by Tom Haase
Time to move. She ran for her car, where Matt’s daughter, Laura, waited. Matt kept up with her to the car and then called to get an update on Bridget’s condition, and also asked the nurse, "How’s the colonel?"
"The doctor talked to me and says he’ll recover but will require extensive rehab. He won’t be able to move for at least a week," the nurse said.
"I’ll see the Russians are informed," Matt said. "I'll tell them what we know and what happened, then find out what they want to do with him. I'll tell you when I get back there in the morning, and I can't wait to get Laura home."
He hung up and looked at Mary Jean.
"The plan is in motion," the general said. "Don’t forget. Without your efforts to get Yuri, we would never have gotten this far. From here on, I think it will be automatic. All we can do now is wait."
Mary Jean got into the car with Matt and told Laura that Bridget was okay. She would be back in a day or two. Laura gave a big smile and said, "I miss Bridget." She hugged her dad.
Then Mary Jean started the car and raced back to the office of SPAT, Inc.
She wanted to watch her plan materialize.
55
Washington, D.C. — 10:31 PM
Dean Avery raced to his home. He called Julie and told her what had happened.
"What are we going to do?" she asked.
"You’re coming with me. He has a safe house arranged for us and we’ll continue the struggle from there with a support team to help us. We’ll disappear for a while—but we’ll be working together, and no more subterfuge about our relationship. I want you with me."
"When will you pick me up, or do I meet you somewhere?"
"Are you at home or your office?"
"Office," she said.
"I’ll be there in thirty minutes. We’ll go in my car, since I know where we’re going and it has a GPS to get us there."
"After all these years, we’ll be together. I’ll be ready. I don’t have to go home. I’m prepared now to start over." She hung up.
At his house, Avery got the clothes and personal things he needed, and with two suitcases in his car, he went to get Julie.
She waited for him in the front of the office and as soon as she saw his car, she rushed to get in. Avery drove the car off at a fast clip but didn’t peel rubber on his acceleration. After they went a few blocks, he told her where he planned to go.
"I don’t care, as long as we’re together," she said.
* * *
Matt and Mary Jean watched from down the street as Avery drove off. She called Mike, "Did you get the tracker on the car?"
"Sure did. Before he left the airport. We’ll know where it goes. Anything happening?"
"He just picked up Julia. Now we’ve confirmed the identity of the woman in the burka. Matt is taking this hard. She fooled him as well as all of us."
"I can’t believe the bastard pulled it off for years. The president will have to know about this. You going to tell him?"
Mary Jean responded with, "Tomorrow morning. I’ll get Admiral Kidd to go with me to lay out what happened with the terrorist attacks, the atomic bomb, and Avery’s treason. He’ll take it as hard as we did when we saw the names on the list."
"What about the kid?"
"She’s with us. Matt and I have sort of been driving this course of events, and so far it’s working as planned. Let’s just hope it keeps working. Your people go along on this?"
"Hell yeah. We’re preparing to take down some of the ones we know for sure participated in the recent attacks. This presented us with the breakthrough we needed," he said.
"What are you going to do with the ringleader?"
"I’m proposing we do nothing. They’ll change their codes as soon as they figure out we hacked them, but I’d guess he’s taking orders from someone higher up. He’s the middleman, and he’s a diplomat with immunity. We’ll get all of the worker bees in the net this time and leave the queen where we know to watch. Thanks for everything. I’ve got to go to coordinate a hit in northern Virginia. Talk to you tomorrow." He was gone, and Mary Jean gave a little chuckle to herself. She felt a rush of adrenaline knowing that they would soon take down the bad guys.
"Mary Jean, why are we here at Dad’s office?" asked Laura, who looked out the window. That brought her back to an immediate problem. She would get someone out here to secure the place and make sure the computer and phones reached the NSA for analysis. All this would be used to build the legal case against Avery.
"I’ll tell you in a few minutes. Now I believe it’s time for me to take you to my place and for your father to go to be with Bridget."
She smiled at Matt, dreading the consequences of how Julia, the Julie Johnson of the FBI report Mike Anthony gave her, would act on being captured. Over the years Avery had taken them all in and this woman had provided all of Matt’s and Bridget’s details to her controller at the Iranian embassy. She had almost gotten them killed on at least two occasions, with Bridget taking a bullet the last time. She was the Islamist from hell, mused Mary Jean. She had existed for years as a spy for the terrorists and as a traitor. If she let him, Matt would terminate both of them on the spot. Mary Jean had decided her plan might accomplish the same thing, because they can’t just have intelligence officers going around killing the national security advisor. No, the proper thing for them to do entailed getting a warrant. Then they would plod down the cumbersome legal trail to getting a conviction. There might be another way, she mused, all in all a better way.
Mary Jean knew, at least the US abided by its own laws in such cases—no summary executions by the white hats and that sort of capsulized the general rule. Tonight she wanted to go down a different road.
