Corps Justice Boxed Set: Books 1-3: Back to War, Council of Patriots, Prime Asset (40 page)

After a couple of minutes, three men made a
slow exit from the terminal building. Two headed for forklifts and
one headed to the truck.

Jablonski hopped out of the cab and handed
off his paperwork. After a second to review, the foreman with sleep
in his left eye looked up.

“Says you got some electronics set for
priority shippin’.” Jablonski couldn’t tell from the southern drawl
whether it was a question or a statement. Better to be nice and get
out of here quickly.

“Yeah. I think they’re cell phones.”

Surprisingly, that perked the foreman’s
interest. “Hey, they aren’t those new smart phones everyone’s
waiting in lines for, are they?”

“I don’t know, man. They just tell me where
to take ‘em,” Jablonski replied.

“You mind if I take a look? My kid’s been
buggin’ me about getting her one of those damned things. I ain’t
gonna shell out four hundred bucks for one though!” the man flashed
the driver a dirty grin.

Jablonski had seen this same
routine countless times.
Oops a pallet
fell off the truck and a couple pieces fell out.
But Tom was an honest driver. He’d never stolen
from his shipments and once scolded his own son when he’d suggested
doing so.

“Hey, man, you think we can just get these
things unloaded so I can go? It’s been a long haul.”

The foreman looked at the truck and finally
nodded. “If you can get the back unlocked, I’ll have my boys get
‘er done in a half hour.”

Tom Jablonski thanked the man and headed to
the back of the trailer. Another hour and he’d be in bed, counting
his cash bonus.

Chapter 21

Las Vegas,
Nevada

11:03pm, September 17th

The SSI operators made it back to the
Bellagio without incident. Along the way Trent and Zimmer relayed
the entire story of their capture and the arena battle. Cal
wouldn’t admit it, but he was surprised by the Congressman’s
decision to go back for Trent. It would’ve been really easy for him
to get in the car with Ishi and head back to Vegas. Instead, he’d
returned to the lion’s den and saved Cal some precious time.

Cal, Brian, Neil, Trent and Zimmer were all
comfortably seated in Patel’s suite. MSgt Trent looked refreshed
after a hot shower and highball of Famous Grouse. He continued his
story. “I’ll tell you what, Cal, these are some sick fuckers. Who
the hell does that kinda shit anymore?”

Cal sipped his drink and pondered the same
thing. What had they stumbled on? Underground fights to the death,
women for hire, a blackmailed politician; the whole thing sounded
too farfetched to be true. He still had more questions for
Zimmer.

“Congressman, did you recognize any of the
men you met?”

Zimmer shook his head. “They never gave me
any names. I’m thinking these guys may be more behind the
scenes.”

“Any other impressions?”

The Congressman took a sip of his drink and
let the question sink in for a second. “I’m not gonna lie to you.
Most of the time, I was scared shitless. I got the feeling that I
was some kind of pet to them. They looked at me like…I don’t know
how to describe it. They were looking down at me. It felt
like…”

“You were less than nothing,” Trent
completed.

“Yes. Talk about xenophobic. These guys
stick with their own kind,” Zimmer finished, still wondering where
everything was headed.

Cal stood up and walked to the window. “From
here on out, the Congressman stays with us.”

“But what about Nakamura’s instructions?”
Zimmer asked on the verge of panic. He could only imagine what
would hit the media without his cooperation. The bloody videos
would quickly destroy his life.

“Do you really want to go back with those
guys?” Cal asked almost angrily. “My job was to find out who these
guys are and to keep you safe. I can’t do that unless you stay
here. For now, we need to take the chance. Maybe we call their
bluff. I have a feeling that you’re an important part of their
plan. I don’t think they’ll jump the gun.”

“How do you know that?” Zimmer blurted. “How
do you know they won’t take those videos and plaster them all over
the Internet?”

“I don’t, Congressman. It’s called a
calculated risk. Besides, it’ll all be a moot point soon.”

“Why is that?”

“Because we’re gonna take these
motherfuckers down.”

