more determined, focused, and energized. It amazes me still to this day because she was only there, in and out of the region doing shows, for about two weeks. The night he was abducted, and dragged off in to that hellish nightmare, she snuck into his quarters and that was that. Heather arrived nine months later.”

  “I’ve never heard you tell that story before, Papaw,” Heather said as she stood in the doorway behind him.

  Dallas and James had seen her approaching, but held their interest on Brent when she held a finger to h
er lips to silence them.

  Brent turned in his seat and said, “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough,” she replied.

  Brent stood up and wrapped her in an embrace as only a grandfather could do. He held her silently for a few moments before saying, “I’d like to introduce you to some friends of your father’s.”

  He motioned toward the pair still seated at the table and said, “This is Dallas McKutcheon and James Rooney. Dallas grew up with your father and knows more about him than anyone alive. James was one of your father’s NCO’s in the Marine Corps. If there’s anything you ever wanted to know about Josh, these two men have the answers.”

  James stood up and walked to Heather. When she held out her hand, he brushed it aside. “Come here, girl! Handshakes are for strangers. You can call me Uncle James,” he said as he wrapped her in a giant bear hug.

  After he broke the embrace, he could see she was a little embarrassed by the gesture. “Oh, don’t be shy,” James said. “That man over there,” he began as he motioned to Dallas. “He and I helped raise your sisters and we’re gonna teach you everything we taught them. You might have heard them refer to us as JD.”

  Heather sprung to life and replied excitedly, “Yes! They mentioned you guys all the time!”

  “Excellent!” James said. “Don’t worry. We’ll take the training nice and slow. We don’t want you jumping out of any more cars and hopping the first train you see,” he finished as he smiled down at her.

  Heather’s eyes grew wide and Dallas, having witnessed what he perceived to be fear, said, “It’ll be all right. We’ve got plenty of time.”

  “No. No we don’t,” Heather answered.

  Brent began shaking his head as a sign to not say anymore, but Heather ignored him. “Enough is enough. I’m tired of the secrets.”

  James spun on his heel to face Brent and said, “What secrets?”

  “There aren’t any. Josh already knows. He’ll tell you when you get there,” Brent quickly spouted. “Heather, I can’t. It’s classified.”

  Ignoring his pleas, Heather replied sternly, “One of two things is going to happen here. You can choose Option A, where I tell them. Or Option B, where you unlock that little leather briefcase of yours and show them the report.”

  “Report?” Dallas asked.

  “I vote for Option B,” James said and then added, “Sir.”

  Chapter 8

  Prime Minister Goodspeed entered his office on Downing Street to find the head of MI-6 and the Chief of the General Staff from Army Headquarters sitting across from his desk sipping tea.

  “Good morning, Sir William... Field Marshal. Thank you for coming on such short notice,” the PM said as he extended his hand.

  “Not at all,” they said returning the greeting.

  “Welcome back,” the Field Marshal replied.

  The three shook hands and all took their seats.

  Once seated, the Prime Minister began, “I’ve got a busy schedule this morning so I’ll be brief. We’ve completed all of the various tasks that King George has charged us with at the UN. How are we coming on the deployment of the Watchers?”

  The British SAS units had been nicknamed the ‘Apostles’ during the Second Gulf War and were their elite Special Forces. They were comparable to others employed in various nation states throughout the world. Each unit had their own specialty as well. The espionage group, known as the ‘Watchers’, were on standby in Aldershot, southwest of London.

  “They are prepped, orders in hand, and awaiting your word, Prime Minister,” the Field Marshal replied.

  “And your agents, Sir William?” the PM asked.

  “They have already been deployed and are currently observing the Federal Treasury and U.S. Mint locations. We’ve been receiving reports of activity at some of the installations,” the MI-6 man replied.

  “What kind? There not stupid enough to try and relocate all of those resources, are they?” the PM inquired.

  “Not at the present. They are adding security, though. For the time being, it doesn’t appear that they have attempted to move any of the bullion, copper, nickel, or silver at any of the facilities... as far as we can tell,” Sir William answered

  “What does that mean?” said the Field Marshal.

  “You know those Yanks, always building tunnels and passageways. We need to get your men on the ground,” he said referring to the Watchers. “We have to penetrate those structures so we’ll have some eyes in there is all I meant to say. Our assets can cover the outside perimeter and observe, but it’s just too much to ask of our contingent to do that and infiltrate.”

  The two men turned to look at the PM and awaited a response.

