Presidential Shift - Episode 1 (4 page)

Chapter 6

6:32am, December
16
^th

Cal and Daniel had driven back to
Charlottesville the night before. They could’ve flown in one of
SSI’s private jets, but Cal wanted the time in the car to
think.

They woke early and headed to Neil Patel’s
office to see what kind of progress the computer genius had
made.

The Marines found their friend scrolling and
clicking through gibberish-looking computer screens. Neil looked up
from his work as they entered.

“I was wondering when you two would be
visiting me. Did you bring any coffee?”

Cal held up a large to-go coffee mug he’d
grabbed from the compound’s mess hall.

“Three creams and four sugars. I don’t know
how you drink that, Neil.”

“What can I say? I like it sweet.”

Neil shifted around in his chair to grab the
coffee.

“How’s the leg doing?” asked Daniel, pointing
down to Neil’s prosthetic limb.

“Better now. I think this last adjustment did
it.” Neil sipped his coffee and swiveled back to his terminals.
“I’ve got something for you, Cal.”

Cal looked over his friends shoulder eagerly.
“What did you find?”

Neil laughed. “This was almost too easy.
Hacking into politicians’ email accounts was a snap. I’ve got some
juicy stuff and I’ll probably have audio and video soon too.”

“How the hell are you getting audio and
video?”

“A couple ways. You’d be surprised how many
of these people record their conversations. They’re probably
thinking about using them as insurance in case things go south with
their contacts. Unfortunately for them, if they’re accessed, we can
use it against them. The way I’m getting video is through public
and private security cameras. My facial recognition software does
all the heavy lifting. It’s already picked up some good clips. The
hard part will be sifting through all the incoming data. Any
thoughts on how you want me to prioritize?”

“Let’s start with the top down,” Cal
suggested. “Maybe we’ll be able to kill two birds with one stone.
Target the president’s top advisers and aides first. I’m sure
that’ll branch off soon enough.”

Neil entered a few lines of code, and then
looked up again. “I should have a couple dossiers soon.”

+++

Their next stop was to see Cal’s cousin and
CEO of SSI Travis Haden. Cal knocked once and entered Travis’s
office. The former SEAL was on the phone with his bare feet propped
up on the desk. He wore a sweat-drenched olive drab t-shirt that
accentuated his bulging muscles. Travis motioned for the two
Marines to have a seat.

“That’s right. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Travis hung up the phone and swung his feet off the desk.

“Another one of your girlfriends, Trav?” Cal
asked.

His cousin ignored the comment, used to the
ribbing. “How was your trip?”

Cal ran through the highlights of the
previous day’s excursion.

“I assume Neil’s already digging?” asked
Travis once the recitation ended.

“He is. We’re meeting for lunch to go over
what he’s got so far.”

“What can I do to help?”

“The same as usual. Give me anything I want.”
Cal grinned.

Travis didn’t reciprocate the look. Instead,
he looked over at the sniper everyone called Snake Eyes.

“Daniel, can you give us a minute?”

Daniel started to get up out of his seat.

“Oh great! I’m in trouble now. Cousin Travis
is gonna give me a scolding. Stay here, Daniel. I think I know
where this is going.”

Daniel looked between the two men.
Technically they were both his bosses. In any other place Daniel
might have left, but at SSI things were different. Here, Daniel was
an equal and highly valued part of the team. When he spoke, people
listened. Besides, he’d pledged himself to Cal months before.
Daniel sat back down in his chair. Travis shrugged.

“Fine. It’s probably better that you stay
anyway.” Travis opened a drawer and pulled out a blue folder a half
inch thick. He laid it on the desk. “I need to talk to you about
the last couple months. Now, I’m not saying…”

Cal huffed and said, “Just spit it out. I’m a
big boy, remember?”

“Okay. Some of us are a little concerned
about the number of operations you’ve been on recently.”

“Who’s we?”

“Me, Dunn and Marge.”

“Not Doc Higgins?” Dr. Higgins was SSI’s
resident psychologist and expert interrogator. If you wanted to
delve into a man’s mind or carve out information, there were none
better that Higgins.

