The Manhattan Incident

by Raymond Poincelot

  At 1700 hours General Straub answered his door to his private quarters. “Thank you for being punctual. Come in. Please sit down. Munger walked over to the comfortable looking sofa and sat. General Straub turned from the bar and said, “I’m having some Lagavulin 12 Year Old Cask Strength straight up. What’s your pleasure?” Munger knew a good scotch when he heard it, but that one was definitely above his pay grade. “I’ll have the same, General.” General Straub brought the two drinks to the coffee table, handing one to Munger. He then sat down in the club chair directly across from Munger. Straub was pleased with himself for not asking Munger ahead of time to do a sweep for bugs in his private quarters. From past experience he knew that there would be some. He had played the game numerous times and Munger always found some. They seemed to reappear with frightening frequency every time any were removed. Straub was positive MI’s Colonel Lanzo bugged his quarters and reported directly back to Earth First Council. If he had Munger do a sweep and then show up at his quarters, the Council would be highly suspicious. Bad enough that they couldn’t hear what he would say when the jazz played. Hopefully, they wouldn’t think it overly suspicious.

  Munger took a sip and looked at the General. “Thank you, Sir. It is very good and I appreciate the chance to actually be here on a social note instead of official business.” The General smiled and pointed to the array of cheeses, nuts, and crackers on the coffee table. “Help yourself. I highly recommend the smoked almonds. They go well with the scotch.” Both nibbled for a few minutes, enjoying the snacks. “I assume you like steak, Master Tech Sergeant Munger?” The General was careful to use formal terms for reasons of preserving command and to not make MI wonder about things. “Yes, Sir!” “Good. I’ll step out to the kitchen and tell the Chef to prepare dinner. How do you want your rib eye?” “Medium rare, Sir.” “Good choice. I’ll be back in a minute.” As he left, Munger wondered to himself what was about to be discussed. He hoped it wouldn’t cause trouble for himself or the General.

  The General returned. “I want you to hear some old jazz that I favor. First I’ll play some jazz from the Nat King Cole Trio and follow it with some from the Bill Evans Trio. They really knew how to play jazz back then.” Munger’s tastes went to classic rock and roll. Still he answered cheerfully. “Great, General. Yes, those were good times for jazz musicians.” With that he picked up his glass and took a more vigorous sip while the General pointed his remote at the CD player. General Straub sat down next to Munger shortly after the music started with Cole’s Trio playing “Just You, Just Me.” He spoke softly, while looking down to avoid the possibility of lip reading. “Master Tech Sergeant Munger, I need a favor. Hear me out and say nothing until I am done. Colonel Lanzo and I are both working on a top secret project to remove a threat to global security in terms of alien invasion readiness. The threat is directly connected to Reverend Cooper. Unfortunately, the project jeopardizes the safety of Dr. Laurent and his family. Lanzo and I have different views regarding the safety of Laurent and his family. Frankly, I am concerned that Lanzo would sacrifice Paul and Roberta if it meant absolute success on the removal of the threat. I personally believe that we can do both, that is, remove the threat and keep Laurent and his family safe.”

  Munger looked at the General with a questioning stare which seemed to ask how he would be involved in this. “I know that you are aware of all communications, including MI intelligence that enters and leaves the base. I’m sure MI has its stuff coded. I’m asking you to monitor those messages for any references to Cooper, John Laurent, Roberta Laurent, Zack Laurent and me. I need to get those messages. I also want you to record incoming messages that go directly to me. Hopefully, I won’t need to use any of them as insurance or a bargaining point should something go wrong. Can you do it so that no one knows you are doing it and that no one knows I am receiving those messages? It is risky and I’m not ordering you to do it. It might be a good idea to laugh at this point so that our conversation doesn’t look suspicious.” Munger smiled and laughed heartily. The General joined in the laugh. General Straub whispered softly. “Look down when you reply. I suspect the bugs are at least recording our images.”

