Without Wrath (Harbinger of Change Book 3)

by Timothy Jon Reynolds

  Simultaneously, there was another movement starting, apparently one that began on Facebook and aimed at people connected to the military or police. It looked as though a march was starting in the Presidio and ending at Hippy Hill, according to their spokesperson, a gruff man in his fifties with a wife beater t-shirt and an anchor tattoo, “We plan to march to the park and pick up supporters as we go, then when we reach the park we plan to have a talk with those folks who are supporting this mass-murderer. Anyone who is supporting these sheep dirt bags is a traitor to the United States and a traitor to all those boys who died out on those ships in Ecuador.”

  His group was currently only fifty strong, but they were announcing their plans to march to the park and confront the sheep followers, and asking for a following of their own.

  Sandy had not seen this type of anger and passion since the volatile Sixties, and the result was butterflies in his stomach thinking about those two groups getting together. Claire woke up, looked at his concerned face and said, “What did I miss?”

  * * *

  Not being able to dry her eyes for the last twenty minutes had already led to three near misses, one of which would have been a rear-end collision that would have ruined her back. Lauren was realizing that her little tantrum was now costing her dearly as she rolled past Tacoma in mounting pain. Her arm that had been broken in three places did not appreciate the open-hand slamming of the steering wheel; as a matter of fact, it downright hated it. But compared to her back, it was a lovely walk in the park.

  She had been warned not to exert herself or she would be sorry, and now she was debating if she should pull over and call 911. But instead, she continued to barrel down the highway at nearly a hundred miles per hour. She must have been tensed when she did that wild swinging and it had apparently set her back muscles off in a very bad way. She had taken her pills twenty minutes ago, but this was no joke, she’d made a major mistake with her tantrum. Her repaired left arm was trembling, and the palm of her right hand was still throbbing.

  Ever since she’d been about thirteen years old there had been times when she just could not control her anger once she had been pushed too far. Her current tears were mostly from the shame of not being able to control herself over Scott’s betrayal. Why did she always have to fail on the big ones? This was the one time she’d needed to make sure she did not lose control.

  She was passing Tukwila and knew that Anacortes lay ninety minutes ahead, but she would have to go up the 405 as she’d just found out I-5 was out of the question as emergency personnel had shut it down. The traffic on the 405 was very heavy, but the people were still following conventions and the car pool lanes were flowing as normal. She decided she would risk the ticket.

  She could see Boeing on her left but the glance cost her a small spasm in her lower back. God what she wouldn’t trade for a session with Rodrigo.

  Then her mind drifted to that of a subsequent man in her life and thought, why would Scott have torched any chance he had with me over a story—albeit the story of a lifetime, but just a fucking news story, nonetheless? She could still see his smug little face on the screen, it seemed to be saying, “You think I’m too stupid to figure you out bitch, well here you go.”

  Granted, she had not been forthright over the phone, but no matter, that did not give him the right to fuck with her “story of a lifetime.” And if he’d ever loved her at all, then he would have known to never fuck with her where her brother was concerned.

  She’d decided that she was going to call breach of professional ethics on dear Scott, maybe even embellishing a little to his boss. God she hoped his boss was a weak-minded man. Maybe she would become a tech writer and depose him in his own world. She felt that anger swelling again, but this time was able to put it away as her body could not physically handle another outburst.

  Thank God, her pills finally kicked in. She was in so much pain that they did not make her high, they just did their job, which was good since she could not afford to be high right now.

  Somehow she was going to make that little weasel pay for what he did. Her need for revenge refueled her, as it had been doing for the last two years. Only now, she could see an end in sight, and it was that motivation that kept her from heading to the nearest hospital right then.

  She steeled herself to focus on the road when her phone rang, caller ID said Jerome. She tried to answer normally, but immediately her voice whittled to that of a little girl who’d woken from a bad dream in the middle of the night. She tried to be stoic, but as she started to speak, it all fell apart and the little girl in her uttered, “Daddy . . .“

  * * *

  Doug set the seaplane down as if he did it for a living, then informed them, “this is nothing compared to landing the big boys.” Right at that moment, Storm groaned loudly, his giant tongue lolling back and forth. They all laughed at the timing of the act, and they understood that Doug was not actually bragging. He was stating, in his own way, that if he were anywhere else, the fact he’d landed an airliner in the Sound not a few a short hours before would be a conversation piece. But in this small cabin, that story was even a yawner for the dog. Talk about a tough crowd.

  There was no doubt that the dog had a smile on his face. He seemed to be convinced that this was all one long training mission and that his master would never have left him. It’s a fact of the human condition that when a loved one is in imminent peril, all other things pale, even finding Storm. For the last two years all he could think about was recovering this dog, but now, looking at him so happy, almost brought him to anger. His life was always that way, no joy could be brought to him unless there was a side dish of anguish to go with it—and in this case, it was no side dish, it was the main course.

  “What’s the plan, Matt?”

  Matt figured that question was his own fault. He always acted like he knew what he was doing all the time, so people actually thought he had all the answers, that he was a leader.