“Not Higgins.”

“Huh. That’s funny. I would’ve thought that
if someone was worried about me killing a bunch of bad guys it
would be our shrink.”

“I can’t say I’m not surprised, but when I
asked Doc about it, he told me that you know your limits.”

“I do.”

“So am I allowed to ask you about your
targets?”

“I CC you on everything I greenlight.”

“How about this guy you took out yesterday?
Mans…”

“Mansoor Abbas, also went by Mansoor Daher,
Manny Halabi and a few other names. Friend of Hezbollah, al Qaeda
and some other upstart terrorist organizations. Had ties to
terrorist funding coming from Saudi Arabia, India and Pakistan.
Neil’s team positively identified him as the middle man in over two
hundred transactions. Most recently he was promoted to operations
and was about to supervise his first attack here in the U.S.”

“What was your rationale for killing him in a
public park?”

Cal shrugged. “I wanted to send a
message.”

“You seem to be all about sending messages
these days.”

“What can I say? Me and Snake Eyes are pretty
good.”

Travis’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t a game,
Cal.”

“Don’t you think I know that? You gave me
this job to take out bad guys. That’s what I’m doing.”

“I’m not saying you’re not.”

“Then what’s your point?” flared Cal.

“I’m not the only one that thinks you might
have lingering thoughts about Wyoming.”

Cal breathed in and out slowly, willing
himself to calm down. The previous October, he’d lost men,
including one of his best friends, Brian Ramirez, in an operation
to rescue Neil Patel. Cal had watched as a massive explosion ripped
through his team. He’d later exacted revenge on the mastermind of
the kidnapping, Nick Ponder.

Daniel broke the awkward silence. “I’ve been
with Cal for every one of these takedowns, and although he
sometimes likes to exhibit a little…flair, I can honestly say that
he is never reckless.”

“See?” said Cal.

“All right. You know I wouldn’t ask if I
didn’t care. As your cousin I want to make sure you’re okay. As
your boss, I want to make sure you’re not doing anything that could
compromise the company.”

“Don’t worry. I know my limits. Besides,
Daniel’s the best babysitter around.”

Travis finally laughed. “Okay. Enough of
that.” He slid the folder back in the drawer. “Back to the
president. Will this be strictly a digital operation or do you need
boots on the ground?”

“For now all I need is Neil and the two of
us. I thought Daniel and I could take a trip and shadow the
president on the road. It might give us a better idea of who the
leak might be.”

“Just keep me in the loop.”

“No problem.”

+++

After checking in with his secretary, Cal
headed outside. “How about we head over and say hello to Top?”
asked Cal.

Top was Marine Master Sergeant Willy Trent, a
close friend of Cal’s and lead hand-to-hand combat instructor at
SSI. Not only was he huge, at just under seven feet in height, the
outgoing black Marine was also an accomplished chef. Top Trent was
someone you always wanted on your side.

Minutes later they entered SSI’s gym
facility. They passed through the professional grade free weights
area and snuck into the observation room. Through the plate glass
window a group of six SSI operators lined up against the far wall.
Trent was in the middle of the wrestling mat demonstrating a
grappling move on a seventh trainee. Cal and Daniel watched as he
effortlessly tossed the man over his shoulder and guided him onto
the mat. The quickness of the move surprised the trainee and made
Cal smile.

Trent looked up and noticed Cal at the
window. He waved and motioned for his friend to come join the
fun.

A minute later, the big Marine was
introducing Cal and Daniel to the new guys. There were curt nods
and handshakes all around. Each man casually sized up the owner of
SSI. Cal was used to it and kept the chit chat to a minimum. There
would be time to bond with these men after they’d been better
indoctrinated into the company. They were all experienced operators
from each of the military branches. Unbeknownst to the warriors,
Cal had approved each and every man before they’d been offered a
position at SSI.

“Why don’t you guys practice that toss and
roll while I’m gone,” said Trent. “I’ve gotta talk to the
boss.”

The operators paired up as Cal, Daniel and
Trent left the sparring room and headed to one of the small offices
down the adjoining hallway. It took Cal five minutes to bring Trent
up to speed on what had happened in D.C. Top sipped on an oversized
bottle of Powerade Zero as he listened.

