by C. G. Cooper
“Hey, Brandon, what are you doing here?”
“You know, I thought I’d stop by while I was in the neighborhood.”
Cal laughed. “Seriously, what are you doing in Nashville?”
“I was wondering if we could have a little chat.”
“Sure. You mind coming up to my room?”
They talked about how the Congressman’s rehab was going and Cal bitched about his stitches while they rode the elevator and then walked to Cal’s suite.
Cal held the door for Zimmer.
“Wow! Nice place you’ve got here,” Zimmer admired as he looked around.
“Yeah. One of the perks of being an owner, I guess.” Never one to beat around the bush, Cal dove right in. “So, how can I help?”
Zimmer winced as he took a seat on the closest chair. “Well, there’ve been some developments in my political career,” he said cryptically.
“Don’t tell me there’s another psychopath trying to blackmail you!”
“Nothing that much fun. No, I’ve been approached by the Democratic Party to run for my dad’s open Senate seat in Massachusetts.”
“Well that’s great, isn’t it?”
“Sure, but it’s not a given. I’ll have to run in a special election. I’m so young that I don’t know if I’ll win.”
“What’s the worst that could happen, you still get to be a Congressman?” Cal joked.
Zimmer laughed. “Yeah, I know. But I’m just not sure if I’m qualified.”
“I don’t mean to repeat myself, but how again do you need my help?”
“I wanted to ask you, as a friend, whether you think I should run for Senate.”
Cal was floored. Why is he asking me? How am I qualified to give that kind of advice?
“Look, Brandon, you know I stay way outside the political stuff. I wouldn’t know the first thing about…”
“I guess I’m just asking if you think I have a shot.”
Cal looked at his newest friend. They had been through a lot. He wondered how else the universe could’ve thrown the two men together.
“In my humble, dumb grunt opinion…I think you should do it. I mean, you’re not half the asshole your dad was.”
They both laughed at the macabre reference.
“Okay. Thanks, Cal.”
“No problem. But, I’m sensing there’s something else?”
“There is. I’ve been invited to a new club.”
“What, like Army-Navy?”
“No. President Waller has asked me to be a part of the Council of Patriots.”
Cal couldn’t conceal his surprise. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, Waller figured that I already know about it and now I’m in a better position to help. He’s even gonna quietly put his political backers behind my run for Senate.”
“But, all the members are RETIRED politicians. Isn’t that putting you in a precarious position?”
Zimmer was suddenly serious. “Two weeks ago, I had a really different view of how the world works. Now I know that groups like the Council exist for a reason. They’re part of the solution not the problem.”
“And you’re okay with the way we go about exploiting the intel we get?”
“You’re really asking ME that?” Zimmer asked with a sad grin. “Have you already forgotten what I did in Vegas?”
Cal would never forget Zimmer shooting his own father in the face. He was still surprised that it had been the Congressman who had killed the two masterminds of the conspiracy.
“Alright, alright. I get it. So, that brings us back to the original question: how can I help?”
“I’ve been tasked by the Council to bring you this.” He handed over a single sheet of paper.
Cal skimmed the summary and looked up.
“Anything else I should know before we start looking into this?”
“President Waller figured you’d want to do some research first. How about we…”
The two turned as a loud ringing sounded in Cal’s makeshift office. “Sorry, that’s my secure line. Let me go grab that.”
Stokes trotted over to his small desk and picked up.
“Stokes.”
Zimmer watched as Cal’s face went blank.
“Are you sure?” His face gave away his total shock. “Okay, I’ll be right over.”
Cal hung up the phone and didn’t say a word.
“Is everything alright, Cal?”
“No.” Stokes answered as he rhythmically clenched and unclenched his fist.
“What happened?” Zimmer asked with concern. He’d never seen the normally unflappable Marine in such a state.
Cal turned to the Congressman with dread-filled eyes.
“Neil’s disappeared.”
+++++
“Prime Asset”
Book 3 of the Corps Justice Series
Copyright © 2013 Corps Justice. All Rights Reserved
Author: C. G. Cooper
Editor: Karen Rought
Book Cover: Sherwin Soy
(http://www.CorpsJustice.com)
Episode 1
Chapter 1
Grand Teton Mountain Range, Wyoming
5:49pm, September 28th
The shivering was gone. Adrenaline coursed through his body, fueling survival. The huge grizzly bear took another swipe as the young man retaliated with a short swing with his torch. Sparks flew as the errant swing grazed the side of the small alcove.
The bear didn’t flinch. Instead, it pushed its head into the opening and unleashed a deafening roar. The grizzly’s hot breath assaulted the trapped man as he tried to make himself as small as possible against the back of the hole. There was nowhere to go. He’d lost all his weapons except for the burning torch that was now almost out. What he wouldn’t give for even a small knife. The only thing saving him from instant death was the fact that the bear couldn’t fit through the alcove’s entrance. But its claws could, and they’d already torn a jagged cut into the man’s winter parka. It wouldn’t be long until the bear figured out how to get more.