  “There is no plan, Doug. I killed the one guy who could have saved them or at least given me the name of the toxin that he used. Of course, knowing the man the way I know him, that toxin will most likely be found to be unique and not have any known antidote.”

  “I have a car you can use to get around to the back of the hospital. My daughter in-law is a nurse there; she’ll get you in. Let’s just go call my son and have him come down.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary, Luke; if I’m not mistaken, the young man heading our way at a clipped pace bears quite a family resemblance, might just be him.” Matt patted Storm and told him, “Niza.”

  Luke said, “He’s just pissed because he thinks I took a tourist up. One time six months ago or so, I took some people up. He was out and they really wanted to go. I was feeling good, so I took them up. It’s not like my plane isn’t ready at all times. Apparently, the doctors reported my condition to the insurance companies and if I would have had an incident, it would have cost us everything we own. I was fine and the trip was great, but since then Andy has had neighbors watch to see if I ever try to lift off. Apparently one called him.”

  The young man in question was the spitting image of his father and Doug immediately saw what this hero looked like in his prime. He could just picture that same rage on his old man’s face in a far-east jungle somewhere fifty years ago, and then he began to understand the Silver Star. The young man flung the side door open, demanded to know what he was thinking and stopped talking almost immediately. All he had to say after that was, “You all better come with me,” and headed to the office.

  When they got to the office, Luke’s son, Andy was standing in front of the TV and he was looking more than solemn. Matt had a knot in his stomach because he knew that it was probably going to be some huge story about the laser shot. What he really saw he never would have guessed.

  An Internet blog reporter had figured out his real identity. His name was Scott Bailey, and he had been told by Robert Leme that Tom Holsinger was the creative mi
nd behind the newest Leme hit game, and when the reporter followed the story, he got a picture of what he thought was Holsinger. Only after the plane and ferry incidents was Bailey looking at the pictures again and realized that Tom Holsinger was really Matt Hurst.

  The next news reported that it was now known that Hurst’s parents were on the ferry and his wife and son were attacked in a Seattle park and were now in the Anacortes hospital, as there was no room in the Seattle area hospitals at the time of their injuries. Matt started for the door on a run and Andy called him back.

  “You’ll never get in. The hospital is completely surrounded by people. Most want to talk to Matt Hurst, but there are a growing number who have painted signs for American Pride, which would indicate they want to talk to Holsinger. It’s quickly getting out of control.”

  Matt thought about this and replied with the sound of a completely defeated man. “I have the right to be with my wife and son when they pass. Luke, can I ask you to watch Storm while I go deal with my situation. Last I checked, I was not wanted for anything.”

  “Of course, Matt, but at least let my son get you close with a car.”

  “No, I won’t be involving anyone else in my life, just ask Doug there what that brings.”

  Doug’s answer was, “You mean more adventure and pussy than ten lifetimes could offer?” He walked over to Matt and stated, “Like it or not, our lives have become interconnected and everything you do from this point on will either lead to a continued existence or instant death. I cannot be negotiated with. So make up your mind right now because if you live, it will be because you let it all hang out.”

  Matt, remembering his own diatribe to Doug in a hanger in Tahoe, “Your point, Doug?“

  “I’ve seen you in tough spots, you don’t give up. For all you know, that Indian doctor you spoke of has cured them. I have a plan to get you in. After all, you’re not the only celebrity they want to talk to.”

  “A diversion, I love it Doug! And I know you’re right, self-pity does not suit me well. But life wears on you, all this running for my life and threats. I just want to live a life without threats.”

  No chord he could hit could ever register with Luke Slate stronger than that one. It was something he related to like a hand in a glove and he let him know, “Matt, I have your back from this point on.”

  “Thanks Luke, that means a lot to me. Not sure how the general public is going to feel, but I really do appreciate all that you’ve done and are doing for me.”

  Before the next words could be spoken, the TV gave an all too familiar announcement that the President was coming on and all of them paused their next move toward the door to listen. This time, it was from the Press Room and not the Oval Office.

  * * *

  “Citizens of the United States of America and the World. First, let us please hang our heads once again in prayer for our fallen. Once again we have had to endure sadness and horror as we pay a heavy price for our continued freedom. Regardless of the supposed cause behind this cowardly act, or the justifications that will surely arise from the perpetrators, it was still an act of terrorism.

  It still robs us of our loved ones and strikes fear into our hearts. We’ve lost our brothers, sisters, and parents today. The ferry attack was so heinous and vile that even as a person who has had to steel himself over the last few years after hearing so much bad news, I can still barely come to face it. But face it I must, and we must as a nation because that is the nature of things in America. Try as anyone might, they cannot hold us down.

  So, even though the next news I bring you is good, it comes with the heaviest price for us all as a nation. In a joint effort, the United States Air Force and U.S. citizen, Mathew Hurst, have brought Pablo Manuel, the terrorist responsible for the attacks in Seattle, to justice. He was wounded and captured off Matia Island State Park in Washington State, where we believed he carried out the attacks on the Southwest passenger plane and Washington State ferry from a command boat.

