All Necessary Force pl-2

by Brad Taylor

  Alexander Palmer entered the room, saying, “We got one. The guy working for Pennsylvania Power and Light. Tracked his GPS and pulled him over like a routine traffic stop.”

  President Warren said, “Are we sure they’re terrorists?”

  Palmer smiled. “Oh yeah. Guess who was with him? The disappearing imam from Canada, Abdul-Majid Mohammed. Along with a trunk full of some kind of specialized explosives.”

  Brookings said, “There. See. Law enforcement’s doing fine.”

  Pike said, “Bullshit. That’s one fucking team. We have no idea how many are out there, and the only way to find out is to catch the leader. The killer from Egypt. He’ll have a plan for failure, and he sure as shit doesn’t have a GPS on his car.”

  Palmer saw the intercom on the table blinking, and held up his finger. “I told them to patch in any updates. Hang on for a second.”

  He pressed the button and said, “This is Palmer. Go ahead.”

  A tinny voice came through. “We tracked the GPS of the guy working at Baltimore Gas and Electric. His truck was parked down a deserted dirt road, empty. The guy working for Pepco here in D.C. doesn’t have a GPS on his truck, but his supervisor’s trying to locate him. In some good news, the guy who works for Dominion Power is being tracked right now. He’s outside of Richmond in a rural area. We have men posted at the only substation along his route with an EHVT.”

  “Can you patch their radio in here?”

  “Yeah, stand by.”

  Thirty seconds later, they could hear the Virginia state trooper talking to his dispatch.

  “I got a Dominion truck headed my way. I can see it down the hill.”

  “Roger. Be advised, the suspects are considered armed and dangerous.”

  “Roger. Don’t worry, I’ve handled skinheads before.”

  Pike said, “What’s he talking about? He’s confused. He thinks he’s still tracking the Phoenix Order.”

  Palmer held up his hand, getting Pike quiet so they could monitor the radio traffic.

  “…. he’s turned on the access road. Must be the guy. He’s seen me and stopped. I’m sending Billy down to him. Stand by.”

  Everyone in the conference room held their breath, waiting. Finally, the trooper came back on. “False alarm. This guy’s black. He’s not a skinhead—”

  A muted crack came through the speaker, followed by random static. Then the trooper came back on, screaming. “Officer down! Officer down! I need—”

  Nothing more came out.

  Pike broke the silence. “They have no idea what they’re up against. Sir, manhunting is what I do, and I’m fucking good at it. Turn me loose.”

  President Warren sat in silence, feeling the weight of the decision. Wondering, if he crossed the line, could he ever go back. He considered what Pike had said earlier, realizing that Pike thought the only thing riding on the decision was the fear of Taskforce discovery, and the subsequent fallout to everyone in the room. He didn’t seem to grasp the peril of an organization like the Taskforce operating on U.S. soil. He returned Pike’s expectant gaze.

  A good man. But a predator. A menace to our way of life. A menace I created.

  The scientist on the VTC spoke up. “Substation 416 outside of Richmond just went off-line, causing a string of shutdowns. We’re at seventy percent. We lose seven more by attack, and it’s unrecoverable.”

  Pike said, “Sir?”

  President Warren watched the scientist fidget on the screen for a moment, then looked Pike in the eye.

  “Go.”

  Brookings’ mouth fell open in disbelief. Nobody in the room said a word, the implications of the decision speaking for itself. President Warren watched Pike scramble to get out the door, a predator now free to slaughter by any means he chose.

  A predator I might have to put down.

  He put his head in his hands, hating the decision he had just made.

  71

  Jennifer and I crawled our way back to Taskforce headquarters, the gridlock caused by the lack of stoplights turning a ten-minute trip into thirty. I got sick of waiting and swung onto the sidewalk, blasting my horn at the pedestrians in front of me.

  Jennifer threw her hand up to the roof and stomped down on an imaginary brake pedal.

  “Jesus, Pike! What are you doing?”