  Munger thought quickly. Yes, it was risky. He could just say no and blame it on not being able to break the code. Still, the General believed in him when others didn’t. That meant a lot. Technically, what the General wanted was possible and Munger knew he could hide the tracks. Yes, he would do it. Then the General might owe him a favor someday. “Yes, I can. I’ll work out the details and get back to you.” Just then the chef entered the living room doorway and beckoned them toward the dining room. Munger’s eyes widened as he saw the beautiful rib eye steak swimming in a blue cheese sauce, the French fries, green thin string beans and a gorgeous salad. General Straub picked up the bottle of red wine. “Would you like a glass? It is a fine Bordeaux from France.” Munger eagerly said, “Yes, I would. The dinner went smoothly with small conversation easily heard now that the jazz had stopped. The MI tech on duty listened in and became bored. He decided that the earlier conversation not heard above the jazz was likely as boring. The software for lip reading showed no suspicious words detected. Nothing here was indicated on his report for Colonel Lanzo. Munger finished the last spoonful of his raspberry crème brûlée, followed by the last sip of his espresso. Munger thanked the General for a wonderful meal and left. On the way back to his quarters, he was already thinking about how he would pull this off. He loved the challenge. He lived for communication challenges.

  After dinner, General Straub turned on the large wall-mounted flat screen 3D-HD television. Through the special glasses the image of President Chung leaped out at him. Even the annoying image didn’t bother him. He still felt encouraged by his meeting with Munger. He knew that Munger would come through. Chung had been an annoying thorn in his side. She always delayed or dragged on or challenged movements of missiles, armament, troops and supplies to his command. He wished the Republican challenger, Darius Rushmore would win. His platform talked about improved cooperation with the GAF’s ability to meet the alien challenge. Too bad the aliens didn’t kill President Tomlinson a few days early. That would have meant that Chung couldn’t run again, as her succession to the Presidency would have been a day or two over the two year mark. Some had challenged her run, but the Supreme Court ruled in her favor, given the less than two years. She was eligible for two terms and it looked like she would get her second term, barring some last minute change. He could always hope. Unfortunately, the Earth First Government had a restriction that it could not influence the elections in any country on the globe. What a shame thought Tyler.

  Just then his P-Com vibrated. Tyler looked at the screen and saw that it was Bariska Minkov. Time for that favor, he mused. “General, we are concerned that the U.S. presidential candidate Rushmore has fallen behind in the polls. We need to reverse the trend. None on the Council can interfere as you know. So, we are asking you to do it.” General Straub literally sputtered. “You know I can’t do that legally. It would mean my resignation. Ah, so that’s the favor. You want me out.” “No General, no such thing. You can interfere in the election and stay on.” “That’s not possible.” “Oh, but it is. Here is the plan. You will be called to a special closed door session of the Earth First Council held in Moscow. We will ask you about your assessment of which candidate would be best for defeating the aliens. Your reply will go as follows. You will stress that you are fully convinced that the aliens will return based on their abortive second try with the recent probe that your group destroyed. You will cite top secret evidence exists to support this view. Yes, I know no evidence exists, it is conjecture. But our gut feeling is they will. You will then go on to say that the best and fastest possible outcome for being ready when they return would occur if Rushmore wins the election.” General Straub agreed with the alien threat conjecture, and believed Rushmore to be more supportive toward GAF, but where was this plan going? “We will arrange to have a renegade reporter present posi
ng as a waiter at the function. We are aware of his subterfuge, but will conveniently ignore it. This person will then leak his recording to all the major communication outlets across the United States. We, of course, will protest this outrageous leakage with all our might and threaten legal action and arrest. Of course, that threat will ultimately fade away once the public tires of the episode. We believe that your leaked testimony will swing the election as the voters will be running scared and see Rushmore as the more viable option. It is pretty clever, no?”

