A Tommy Logan Story

by Darren D. Lee

  A

  Tommy Logan

  Story

  Darren D. Lee

  ©2018 Darren D. Lee. All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the author, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

  DISCLAIMER

  This is a work of fiction that uses some real locations. Any corporate entities spoken of are fictional or shown in neither negative or positive way. All characters are fictional and any resemblance to any person is coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A New America, A Safe America

  July 27th, 2025

  August 1st, 2025

  August 2nd, 2025

  August 4th, 2025

  August 5th, 2025

  August 15th, 2025

  August 19th, 2025

  August 20th, 2025

  August 23rd, 2025

  December 25th, 2025

  April 2nd, 2026

  April 4th, 2026

  May 22nd, 2026

  May 23rd, 2026

  May 24th, 2026

  May 25th, 2026

  A Nation Shaken

  About The Author

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’d like to extend a special thank you to everyone who previewed this story and provided valuable feedback

  Without you guys, this wouldn’t have happened.

  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  A New America, A Safe America

  Logan sat in the dark room, lit only by the dim streetlight shining through the window blinds. He had found himself at the center of events that could reshape a nation. A nation that had been ruled under an absolute doctrine for more than sixty years. February 24th, 1964 would prove to be a turning point for the United States. The 88th Congress unanimously passed and delivered the “A Safe America Act” to the desk of the President. The legislation wasn’t just a law, but a new philosophy of justice in America. Prisons would be phased out within the next five years. Heinous crimes had one penalty: death. Lesser crimes, misdemeanors and low-grade felonies would be punished by fines under a three strikes philosophy. On the third strike, the offender would be executed.

  Through passing decades, the philosophy was praised by citizens and lawmakers alike. Crime statistics dropped steadily to all-time lows and continued to plummet. Idle prisons and jails were shut down and sold for redevelopment. Others were re-purposed into detainment camps. These camps were nothing short of an execution center. Once convicted, an offender would be transported and held at one of these camps for seven days before sentencing would be carried out.

  The nation experienced unrivaled growth. Money saved from the upkeep and housing of prisoners was spent on infrastructure along and development. The U.S. enjoyed a surplus at the end of every fiscal year. All law-abiding citizens benefited economically.

  After the Vietnam, the U.S. Military withdrew from nearly all wartime conventions and agreements. U.S. Leaders left with only a vague promise to not engage in chemical or biological warfare. Military leaders had recognized the value of an absolute approach to war and were all too happy to adopt a similar no tolerance philosophy into their operations.

  In 1980 the ASA was founded. Named for the “A Safe America Act”, the agency was meant to be a support group for all state level and lower law enforcement agencies. Five years later, the United States declared itself the safest place in the world, giving credit to the ASA and the legislation it was named after. By 1990, the ASA was the strong arm of law enforcement in the country with all other law enforcement agencies downsized into support groups, eventually being completely absorbed into the ASA.

  In 1990, the Gulf War broke out. The United States led a coalition of allied nations into combat and effectively ended the war in one week. Afterwards, the U.S. levied debt upon those allied nations, claiming it was the efforts of the U.S. Armed forces the led to a quick resolution to the conflict. Nations spoke out against the U.S., claiming the use of cruel tactics and the number of civilian casualties were uncalled for, but ultimately they would back down and pay towards their debts each year.

  The United States would then enjoy two decades of peace. In early 2010, economic rival, The People’s Republic of China detained seventeen Americans who were traveling on business. China demanded that the U.S. lower its tariffs in order for the release of detainees. The United States demanded they be released within one hour or face an invasion force. Thus, began the second Seven Years War, a name borrowed from the conflict between the British, French, and Native forces in America’s time as colonies.

