by Bobby Akart
Chapter 28
George Trowbridge’s Residence
Near Pine Orchard, Connecticut
Tears flowed as Meredith and her father reunited. Apologies were exchanged and heartfelt words of love were spoken between the estranged daughter and father. Also, Hannah was reacquainted with her grandfather. Trowbridge perked up as she told him about her life and what her interests were. She talked about her school studies, her hobbies, and gave him a full briefing on the exploits of Handsome Dan.
Cort was proud of Hannah for not burdening Trowbridge with the story of her abduction and rescue. Cort planned on discussing Chepe and his ties to Schwartz when the opportunity presented itself. His father-in-law did not need to know how close Hannah had been to being killed.
With Trowbridge finding a newfound strength, Cort took the opportunity to slip into the hallway to speak with Harris alone. They gently pulled the master suite doors shut and spoke in hushed tones just outside the door so that they could be close by in the event of a problem.
“I need to bring you up to speed on something,” Cort began as Harris provided him his undivided attention. “The Haven, which you’re clearly aware of, was attacked a couple of days ago. Hannah was abducted and taken into Charlotte by a guy named Chepe.”
“Chepe?” Harris’s recognition of the name was instantaneous. “He’s one of the top guys in Schwartz’s anarchist army. What’s he doin’ in Charlotte?”
“I don’t know for certain, and now that he’s dead, we won’t get it out of him.”
Harris wandered away from Cort and thought for a moment. “Why would Chepe come after the Haven or kidnap Hannah?”
“He was after me,” replied Cort matter-of-factly.
“You? I don’t get it.”
Cort offered his theory. “I understand that Schwartz and Jonathan have this rivalry thing going with George. They’re like big political bulls in the arena, fighting one another for supremacy.”
“The old man was arrested,” interjected Harris. He thrust his hands in his pants pockets and stared out at the Bell helicopter and Long Island Sound beyond it. “Cort, we initiated the FBI raid that took him down in order to take advantage of the president’s martial law declaration.”
“Are you saying this is an act of revenge?” asked Cort before continuing. He gave his assessment. “Jonathan couldn’t get through all of the security around here and decided to send his henchman to come after me and my family.”
“Possibly,” replied Harris.
Suddenly, the master suite doors opened, and Meredith emerged from her father’s bedroom. “Guys, he’s getting tired, and I need to get Hannah some lunch. Daddy asked that you two come inside for a moment.”
Harris and Cort exchanged glances before walking into Trowbridge’s inner sanctum. They didn’t have an opportunity to finish their conversation, and as they approached Trowbridge’s bedside, the tension showed on both of their faces.
“Gentlemen, I am dying, but I am not yet dead. Nor am I blind. But let me assure you, my patience is thin, and one of you had better start talking.”
Cort nodded to Harris, indicating that he should shut the bedroom doors. He took the brief delay in responding as an opportunity to gather his thoughts. He wouldn’t lie to Trowbridge, but some facts would be omitted.
“I’ll get right to the point,” began Cort, hoping the direct approach would prevent Trowbridge from questioning his account of the events. Even then, the man in his weakened condition could still discern fact from fiction.
“Please do,” said Trowbridge as his eyes opened a little wider.
“The Haven was attacked by a group of anarchists led by a guy known as Chepe, real name Joseph Acuff.”
“Schwartz’s man,” muttered Trowbridge. “Jonathan’s retaliating against me.”
“Harris and I were discussing this in the hallway, and we believe that to be the case,” said Cort. “The attack was repelled, not without loss of life on our end, however. The group mounted a posse to hunt Chepe down, and he was killed when they found him.”
Trowbridge nodded his acknowledgment, but he was still deep in thought. His tired eyes focused on Cort’s, peering deep into the younger man’s soul, searching for the truth. “There’s more.”
Cort continued. “Yes, sir. I have a question about the initials MM. Is that related to you?”
