The President Killed His Wife (A Rogan Bricks Thriller Book 1)

by Steve Richer

  “Yeah, this I can do.”

  Rogan smiled, feeling a ray of hope. He turned back toward the map on the computer.

  “We can write it up as an exercise or something. Let’s see, what if I go to Eglin Air Force Base? They have 7th Special Forces Group stationed there in Florida.”

  “Forget Eglin, SOCOM is too close at MacDill and it’s way too close to comfort. We’ll get caught and you won’t get anywhere.”

  Rogan nodded, it made sense. His eyes fell to Virginia Beach. “Little Creek? I could link up with SEAL Team Four and…”

  “They’re currently deployed, and so is SEAL Team Ten. Two just got back from a tour, they’re in no way ready for an operation.”

  “Shit.”

  Continuing to scan the map, trying to remember all the relevant military bases that suited him, he stopped on North Carolina. He rolled his eyes, not believing he hadn’t thought of this sooner.

  “Camp Lejeune, home of the 2nd Reconnaissance Battalion. I bet I could enlist some of my old buddies to help out.”

  “You were a Marine?”

  “Force Reconnaissance Company, a long time ago.”

  Gelhausen looked at him in a different light, with respect. He decided against taking another sip of his drink and then looked at the map for a while. Finally, he shook his head.

  “Won’t work.”

  “It’s my best bet.”

  “Next door you have Marine Corps Air Station New River, they’re a rotary outfit,” he said, referring to helicopters. “There’s something like 600 miles to your ship, not exactly rapid deployment.”

  “Damn, you’re right. I’m losing my mind here.”

  “I think I know what your best bet is.”

  “What?” Rogan asked eagerly.

  “Key West.”

  Chapter 47

  In addition to some phone calls, Gelhausen agreed to go one step further. He donned his uniform, they got into his Lincoln SUV, and they drove together to Joint Base Andrews. His presence – as well as Rogan’s FBI badge – made it easy to get to the airfield.

  The 89th Airlift Wing wasn’t just tasked with transporting the President of the United States, it had aircrafts available for the various VIPs within the government. The admiral was able to secure a Gulfstream IV jet for Rogan. Aside from a security sweep – Rogan left his weapons behind – no questions were asked.

  “You sure you’ll get off my back now?” the Navy man asked. “You sure they won’t come after me?”

  “I can’t guarantee what they’ll do but I’ll leave your name out of my report if I survive this.”

  “I appreciate it, son. I’ll call Key West and make sure they’re expecting you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Gelhausen nodded and shook his hand. “Good luck.”

  The plane took off just before nine o’clock with only Rogan on board.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Shiloh’s head was hurting. It was a combination of having been struck, electrocuted, and drugged. She could feel the chemicals in her system, making her woozy and nauseated. But there was something else, a booming noise.

  She could only keep her eyes open for seconds at a time. She was tied up and gagged but she knew she had to use her last remaining available sense to gather information. Only she couldn’t. When she tried to look around, she noticed she was no longer on the plane. When had she been taken off the aircraft?

  She had been in and out of consciousness for what seemed like forever. She remembered talking to Rogan, telling him she had information on the faction, and then there was that woman, Cass Carranza. She had tasered her and the next thing she’d known she had been talking to Rogan again, this time on Skype.

  They had injected her with something right after the call ended, clearly putting her to sleep. She was pretty sure they had given her more drugs along the way. It was dark now, even when she opened her eyes.

  And there was that noise again.

  Concentrating on it she thought she could identify it. Whoop whoop whoop. It was a helicopter. She was lying down on the hard cargo floor and the vibrations contributed to making her hurt even more.

  There was a loud bump, her whole body trembled. She risked a look around and saw three people, two men and that bitch Carranza. They were all seated and they shook with the bump. So it wasn’t just her, Shiloh thought. They were landing.

  “Haul her out, get her below deck.”

  Shiloh’s first instinct was to fight back. This was their most vulnerable, the time when she actually stood a chance to escape. Only she had no strength. She was drowsy and the only thing she wanted was to sleep. Just to make sure, she tried to sit up on her own and she couldn’t.

  “Come here, darling,” a big man said as he pulled her to the edge of the chopper.

  He was one of the men who had kidnapped her, she recognized his shampoo fragrance. He heaved her into a sitting position and this time she forced her eyes open. They were on a ship!

  There were lights around the landing pad and a few more downrange. Everything else around was pitch black. That’s when she noticed that the ship was a stark white. It wasn’t anything commercial, this was a luxury yacht. She had heard about The 2679 but had never actually set foot on it.

  Rogan would never find her.

  Her training kicked into high gear, she saw a plan brewing. She could overtake her captors and then escape with the helicopter; she had rudimentary training on rotary wing aircraft. And if that didn’t work, vessels large enough to accommodate helicopters would have lifeboats.

  All she needed to do was break this guy’s neck, kick Carranza in the face, take her weapon, cut her bonds, and keep the others at bay. But for that she needed physical strength and that was something she just didn’t have.