  “Getting us to headquarters. Call Retro; have him standing by to get us in.”

  She pulled out her phone, slapping the dash at every close call I had. After she hung up, she said, “I’m coming with you.”

  I considered the offer. I could definitely use the help, but I knew there was little chance we could do this clean. If she came, odds were she’d be prosecuted right along with me, because there was no doubt I was going to break the law.

  “No, you’re not. Jennifer, I’m going way, way out on this. Trust me, you don’t want to be a part of it.”

  “Yes, I do. I heard what’s going on. I was in the room.”

  “No, you don’t. I’m probably going to do some things that make Cairo seem mild. You don’t have the stomach for it.”

  We were stopped by a throng of people exiting a Metro station, forcing us to inch along, with them flowing around the truck.

  “And that’s okay. The world needs more of you than they do of me. But right now, as much as you hate it, I’m the solution.”

  She gave me a funny look, then turned to the window, watching the people wandering around with dazed expressions, all apparently wondering what they were going to do without the Metro.

  “I don’t know what I was before I met you, but I know what I am now, and it’s not that. I used to be like them, safe and happy while someone else kept me that way.”

  Her next words caused my jaw to drop.

  “You called me a meat eater in Cairo after I killed the Chinese agent, and I hated you for it. Hated you for holding up the mirror. I didn’t want to believe it, but that doesn’t make it untrue. Those guys need to be stopped, and I’m the solution as well.”

  She saw my disbelief and broke into a grin. “What? I am what I am. You’re the man to blame.”

  I wasn’t sure if she honestly accepted what her statement meant, and there was still the problem of prosecution when this was done.

  “There’s no reason for both of us to go to jail.”

  We made it through the crowd, and I swerved to avoid a moped that had hopped the sidewalk as well, forcing him to crash into a couple of plastic garbage cans.

  She slapped the dash again, saying, “Nobody said we were going to jail for sure. But without me, you’ll be charged with vehicular manslaughter.” She smiled. “Besides, I’m not in the government either, and I’m tied to you by our company. Whatever you do will impact that, and I need to protect the investment.”

  “Jennifer—”

  She cut me off, growing serious again. “Pike, remember that story you told me about sacrifice? How you always thought it was strange that plenty of men in the Army would be willing to jump on a grenade and sacrifice their lives, but not so many would stand up for what’s right if it meant sacrificing their career? This is the same thing. It’s my choice.”

  Wow, that’s dirty pool. Using my own words against me.

  Something had definitely shifted within her. I saw the determination on her face and gave up. “As you wish.”

  The words startled her for a split second, then her face split into a grin. “Damn right. As I wish.”

  Pulling into the underground garage, I was surprised to see Decoy waiting outside the door. He smiled and gave us a thumbs-up. Seconds later, I met him and Retro in the stairwell.

  Taking the steps two at a time, I said, “What are you doing here?”

  “Helping you get a terrorist.”

  Retro said, “Me too. Buckshot’s also waiting in Ops.”

  I exited on the second floor, moving straight to the communications cell.

  “No, you’re not going with me, because you don’t have authority to operate domestically. Only I
can do that.”

  Retro said, “What the hell are you talking about?”

  I entered the communications cell, moving straight past the myriad of radios and telephone equipment to a back room lined with row after row of computer servers. I barked at the first person I saw.

  “I need you to hack into the GPS tracking systems of the Dominion Power company, and I need it done yesterday.”

  The man at the computer stuttered for a second, then said, “I can’t do that. I’m not authorized to do anything to American networks.”

  “The president of the United States just authorized it. And if that’s not good enough, I’m going to break every fucking finger on both of your hands until you’re forced to hunt and peck with a permanent splint.”

  His eyes wide, he nodded. I handed him the information on the Dominion truck, saying, “I want a real-time fix on this transmitted to my phone within the next five minutes.”