Trowbridge swallowed hard and his mouth suddenly became dry. He pointed to the glass of ice chips that was a constant fixture by his bedside. Harris quickly helped him moisten his mouth with the ice.
“There is lots to discuss, Cort, and the Minutemen are part of that conversation. My network of allies and operatives stretches around the globe. Within this country, the Minutemen are my version of the deep state—a clandestine government within the government. These are people who are loyal to me.”
“Politicians for hire,” added Cort.
“More than that,” said Trowbridge. “Bureaucrats, military, media executives, and business owners are all Minutemen within my control. They are widespread throughout the country and offer services that have proven to be indispensable to what I believe needs to be done.”
Cort was now hearing what he always assumed, that someone rich and powerful was behind the New Year’s Eve attacks, not a foreign nation’s operatives or terrorists. “I’m not here to judge or criticize methods. Truthfully, at least based on what I know, I think I can understand the logic behind your methods. The question I have is whether this is over, or do I need to worry about the safety of my family and our friends at the Haven?”
Trowbridge grimaced as he tried to raise himself higher in the bed. Harris rushed to his side and reminded him that the doctor forbade unnecessary stress or activity. Trowbridge brushed him off with a wave of his hand.
“Jonathan Schwartz may have taken his shot and missed, but he won’t stop there. He’ll simply try a different tack.”
“Does Schwartz know about the Minutemen or have access to your contact list?”
Harris took that question. “No, not to my knowledge. The entire list is only available to Mr. Trowbridge, Hanson Briscoe, and myself.”
The name struck a nerve with Cort. “Briscoe? The name is familiar. Bonesman, correct? But he rarely participated in the gatherings.”
“That’s right, son,” said Trowbridge, who suddenly referred to Cort affectionately. “Did Briscoe reach out to you?”
“No, not me, but another person within the compound besides Tom Shelton. Well, two others. One is legal counsel to the president, Hayden Blount, who received a cryptic message early on. A warning of sorts.”
“Most likely that was from Samuel,” said Harris, who was referencing Supreme Court Justice Samuel Alito, Hayden’s mentor and a fellow Bonesman. “He thinks very highly of her and has strongly urged us to advance her opportunities. For now, she does valuable work for the president.”
“Who is the other?” said Trowbridge, who was growing short of breath.
Cort moved closer to Trowbridge and replied, “A computer hacker named O’Reilly. He goes by the nickname X-Ray. He claimed to have been told by his handler, someone within the Minutemen hierarchy, to inform them if I had been seen. It had to be somebody who knew that X-Ray would be going to the Haven.”
“Not necessarily,” countered Harris. “This directive was put out well before our arrival there. It was, um, sorry, sir, um, Mr. Trowbridge’s way of keeping up with your whereabouts.”
Cort looked to his father-in-law, whose face was ridden with guilt. He closed his eyes and nodded, affirming Harris’s statement.
Cort sighed. “Meredith must never know this. Any of it, agreed?”
“Yes,” said Harris, who expressed Trowbridge’s sentiments as well.
“Now,” continued Cort. “X-Ray exchanged a series of text messages with his handler, one of the Minutemen. It indicated an attack upon the compound was imminent. Who would that be?”
“Briscoe,” whispered Trowbridge. “He’s aware of my
deteriorating health, and that someday I’d yield what I’ve built to someone else. He’s power hungry.”
“Weren’t you two close?” asked Cort.
“Yes, of course. Son, he was not family.”
Cort stepped back. Meredith was his only family, at least by blood relation. Then it dawned on him. Trowbridge was establishing a connection between Briscoe and the attack upon the Haven, and it stemmed around the heir apparent to the Trowbridge power base.
“Are you talking about me? You want me to take over? I’m not sure this—”
Trowbridge spoke up. “Son, it is your destiny.”