  The guy lifted her on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carted her below deck.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  It was almost midnight when the Gulfstream touched down on runway 7/25 at Naval Air Station Key West. Rogan considered it was a miracle that he had slept most of the way. It was a combination of exhaustion, pain, and the three Advils he had gulped right before takeoff.

  By the time the jet came to a halt he was completely awake. He looked through the window and was suitably impressed by the squadrons of fighter jets, F-5s and F/A-18s. You didn’t see that every day, he thought, even when he’d been in the service.

  Before disembarking, he pushed up his sleeves, grabbed his pea coat, and stole a bottle of water as well as some cookies from the galley. The airman first class caught him in the act and he winked at her.

  The hot and humid air was like a blanket smothering him, so heavy and unbearable. He loved it, especially when remembering the frozen warehouse where he’d been held.

  “Sir, do you need a ride?”

  “Thank you, I’m being met.”

  He hoped so anyway. He walked away from the Gulfstream eating the cookies and drinking the water. He was just wiping his hands on his sweater, making plans to remove it as well, when a Humvee came his way.

  It stopped just ahead of him and a buck sergeant in MultiCam ACUs got out from behind the wheel.

  “Special Agent Rogan Bricks, sir?”

  “That’s right, Sarge.”

  Rogan looked at the man. He was in his mid-20s at most, cleanly shaven and seemingly bald even though he couldn’t see his entire head because of the Dallas Cowboys cap. More importantly, he noticed this was a US Army uniform and the patches had him assigned to the 5th Special Forces Group.

  “I’m supposed to take you back to the school.”

  “You sweet-talker, you. I was hoping you’d say that.”

  The NCO grinned, probably having expected one of those candy-ass feds, and he got back into the driver seat while Rogan sat next to him, removing his sweater at last.

  Aside from the enviable location of Key West in relation to where the boat was, Naval Air Station Key West had been chosen because it hosted the Special Forces Underwater Operations School. While Rog
an had come to understand that no one would officially go with him, at least there would be some people here able to get him the equipment he needed.

  Chapter 48

  They drove through the darkness about five miles to Fleming Key, until he saw a 60 foot tall white tower appear. The Underwater Operations School was where members of Special Forces got training for diving operations. There was an outcrop of buildings around it and half a dozen men were waiting. Some were in Army uniforms while others were wearing PT shorts and T-shirts. The young sergeant stopped the vehicle and they both got out.

  “You’re the VIP visitor?”

  The man who spoke was in immaculate ACUs and he was even wearing the prescribed green beret. He stood at parade rest with his hands clasped in the small of his back. He was older than the others, 30s. He was a major.

  “Evening, Major. Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep.”

  “Well, I got a call from my CO who got a call from his, who got a call directly from the Pentagon. Some type of multiservice task force that I’m not supposed to ask questions about.”

  “Yes, it’s a training exercise.”

  “Training exercise, sure. With all the gear we’ve been told to assemble for you?”

  The sergeant who had driven him took off his hat. “Are you a spook, sir?”

  “I can’t answer that,” Rogan said, being deliberately cryptic so they would indeed believe he was some sort of secret agent. It would be a good way to deflect his real purpose.

  “Goddamn spooks,” the Major muttered as he turned around. “Follow me, your gear is this way. I want you out of my area ASAP. I was notified your bird is ready and waiting for you.”

  “Excellent. Show me what you got.”

  Rogan went to see the assembled equipment and he had to suppress a gasp. It had seemed reasonable when he had requested everything before leaving Washington, but now that he saw it laid out he wondered how he’d be able to wear it all. There had to be close to a hundred pounds of stuff, from weapons and ammunition to scuba gear.

  “Everything’s there, you can check.”

  Instead of replying with an inane “I trust you,” Rogan actually crouched and inventoried the kit. It was hard to believe that these operators actually had this on hand. They were truly Special Forces.

  “Looks good. Somebody said something about my bird being here?”

  For the first time the major smiled. He was happy to see him go.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  The sergeant with the Dallas Cowboys hat drove him back to the runway, specifically toward a huge C-130 plane which loomed over the smaller fighter jets which were all parked side by side.

  If he had known the school was so remote he would’ve had the gear transported to the airfield. Shiloh’s life was in the balance and every second counted. He had to calm himself down.

  “Your boss has a stick up his ass or what?” Rogan asked.

  The young man smiled. “He’s not my boss, he’s just the most senior student in the school right now. I think he’s just mad because it’s the second time he’s trying for his Combat Diver Qualification. Say, that’s some serious hardware you have back there. Looks like a HALO jump.”

  “It doesn’t look like anything because I was never here, Sarge.”

  “Right.”

  “But you’re still gonna help me unload this shit.”

  The NCO groaned but couldn’t help finishing with a chuckle.

  Before long they reached the gray Lockheed HC-130 waiting on the tarmac, its rear door hanging open. Three men in flight suits were standing next to the aircraft. One of them was eating a candy bar. The Humvee came to a stop nearby.

  “That must be my plane.”

  “And you must be our passenger,” the shortest of the aviation guys said. “Hey, I’m Captain Jones, I’m commander of this bird. This is Lieutenant Cochran, my copilot. The guy with the Snickers bar is the loadmaster, Warrant Officer Hewes.”

