The Land of the Free (17 page)

John and Frank awoke in a small
warehouse, bound hand and foot.  The place was dark and they had no idea how
long they had been under, or even what time of day it was.  Groggy, Frank
examined the bonds which were several layers of duct tape, the second time in
recent days he had been so bound.  “Well now, you never run out of uses for
duct tape,” he said.

John slowly came to, but the duct
tape binding him was not the first thing he noticed.  There was a sickly sweet
smell in the warehouse.  He’d definitely smelled it before, and now he thought
he remembered where.  He looked at Frank and remarked “I’m guessing I know who
did this, but I couldn’t tell you why we’re still alive.”

A voice from the darkness answered
his question.  “Because then I’d miss the chance to meet you in person.”  A
tall man walked out from the shadows, now visible only in silhouette.

“You tried to have both of us
killed before, so what’s different now?” asked Frank.

“I wondered that myself,” said the
tall man.  “I’m not at all confident it will pay off to prolong your lives, so
I hope you can prove me wrong, and make it worthwhile for me.  You must
understand I don’t really enjoy ordering people killed.  I’m on the fence with
you guys.  Too many bodies and you attract the very attention you’re trying to
avoid.  You may be too late to change anything, but not too late to be a
nuisance to me.  So I want to know what you’ve learned, and who else knows it. 
Mr. Linssman has proven to be more trouble than I’d first realized.”

John was now sure he had
encountered this man previously.  “You’re going to unload a shipment in Newark
in a hurry and under tight security.  It’s highly choreographed, with specific
locations prearranged for each container.  If you want to know more, introduce
yourself.”

The man walked toward them until
his face was illuminated by a distant light.  Frank blurted out, “the devil
himself,” before he could have second thoughts.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,
Mr. Goworski,” answered the man.  “Mr. Corson, you may not know me.  I am Derek
Ellis.  President and CEO of Morningstar Security Services.  And Gentlemen, I’d
like to know who it was that paid us a visit at San Marcos, pretending to be
the Feldsteins.  They called your phone from a number that was obtained at
exactly the same time and place as your own.  I want to know what they’ve
relayed back to you and who you’ve told about it.”

“And then you’ll kill us, to tie
off loose ends?” asked John.

Calmly, Ellis replied.  “I told
you, I’m on the fence there.  This is just business after all.  Everything’s
negotiable.

“Except that Morningstar’s business
is murder, so cut the bullshit,” snapped John.  “You have no intention of
letting us walk.  So stop pretending, and I won’t stand here and tell you I
have no idea what you’re talking about and what you’re up to.”  John did his
best to look self-assured while also hiding his joy that Lyle and Jess had
escaped.

“When the operation runs its
course, I won’t care anymore who knows about it,” offered Ellis.  “At that
point, I can release you without fear of any consequences.  I’m not Mother
Teresa, Mr. Corson, but I do keep my word.”

“So when the plot hatches, you’ll
have the power to kill anybody who opposes you openly?” asked John.

Ellis offered a cold smile, adding,
“Yeah something like that.”

“Anyone who doesn’t speak Chinese
that is,” said John.

Ellis appeared to be disturbed by
his inability to gain the upper hand in the discussion.  “Gentlemen, if we
don’t get anywhere now, we can continue this chat later with the assistance of
the
enhanced interrogators
.”

John decided to push his
advantage.  “We know that the operation starts in San Marcos, and ends in
Newark, and other ports,” guessing on the last part.

“You bore me, Mr. Corson.  That
much is obvious from anything you’ve seen.  If you’re as smart as I think you
are, then you’ve learned a lot more than that.”

“You were banned from Afghanistan
because you’re not Mother Teresa, and you were staring bankruptcy in the face. 
Then someone approached you with big bucks, maybe someone representing the
Chinese.  And all you had to do for your money and power was to sell out your
country.  An easy choice for you, I guess.”

Ellis showed no reaction to that
statement.  “We’re interviewing witnesses on Contadora, and we’ll get security
photos from any airport they’ve been through, so we’ll find them, eventually. 
It’s just a matter of time.  In the meantime, you two can think about what you
want to say to our interrogators.”

Ellis walked off into the darkness
and a door opened, then closed.  Ellis’ fragrance lingered another five minutes
or so.