  A few short months after the breakout of war, Thomas Lee Logan, nineteen years old, enlisted in the United States Army to serve his country and combat its enemies abroad. Logan proved to be a capable soldier after a few successful missions and was selected for special forces training. During his training, Logan was put forth as a candidate for a special task force known as TacSIX. TacSIX was instrumental in the defeat of China in 2017 although exactly how remained a heavily classified secret. Logan was sworn to secrecy and discharged with full retirement, hefty severance pay, and his choice of postings within the ASA. His few family members weren’t surprised when he chose Pittsburgh, PA as his posting. Pittsburgh was a city his family visited often, and also a city that still had remnants of criminals in operation.

  Logan took a deep breath while he ignited the green lit face of his digital watch. “May 25th, 2026...” He grunted, the hood of his black sweatshirt shadowing his face, hiding any details. Logan reached into the front pockets of his hoody, pulling out a worn pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He pulled a smoke from the pack and nestled the filter between his lips before he tossed the pack onto the barely visible table. A quick strike of the lighter flickered, giving way to a cloud of smoke with his exhale. “Almost a year now, I think I can tell my story now… Her story.” He reached down beside his chair and pulled up a plain black backpack. Logan unzipped the front pouch and pulled out a small mini-cassette recorder and numerous blank cassettes. “No doubt they’ll be wondering why I did what I did.” He popped open the recorder and inserted a blank tape. Logan switched it on and spoke clearly. “Check… Check…” He pushed the rewind button, then played it back. His weathered voice spoke through the static and echo of the dated technology. Logan pressed the record button once more. “July 7th, 2025 seems a fitting place to begin…”

  July 27th, 2025

  The day started out as it normally would, a bit emptier office because of it being Sunday and all. I was shuffling around my office, been the Lieutenant Commander of the Pittsburgh ASA for nearly a month at that point and I still hadn’t got all my things squared away. I was really regretting taking that position. Sitting in that office all the time doing paperwork just wasn’t for me. The Commander got out in the field less than I did, I don’t see how he stood it. Pittsburgh was quiet mostly. The occasional homicide or drug dealer getting busted. It had been decades since the A Safe America Act. You’d think those idiots would’ve learned at that point, but I guess a dog is going to bark; seems you can’t beat nature.

  I finally sat down at my desk, the chair was comfortable but a bit firm for my taste. My black metal desk was littered with paperwork, arrest reports, crime statistics, and a bunch of other garbage I’d have to review and sign off that I had in fact reviewed it. Did I mention I was really starting to hate taking that promotion? I remember taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh at the sight of my cluttered desk before looking down to a box. On top of the pile of plaques and various framed awards for my
“Esteemed Service”, as they put it, was an eight by ten picture of Angel, my sister. It had been little more than a year since I had seen her. She made it to Pittsburgh a few times a year but this past year had been busy for me. Extra assignments, overtime, that smuggling ring that was hidden a little too well for my liking… I kept thinking how good it was going to be to see her.

  I felt my phone vibrate in my jeans. I pulled it out to see Ramirez’s name lighting up on the screen. Alex Ramirez, good agent. He followed good orders to a T and questioned bad orders immediately. I swiped the screen to answer, I thought he was probably inviting me over for a beer and wings after we knocked off. “Hey man.”

  “LC, we got a situation!”

  “Report,” I replied. Ramirez and I were pretty informal despite my promotion, but the tone of his voice… It demanded all business.

  “Some asshole murdered his wife. We got his apartment complex pinned down and the halls occupied but—”

  “But what?” I interrupted. This guy was a murderer. Standard procedure was to terminate him as quickly as possible if he was giving resistance, which he had to be for Ramirez to bother calling higher up. He hated doing that.

  “His daughter, LC.” Ramirez’s words were uneasy. Hadn’t heard his voice shake like that in years. “He’s got her held hostage. We breached his apartment investigating a domestic violence call after he refused to open up. There he was, piece to his daughter’s head while they stood over his wife’s corpse!”

  “Shit, has he made any demands?”

  “Not unless ‘Get the fuck out’ counts.”