* * *
Avery sped down I-66 to the turnoff for US-29 and took it to Charlottesville. From there he went west on I-64 to Virginia route 635 and 151 to Nellysford. They stopped once for gas outside Charlottesville and arrived at the location he had received from the Iranian at a few minutes after midnight. The road sign showed an arrow pointing to the right, and above it read “Islam of America.” He carefully pulled onto the small dirt road and followed it for a quarter of a mile. The only light came from his headlights.
He rounded one last sharp curve, and four men stood blocking the road in long white robes and white sock-type caps. He drove up to them, cut the motor, left the lights on, and got out.
The cold chill of the nighttime mountain air hit him. The temperature registered at least twenty degrees below that in Washington.
"Mr. Avery?" asked the first man.
"Yes."
“We’ve been expecting you,” came a voice inflected with an accent from somewhere on the Indian subcontinent. He moved up to Avery and shook his hand. Not over twenty, Avery thought, as he viewed the youth who had only a small beard, his clothing hanging loose on his slight frame. The color of his eyes remained out of sight, but Avery guessed they were black. Then his greeter saw another person in the car. “We weren’t expecting anyone else.”
"There was no choice but for her to come with me. We work together and were both compromised today. I’ll see that it is approved tomorrow by the embassy," Avery said with a little too much force.
"I see," was all he got in reply.
Another man stepped up, tall with a long black beard and a bulging stomach that rounded out the front of his white robe. "If you would follow me, we have a cabin arranged for you. Our instructions were that you were to be separated from all of us and away from the body of our students here. We have a cabin further up the hill that no one goes to except the leaders of this mosque. Follow me, and leave anything you have. It’ll be brought up later."
That’s more like it, thought Avery. Now we’re getting the respect we deserve for all we accomplished for the cause. He went back to the car and opened the door for Julie. "Come, my dear. They have a place for us further up the hill. Our things will come up later."
Julie got out of the car and walked beside Avery. "How far is it?" s
he asked.
"About a quarter of a mile," answered the big man, "but it is not passable for a car. So we need to walk up the hill. We have flashlights and a lantern for you to use in the cabin tonight."
"I should’ve worn tennis shoes or hiking boots," Julie said.
"Don’t worry. After tomorrow, we’ll be well taken care of, and we’ll provide the cause valuable information. So come along until we get some rest," Avery finished.
"Excuse me," said the young one, "but I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes." He ran off in the direction of a building to their left.
They continued up the hill for what seemed like a long time. Julie huffed and puffed because of her out-of-shape body. As if by magic, a cabin appeared in the woods with a small open area in front of the porch. He and Julie huffed and made loud exhalations indicating their fatigue. "We’ll have beds to sleep in, and tomorrow we’ll get all this sorted out," promised Avery. On entering the building, they realized the one-room structure was constructed of logs and had no electricity, but they observed that it did contain two beds.
In less than five minutes, the young man reappeared at the cabin door. He gave a nod and said, "I have news for you."
They approached him as he stood in the doorway to hear what the man would say. Avery and Julie were both hit over their heads with flashlights. They tumbled to the floor. It took the men less than a minute to tie their hands behind their backs, and then tied ropes around their upper bodies to keep their arms securely fastened against their sides.
Avery came out of his dazed condition first. "What are you doing? You know who I am. What’s going on?" he shouted. They pulled him to his feet.
No one answered him. Julie made complaining sounds on the floor and they stood her up. They stuffed cotton into their mouths. Avery tried to get it out so he could reason with them. This whole thing surely must be a mistake. Struggling proved useless. He couldn’t dislodge the gag.
The men then forced them out on the porch and shoved them along a path that led up the hill. After ten minutes of this, Julie couldn’t go on, and a man picked her up and put her over his shoulder. They came to a cliff that plunged fifty feet straight down into a gorge. The man dropped Julie to the ground and then forced Avery to his knees.
The young man spoke. "Your car is being driven down I-81 and then up into the Pisgah National Forest in North Carolina. All of your possessions and your prints are in the car. When they look for you, they will be searching hundreds of miles from here. You, however, will be here."
He ordered one of the men to place Julie on her knees beside Avery. They took out a video camera with a light and started to record.
The young man stepped in front of the light and started to speak. "Hold the filming for a minute. Avery, I called the embassy while you were climbing up to the cabin. I’m telling you this so that you will know I’m speaking with the authority of the control group at Fatimah from Iran." He stopped and pushed his hair back. The darkness of his skin and the light from the camera confirmed Avery’s guess that his eyes were black, but now they were two sparking onyx stones. "Start the camera," he ordered.
The whir of the camera broke the stillness of the otherwise silent night. A wood owl hooted in the distance and the bushes behind them moved, probably a fox out for an evening rabbit hunt.
"The will of Fatimah is that you will sacrifice your lives in the name of Allah and for his honor. The events of today are irreparable. You will be caught and brought to their justice system. It will dishonor all Muslims if you are made to talk, and you would be compromised in the end. The faith is supreme, and your deaths will ensure no disrespect will be brought in the name of Allah. Your duty has been performed and your place in heaven is assured. All Islam thanks you for what you have done and what you have sacrificed. Go to Allah."
