Corps Justice Boxed Set: Books 1-3: Back to War, Council of Patriots, Prime Asset (39 page)

The giant Samoan barely had time to register
surprise as the razor sharp blade entered his open mouth and
entered his brain stem. His eyes opened wide as he crumpled to the
floor.

“One shot, one kill, motherfucker. Oorah,”
Trent mumbled.

He turned around and yelled at the
observation window. “You got another one, assholes?!”

The robotic voice returned.
“Congratulations, champion. Drop your weapon and proceed to the
open door.”

Trent looked toward the door that was even
now sliding open. He decided enough was enough. Switching the
remaining KA-BAR from his left to right hand, Willy threw the
weapon at the window. He heard a muffled yell as the blade bounced
harmlessly off the reinforced glass.

Instead of further instruction from the
speaker, Trent heard a beep on his large collar. For the second
time that day, he collapsed unconscious as an electric charge
mercilessly racked his body.

+++

As the KA-BAR entered his champion’s mouth,
Kazuo Nakamura screamed in rage. “NO!!”

Zimmer’s concern for Trent was replaced with
barely concealed exultation. Considering the circumstances, it
seemed like such a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

“Order that man to his cell now!” Nakamura
screamed.

The invisible voice did as instructed. That
was when Trent decided to throw his knife at the spectators.
Brandon almost laughed out loud as, collectively, the men all
ducked.

There were angry shouts as they directed
their ire at Kazuo Nakamura. Zimmer couldn’t understand anything
they said, but he got the sense that they were like a crowd who’d
paid good money for a prize fight and then watched a ten second
knockout.

Nakamura and his son tried
to calm the heated guests. Soon they were ushered out of the
observation room and into waiting vehicles by apologetic staff.
Zimmer followed behind and watched. As the powerful men were loaded
into their respective vehicles, a small troop of beautiful women
exited the industrial building and filed in with them. Doors closed
and the limos departed.
What
the…?

“Brandon.”

Zimmer turned around and found Ishi waiting
next to a Cadillac Escalade. “It’s time to head back to the hotel.
I’ll drive.”

Congressman Zimmer nodded
and moved to get in. He stepped up to Ishi
.
“What are you going to do with
Trent?”

“He’ll stay alive as long as he’s
winning.”

Zimmer nodded and looked down at his shoes.
Without thinking, he cocked his right arm and slugged Ishi in the
temple. His former friend collapsed to the ground. Zimmer shook the
tingling out of his hand and waited to see if Ishi would get up. He
didn’t.

I’ve gotta get
Trent.
With a quick glance around,
Congressman Brandon Zimmer ran for the building’s open door. He
didn’t have a plan, but he couldn’t leave the Marine
behind.

Chapter 19

Outskirts of
Las Vegas, Nevada

8:25pm, September 17th

“We’re about two minutes out,” Cal announced
as he looked at his watch. He felt a sense of dread that they might
be too late. He never should have let Zimmer and Trent out of his
sight. Maybe if he’d put some kind of tracking device on them, then
just maybe… No. He couldn’t start thinking that way. Trent was a
big boy and more than capable of handling the assignment. They’d
all underestimated the threat.

Cal pulled up to the rendezvous point. It
was in a small depression just off the narrow two-lane highway. One
of the other teams was already there and had spread into a hasty
security perimeter. The hiding spot was about two hundred yards
from the target building. The plan was to get eyes on it, see if
they could detect the presence of their two missing members, and
then act accordingly.

The operation had to be fast. No one wanted
the local authorities in the picture. SSI couldn’t afford the
publicity.

“Any updates?” Cal asked the team leader on
station. He was a small Hispanic with a long beard that he liked to
braid into dual strands. Everyone called him Gaucho, sort of a
Spanish version of a cowboy. The man was a former Delta operator
and carefully reckless, hence the nickname.

“We got here about five minutes ago. Saw ten
to fifteen stretch limos buggin’ out from the other side of the
building. Couldn’t make out Top in the crowd.”

“Any signs of life in the building?”