Chapter 29
George Trowbridge’s Residence
Near Pine Orchard, Connecticut
“George, I have no problem with the way you’ve done business in Washington. Influence peddling is as old as the day the concept of government was first introduced five thousand years ago. Further, I can’t argue that this nation needed some form of shock treatment. Something drastic had to be done or the great American experiment would’ve collapsed and later been replaced with something far different. I don’t think I’m prepared to take over in the midst of an undeclared second civil war.”
“You are, son, without a doubt in my mind. Briscoe saw the handwriting on the wall, and he sought to eliminate you as collateral damage.”
“Wait, are you saying he knew I was on Delta 322?”
“I am, yes,” replied Trowbridge. “Furthermore, it’s likely he used my love and concern for my family by putting out an all-points bulletin to keep up with your whereabouts. Instead of providing you a ring of protection, it appears he shared the information with Schwartz.”
“Sir, how would he do that? Briscoe should be hiding deep in the woods after—” Harris caught himself and attempted to deflect by offering Trowbridge more ice chips.
“After what, Harris?” Cort insisted upon a response. “If I’m to be involved, I need the total picture.”
“I suspected his betrayal and ordered him killed,” replied Trowbridge.
Cort rolled his head back and forth on his shoulders. He needed to release the tension that was building up inside him. The tension turned to anger. “I take it you missed.”
“Yes, and he’s gone missing,” replied Harris.
“With all of your resources, you haven’t been able to find him?” Cort was incredulous.
“Well, there were trust issues during this transition period and considering Mr. Trowbridge’s health. We only have a limited number of people that we’d like to get involved at this point.”
Cort wandered away from the bed and studied his surroundings. His father-in-law had become a prisoner in his bedroom, and now he was consumed in his final days by a vendetta against two men who were fighting back—using his family as pawns in the battle. He took a deep breath and exhaled.
Trowbridge tried to explain. “Son, the cancer within my ranks had to be eliminated. It was the right call.”
“I don’t disagree, but the job isn’t finished. That’s up to me now.”
“What are you saying?” asked Harris.
“I will not let this family’s legacy go down in history because of a traitor like Briscoe. I don’t know how he’s connected to Schwartz, but there is no other explanation as to how Chepe would know about the Haven.”
“I agree,” said Trowbridge. “What do you have in mind?”
“Schwartz needs to be killed. His death will be a message to his father, who will hopefully rot away in a federal prison, and it will gut the Schwartzes’ political power. Those two have micromanaged the far left’s anarchist ways for decades.”
“Yes, go on,” said Trowbridge, who was suddenly more engaged.
“Briscoe is a traitor to you, his fellow Bonesmen, and all who are trying to preserve our nation as envisioned by the Founding Fathers. He made this personal by trying to take advantage of your ill-health to shift power into his hands.”
“They both need to go; we acknowledge that,” said Harris. “We can’t find them.”
Cort was blunt. “It’s no longer your concern.” He faced his father-in-law. “You groomed me to take over, so let me prove that you’ve made the right decision.”
“I have resources. Let me help.”
“No, sir, but thank you. Your point regarding trust of others is well taken. At this time, you need plausible deniability, especially as it relates to our fellow Bonesmen and others within the Minutemen. They might not understand your attempt to assassinate Briscoe. In addition, it could taint my ability to lead them in the future.”
“You don’t have the ability—” began Harris before Cort stopped him.
“Harris, I admire you for your service to my father, and I look forward to working with you in the future. I will handle this.”
Cort approached Trowbridge’s bed and took the man’s cold hand in his. The warmth emanating from Cort caused a smile to cross the old man’s face. The physical touch was symbolic of the mutual love and respect the two had for one another.
Cort leaned down and whispered, “Trust me.”
Chapter 30
George Trowbridge’s Residence
Near Pine Orchard, Connecticut
Cort didn’t want to waste any time searching for Briscoe and Schwartz. They might or might not be involved together, and if they were, they might be unaware that his family had fled for Connecticut. Not only did he owe it to the residents of the Haven, who’d risked their lives for his family, but he wanted to call on them to assist him in hunting down the men who were ultimately responsible. Plus, there was now more at stake than just revenge. America was on the brink.