  Unknown to the general public, two years ago, Mr. Hurst was responsible for thwarting a major attack and disabling Manuel’s organization in Ecuador. Originally he was kidnapped and held there for two years before striking them and escaping. There is no doubt that his brave actions saved countless American lives back then.

  He then volunteered to go into witness protection knowing full well that he would probably be found by a vindictive Pablo Manuel. Matt believed that if he disappeared, then Manuel would have won, for he still had things to do for the country he’d already saved once.”

  And things were just fine until he met and befriended Robert Leme of the Top of the Heap game franchise fame. They bonded and forged an idea, but Matt realized he couldn’t be the face of the organization, as Leme and his people all knew him as Tom Holsinger. So he set forth their game plan and backed out, hoping he made the kind of impact that motivated them to move forward without him. He had been hoping to enact those changes himself, but there was just no way to do it and be safe.

  Unfortunately, Mr. Robert Leme accidently exposed him by releasing his witness protection name of Tom Holsinger as part of the Leme team working on American Pride. Internet reporter Scott Bailey was able to get his picture and release it, which of course led to Manuel finding him. Matt Hurst has paid a terrible price for his patriotism and it needs to be announced now that he was the victim here, never anything more. A stronger patriot the history books will not find.

  Apparently Manuel made an elaborate plan to attack the people Matt cared about, as his parents were most likely on that ferry. It has also been learned that his wife and son were chemically attacked in a Seattle park within minutes of the ferry exploding and are now fighting for their lives. There is also a connection to Matt with Douglas Sharp, as he was the pilot that he forced to fly him out of the country four years ago.

  Initially, we gave him choices that would have protected him, but he chose to do it this way, never believing there would be enough protection and never wanting to miss out on all the things our great country has to offer. Matt Hurst told me directly, ‘What’s the point of living in the greatest country in the world if I have to hide in it?’ And after what we’ve seen here, it’s hard to dispute his logic. So please, shelve all questions that will put Hurst in collusion with Manuel, it never happened.”

  President Caulfield looked over the group for some familiar faces that he owed a favor to, “I’m now going to open up for a few questions.” He pointed to an eager hand in front.

  Linda Breem of the Dallas Star got the first question, “Was the Southwest plane and ferry respectively shot by a laser? We have reports of a massive laser used just after the plane went down?”

  Air Force General, Steve Hatten, of the Joints Chief of Staff, was flanking the President and the President stepped aside giving the microphone to the General after a small introduction. “The plane was most likely brought down by two small drones. We don’t believe they even carried a warhead, as the wings were intact. The drones were apparently designed to just stop the engines. The laser in question was a U.S. weapon and it stopped Manuel’s escape.”

  Spencer Loomis from the Los Angeles Times asked the next question, “Did the attack at Tom Holsinger‘s house on Lummi Island precipitate that laser shot?”

  When the President came to General Hatten, he was approaching his biggest detractor among his appointed cabinet. It hadn’t always been that way, but more and more he could tell that there was collusion among four of the Generals and one of them was General Steve Hatten.

  Now General Hatten had a big secret he could share, one that could have ripped his Presidency apart, one that gave the General the upper hand. Lawrence doubted that the public would have taken kindly to the fact that the data for Manuel’s entire military enterprise fell into the hands of his friend, Chase Viana. They would be less fond of the fact he then sanctioned a privately owned company to launch a laser-armed satellite above U.S. airspace.

  Chase convinced him of the need to have t
hem up and that he could get them built a hundred times faster than any government entity; no red tape, just get it done. His company was already making the components for many such projects already. At first revelation to the General, Lawrence Caulfield could see a “kid that was going to tell” look all over General Hatten’s face, but when the President enlightened him on the advantages of him taking the credit for the whole thing, he noticed a different look.

  When Chase agreed to give the Air Force control of the other satellites he had up currently and hand over all test data, the General was getting much warmer to the idea of playing ball. Then when the President of the United States mentioned that it is not unheard of for such a leader as him to make a presidential run, it was like turning on a light switch.

  He told Steve knowingly, “Really, all you need is greater positive exposure, I’m sure we can find a way to make that happen.” General Hatten and the ego Lawrence always knew he possessed could not pass up that opportunity, even scant as it was. Now he was on the podium and God help Lawrence if he just helped make that man President, because for the first time in his life, he had to compromise himself and it felt alien and contradictory to his nature.

  Although General Hatten was not a bad man, he was not someone Lawrence would want to see in his office, let alone endorse him to be there. He watched the General answer with a coolness and likability that made him wince deep inside.

  General Hatten spoke, “Well, as you all now know, Tom Holsinger does not exist, he is Matt Hurst. So yes, the attack carried out on the Hurst house was in fact carried out by Manuel. We have confirmed reports that there was also an attack on Hurst prior to that. It occurred in the Anacortes Community Hospital parking lot. Matt had a tracking device that he activated during the attack and was able to lead his assailants out to sea. That’s where we disabled Manuel’s escape with the laser and captured him. To save time I will answer the next question, Pablo Manuel was captured with one other man.”