Gaucho shook his head. “Haven’t been able to
tell. You want us to go take a look, boss?”

Cal peered into darkness. “The other teams
will be here in a second. I don’t want to waste time waiting on
recon. How about you head over there with your boys and scope
things out? We’ll be right behind you.”

“Got it, boss.” Gaucho rushed back to his
team and gave hushed instructions. The group of four took off at a
jog. They knew what to do.

Two minutes later, the remaining teams
pulled up. Cal gave the men a quick rundown of the scheme of
maneuver. A minute later, the small assault force spread across the
barren terrain, anxious to find out the fate of MSgt Trent.

+++

Zimmer didn’t see anyone in the hallway. He
didn’t know where to go, but he correctly assumed that the holding
cells were on the lower level. Running, he tried opening each door
he reached. Every one was locked.

After a couple minutes of
random wandering, Brandon stopped and got his bearings.
I don’t have much time
,
he thought. Just then, the butler from the observation room exited
one of the hallway doors.

“Congressman, how may I help you?”

Well, at least they haven’t alerted the
security staff yet.

“I, uh, think I left my cell phone up in the
observation room.” The excuse sounded lame but the man seemed to
believe it.

“I would be happy to get it and bring it to
you in your vehicle, sir,” the butler replied respectfully.

“That’s okay. Just point me the right way
and I’ll grab it.” Zimmer tried to act as nonchalant as possible.
The last thing he needed was to have the butler in tow.

“I am afraid that it not possible,
Congressman. Visitors cannot travel alone inside the building. Now
if I can escort you outside…”

Zimmer’s patience ran out. Instead of
letting the man finish, he closed the gap and delivered a vicious
uppercut into the unsuspecting man’s stomach. The butler doubled
over. Zimmer caught him on the way to the floor and propped him up
against the wall.

“Now you listen to me,” Zimmer whispered
into the man’s ear. “You take me to my friend right fucking
now.”

The man still struggled to breathe but
nodded his head. Zimmer felt remotely guilty for assaulting the
aged servant, but he didn’t have many options at the time.

“Which way?” asked Zimmer.

His captive pointed to the door he’d just
exited.

“Is it locked?”

The man nodded.

“Give me the key,” ordered Zimmer.

Half bent, the butler obliged by giving the
Congressman a key ring and indicating which one to use. Zimmer
grabbed the key with his right hand and the back of the man’s
collar with his left. Half dragging his guide, Brandon unlocked the
door and moved inside.

+++

Ishi came to. Lying just
outside the open door of the Escalade, he struggled to get his
bearings. He suddenly remembered Zimmer’s fist connecting with his
head.
Shit!
Where
is Zimmer?

The younger Nakamura rose and looked around
frantically. His vision was still blurry and he stumbled back
against his vehicle. Just as he regained his balance, he looked up
and saw what looked like a line of men approaching the building
from about fifty yards away. Was he seeing things? The men jogged
closer and Ishi panicked.

Jumping into the driver’s seat, he started
the large SUV, put it in drive, and gunned the gas. He squealed out
of the parking lot as he fumbled for his cell phone.

+++

“Shit. Who was that?” Cal asked in a
whisper. No answer came. He knew time was up. The first team to the
building had already reported seeing employees through the upper
level windows of the large industrial complex. They’d approached
from the opposite side and found a door. Gaucho had already taken
care of the lock with his pick set.

Cal didn’t like going in blind, but what
choice did they have?

The teams stacked up just outside of the
unlocked door. Cal nodded to Gaucho, who winked back.

The small man opened the door quickly and
the teams filed in, weapons drawn.

+++

Miraculously, Zimmer and the butler didn’t
run into any other staff on the way to the holding cells. What
Brandon didn’t know was that after the commotion of the fight,
Trent was swiftly thrown unconscious into his cell and the
remaining security staff had run upstairs to assist the unsettled
guests. They’d then been tasked with riding along as an added
precaution. The building was, therefore, currently undermanned.