It was past 4 pm in the Pearl
Islands, and another couple of hours until sunset would make it safe to go out
again.  “So what’s on that Island that I’m risking my life over?” asked Luis,
making it clear he was tired of being kept in the dark.

“Jess, how many buildings did you
count?” asked Lyle, ignoring Luis’ question for the moment.

Jess thought about it for a moment
then offered, “About 1,000 plus or minus 50 or so, each housing maybe 100 men. 
There was a small section I couldn’t see, so I had to estimate.  And about
three quarters of the area was buzzing with activity and people.  The area
closest to the port looked empty and men were making the trip to the other side
of the harbor.  Thousands more had just arrived on that cruise ship.  The whole
place was in a state of flux, but I had the impression that the arrivals had concluded
and the departures had begun.”

Luis was not impressed.  “Of course
there are people.  Where you think all that sewage is coming from?  But what
are they
doing
there, that’s what I want to know.”

Jess added “There were empty
container ships coming in.  I guess they’ll be loading up whatever is in those
containers.”

Lyle decided to end the suspense.
“I’ll tell you what’s going into those containers.  Luis and Jess, this is a
Trojan Horse army.  Those containers are built to hold people, not stuff.”  He
saw the realization slowly sinking in.

“If you want to invade a country
across the ocean, you face the problem of crossing open water without being
detected.  You then have to land and establish a beachhead you can defend
before the defenders can mount a response.  But if you import an army in
shipping containers, you eliminate those two problems completely.  America is
the only country that imports at such a furious rate that this many containers
are nothing unusual.  It’s the only possible target.  Fortress America as we
always called it was thought unconquerable by the Japanese and the Germans, to
the degree they even spoke of it.  The Japanese knew it would be futile because
they couldn’t cross the Pacific in an invasion fleet big enough.  And what forces
they could land would be attacked right away by Americans with guns.  They
described it as a ‘gun behind every blade of grass.’”

“So who’s invading America?” asked
Jess.  “The young guy at the hotel said the North Koreans owned San Marcos.”

“José doesn’t know nothing,” said
Luis.  “It’s the story that’s going around on Contadora, but who knows if it’s
true.”

“The North Koreans can’t afford to
rent a hammock on the beach,” said Lyle.  “The people we saw were Orientals,
but all the signs point to China.  You mentioned the possibility in Montreal,
Jess, but I didn’t want to believe it.  Yet it’s the only one that works with
the facts we’ve seen.  They export in huge quantities to the US, and they have
the money and resources to mount an invasion.  The US is a problem for them in
so many ways that it’s not inconceivable they would do this.  The Chinese are
borrowing a tactic from the Greeks who faced an unconquerable Troy.  They let
the Trojans import the invading army inside the statue of a horse, who then
unlocked the gates for the whole army that followed.”

“But how do you ship people in
those containers?” asked Jess.  “They’d be locked in there for days, even up to
a week.”

“The warehouse I visited was full
of shipping containers in the process of being converted from cargo to human
transport.  They started with refrigerated containers, the kind normally used
to ship fruits and vegetables.  Then they had bunks and toilets installed.  I
suspect they’ll be fitted with water also.  There were other containers with
caches of small arms.  Their plan will probably be to unload the containers in
the major ports, which are in or near most major cities.”

“Senor, there are gringos on San
Marcos too.  Do you know who they are?”

“That would be Morningstar
Security.  They’ve been the point men on this whole affair from the beginning. 
Our story started with Jess’ dad being killed trying to find out what was
happening on San Marcos.  We think Morningstar killed him to cover up what he’d
learned about the operations down there.  It only figures that they would have
their people on the scene to keep things moving smoothly.”

Jess looked puzzled. “They can’t
get away with this.  There are major military bases near every port in the
country.  They’ll never get outside the port complex before they’re all
killed.”

“Senorita, there’s nobody in those
bases.  Your armies and all their planes and guns are all over the world. 
They’re everywhere but in America.”

Lyle interrupted.  “Luis is right,
our armies are far-flung. Between Taiwan, the Persian Gulf, South Korea and our
forces in Japan and Europe, there’s nothing left back home.  It’s well known
that the jets that fly around at the home bases are never the best ones and are
rarely, if ever, armed.  The small arms I saw being loaded were more than
enough to fight off the few soldiers that can be mobilized, and that’s probably
less than the police SWAT teams in those cities.”