The man had no idea how the animal had followed him onto the narrow ledge. He’d underestimated the bear’s tenacity and hunger. The park ranger had warned about the bears being hungrier than usual this year. Something about a shortage of berries. Shaking the thought from his head, the man reviewed his options. There were none. The best he could do was to wait and see if his attacker would leave. But that was unlikely given his current position.
The early fall blizzard continued to blow in as the bear tried to widen the opening. Suddenly, and without warning, the bear pulled its head out and turned around.
What’s he doing? thought the man.
He chanced a peek out of the man-sized hole and watched the bear as it sniffed the air, almost looking like a dog as it searched.
The young man wouldn’t have another chance. Squeezing out of the hole, the loud wind mercifully masking any sound, he stood not three feet from the distracted grizzly. He’d never make it if he took the path. The bear would win. Making up his mind, Cal Stokes sprinted the four feet to the ravine’s ledge and jumped.
Chapter 2
Teton Village, Jackson Hole, Wyoming
Two Days Earlier, 4:24pm, September 26th
Days earlier, Cal Stokes and Daniel Briggs landed in the small Jackson Hole airport. If asked, they were in the area for a two week hunting trip.
Cal was in his early thirties, good-looking and just under six feet tall. He was dressed in jeans, boots and a distressed t-shirt. His brown hair was covered in a trucker’s ball cap. After getting his bearings, he left his companion and proceeded to the Enterprise counter.
Briggs, a couple inches taller and a former Marine sniper, stayed behind and waited for their luggage. He shook out his shoulder length blonde hair and tied it back in a ponytail. Out of habit, he glanced around casually while bending down to retie his hiking boots. No obvious surveillance other than the airport security cameras. Five minutes later, Briggs hauled
their four bags and two weapons cases out the sliding doors.
The temperature was still in the upper sixties as Briggs took a deep breath. He loved the outdoors. He’d never been to Wyoming. Now was his chance. As the newest employee of Stokes Security International, Daniel was also his employer’s unofficial bodyguard. On SSI’s official ledger he was listed as ‘Security Contractor 3982.’ The company did a lot of personal protection and surveillance overseas and had a legion of former military contractors around the globe. To any prying eyes, Daniel was one of them. To the majority owner of SSI, Calvin Stokes, Jr., he was a trusted advisor and friend.
Cal pulled up in a black Ford Excursion. After loading all their gear into the back, the two Marines got in. Briggs keyed the hotel’s address into their GPS as Cal made a phone call.
“Trav, we’re on our way to Teton Village.” Travis Haden was CEO of SSI, a former Navy SEAL and Cal’s cousin.
“Good. Trent, Dunn and Gaucho’s boys are spread out on the next couple flights. They should all be there by noon tomorrow.”
“Thanks again for setting that up. Any updates on Neil?” Neil Patel, one of Cal’s best friends and SSI’s head of Research and Development, had disappeared two days earlier. He’d been in Jackson Hole for a small conference with some of the world’s top technology firms. It was an annual invite-only-event and Patel’s third year attending. Haden had received a call from a friend attending the conference. The guy told Travis that Neil hadn’t shown up for his lecture; something about the importance of battlefield innovation on civilian product development. The man was frantic because the entire group of enrollees was waiting anxiously for Patel’s popular talk.
It wasn’t like Neil to miss anything. After calling Patel’s cell and hotel room repeatedly, they couldn’t track him down. Finally, Travis placed a call to the hotel security staff and convinced them to search Neil’s room. The head of security conducted the search personally. Neil’s room was empty. Despite an unmade bed and used hotel toiletries in the bathroom, all of Patel’s personal belongings were gone.
Due to the sensitive information Neil stored in his genius-level brain, Travis initiated a complete lockdown of SSI’s systems. In spite of Patel’s insistence to the contrary, Todd Dunn, SSI’s head of internal security, had warned against allowing one of SSI’s key assets to travel alone. Always planning for the worst, Dunn came up with a backstop: Neil was required to have a micro transmitter (of Neil’s own design) surgically implanted in his ankle. It would lie dormant until needed. The transmitter allowed SSI to turn on the tracking feature and find Patel anywhere in the world.
The first thing Dunn did after getting the news from his boss was to turn on the tracking device. Nothing happened. That meant one of three things. One, the device malfunctioned. Two, Neil disabled the device. Three, someone had kidnapped Neil, extracted the transmitter, and destroyed it.
They had to plan for the worst. First, it wasn’t natural for one of Neil’s gadgets not to work. He’d tested it on multiple subjects, and it had always performed above expectations. Second, Neil had no reason to take the thing out. Third, Patel was a big target. If someone wanted to find a goldmine of technological knowledge, Neil was a human treasure trove. With his near photographic memory and world-class hacking skills (he regularly trolled the vaunted systems of organizations like the CIA, MI6 and FBI just for fun), he was an invaluable asset.
On the surface, things remained calm. Travis thanked the hotel security team and apologized for the inconvenience and had given them the excuse that he’d just found out that Neil left early due to a death in the family. He gave the same story to the colleague who’d called to ask about Patel.