Zimmer stepped up to Trent’s cell. To the
right of the door was a small red button that the butler said would
open the portal. Brandon pressed it and looked inside. Trent had
been unceremoniously tossed just inside the door. He seemed to be
stirring.

“Top!” Zimmer whispered as loudly as he
dared.

Trent turned his head slowly and looked at
Zimmer through foggy eyes. “That you, Congressman?” he croaked.

“Yeah. Can you make it through the door? I
don’t want this damned thing to lock us both in.”

The tough Marine nodded and got to all
fours. He bear crawled through the doorway. Once out, Zimmer
grabbed the butler, shoved him into the room, and closed the door.
He double-checked just to make sure the lock was secured.

“Do you think you can walk?”

“Yeah.” Trent stood on slightly shaky knees
and shook his head. “I’ve gotta get this collar off. I could live
without another one of those shocks.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, Zimmer
chuckled. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Zimmer led the way, still not running into
any Japanese personnel.

“Where did everyone go?” Trent asked.

“I don’t know. I think…did you hear that?”
Zimmer whispered.

Trent nodded and nudged his way into the
lead. They could see a bend just ahead. It sounded like muted
footsteps coming their way.

“Let’s go find out who that is.”

Zimmer looked at the huge black man, still
wearing only a loincloth. “You think that’s a good idea, Top?”

“Trust me, Congressman. Whoever that is,
they’re in for a world of hurt.” Trent cracked his knuckles and
sprinted off toward the bend.

+++

The assault team hadn’t run into any
resistance. While that seemed odd, no man complained. They’d
searched most of the lower level. Eventually they came to a section
that looked older yet well-maintained. Gaucho looked back at Cal
for direction. Cal gave a thumbs-up.

They moved swiftly down the corridor,
checking doors as they went. All were locked and there didn’t seem
to be any need to open them yet. They approached a bend as Gaucho
signaled the group to stop. Listening carefully, they clearly heard
something. Was that bare feet running their way? Weapons readied,
the elite team of SSI operators waited calmly for the approaching
runner. The sound got closer when all of a sudden, MSgt Willy
Trent, resplendent in his stylish loincloth, rounded the corner and
skidded to a halt in front of Gaucho.

“Well I’ll be damned. What’s goin’ on,
Gaucho?” Trent asked.

Muted laughs rose from the normally
disciplined men. The relief they all felt was almost palpable. They
had their man back. Just as Cal walked up to see Trent, Congressman
Zimmer trotted around the bend. Cal looked past his friend and
pointed his finger at the politician, “You son of a bitch, I
thought I…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up, Cal,” Trent said
calmly as he held his friend back. “If it weren’t for the
Congressman, I’d still be locked up in this Japanese dungeon. Lay
off, alright?”

Not easily dissuaded, Cal took a step back.
He still couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow the Congressman
was responsible for the setbacks they’d suffered.

Turning away from Zimmer, Cal addressed his
men. “Get us the hell out here, Gaucho.”

The team leader nodded and guided them out
without anyone saying another word.

Chapter 20

Atlanta,
Georgia

11:49pm EST, September 17th

Tom Jablonski pulled his rig into the
distribution hub. Driving from Las Vegas wasn’t hard. He’d made
similar trips for years. It didn’t hurt that he was getting paid a
serious bonus for arriving on schedule. He wished every
cross-country trek was as lucrative.

Waving to the security guard, he pulled up
to the guard shack. An extra spotlight blazed on and cut through
the midnight blackness.

“Paperwork please,” asked the tired looking,
middle-aged sentry.

The driver handed over the manifest.

The guard reviewed the documentation and
checked his computer to see which terminal to direct the driver to.
“Head over to Thirty Seven. Honk once or twice for the loading
guys,” the man instructed. The bored security guard handed back the
paperwork and waved the semi through.

Jablonski was familiar with the routine.
He’d been to the hub earlier in the month. Pulling into Terminal
37, he honked twice. He knew from experience that the loading crew
would take a minute. Working the graveyard shift meant napping when
you could.