The big fat man whipped a curved sword from behind his back. Avery heard the whoosh in the nanosecond before the leading edge of the speeding blade touched his skin and continued on until his head rolled off his truncated body. In a heartbeat, the sound of the blade swished and took off Julie’s head. The camera caught it all.
Only the piercing cry of a bird, a chuck-wills-widow, filled the night.
Epilogue
SPAT, Inc.
Matt, with only a small bandage over his wound, brought Bridget into the office after the Marine Corps aircraft delivered them to Washington from Atlanta.
"Could you get me a drink? I need a beer," Bridget said.
"Sure. How are you feeling now that we’re out of the military-controlled medical and flight services?"
"I’m really all right. The shoulder is stiff and gives me a little pain, but nothing I can’t handle."
"We’re alone for the first time, and I have to tell you, we make a great team."
"You are so right, but I’ve lost too much function to be out in the field with you. I’d be a liability."
Matt put his hands in front of his face like a stop sign. "I didn’t ask you to go on a mission. Not yet, anyway." He smiled as he said this.
The office door opened, and Mary Jean and Laura came in. "Glad to see you both. How are you, Bridget?"
"Daddy, Daddy!" Laura ran to her father’s arms. He swooped her up.
"Fine, General," Bridget said.
"Congratulations."
"Daddy, can Gandalf stay with us?"
Matt nodded.
"I should leave you two alone, but I wanted to show you the paper." Mary Jean handed over the Washington paper with a story on the front page of the resignation of the national security advisor and another article that stated the FBI had successfully raided an apartment in Seattle and killed three terrorists in a gun battle. Another FBI raid in northern Virginia had resulted in the death of Ricky Jobin following a high-speed chase after his wounding of a federal officer.
They both read the article, and Mary Jean said, "I thought you might want to know that the Seattle raid produced a computer with invaluable email addresses and some names that will give us an edge in monitoring their activities. The FBI displayed no intention of taking prisoners if they resisted. My friend over at the Bureau is overjoyed at the outcome of the raids."
The phone rang and Laura picked it up. "Hello," she said. She listened and then smiled. She looked at her father and said, "A White House man wants us to come to dinner. He sounds nice."
Matt took the phone from his daughter. "Hello?"
"Matt, you two did a superb job in Atlanta," came the voice of President Brennan, "and your daughter sounds like a fine young lady. Is Bridget recovering from her wound?"
"Yes, Mr. President, she is," he said so they would all know the caller. “General Bergermeyer is also here."
"Excellent. Excellent. Now I need to thank you in person and congratulate you both. Please join me for dinner at eight this evening in my private dining room. Bring the general, because a foreign government has requested some help and I think you’re my man to assist them. This will be something completely different from this last adventure, and I pray not as dangerous."
"Ahhh," mumbled Matt trying to figure out a response.
"At eight," said the voice. Then he heard the dial tone.
THE END
Secret of the Thorns
The Donavan Adventure Series (Volume 3)
To Laurel Rose Haase, my granddaughter
Part I
Prologue
September 12, 1683
Vienna, Austria
The clash of steel, the clanging of ax bashed helmets, and the smell of splattered blood still lingered in the nostrils of John III Sobieski, King of Poland and the overall commander of the multi-national Christian forces. The triumphant royal banner, carried high by the king’s bloodied standard-bearer, flapped behind. Sitting on his black stallion, the king scanned the area, searching for his captain of the Polish heavy cavalry, the Husaria.
He sighted the gore-covered captain, and shouted, “Cheslaw, round up all our men and secure the abandoned wagons. Kee
p everything.” The man’s loyalty and the sovereign’s trust in him never wavered. More than once Captain Cheslaw had saved the king’s life on the field of battle.
“Yes, my lord.” His battle hardened captain galloped off to obey the command.
King John watched his valiant subordinate ride away and took one last approving gaze over the battlefield devastation. The priests gave the dying the Church’s last rites. The dead were placed in wagons for burial. With clenched eyes, in an unsuccessful attempt to wipe the crimson-soaked scene from memory, he turned his steed toward the bivouac area. His standard-bearer and personal guards followed.
Reaching his tent, he dropped his dented shield on the ground. King John forced himself to move one leg out of the saddle. When it touched the ground, he gritted his teeth against the pain shooting through his back. He’d deflected a heavy strike to his shield during the battle, but the blow had left lasting effects.
Inside his headquarters, he discovered a delegation from the city of Vienna awaiting his return. They stood before him with their hands clean, while his troops’ dripped in blood.
“Your highness, we are eternally in your debt,” the senior Austrian alderman said, making a respectful bow. The rest of the delegation followed suit by bowing low. “Without your intervention against the Islamic invaders, the Saracen army would have destroyed our city…you are the savior of all Europe.” The alderman rose and faced King John.
He examined the groveling nobleman, as he stood there clothed in his finery. The king clenched his fist. Why had he bothered to come to the aid of such cowards? All of Europe might well be better off without these sniveling weaklings. They failed to fight yet waited for someone else to save them. If the Pope and the Holy Roman Emperor hadn’t pleaded for his help he would have let them rot in their besieged city. As it was, he’d given his word to save them and despite his feelings the king could not break his word.