  I left without another word, moving up two flights to the team rooms and the weapons lockup, Retro and Decoy hot on my heels. Five minutes later, I’d robbed one of the lockups of a full-size Glock 21, some handheld radios, and a Glock 30 subcompact, along with plenty of loaded magazines for both. When I handed Jennifer the subcompact on the way back down the stairs, Retro and Decoy about lost their minds.

  “What the hell! She’s coming with you, but you won’t take us?”

  I couldn’t resist. “She’s coming because she trusts me. You two can wait on a ‘real’ operator for your next mission.”

  Decoy said, “Come on, Pike, that’s not fair. You take things too hard. You have to admit you leaned way, way out over the edge in Europe. We want to help.”

  I stopped outside the door of the commo cell, seeing Buckshot coming down the hall.

  “Look, here’s the truth. Jennifer and I have made a deal with the devil. We’ll go get this guy, but if any stink comes out of it, we get blamed. The president wasn’t willing to use an official Taskforce team domestically. We’re both civilians, and easy to throw away. You guys aren’t. You get rolled up in this, and you’re going to be hung out to dry.”

  Buckshot heard the tail end of the conversation and said, “Maybe I’m okay with that. I’m from New York. Maybe I’ll get to have a word with that asshole Cyrus Mace and his little white supremacist thing.”

  “I’m not sure traitors get put in state institutions. And that’s what you’ll be. I can’t protect you, and I can guarantee I’m going to break quite a few laws to get these guys. I’ve already started.”

  All three stood for a second before Decoy said, “We’re in.”

  I was surprised. “You guys haven’t seen leaning over the edge yet. You ready for that?”

  “No issues.”

  I nodded. “Go get your kit. Bring down the keys for two Suburbans from the Ops Center. Buckshot, you’re going to stay here to make sure these techies break the law when I tell them to.”

  “Why don’t you leave Jennifer here for that?” He looked at her. “No offense.”

  I opened the door, seeing a roomful of techies all staring at me. “Because I’m going to need you to do things she’s not capable of.”

  72

  The two Suburbans chewed up the ground toward Richmond, going as fast as possible in the congestion of Interstate 95, spending most of the time throwing gravel on the shoulder to get around the traffic. Jennifer was driving while I got a data dump from the scientist at the Oversight Council. It wasn’t good. Four more substations with EHVTs had been taken out, and we had at least two attackers on the loose without a way to find them.

  We’ve got to get a handle on the leader. Some way to track.

  The only thing we had going for us was that the cop killer was still driving his Dominion Power truck. His track showed up less than twelve miles ahead, now outside of Spotsylvania, near the National Military Park. We exited at Highway 208 near Fredericksburg and began to hunt. We took a right on County Road 613 and passed through the park. Getting to the far side, I saw the truck ahead of us.

  “Retro, I’ve got him. We’re going to take him out. Follow behind. When he’s stopped, get out and smoke him.”

  “You sure that’s him? You want me to confirm?”

  “No. I just heard him kill two cops in cold blood. Don’t waste your time trying to play Joe Friday. Kill him.”

  “What about questioning?”

  “He won’t respond to questions, and we don’t have time to apply force. Get his phone. That will answer everything.” I heard nothing back, and added, “Retro, trust me. Put a bullet in that guy’s head before he can do the same to you.”

  “Roger.”

  Jennifer heard the conversation and squinted at me, knowing I’d just ordered the extrajudicial execution of an American citizen.

  “What? We only have two or three substations left. This is how it’s going to be. You want out, say the word.”

  She said, “What do you want me to do?”

  “PIT him. Just like happened to you at Assessment. Bring his ass down.”

  She pressed the gas, closing in on the truck. She brought the Suburban right behind his bumper, close enough for me to recognize an African American in the driver’s seat. That’s him.

  She flipped the blinker and began to pass. When she came abreast of his left rear tire, she swerved into it, slamming into the large truck with all of the force the Suburban could muster. We became engaged in a battle of steel, his truck refusing to break contact with the road surface and our Suburban grinding into it, trying to overcome gravity.

  “Push, dammit, give it gas!”