  General Straub smiled. “Yes, it is clever. You know that I bear no love for President Chung. Yes, I would prefer Rushmore. But first, did you rein in Colonel Lanzo as I asked?” “Of course, it has been done. He is angry and doesn’t like you too much at the moment. He’ll get over it. So, what do you say?” “I say yes. I’m ready when you are.” “Good, you will receive an official invite tomorrow to appear before the Council. Thank you, General.” As Tyler disconnected, he thought that it was a good thing to involve Munger in tapping his messages. At least if things went wrong, the Minkov conversation would be good insurance and certainly a bargaining chip. He was convinced that MI had also done the same thing, but doubted a copy would ever reach him under any circumstances. He could also imagine Lanzo’s annoyance about hearing about being reined in. That thought bought a smile to Tyler’s face. You can never be too careful thought the General. He vowed to check later with Munger about whether Minkov was a woman of her word.

  Sure enough, General Straub had barely sat down at his desk the following morning when his Aide, Sergeant Sean O’Malley, walked in. “General, Sir, you have an important meeting of urgency in Moscow called by the Earth First Council. Evidently, Chair Minkov didn’t feel like going to the New York office. I have prepared your itinerary, agenda details, and your travel documents.” “Thank you, Sergeant O’Malley.” He accepted the thick envelope handed to him while thinking Minkov didn’t waste any time. “General, your private jet is waiting for you at hanger 3, as are all your packed bags. I have a Jeep outside waiting for you. Sorry for the haste, but the travel request was explicit that you leave ASAP. Oh, one last thing. Here are the new reading glasses that you ordered and a report from Munger for your eyes only.” General Straub took the items. Munger and he had not yet worked out how they would communicate, but the General suspected that the surprise reading glasses and Munger note were not a coincidence. “Sergeant O’Malley, tell the Jeep driver I’ll be out in five, Dismissed.”

  General Straub opened the envelope from Munger and saw it was the usual monthly routine report from the Communication Department. Nothing there, he thought. He put on the new reading glasses and looked again. Some words and parts of words scattered across the page suddenly appeared darker than others. Following the word and letter string he read “Minkov person of her word. Paul and Roberta to be delisted as expendable, but Zack protection is above all. Be careful with Lanzo. He is ripping mad. Good luck in Moscow.” Tyler smiled. He knew he could count on Munger. With that thought he left the office and eventually climbed into the Jeep. Shortly after, he was airborne on his private jet, the military version of the Model 525C Cessna Citation CJ4. Only then did he open the envelope concerning the Moscow meeting. As he went down of list of questions that were to be directly aimed at him, he wrote out his possible responses for later refinement. He paid special attention to the ones concerning the upcoming Presidential election here in the States. The General knew that there would be plenty of time to prepare, even though the military version had a larger fuel capacity and greater air speed. There would even be time for lunch, dinner and a nap and the unavoidable refueling stop.

  Back in New York at his Bronx mansion, Reverend Cooper sat up bolt upright in his lavish bed. He was sweating profusely. Jeremiah had been dreaming. He could recall every detail of his two dreams. Both were frightening in their own right, but in differing ways. He went over each in his head, after going to the bathroom to relieve himself. Dream one had been another God version dream. The same God-like figure had appeared sitting in his throne. The deep bass voice had informed him that the coming of the Rapture and whether Jeremiah would become one of the enraptured depended entirely on his actions. Jeremiah had relied that yes, he knew that already and was working on it. At that God had frowned at him and said, “You don’t understand, it really depends on you and not anyone else.” An unpleasant thought crept into his brain in his dream. “Um, are you saying that I must be your direct hand in this matter of destroying the antichrist, John Cabrot? I had been thinking there were others much better suited for the task. I envisioned my role as providing the perfect plan and giving them the motivation to not fail.” Jeremiah’s heart skipped a beat as he thought again of the reply. “Yes, my beloved son, you must do the deed yourself. Even though you be sacrificed by the deed, I will be there waiting to welcome you into my Kingdom. You will sit on my left hand side, joining me and my other beloved son who sits at the right. Do not despair or fear, I will be with you at all times and guide you in the planning.” With that God disappeared and another dream immediately followed.

