Dead Water

20

President Lamar was striding toward the briefing room and caught up with Coverley Merritt, who headed up the Department of the Presidential Office initiated by former President Williams.

"Merritt, bring me up to speed on exactly what your department does. As you know, I haven't spent a lot of time around here since President Williams took office."

"We receive real-time information from all the agencies on terrorism. That way we can keep the president… uh, sorry, sir — you informed at all times of everything that might be going on."

The president dismissed the breech with a wave of his hand. "Is that all you do?"

"Yes, sir. We are an information-gathering agency only. We don't advise. We only inform."

"All right, for the time being, carry on. Be in the briefing room immediately."

The directors of major agencies, cabinet secretaries, and advisers were waiting in the briefing room as summoned.

The murmuring stopped as President Lamar entered the White House briefing room. Everyone stood and turned their attention to him. He walked to the podium and looked out over the gathering of the most powerful men in the country.

"Everyone, please take a seat." He then took some notes from Irving Vickers. He perused them and then intently studied the group. "I know we are all extremely horrified at what has happened, but wasting time talking about it is not going to get anything accomplished. You people know your jobs. I don't know all of you, but I will. For the time being, I do not plan on making any changes. We have too much work before us to complicate anything. I will rely on you to do your very best in not only bringing those responsible for this horrendous act of war on our country to justice, but also with this new toxin. I am read in on this and will meet with the FBI, CIA, NSA, Homeland, and CDC in one hour in the Situation Room. Heads of military also. People, let's get to work."

Rijah Ellhad found himself in a quandary. Unknown to Ryyaki Ali, he had been seeing the woman whom Ali had chosen to accompany him to Lake Mead. She worked in his household as a maid, which was how the two met. While pretenses had to be kept, being in America had loosened her restrictions on what would normally be perceived as immoral behavior. She loved sleeping with Rijah. Not once in his life had he ever remotely questioned an order, but to kill the woman that he had very strong feelings for was going to be difficult. He knew that when the moment came, he would not be able to look her in the eyes; therefore, he was going to have to perform the act without her knowing what was coming. He had thought of many ways and finally had settled on simply putting a .22-caliber pistol behind her ear and pulling the trigger. A manner in which she enjoyed cuddling next to him would make it a physically simple task; emotionally would be a different matter. He had no doubt that when the time came, he would be able to perform the unpleasant deed. He just didn't like it.

Ellhad stayed in a small cabin on the edge of Ryyaki Ali's property. There were eight cabins clustered in a semicircle in a large clearing next to the woods. This small compound was approximately a half mile from Ali's main house. Ellhad's cabin was on one end of the circular row. The woman whom Ellhad kept company with lived in a cabin two down from his. They had been sneaking back and forth for close to a year, when Ellhad was in town. Ali had no objection when Ellhad had asked permission to take her to dinner at an Italian eatery he particularly enjoyed, as long as a chaperone was present. Ali was deeply rooted to his radical Muslim beliefs. Ellhad had no such loyalties. I will miss you, Sahleea.

With Phillips constantly on her computers, the return trip to Oregon was quiet. Starr was up in the cockpit, as usual, and Styles was threatening to push out the bottom of the floor of the plane, as he was doing so many push-ups.

Ninety minutes later, with the aircraft secure in a hangar, Starr and Styles had checked into a Comfort Inn, while Phillips and Christman had checked into a nearby Holiday Inn. Three GMC Yukons, two dark blue and one black, had been picked up at the airport, but the Jeep would have to be delivered. It had been promised by within the hour.

All four had decided to meet in Starr's room, as his was on the ground floor and easily accessible from the parking area without arousing any curiosity. Christman and Phillips had ridden over together, with Styles and Starr each driving one of the blue Yukons. Phillips walked in carrying three laptops and a printer and then proceeded to open them on the table in the room. She immediately started staring at the three screens. "I'm bringing up a Google Earth map of Ali's estate. Styles, do you need me to print it out, or can you get what you need from the screen?"

"The screen will do." He walked over to the table while Phillips pushed one of her laptops over to him along with a wireless mouse. He took them from her and sat down to study the image. He immediately clicked the mouse to zoom out. After a few seconds, he looked up at Phillips and said, "This is really good, very detailed and clear."

"Yeah, Google Earth has come a long way. I didn't want to use any of our satellites in case Backersley is keeping an eye on them."

"This works fine."

Starr looked at Christman and said, "Why don't we go to Marroni's, catch an early dinner, and plant those cameras?"

"That sounds good to me. How far is it?"

"Only about two miles down the road from here," Phillips answered. "Ali's estate is about sixteen miles away."

"I've got the whole duffel of electronic gear," Christman stated.

"Good. Bring it in, and we'll decide what we need," directed Starr.

"Be right back."

"I'll bring back some takeout for you two," Starr said to Styles and Phillips.

Both just nodded.

"No pizza," stated Styles. "Make it lasagna or spaghetti, with lots of meatballs and garlic bread."

"Got it."