+++

After some further planning, the team
dispersed to their new rooms. They were all exhausted and they’d
have an early morning wakeup call to start executing Cal’s
plan.

In all the commotion, Cal had completely
forgotten to call Daniel Briggs. Despite the late hour, he figured
the sniper might still be awake. He swirled the last remnants of
his drink as the phone rang on the other end.

“Cal?”

“Hey, man. Sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

“Everything okay?”

“I wouldn’t really say that, but they’re
better than they were a few hours ago.”

“Anything I can help with?” Daniel
offered.

“I don’t know, man. Tell you what, why don’t
you come by my hotel room at eight tomorrow morning. By then we’ll
be done with our meetings and I might have some questions about
Vegas that I’ll need some insight on.”

“No problem. I’ll be there fifteen to
eight.”

Cal chuckled. “Once a Marine…”

“Always a Marine,” finished Briggs. “Every
gunny I ever had told me that being on-time was being late.”

“Me too, Brother.”

Cal relayed the hotel and
room number and they said their goodbyes.
What the hell am I gonna to do with the scruffy
sniper?

Next, he placed a call to President Waller.
The man was still awake and requested they conference in the other
members of the Council of Patriots. After five minutes, everyone
was on the line and Cal gave a rundown of everything that had
happened.

“How soon until Neil gets all the way into
Ichiban’s network, Cal?” Waller asked.

“I’m not sure, sir. He’s having some trouble
because of the level of sophistication.”

“Any thoughts on what they’re after?” asked
President Kelton.

“None yet, sir,” answered Stokes. “I’m not
getting a good feeling about the convention though. Is there any
way we can get it postponed until we know more?”

Waller answered first, “Can’t do it, Cal. As
much as I hate to put so many people at risk, we don’t know if
that’s their endgame yet. Just make sure you keep us in the loop
and we’ll alert the authorities if needed.”

There were a couple more questions from the
Council, but nothing was really resolved. They were all anxiously
waiting to see where the investigation would lead. They’d learned
to be patient men during their time in office. It was a trait that
Cal didn’t have. The Marine in him wanted to take out the
enemy…now.

Chapter 22

Las Vegas,
Nevada

6:47am, September
18
^th

After a couple hours of sleep, the SSI team
met over a mound of room service food. Cal had reluctantly allowed
Zimmer in on the meeting. In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Neil, please tell me you have SOMETHING we
can work with,” Cal mumbled through a bite of chocolate
croissant.

Neil looked like he’d been without sleep for
a week. His usually impeccable dress was marred with countless
wrinkles and more than one food stain. It wasn’t like the computer
geek to go this long without cracking into a system.

Patel yawned and waved away a coffee refill
offered by Brian. “Okay. So like we talked about before, Ichiban
Gaming’s main source of legitimate income is from consulting. Early
this morning, I finally got past their last firewall. You wouldn’t
believe how far these guys reach. They’ve got contacts all over the
world.”

“Anything we can use?” asked Trent.

“I’m not sure. What I can tell you is that
in recent months they’ve consolidated a lot of their assets. At
first glance it looks almost random, but these guys are pretty
methodical. They’ve divested the majority of their American stock
and now own a huge portfolio of real estate and commodities like
gold and silver.”

Zimmer chimed in. “That’s nothing new, is
it? Haven’t the Japanese had a huge interest in our economy since
the eighties?”

“Yes, but this is one entity. I’m also
seeing a lot of dead ends. They’re reporting internal expenditures
that are getting spread across hundreds of banks around the globe.
A hundred grand here, a few million there… Since they’re a private
company, they don’t have to make this stuff public.”

“Can you see where the money’s going?” Cal
asked.

“Of course, but it would take me weeks to
track the end accounts. Most likely they’re wired to an initial
banking center then routed again multiple times. It’s a real maze.
I wouldn’t be surprised if they had some internal system for
tracking their stuff. There’s no way I can access that unless I’m
inside their server room.”

“How hard would it be to get inside that
room?” Cal’s mind was already running with possibilities.

“Almost impossible,” Neil said
matter-of-factly. “Besides, I’m sure they probably have some kind
of kill switch to destroy all the evidence in case of an
investigation.”