Trent had been part of every major operation
Cal led at SSI. Despite their differences in size and background,
deep trust and respect cemented their relationship. Much like his
close connection with Daniel, Cal’s friendship with Trent had
developed quickly. It was the Marine way when a fellow Jarhead
saved your life. That had happened on multiple occasions in the
past year and a half.

“How can I help?” asked Trent in his deep
boom, once Cal finished with the debrief.

“Neil’s handling the political investigation,
so I think we’re good there. As far as the attack on the vice
president and first lady, I’m not sure yet. Figured something will
probably break in the Secret Service’s case. The president promised
to keep us in the loop.”

“You have a team on standby?”

“We were heading over to see Gaucho after
talking to you.”

Gaucho was one of SSI’s most battle-hardened
team leaders. A short Mexican and former Delta operator, Gaucho won
the award for most eccentric man at SSI. He wore his long beard
tightly braided in twin strands. Anyone who underestimated the
squat soldier soon found out that the Hispanic hard-ass was smart
and ruthless.

“Why don’t I come with you? I haven’t seen my
little Mexican in a couple days,” said Trent. Gaucho and Trent were
two of the biggest pranksters at SSI. More often than not, their
pranks targeted or involved the other.

Cal checked with the company switchboard and
found out that Gaucho and his team had the urban assault house
booked for the day. Trent dismissed his sweat soaked pupils and the
three Marines hopped in Trent’s jacked up Ford 350. It was a short
drive on well-worn dirt trails. Trent pumped the latest country
chart topper as they drove.

Ten minutes later, the rhythmic staccato of
machine gun fire welcomed them as they approached the isolated
training facility on the fringe of the compound. There was a red
flag hanging flaccidly from a metal pole outside the building to
indicate that the area was ‘hot.’ Trent turned down the radio and
shut off the engine.

“Nothin’ I like better than the sound of
machine gun fire in the morning,” said Trent as he stepped out and
stretched his large frame in the crisp morning air.

As Cal led the way to the two-story
structure, a voice came over the loudspeaker.

“
Cease fire, cease fire.”

The machine gun fire had already stopped, but
it was customary for the range officer to make the announcement
just as they would have done on any American military base around
the world. SSI’s founder, Marine Colonel Calvin Stokes, had
insisted as much, and the rules still stood.

Masked and clad in black, SSI operators
streamed out of the first floor entrance. Gaucho was easy to spot
as the shortest of the bunch. He waved to Cal and motioned that
he’d be over in a minute.

Two minutes later, Gaucho joined the small
group. He’d put on an oversized black field jacket.

“Whadya say, boss? Stayin’ outta
trouble?”

Cal shrugged and shook Gaucho’s hand, which
turned into a brotherly hug. “As much as I can. You got a minute to
talk?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

Cal gave Gaucho the same report he’d given
Trent earlier.

“So what’s the plan?” Gaucho asked.

“Neil should have enough to release to the
media soon. We’ll see how that goes. As far as the other stuff, I
want to make sure you and your boys are ready to jump if I need
you.”

“You know us, boss. Always ready.”

Chapter 7

12:16pm, December
16
^th

Special Agent Steve Stricklin stepped out of
the stuffy interrogation room and cracked his neck. The day was
only half over and he was already tired of talking to the
tight-lipped agents of the Birmingham office. He knew they were
hiding something. It was in the way they looked at him with their
smug eyes. It never crossed Stricklin’s mind that maybe they just
hated the fact that he was an Internal Affairs officer and a prick
to boot.

Stricklin came from a modest upbringing and
an above average high school education in Virginia. After college,
he’d joined the Marines to see the world and get one step closer to
his goal of running for public office. Along the way, he’d become
an infantry officer and, in his mind, served honorably and
faithfully. Former Marine First Lieutenant Steve Stricklin didn’t
stay in touch with any of the Marines he’d served with. He’d had a
lofty vision of what an infantry Marine looked like: tall,
muscular, square jawed and ready for war. It was what he saw when
he looked in the mirror.