  “Fuck.”

  “My thoughts exactly, LC,” replied Ramirez before a slight pause. “What’s your orders?”

  I trembled at his question. It wasn’t a tremble of nervousness or fear. It was anxiety… Yeah, I was anxious. I hated it for the dead woman and that poor girl, but part of me was glad some degenerate was getting me out of this damn office. “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

  “Sir?”

  “What’s your location?” I asked.

  “That shitty apartment building on Mahon Street.”

  “Damn,” I thought. That building was several floors. Getting in and keeping the girl alive wasn’t going to be easy. “What floor?”

  “Third, Sir. Corner apartment, street side.”

  “Hold position. I’m dispatching an arms truck to your location and declaring protocol thirteen.”

  “LC! Protocol thirteen? You sure? Commander is going to shit when he hears.”

  “I’ll take the heat. I’ve lost one innocent today, I damn sure ain’t losing another.”

  “You got it LC!”

  I swiped and ended the call, then grabbed my tablet from the desk. The Pittsburgh ASA intranet opened up and I glanced at the strike force members on call for the weekend. Most agents loved being on call. Paid double time to rack out in HQ all weekend. I only needed three plus myself and a pilot. The three needed to be jump qualified as well. Luckily, there were three that were qualified. I touched the screen next to each of their names sending out the call. Jacobs, he was my pilot and had also flown over China in the Second Seven Years War. Williams, he was a tech expert. Wouldn’t need those skills, but he was a body and jump qualified. Sargeant, he was a heavy weapons expert. Wasn’t going to be blowing up the apartment building, but he’d get the job done. Chambers, she was a sniper and urban tactics instructor. She’d do nicely on entry. Then finally, Monroe. Can’t say I liked that guy; he was a dick but an expert marksman.

  Next, I backed out of that screen and moved over to the dispatch hub. I had to make a decision on how I wanted to play this. Couldn’t just kick in the door or repel through the windows like I would prefer, too risky for the girl. I needed to somehow immobilize him before we breached the apartment. Flashbangs were out of the question; he’d be blind but still able to hang on to the girl and put a bullet in her head. What I decided on was a risk, but under Protocol Thirteen regs, I could do pretty much anything I felt necessary. I was going to use FCS gas. A highly concentrated tear gas and most importantly, it was extremely fast acting. The only problem was I had about thirty seconds to get that girl out of there before she suffered permanent damage. It would start to burn out her respiratory system after a minute or so, killing her. That also meant the building needed to get evacuated. Last thing I needed was the residents bitching or dying. I hit the dispatch and called Ramirez back.

  “Go ahead, LC,” he answered.

  “Arms truck is in route carrying 203s and FCS rounds.”

  “Holy shit, Tommy!” he shouted. “You’re going to ice the whole damn building with that!”

  “Evacuate the building as quietly as you can.” After a microsecond of thought, I decided it would probably be wise to evacuate the whole block. “Might want to evacuate the whole block. This may get messy.”

  “Sir, understood Sir!”

  “Good, I’m leading a small strike team from the air. We’re prepping to leave now. ETA fifteen minutes.”

  “Understood!”

  I hung the phone up and basically leaped from my chair. My heart was pumping like it hadn’t in months. I felt alive. My clothes, weren’t exactly combat ready; just a pair of jeans and a black ASA polo but it would work. I opened my locker and grabbed my vest and strapped it on. Standard issue, thick sappy plates front and back with several magazine pouches filled and ready. Next, I grabbed my NBC mask, hooking it to my vest’s front. I knew this was going to suck. With rank came privilege. High ranking agents were allowed to grow neatly groomed facial hair. I had grown a thin jawline of a beard and a goatee. My mask wasn’t going to seal properly.

  Flight after flight of stairs I ran, climbing to the roof. My vest alone weighed about fifty pounds before ammo. I carried my M4 close to my chest, sidearm .45 strapped to my thigh. After exiting the stairway and onto the agency roof, the sound of the chopper's rotor was buzzing and my team stood ready waiting. I approached them slow enough to overhear some of their banter to one another.