Their discussion was interrupted by
a passing helicopter that made several passes over the area.  They stopped
talking, as though they were afraid of being heard.  It was unnerving to hear
it but not see it.  It seemed like it was circling in the area for a good five
minutes before then it left.  After it passed, Luis asked, “why don’t we have
some food and drink while we talk.”  He then opened a cooler full of fruit,
cold shrimp, and a bottle of
Pinot Grigio
.  He reached for a bag with
some fresh bread and offered that also.

“Luis, that’s wonderful,” said
Jess.  Luis quickly set up a table and chairs for them to sit at and eat.

They ate in silence for a time,
before Jess broke the silence.  “Lyle, you said the Japanese were afraid of
America because there was a ‘gun behind every blade of grass.’  Why is it
different now?”

“Because they mean to take the
cities, Jess.  America’s guns are out in the country, while the cities have
very strict gun laws.  They won’t find the people to be armed in the cities. 
And the gangs who do have guns aren’t organized to fight a disciplined army.”

“But they won’t be able to control the
whole country,” retorted Jess.  “The people in the country are the independent
ones.”

“Even independent people need a
leader, Jess.  I don’t think there’s ever been a President less connected to
the common folk.  His social circles are known for sneering at the
rednecks
. 
Other Presidents have moved in similar circles, but today it’s out in the
open.  When he speaks of them he uses words like
angry
and
frustrated
. 
But what they hear is
stupid
and
ignorant
.  They’ll still feel
like they should support the country, but they won’t know who to support.  If
the media falls in line with the invaders, all you’ll have is confusion. 
They’re probably counting on this.”

“Senor, how about the nuclear
response?” asked Luis.

“The President is committed to ‘no
first use,’” interjected Jess.

“Commitments like that are not
dependable in the heat of battle,” said Lyle.  “I don’t know what they’ll do. 
But they’ve probably thought about that and they probably have other plans that
we haven’t figured out yet.  We just need to get back and get word to the right
people,” finished Lyle.

The sun sets quickly in the
tropics, and the period of twilight is very brief before deep darkness sets
in.  When they were confident it was sufficiently dark, Luis started the
engines again, and pulled out onto the water.

“Are you sure you know where you’re
going in the dark?” asked Jess.

“Si senorita, in my past I made
this trip many times at night.”

“Luis, I’m going to take one guess
at what you were doing learning to navigate at night and knowing about that
hiding place, and I don’t like the implications,” said Jess.

“I did what I had to do,” he
shrugged without looking at Jess.

Lyle decided to come to Luis’
rescue before Jess eviscerated him.  “Jess, one of the luxuries we have living
in America is that we can choose
not
to make a living doing something
objectionable.  We can afford to take a step down economically and it almost
never means our kids go hungry.  Most of the world doesn’t have that margin of
wealth, and sometimes it’s not really a free choice.  That’s why I’m not
comfortable judging those in poor countries who get caught up in something we
condemn.”

Jess frowned at Lyle briefly, but
dropped the subject.

“Thank you Senor,” said Luis,
looking appreciative.  “You do favors for people, and they do favors for you. 
You don’t ask too many questions.  That’s how it works down here.”

“Did you see him squirm when you
mentioned the Chinese?” asked Frank.

John nodded, aware that there could
be microphones in the vicinity, adding in a whisper, “He gave away a lot.  On
China, I took what turned out to be a lucky guess.”

“Good guess.  Not that it could
really be anybody else behind this.”

John said nothing for a while then
whispered again, “I don’t know if it will be useful to us, but we’re learning a
ton here.  We know Ellis is running something big enough to make him among the
most powerful men in America.  Someone, probably Chinese, is using Morningstar
to pull it off and Ellis gets some sort of prominent role.  It starts in San
Marcos, it involves the major ports of the USA, and it leaves Ellis in control
at the end of the day.”

“An invasion?”

“It’s possible.  Think about it. 
Ports are for importing things.  What if they plan to import an army?  I’d love
to hear what they saw in San Marcos.”