Styles continued looking at the screen, even though he'd acquired the information he needed. He was evaluating whether he should talk to the group. He had seen a discernible mood change in the three. Anger was present, most visible in Phillips. Christman seemed somewhat detached, almost confused, while in Starr, he could sense genuine sadness. While they had all lost their president, Starr had lost a lifetime friend. Styles himself felt loss. He had grown to respect the president. The man had balls and wasn't afraid to use them. He decided to speak.

"Hey, guys, I need to say something." The three looked over in surprise, but all came over to sit at the table. "We're all boiling right now. We've got a right to. But we've got a job to do, a job that the president expects us to do." He purposely said expects, rather than expected. "I know that all of us want to go after the bastards that killed him. We will. But we have to finish this first. It's what he would have demanded. This is Saturday; Monday is Labor Day. That will be the timetable for the attack of this agent. I'm sure of that. We have to find these bastards and stop it. Once that's done, Phillips will read us into what everybody else has found out about the assassination, and we'll take it from there. We'll step on a lot of toes, but we won't get caught. We are going to be the jihadists' worst nightmare. We will leave the special signature so they'll know when we have visited. It won't be pretty."

The three were looking at him intently.

Phillips asked, "Do you think that the four of us on our own can really make a difference?"

"No doubt, at least not in my mind. He put us together because he knew we would jell as a team. We have, and I admit I'm the most surprised. But we work. All of us play an equally important role. In this world, besides my father, I have three trusted friends, and I'm looking at them right now. You three are not just my partners in this, but you have become my family. Trusting someone is the hardest thing in the world for me, but the three of you have earned it, in spades. We will continue this fight, and we will make a difference, a hell of a difference. That is not a promise, it is an absolute vow."

Everyone was dead silent; then slowly, all three nodded.

Starr said, "Marv, that's the most I've ever heard you speak in my life."

"It was more than in my entire senior year of high school."

Phillips spoke up. "I've got more info. I picked up some chatter about an event that will take place in this country on Labor Day. Styles, that confirms your suspicions on the timing. I'm also now convinced that Backersley suspects that 'we' exist. He's got Myra Banks working overtime on investigating not just me but the DPO. She has researched the Indianapolis affair, and it appears she is nosing around our European affairs, and not to beat a dead horse here, but the forehead marks are not helping. It ties us to these acts, and there is no way I can hide that fact."

Styles swore under his breath. "Does she know who we are?"

"Not yet, but she is trying hard to put it together. Whether or not she can connect us to the DPO is a different story. What she may guess and what she can prove are two different things at this point. She has my face on facial recognition. As soon as we act, in the same place I've been seen, it's only a matter of time. I don't know what to do," she said, obviously frustrated.

"For now, we stick to whatever plan we come up with. We'll deal with the CIA after this threat is eliminated," stated Styles emphatically.

"How will we do that?" she asked.

"I don't know yet, but we will deal with them — that I promise you."

She just nodded, not entirely convinced.

Styles had just toweled off from a scalding-hot shower when he heard a knock on his door. Quickly slipping on a pair of black jeans, he opened the door. Starr walked in carrying a bag of takeout food.

"J. C. and I got the cameras planted. Got two covering the parking lot, one on the front door, and one at the cash register."

"Good. If our boy comes in, we should see him and what he's driving. Why don't you three go back there for dinner? I've got something I want to do tonight."

"J. C. and I'll go back, but I think Phillips is glued to her computers. She barely even looked up when I placed her food on the table. Are you going to recon that estate?" Starr said.

"Yeah. If I can, I'll place some cameras — might even try for some mikes. Need to get a layout of their security. See if Phillips can hack into some of the security equipment providers around here and come up with anything. Start with the expensive ones. I've got a feeling this guy will have spared no expense. Don't worry if I'm gone most of the night. There's a lot I want to see before I decide how, and when, to attack. I'll have my ear set in, so you can talk to me if necessary, but keep it to a minimum. If I can't talk, I'll just squelch."

"Gotcha. If this guy comes in, I'd think it'd be a good idea to follow him."

"Agreed. Make sure everybody drives. On the chance that he does show up, be sure you three are out of there before he is, and then set up a standard double. With the comms, it shouldn't be too hard."

"You see anything on the aerial view you find interesting?"

"Yes, a group of cabins at one end of the property. I'm sure that's for the staff and guards. The house itself is on the opposite end with a lot of woods between; a poor setup from a security standpoint."

"Dogs?"

"Didn't see any signs, but I'm taking a tranq gun just in case. Don't want to have to shoot a dog if I can help it."

Starr couldn't help but be amazed at someone who could so easily take a man's life but absolutely shuddered at the thought of having to kill a dog.

"Don't say a fucking word, Starr. You know how I feel about dogs."

"I wasn't going to. I don't disagree."

There was another knock on the door. Starr, closest, went and opened it, allowing Christman and Phillips to enter the room.

Styles asked, "Any more news on this toxic agent?"

"No. President Lamar just went through a long meeting with everybody about everything. Merritt said that the president seems to be handling it surprisingly well. He confirmed that he's not going to make any real changes anytime soon; doesn't want to cause any further disruptions."

"Smart."

"I'd say so."

Starr offered, "J. C. and I are going to that restaurant because Styles wants to go play in the woods."