  “If you were given a green light, how quickly could you get men inside?” the PM asked the Field Marshal.

  “We have three units of ten men prepared to be split into two-man teams. Each team, under the watchful eye of MI-6, will access the Treasury and Mint facilities. If they departed within the hour, nightfall tomorrow,” the Field Marshal answered as if knew the question was coming.

  The PM picked up his secure phone and its counterpart rang in the private residence of King George in Kensington Palace.

  The sovereign answered after two rings.

  Sir William and the Field Marshal couldn’t hear the King’s side of the conversation, but the PM answered him with, “Nightfall tomorrow.”

  The Prime Minister listened intently for a few seconds more and then replied, “Very good, your Majesty. We’ll get it done,” and hung up the phone.

  “It’s a go. Don’t let us down.”

  * * *

  Dallas and James had already showered and dressed. They were making breakfast when Heather staggered into the kitchen at 9:30. General Howard, in an effort to keep up appearances, had departed for the Pentagon at 6:00 AM, per his usual routine, but not before he awoke Heather to say goodbye. He had stayed up most of the night contemplating many things, but mostly his retirement. In the end, he had made his decision and decided to tell Heather that today was the day that he would file his paperwork. Given everything he knew about the UN build-up, Josh’s invitation to retire to the farm was too good to pass up. By the end of the year, he and his granddaughter would be living in the most desolate piece of forested landscape imaginable. After forty-two and half years of service to his country, he would officially be retired from the United States Marine Corps.

  He had also poked his head in to say goodbye to Dallas and James, and to thank them for coming to get Heather. The pair was already stirring when he opened their door. Before he departed, he asked them to give Josh a message. It was cryptic, but they said they would pass it along.

  “Don’t people ever sleep in this house,” Heather said sleepily as she entered the kitchen.

  “Sweet!” Dallas said. “She’s up. Can we go now?”

  “Hold on a minute Dallas. Let the girl get some coffee and some breakfast... maybe a shower. What’s wrong with you? Geez,” James said before Heather had a chance to reply.

  “I’m with James,” she added.

  “Dude, you’ve got to learn to relax. The road ain’t going nowhere,” James concluded.

  “And neither are we if you two don’t get your butts in gear. It’s an eight hour drive and, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get there in time for dinner,” Dallas intoned.

  “Always thinking with your stomach.”

  The two carried on with their banter while Heather got her coffee and sat patiently at the table dunking her bagel. Before it was all over, the two were stuck on a debate regarding who was the better cook, Josh or Basilia. When she left the kitchen for the shower, they were contemplating whether or not they should call and ask who was cooking and what was for dinner.

  The three were on the road by 11:00 AM and the first hour passed in relative silence. When Heather asked for a potty break at 12:30, Dallas guffawed and started a debate over who had a smaller bladder among their adopted nieces
. James, always looking to save a couple dollars, had again packed snacks and sandwiches so they would not have to buy ‘crap food’ along the highway. He didn’t care that his argument over processed laden foods didn’t hold water anymore given the removal of the GMO’s. He had his routines.

  By the third hour, Heather was fully engaged in the discussions and holding her own. When she grew tired of the debates, she’d ask a question.

  Dallas and James were eager participants when it came to playfully throwing their friend, and her father, under the bus. When she asked how he became a Marine, Dallas regaled her with an overly dramatic interpretation of the events that led to Josh’s enlistment.

  “Before I tell you what really happened, why don’t you tell me what he thinks happened,” Dallas said before he began his story.

  “He said he graduated from high school and you two went down to Myrtle Beach for ‘Beach Week’. When you arrived, his girlfriend was on some guys lap. The two of them got into it and when it was all done he was sitting in front of the Marine Corps Recruiters office. That was it,” Heather answered nonchalantly.

  “That’s it? That’s all he said?” Dallas said incredulously.

  “Pretty much,” Heather replied.

  “Well, sit back and relax ‘cause Uncle Dallas is about to tell you what really happened. The girl on that dude’s lap was Josh’s high school girlfriend and they had been dating since 9th grade. When that boy mates, it’s for life… let me tell you,” Dallas started.

  Half an hour later, he finished his story.

  “So he did join because of a woman,” she said more to herself than Dallas or James.

  “What do you mean,” James asked.

  “When he came to California for mom’s funeral, the concierge was so enamored with my mother and me that he had Josh pose as a security guard and we met. He didn’t tell me who he was at the time, but when I asked why he joined he said ‘a woman’. He got out because of ‘a different woman’. Which motel did they stay at?” Heather asked.