After some silence, Frank broached
the topic of their predicament.  “They’re first going to see what we tell them
voluntarily.  Then they’ll
enhance
the interrogation and compare notes
on what we’ve said individually.  Finally, they’ll finish us off with some
brutal torture where we’ll say anything to make it stop.  That’ll be the least
reliable information but even there, they’ll find useful tidbits.  I wonder if
we should just tell them the truth to begin with and then contradict ourselves
when it gets bad.  At least that will confuse them a bit.”

“Frank if that’s how it ends, then
it’s been a pleasure knowing you.  I was leery about getting involved in all
this but now, I can honestly say I have no regrets.  I will fight Derek Ellis
with to last breath.”

“What changed your mind?” asked
Frank.

“His perfume,” said John.

“Okay he smells offensive, but
really?”

“If we get out of here I’ll
explain.  There’s a lot more to it.”

Several hours passed and Frank and
John fell asleep, awaking before dawn to the sound of glass breaking, a door
opening, and somebody running towards them.

Frank looked up in disbelief. 
“It’s you.  From Fred’s!”

The red haired man looked
disgusted.  “You idiots have really got yourselves in deep shit.  I told you
those guys are not to be messed with.”

He quickly cut the tape that bound
them and led them out of the warehouse.  “They’ve been to your motel, so forget
about getting anything from there.  I can only imagine what they’ve rigged up
in your car.  We’re going to a safe house where we’ll debrief you.”

They got into the man’s Toyota
Highlander and followed some side streets to the southbound New Jersey
turnpike.  “After your transparent stunt at Fred’s, I decided to follow you.  I
saw them take you and followed the van, waiting for my chance.  Now I hope what
you’ve learned is worth the loss of my cover at the port.  You’ve really
screwed up my operation.”

“So who are you?” asked John.

“Randy Tucker.  I’m with a division
of the NSA.  We know these guys are planning something, but we don’t yet know
the details.”

“I’m John Corson, and this is Frank
Goworski.  They’ve previously tried to kill us and they’ve already killed our
old friend Robbie.”

“I’m sorry to hear about that,”
said Tucker.  “Do you know what they’re planning?”

“We know a good part of the story,”
said John.  “And we have good guesses about the rest.  Can you get us in to see
the President, or at least the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs?”

“That’ll take some doing.  I
suppose if your story is good enough I could do that.  Now it’s time to start
talking.”

“Where’s this safe house?” asked
Frank, seeming a little suspicious.

“You’re not going to learn that
yet,” said Tucker.  “First I want your story.  All of it.”

“Let’s stop for breakfast,” said
John.  “We were on our way to dinner when they took us, and that was a day and
night ago.  I can’t think straight until I get something to eat.”  Frank nodded
in agreement.

“We can do that,” said Tucker.  He
took the next exit and pulled in at a McDonald’s just off the highway.  He
ordered breakfast combos and several bottles of water.  They ate quickly, with
John only getting in occasional words about “shipments,” “San Marcos,” and
“Chinese.”

John finished eating and proclaimed
“I’m going to go wash my hands.”

“Good idea, I’ll come with you,”
said Tucker.  At the single sink, John went first, rolling up his sleeves and
elaborately washing his hands with extra amounts of soap, taking a long time to
rinse and using four paper towels.

Tucker followed.  He bent over the
sink and rolled up his sleeves, not to the degree that John had done but enough
for John’s purposes.  Suddenly and without warning, John used the palm of his
hand to violently slam Tucker’s head into the cinder block wall beside him,
whereupon he collapsed to the floor motionless.  John took Tucker’s wallet, car
keys and gun, and walked back to the table, saying to Frank quietly but firmly,
“Let’s go.”  Frank jumped to his feet and followed.

…

Behind the wheel of Tucker’s car,
John merged into southbound traffic, well outside commuting distance from New
York City, but still surrounded by heavy traffic volume.  “We probably have an
hour before our friend regains his wits and finds a way to make a few phone
calls.  After that, they’ll be on this car very quickly.  I’d be surprised if
they’re not tracking it right now,” said John.

“What was the deal with Tucker?”
asked Frank.