  While Rogan shook hands with everyone, the young sergeant started unloading the equipment. What struck him about the three men wasn’t that they looked competent or not but rather that they were Army.

  Initially, Rogan and Admiral Gelhausen had discussed sending a Hercules plane from the 920th Rescue Wing based at Patrick Air Force Base up in Cocoa Beach but it proved to be unnecessary.

  As it turned out, whenever the Underwater Operations School was hosting a class the Army sent a C-130 for training purposes since Special Forces operators had to learn how to jump out of planes into the water.

  Exactly what Rogan was here for tonight.

  The loadmaster went to help the sergeant carry the paraphernalia into the plane and the pilots came closer to Rogan.

  “So this is a training exercise, we’ve been told?”

  Cochran added, “Except there is no paperwork so it’s not really a training exercise, is it?”

  “Is that gonna be a problem, gentlemen?”

  “Transportation is one thing, but I see you have some firepower. I see a chute and a jump bag. I don’t like this. No offense but I don’t know you.”

  “Some really important officers called you though, right?”

  Jones exhaled. “Sir, it’s not your name that’s going to be called in front of a congressional committee if this thing goes FUBAR.”

  Rogan nodded. He realized he was an underdressed stranger with bruises on his face. “I can appreciate that. What if I sweeten the pot?”

  “Sir?”

  The guys finished loading up the gear and the sergeant waved at Rogan before leaving. Hewes joined the others.

  “What’s going on?”

  Rogan decided he couldn’t waste any more time. He fished for his wallet. The men noticed his FBI badge but it’s not what he was looking for. He dug inside and produced his American Express Centurion, the infamous Black Card.

  “Whoa,” the copilot said.

  “You guys know what this is?”

  “It’s a license to shop!”

  “Exactly. It’s yours. I don’t need it anymore. If I’m still alive in 24 hours I’ll cancel it, but until then use it to your heart’s content, anything you want. Anything you can think of. Deal? This is important.”

  “You serious?”

  “Dead serious.”

  The three aviators looked at each other. Captain Jones nodded.

  “Deal.”

  “Thanks, you don’t know how much I appreciate this.”

  They all started walking toward the plane.

  “By the way, mind telling us where we’re going?”

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Shiloh finally woke up for good. She was sitting upright in a chair – a quite comfortable chair actually. Everything was dark but before long her eyes adjusted to the darkness. There was a faint light coming in through the porthole. She was in a stateroom. There was a double bed, sconces, nightstands, it could have been a hotel room.

  The drugs were wearing off and her strength was coming back. Nevertheless, she still couldn’t move. The ropes holding her in place were too tight and there was no wiggle room. She couldn’t even raise her hands to slide off her gag.

  She thought about her plan from earlier. Now that she felt stronger there was still a chance that she could overpower these bastards and escape. The most important thing was not to lose hope.

  Suddenly, the door flew open and someone turned on the light. It hurt her eyes and she had to blink several times.

  “Good, you’re awake.”

  It was Cass Carranza. She was standing with her hands on her hips and next to her was the big guy from before. For the first time she noticed a scar running down his face. He looked thirsty for blood. He reminded her of a rapist she had once happily dispatched to hell during an operation in the Middle East.

  “It’s time we find out how much she knows and who she’s told. Think you can handle this, Gregor?”

  “It will be my pleasure,” he said, licking his lips.

  Shiloh had never been more afraid in her life.
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  Chapter 49

  At last, Rogan finished getting dressed. He was wearing polypropylene undergarments, a wetsuit, and over all this a thick jumpsuit to keep him warm because jumping out at 30,000 feet could expose him to freezing temperatures.

  “And you’re sure you’ve done this before?” Warrant Officer Hewes asked.

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  While Rogan had qualified for his Military Freefall Parachutist Badge he had actually only ever performed a HAHO jump once in combat. But it was like riding a bike, right?

  Hewes couldn’t hide his skepticism and shrugged.

  “All right, they got your ship on radar,” he said over the loud engine. We got 30 minutes before the drop.”

  The FBI agent nodded, he knew what that meant. He put on an oxygen mask while the loadmaster did the same. The plane had to be depressurized to acclimate the skydiver’s body. If this wasn’t done, Rogan’s blood vessels would explode before he’d even reached the ocean.

  Breathing pure oxygen, the two men continued getting him ready which mostly consisted in strapping the colossal bag to Rogan’s chest. It was almost as big as a hockey pouch, only bulkier. Between this and the parachute on his back, it offered a claustrophobic feeling.

  The last thing to go on was the M4 CQBR, a shortened version of the M4A1 carbine designed for close quarters battles; this one was outfitted with a sound suppressor. It was in a plastic bag so it would stay dry.

  Hewes winked at him and made the A-OK sign with his fingers. Rogan nodded and now all he had to do was wait. Under other circumstances, he would have said that he needed to gather his courage but that wasn’t necessary today.

  The only thing that scared him was never seeing Shiloh again. He had struggled these past five years without her. To find out that she had been alive all this time, that she had played him all along, it had been devastating. He was willing to overlook that, especially after how he felt being next to her once again. He loved her in spite of everything.