  She floored the Suburban, and I saw the truck begin to move. We continued racing down the roadway locked together, with the back end of the truck moving in slow motion. We reached the crossover point, and the back end began to slide. Jennifer expertly controlled the wheel, forcing the rear end to swing around. Seconds later, we were shooting past with the truck spinning out of control. Jennifer slammed on the brakes and I jumped out, running to the vehicle seventy meters behind.

  Retro had pinned the truck with his own Suburban and leapt out, Decoy right behind. The driver fiddled with something in the front seat, then exited with a yell, firing a pistol ineffectually at their advance. Retro and Decoy both pulled the trigger at the same time, splitting his head open. By the time I reached the vehicle, he was down. And absolutely dead.

  “Find his phone. Get the numbers.”

  I called Kurt. “We got one. Going to track the others with the numbers off of his phone.”

  Kurt said, “What do you mean ‘we’?”

  “I’ve got Jennifer with me,” I lied. “Tell the Virginia troopers they can collect the carcass that killed their men.” I gave him our location and hung up.

  Decoy came up with the phone. “It’s a pay-as-you-go. Only one number in it. What do you want to do?”

  I called Buckshot. “Put a techie on the line.”

  I heard a faltering voice. “Hello?”

  “I need a geolocation of a phone. And I need it in real time.”

  “Uhhh… Okay. Give me the number.”

  I passed it to him. He came back on. “Uhh… this is a CONUS number. I can’t do anything with the domestic telephony. I’m sorry. It’s illegal.”

  Jesus Christ.

  “Put on Buckshot.”

  He said, “Yeah?”

  “Hit him.”

  “What?”

  “Hit him in the face. Right now. Then give him the phone.”

  I heard a smack, then screaming. When the techie came back on, he was crying.

  “Okay. You’re now under duress. It isn’t your fault. You were forced to track the phones. You understand?”

  “Ye-Yes. I understand.”

  “Get me the phone tracks right fucking now or I’m going to have Buckshot rip off your head.”

  I hung up and began ripping through the power truck, looking for anything to give us a handle on the other two terrorists. Inside was a laptop compu
ter displaying a news page on the blackout. Enjoying his last fifteen minutes of fame. There was nothing else. Retro called from the back.

  “Found the EFPs. He’s got three in here, so we stopped at least that many attacks.”

  “That’s good, but not good enough. We need some way to track those guys. We only have one number, and at least two terrorists running around without GPS on their vehicles.”

  Jennifer began going through the computer, looking for anything that might help us. She brought up the Internet history, clicking on recent pages. As I watched the screen slowly load, the Web page itself caused a flash of realization.

  It’s talking to the Internet. Out here in the middle of nowhere.

  “Jennifer, how’s that computer online? What’s it using?”

  She played with the keys for second. “Looks like an AT&T 3G connection.”

  My phone rang. I interrupted the techie before he had a chance to say anything.

  “Can you geolocate a company computer using the cell network to access the Internet?”

  “Well, sure. Basically, it’s dialing in just like a cell phone. What service?”

  “This one’s AT&T, but I don’t know about the one I need tracked.”

  “Well, AT&T is a GSM network, so all I need is the IMEI number from the device.”

  “What’s an IMEI?”

  “Just a standardized number that identifies the device over the network. Every GSM cell phone has one.”

  “How do I find it?”

  “I can’t explain it over the phone. I need to see the computer.”

  “Would there be records of that sort of thing? At the company? Is that something a company would keep if they issued a bunch of laptops with this service?”

  “Yeah. Someone would have the number in case the computer was stolen. They’d want to turn off the service.”

  “Put Buckshot on the line.”

  When he came on, I told him to put a fire under the analysts, finding out if Pepco had computer hookups like Dominion, and if they did, to find the IMEI of the computer the ex-con had in his truck. I knew he’d have it on, doing the same thing as the man we’d just killed, enjoying the destruction he was unleashing. He clicked off, turning the phone back to the techie.