“Either way, I think we need to try. Any
other ideas?” Cal looked around the group. No one could think of
anything better. It was a classic dilemma. They had one of the
smartest computer geniuses on the planet, plus nearly unlimited
technology at their disposal, but what they really needed was boots
on the ground. The CIA was learning the same lesson the hard way.
Human Intelligence (HUMINT) was invaluable.

“Let’s let this sink in for a couple hours.
Meet back here at noon. Don’t worry, lunch is on me,” Cal
deadpanned. It was already after 7:30am and he wanted to make a
quick call before meeting with Daniel. He excused himself and
headed to his new room across the hall.

He dialed a number and entered the bedroom
as he waited for someone to pickup.

“Andrews.”

“Andy, it’s Cal.” Capt. Bartholemew Andrews
was Cal’s former platoon commander from the fleet. They’d seen a
lot of combat together and each had a Navy Cross and wounds to
prove it. When they were SSgt Stokes and 1stLt Andrews they had
grown close after saving each other from the clutches of death, on
more than one occasion. No one ever called Capt. Andrews by his
given name. He’d always gone by Andy to his friends.

“Hey, Cal! What’s going on?”

The last time they’d been together was
during Jessica’s funeral. Being assigned to the Marine Silent Drill
Team kept Andy pretty busy.

“They still have you serving canapés for the
Commandant?” The Marine Silent Drill Team was stationed at Eighth
and I, the traditional home of the Marine Commandant. Extra duties
for assigned officers often included attending cocktail parties
with visiting VIPs.

“All that crap stopped as soon as I went to
Silent Drill. Where are you calling from?” Andy was one of the very
few people outside of SSI that actually knew what the company did
behind the scenes. He’d even been a part of the extract team that
had infiltrated Dante West’s tunnel system and rescued Cal a year
ago.

“Me and a couple of the boys are in Vegas
doing some work.”

“No shit!? We’re heading out there tomorrow
for the big convention.”

“Which one?”

“The Democratic National Convention.”

“Really? I thought you guys just traveled to
do shows at football games.”

“Usually we do. Apparently, the President
pulled a few strings and might’ve threatened to end a couple
careers. He wants to look really presidential for his re-election.”
Andy’s disgust was obvious.

“Maybe we can get together. You think you’ll
have time?”

“You kidding? We always make time to get out
when we’re on the road. It’s one of the few perks we have.”

“That’s great. Hey, I was wondering if you
could do me a favor?”

“You want me to get a signed picture of
Chesty for you?” Andy laughed. Chesty was the name given to the
Marine Corps mascot, an English bulldog. The name was a tribute to
a Marine Corps legend, Gen. Lewis “Chesty” Puller. Every young
Marine learned about Chesty in their first days of boot camp.

“Very funny. No, I was wondering if you
could look somebody up for me.”

One of the advantages of being near
Headquarters Marine Corps was the ability to access information
about almost any Marine.

“You actually caught me about to log-off of
my work computer. Who do you want me to look up?”

Cal gave him Daniel’s name and told him that
Briggs was a scout sniper. Using his name and Military Occupational
Specialty (MOS), the corresponding record popped up after a couple
of clicks.

“Got it. What do you want to know?”

“Just wondering what his current status is.
Guy told me he got out with PTSD. Wanted to get a better feel for
him.”

Cal waited as the Marine Captain scrolled
through the record.

“Did multiple tours overseas. Wow. He’s got
over a hundred confirmed kills. Where’d you meet this guy?”

“I’ll tell you when you get out here. What
else does it say?”

“Honorable discharge as a sergeant, and…wait
a minute,” Andy clicked on a note under the Awards section. “Holy
shit.”

“What?” Cal asked, thinking the worst.

“He’s nominated for the Medal of Honor.”

“Really?! For what?”

Andy skimmed through the citation and read
the highlights to Cal. It sounded like the story Briggs had told
him. He’d failed to mention that in the firefight he’d probably
killed close to fifty insurgents. What was even more impressive was
that it was the SEAL Team Commander that put Briggs in for the
nation’s highest military award.