  “I’m going to kill me some bad guys,” declared Monroe.

  “Shit,” replied Williams. “You’re too much of a fucking pussy to ice anyone.”

  “Watch your language, assholes!” demanded Chambers. “I’m a lady and don’t appreciate you using my genitalia to diss someone!”

  “You aren’t a fucking Lady,” said Sargeant while he chuckled a bit. “You’re a motherfuckin’ killing machine!”

  “Lock it up!” I called, getting their attention. “We got a 1030alpha, hostage situation. One perp – male, and one victim killed already. Hostage is a girl, no info on age. We aren’t losing another innocent today.”

  “What’s our plan?” asked Chambers.

  “I’ve dispatched an arms truck carrying FCS to Agent Ramirez. He’s currently evacuating the whole city block. We’re going in by air.”

  Monroe quickly spoke up, as he always did, prick. “Uh, Sir, not to disrespect your combat experience and all, but wouldn’t a chopper landing on the roof make the perp a little jumpy… Maybe even trigger happy?”

  “Of course it would, Monroe. You’re all jump qualified. That’s right, kids. We’re ‘chuting up for this one. I’ve declared Protocol Thirteen in the logs. Anything goes.”

  “Shit, Protocol Thirteen,” muttered Chambers.

  “It’s your ass, LC,” said Sargeant while he shook his head.

  I motioned for them to get in the bird. It wasn’t very different from a news chopper except it was black, had ‘ASA’ on the side of it and was loaded with tactical gear. I grabbed the copilot seat after strapping on my chute. I looked back to my team as they strapped in. “We need one penetrating gun and each of you needs enough rope to repel down six stories.” They all gave the thumbs up as I put on my helmet and switched on the radio. I looked over to Jacobs, he usually remained silent, a man of few words. “Take us up. Mahon street.” He nodded and the bird lifted off. I tuned my radio to Ramirez’s channel with a quick twist of the
dial on the side of the helmet. “Lieutenant Commander Logan to Agent Ramirez.”

  “Go ahead, Sir.”

  “We are airborne and in route, requesting a sitrep.”

  “Last of the building’s occupants are being escorted out now. Agents are in process of evacuating the rest of the block, how copy?”

  “Good copy. I want it done within ten mikes, how copy?”

  “Good copy. It’ll be a ghost town aside from us, Sir.”

  “Get it done, over and out.”

  I looked out at the clear sky. The sun shined brightly above us, it was just past noon. We were over Mahon street but still climbing to the right altitude. I looked back to my team who were double-checking their gear before the jump. “Alright, guys. Small target. I’ll jump first, pull your cords when you see my chute. Understood?”

  “Yes Sir,” they all replied.

  Jacobs tapped my shoulder, letting me know we had reached altitude. I hooked my weapon to my vest and opened the door just as the rear doors slide open. I leaned out, glancing to Chambers. “See you on the other side!” I jumped, immediately my stomach got that unsettling feeling you get from free fall. Didn’t matter how many times I jumped, never quite got used to that.

  The gees pushed against me as I fell. The wind was freezing through my polo and jeans. Tac gear would have been nice, but at least it wasn’t December. I pulled my cord and felt the jerk of my chute slowing my descent. Glancing up, my team had all pulled their chute and followed closely. The graveled roof was now just below me. I glanced around seeing no one but ASA agents on the ground. Ramirez had got the job done. I knew he would. Like I said, good Agent. My legs raise as I landed on the roof, stumbling a bit before I started pulling my chute to me. Not my most graceful jump, but I was freezing. Moments later, my team touched down one by one, pulling their chutes and unbuckling them. I turned to the Mahon street side of the building before calling to Ramirez on the radio. “Eagle has landed, Ramirez how copy?”