“I had a bad feeling about our
rescue
being so easy, with no guards or much interrogation to speak of, so I stalled
as long as I could before telling him anything,” replied John.  “Then I
remembered something from our abduction.  I was sure I recognized one guy’s
voice.  And I scratched his arm as they were drugging us.  When I went to the
bathroom, I noticed that Tucker was copying everything I did.  I rolled up my
sleeves, and he took the bait and copied me.  That’s when I saw the double
dagger tattoo on his arm, as well as the scratches.  So I decided to give him
an hour or so to catch up on his sleep.  My guess is he was going to learn what
we knew then kill us.  Or have us killed.  I’m also guessing based on our
direction, that we were headed for the Philadelphia area.  So we’ll follow this
route as far as Philly.  It’s my home town, so when we get there I’m thinking
of cooking something up to lose them.”

Frank took it in and decided that
he would trust John to get them to safety.  But he was developing other
questions.  “John, if you land an invasion force at some or most of the
nation’s major ports, even a well armed force, how do you consolidate that to
control the nation as a whole?  You can’t just land a small army and take over
the United States, right?  I know our army is hollowed out and playing offense,
but the logistics of this seem implausible.”

“I’m going to make some guesses
here.  Taking the ports would be one arm of any operation.  Those pickup trucks
we saw will get loaded with machine guns then they’ll spread out and set up
roadblocks at all the major traffic arteries around the Tri-State area.  A few
thousand men will be more than enough.  It will be overwhelming, really.  The
smaller port cities won’t require nearly as many.  The real key to this will be
in taking DC.  The Pentagon, the White House, the NSA, probably Langley. 
They’ll have to immobilize America’s ability to mount a response in a hurry. 
That’s where they’ll need larger numbers.  Overthrowing the US government will
take the force of numbers and foreign troops will be required, where loyalty is
not at issue.  Frank, it’s clear that DC is where the real action is going to
be.  That’s where we have to go.”

Frank nodded.  “I take it you have
a plan then to get rid of this car and get a replacement?”

“Not quite a plan so much as a
contact.  It’s contingent on being able to do it without exposing him to
retribution.  We’ll have to move quickly when we hit Philly.  Right now I’m
thinking about Jess and Lyle.  They got away or Ellis would not have needed us,
but how far they can get and how they can get back to the US, that’s anyone’s
guess.  I hope they’re good at improvisation.”

“Ellis is squirming, John,” replied
Frank.  “The fact he didn’t kill us when he had the chance and took this big
risk in our fake escape, these facts are the best confirmation you could ask
for that we’re on target, and that Lyle and Jess found something worthwhile.”

“I still have a bad feeling about
that whole series of events, Frank.  I can’t put my finger on it, but
something’s fishy.”

They reached the outskirts of
Philadelphia and John stopped at a gas station, went inside and borrowed the
telephone.  He came back out after about 10 minutes and said, “We’re in
business!”  They drove to a garage in an industrial area and parked the vehicle
inside.  A short stocky man soon drove up in an old Ford Taurus, got out and
shook John’s hand with a Cheshire grin on his face.  He spoke with a thick
accent.  “I take care of it this car.  Doesn’t exist no more.  I give you very
excellent car you pay me later.”  The man pointed to his rusty 1998 Ford Taurus
with 120,000 miles on the odometer.

John laughed.  “Get real, Vasek,
I’m doing
you
the favor here.  Is that piece of shit even going to get
us to Washington?”

Vasek lost his grin momentarily but
recovered it just as quickly. “I fix it myself, engine is very excellent. 
Transmission maybe not so much,” he said as he rocked the open top of his hand
back and forth.  “But it work for you fine.  Just this time I let you have it
for nothing.”

John felt he had no choice at this
point, so he took the keys to the Taurus and started it.  Sure enough, the
engine ran smoothly and the transmission, while a little jerky, would probably
be up to the task.  They got in and drove off, noting that even the tires
seemed reasonably well balanced.  “What’s he going to do with the Toyota?”
asked Frank.

“That’s an abandoned garage, so
tracing the car there will be fruitless.  He’ll strip off any tracking devices
and hand it off to some acquaintances of his.  They’ll likely take it to the
port.  From there, it might go onto a cargo ship, and off to someplace in
Africa or the East.  And it’s possible it will all be overseen by Nightwatch.” 
They both smiled at the irony.