  A vague figure appeared in the next dream. Its face somehow looked godlike, yet evil at the same time. “Jeremiah Cooper, have you ever considered that maybe the God talking to you isn’t God, but is Satan? Consider this, the aliens aren’t God’s angels, but are the minions and beasts of Satan. It might not be about the Rapture. It might be a plan to plunge humanity into a millennium of Hell. And you are the dupe that will bring it about. Maybe I am God talking, or maybe I am the Devil. Can’t you tell by looking at my face?” An evil chilling laugh ensued followed by a smile. “Yes, it is all up to you, Jeremiah. Just make the right choice.” That’s when Jeremiah awoke in a cold sweat.

  Jeremiah spent all day worried about what the right choice might be. His stress level was so high that he couldn’t concentrate on the church work piling up in his office. Finally, Jeremiah called Ms. Gates on the intercom. “Ms. Gates, please cancel all my appointments for today. I am not to be interrupted except for emergencies. I have a difficult decision that I must make. Ms. Gates could guess what it was and was willing to bet money that it had something to do with Dr. Laurent. She passed on the information to MI with her speculative thoughts immediately.

  In minutes the intel reached Colonel Lanzo. He read it and contacted Agent Dubrov. “Agent Dubrov, Colonel Lanzo here. We have some intel that Cooper might be close to making his move against Dr. Laurent. Increase your surveillance, if you aren’t already on full activity. Ending Cooper’s influence on the Church members and discrediting him is critical. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this. You are authorized to nail him. Entrapment is now a go. Remember we want him alive and no harm done to Laurent or his family.” “Understood. I’ll devote all our resources here to the effort.”

  Colonel Lanzo frowned as he disconnected. He was still angry over General Straub’s interference and evident clout with Earth First Council Chair, Bariska Minkov. How did that bastard get more pull than he had? Perhaps Minkov was losing confidence in him. Catching Cooper in the act might get him back in favor with Minkov. As instructed, he had made it clear to the agents assigned to Laurent’s protection detail that they had to share intel with Laurent’s bodyguards and that their priority was to get Cooper alive with no harm to Laurent or his family. He didn’t envy the agents, if God forbid, the situation became life or death for Cooper or Laurent or his family. He was glad he wouldn’t have to make the choice. Hopefully, events wouldn’t get to that scenario, but one never knew in this tricky, unpredictable business. Damn, he thought. I had better bury the hatchet with Straub. It would be better to end up on his good side. He made a mental note to do so at the first viable opportunity.

  Agent Dubrov wasted no time contacting the protection team in Laurent’s building complex. “Agent Raptor, we have some speculative intel that Cooper might be close to making his move. You are to move to high alert. We are considering a possible entrapment and will advise you when,
and if, a plan is formulated. We might need some of your team to participate in the plan. I’ll keep in touch.” “Yes, thanks. Bring it on. We are ready.”

  As he disconnected, Agent Dubrov worried a bit. The closing comment from Raptor worried him. Raptor and Big Cat were too highly fueled by testosterone and their normal mode was that of killing machines. What worried him most was that if things screwed up, he would go down with them. Lanzo would blame everything on all of them, if he had to save his ass. The entrapment plan might have to wait for Cooper’s next move. He had already notified the surveillance team to immediately notify him of any movements when Cooper left his house or office. He kept his ear bud on at all times and set the volume for high when he went to sleep. Waiting for the bastard to make his move was starting to get on his nerves. He opened his desk and popped another calcium carbonate tablet. The coffee he had just consumed felt like it was setting his stomach on fire. He grimaced and swore to himself, damned occupational hazard, he thought.