Behind the scenes, SSI worked overtime. Not only was Patel a vital part of ongoing SSI operations and R&D, but, like a seasoned CIA station chief, Neil knew everything. His capture and the exposure of SSI’s covert operations would mean disaster not just for the company, but for various players within the American government. There were implications all the way up to the President. It wasn’t a scenario Travis wanted to have play out.
“Did you have Neil’s guys go over the list of people attending the conference?” Cal asked.
“For the third time, yes, cuz. We’re doing everything we can on this end. We haven’t even had a whiff from any of our sources.”
Cal huffed in frustration. He knew the headquarters team was doing everything they could, but Cal wasn’t a patient man. Travis had even placed a secure call to the President to give him a heads-up. Because of Cal’s recent rescue of the American President, the politician promised to help however he could.
“Sorry. I’m just worried.”
“You and me both. I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure this thing out. Have any wild ideas on your flight out?” asked Travis.
“I had too many ideas. Name one group of bad guys that wouldn’t want their hands on Neil. It’s like having the ultimate cyberweapon.”
The two men were silent for a moment as they both tried to envision the possible fallout. It wouldn’t be good. They had to get Neil back.
Cal switched gears. “How many people knew Neil was coming out for this conference?”
“Obviously everyone attending. That’s just under fifty people. Then, of course, there’s his staff here and our leadership team. Seventy-five people tops?”
Seventy-five people. It could be worse. “I assume you’ve already got our people doing background checks on all of them, right?”
“Yeah. Nothing yet. There are some competitors we need to take a closer look at, but I think the guy that organizes the conference has already done a pretty good job vetting attendees.”
Cal figured that was the case. These were high-profile executives. Most of them probably had the equivalent of Top Secret clearances in the tech world. Still, at this point, everyone was a suspect.
“I’ve got a really bad feeling about this, Trav. Please let me know if you find out anything new. Me and the boys will hit the pavement here.”
“No problem. Let’s stay in touch.”
Cal ended the call and put his phone in the cup holder. He’d hoped to have something to go on before starting the search. Best case, they’d find Neil soon. Worst case, someone had already shipped him off to another country.
+++
Neil sat shivering in his small cell. He was wrapped in an old olive drab wool blanket. It wasn’t much, but it warded off some of the chill.
The only light in the room came from a tiny window the size of a brick. He’d already tried banging on it but the damn thing felt like it was a foot thick. One of the guards paid him a visit after checking the window and gifted him with a hard jab in the sternum. The spot still hurt.
He laughed at the pettiness of the recollection. Compared to the rest of his predicament, the blow was a minor inconvenience. Neil had a bad feeling about why they’d kidnapped him as he’d walked back from the sushi restaurant two nights ago. It made it even worse that they’d known exactly where his remote locator was. That was, until they’d taken care of it.
Neil reached down to the neatly bandaged stump that used be his ankle and winced. At least they’d had the courtesy to knock him out and supposedly had a real doctor cut his foot off. Look on the bright side, right?
He sat back and adjusted his Prada eyeglasses. Neil wouldn’t be walking out anytime soon, but he started to prepare mentally for whatever horrors awaited him. A small part of his subconscious hoped Cal would come bursting through the door at that very second.
+++
“You’re sure?” Nick Ponder asked into the phone.
“Yeah. They just landed. You want us to follow them?”
“No. I’ve got another team waiting in Teton Village. We already know they’re staying at Hotel Terra. With the slow season it’ll be easy to keep tabs on them. I want you to stick around and let me know when the rest of their guys land.”
“Okay, boss.”
Nick Ponder, a fifty-five year old former
Green Beret, hung up the phone. He stood up from his simple metal desk and stretched his hulking six foot six frame. Over the past few years he’d grown out his beard into an unruly black tangle. He kept his head shaved bald. Being imposing and ruthless were two of Ponder’s gifts. He’d learned it in the military and carried on the tradition when they’d kicked him out in 1996, and he’d started his own company.
He still worked out daily and could best most men half his age. Seven years ago he’d relocated his company headquarters to Wyoming. Ponder enjoyed the wilderness but liked the secluded fortress much more. There wasn’t much he couldn’t do out here. It was perfect for staying under the radar.
After the little incident with that prick Calvin Stokes Sr. back in 1999, business was harder to come by. Before that, Ponder was a growing force within the mercenary world. At that time, he’d leveraged his contacts to recruit close to one hundred men and had them deployed to most of the world’s shitholes. Well, at least the ones where some little dictator needed some real warriors to protect him.
Looking back, he knew his expansion into protection for the Mexican drug lords had been stupid. It’d seemed so easy though. The money was ten times what the majority of security contracts were. If it weren’t for that fucking Marine Colonel, he’d probably be smoking Cohibas in Antigua right about now.
It was gravy up until he got the ultimatum from one of his competitors. He still replayed the conversation in his head whenever he didn’t get a contract he thought he deserved.
“Nick, this is Calvin Stokes with Stokes Security. I was wondering if you had a minute.”
Ponder’s head was full of cocaine sampled from his client’s latest shipment. He only knew Stokes by reputation. The guy was a former Marine and apparently a real hard-ass. “What can I do for the Marine Corps, Colonel?”