Cort’s conversation with Meredith, and then together with Hannah, was a difficult one. They both insisted upon returning with him to the Haven. They saw that as their home now, their family. Hannah loved her new friends, and Meredith had a sense of involvement that she’d never felt in Mobile.
He promised her that remaining at her father’s home was necessary due to his health, and he reminded her of the continued threat to Hannah to help make his argument. He felt it was somewhat underhanded to play on Meredith’s emotions that way, but it ended the discussion. The Cortland women would stay within the safer confines of the Trowbridge estate, and Cort would take the helicopter back to the Haven.
Cort chastised himself for continuing to lie to his wife and daughter. The conversation was partly truthful, but included was a whopper of a lie of omission that might haunt him for the rest of his life. He was hell-bent on revenge, and he needed his new friends to exact it with him. He trusted the Smarts, Alpha, and the others at the Haven. Besides, he was still skeptical of how he had been discovered there, and by whom.
Harris, whom Cort wanted to consider beyond reproach, might have sought the same kind of power that Briscoe tried to take. Cort speculated in his mind that it was possible the two men were working in concert with one another. Briscoe’s escape from one of Trowbridge’s hit teams was more than fortuitous; it was as if the man’s life was blessed by the Lord Almighty himself.
For that reason, Cort had to make his own arrangements. He had seasoned military people, an ex-LEO who knew how to think like a fugitive, an experienced hunter in Hayden, and X-Ray, who for all of his misdeeds, was a master at using computer technology to their advantage.
With an air of confidence, Cort strode into his father-in-law’s suite before he left. Harris was taking notes, and the conversation between the two men abruptly stopped when Cort entered.
“Cort, Mr. Trowbridge and I were discussing—” began Harris when Trowbridge raised his hand and stopped him.
“Allow me. Cort, we have taken the time to make a list of trusted people to track down Schwartz and Briscoe. You do not have to put your new friends at risk.”
“No,” said Cort brusquely. “I stand by my earlier decision. I trust my people, and they’re more than capable.”
“Son, these are trained operatives. Highly trained by our CIA in covert tactics. On
e of them was on the SEAL team that attacked Bin Laden’s compound.”
“I understand that, and I don’t want to argue with you. Please, you’ve got to trust my judgment or I’m the wrong man for the job. Not just the task of locating Briscoe and Schwartz, I mean the whole thing. All of it.”
Trowbridge frowned, but nodded his acquiescence. “I will not interfere, but I will insist on something.”
“Maybe,” said Cort defiantly.
“Once you locate their whereabouts, I take it you will be pulling your best people out of the Haven. Correct?”
Cort quickly replied, “Yes, that is a possibility.”
“Then allow me to fill the Bell with personnel and weaponry. Also, tactical gear that is military issue, which will help protect the compound as they go after these men. My people will stay on the perimeter, protecting the families, while you do what you have to do.”
Cort couldn’t argue with Trowbridge’s offer. It would also help him sell the entire operation to Blair and Ryan, who would certainly balk at gutting the Haven’s security team. Besides, all of the residents could use some peace of mind after what they’d been through.
“Okay. I agree. Thank you.”
“Thank you, son. I want to help you, but I recognize that you need to find your own way.”
“Excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll need a few minutes to notify the men. They’re prepared to travel on a moment’s notice. Also, I’ll fill the chopper with gear.”
“Thank you,” said Trowbridge before adding, “And, Harris, satellite telephones also. I want Cort and his people to be able to reach out to us if necessary.”
“Yes, sir.” Harris scurried into the hallway and down the stairs, leaving Trowbridge and Cort alone.
After Harris left, Cort closed the door and turned to speak. Trowbridge was reflective and motioned him closer. He reached under his covers, and when he pulled his arm out, he was holding a cell phone.
“This is yours now. It is encrypted with the highest available security. Only three people have one like it. One is Briscoe and the other is Harris.”
