Corps Justice Boxed Set: Books 1-3: Back to War, Council of Patriots, Prime Asset (42 page)

Zimmer remembered watching all those
documentaries about Americans spying for Russia during the Cold
War. He wondered how many of those spies were just normal people
being blackmailed into betraying their country.

His phone buzzed again. It was his
father.

“Hey, Dad.”

“I assume you’ve seen the video?”

Brandon cringed. “Yeah.”

“So what are our friends doing about
it?”

“They’re looking into it, Dad.”

“We need to meet, Brandon. Where are you
staying?”

Brandon told him. “I’ll be there in thirty
minutes.”

Congressman Zimmer looked down at his phone.
The last thing he needed right now was an ass-chewing by good ol’
dad. Zimmer walked to the wet bar, poured himself two fingers of
bourbon, and drained the glass.

He walked back to his laptop and watched the
crime scene video for the twentieth time. It was already up to just
over one million views.

+++

Thirty minutes later, Senator Zimmer walked
into Brandon’s hotel room. He was handsomely attired in the latest
golf wear.

“I’ve only got twenty minutes, Brandon. I’m
meeting some colleagues at the Wynn for eighteen, so give me the
rundown quickly.”

Brandon summarized the events of the past
forty-eight hours. Once again, his father didn’t interrupt. Brandon
knew his father. He’d already be formulating a contingency plan in
his head. One of the reasons Senator Zimmer was such a
long-standing politician was his ability to think five steps ahead
and outmaneuver his opponents. The last true electoral test he’d
had was fifteen years earlier when a grandson of JFK decided to try
his hand at politics. Voters longed for the dynasty of the past,
but the Zimmer machine soon killed the young man’s chances. Past
dalliances were unearthed and witnesses were paraded onto every
morning show on Massachusetts radio and television.

No one could trace the attack back to the
Zimmer camp, but they all knew. Mess with the crafty Senator and
he’d make your life hell.

Richard Zimmer had mellowed a bit with age.
He was comfortable in his position. He’d brokered deals for
billions of dollars of government aid and contracts to be funneled
to his home state. The voters loved him.

“What does Mr. Stokes have in mind for
fixing this problem?”

“Dad, I want to say something, but I think
it’ll piss you off.”

“Out with it, Brandon,” growled an
increasingly impatient Sen. Zimmer.

“I’m considering turning myself in. I think
Cal and his team have done what we asked. I don’t feel comfortable
putting them in any more danger.”

Visibly surprised by his son’s request, the
Senator took a moment to respond.

“I appreciate you trying to take
responsibility for the situation, Son. It seems as though you’ve
grown a bit this week. That being said, I do not think this is the
right moment to go to the authorities. I’ve already privately
consulted our attorney and he seems to think that the evidence
wouldn’t hold up in court. However, in the court of public opinion
you would be crucified. I think that’s the risk we need to take.
With the Presidential election so close, we need to be
careful.”

Brandon wasn’t sure if he agreed with his
father. And yet, he was a little relieved to hear that should the
worst happen he might not go to jail.

“So what should we do?”

“Let’s see what Cal’s team comes up with.
Maybe they’ll get lucky and get their hands on the evidence. Until
we give them a shot, let’s sit tight and wait.”

Once again, Brandon couldn’t really argue
with his father. The only thing worse than the video was the
waiting.

+++

Daniel left the hotel and headed to a nearby
storage facility. Walking up to the glassed entrance, he typed his
personal entry code. Briggs went almost to the end of the straight
hallway. His unit was the second to last on the left.

He pulled out his key and unlocked the
rolling door, sliding it up. Daniel quickly entered the eight by
ten unit and closed the door behind him. He’d rigged a custom lock
inside the unit so he could stay undisturbed. After locking the
door he turned around and surveyed his unit. Everything was neatly
stacked. Just after getting to Las Vegas, he purchased several
large metal storage containers. They were each about two feet tall
by two feet wide and stretched four feet in length. The damn things
were heavy as hell, but sturdy and impregnable by all but the best
thieves.

Briggs unlocked the box on the far left and
opened the lid. He had a variety of weapons neatly arrayed in mini
racks. Since moving to Las Vegas, he’d methodically stocked his
private armory. Once or twice a week, he visited a different
outdoor store. Occasionally, when he had enough cash, he’d head to
a gun shop and pickup a new firearm. Briggs never bought in the
same place twice.

The box he examined contained mostly smaller
weapons. Other containers held his long rifles. He wouldn’t need
those, for the time being.

Daniel unslung the backpack from his
shoulder and set it on the ground. He picked out a couple of things
he thought he might need in the next few days. His sixth sense
started to prickle again. He could feel the coming tension. It was
the same feeling he used to get before going on a particularly
dangerous op.

Although Cal made the current action sound
routine, Daniel thought otherwise. There was a storm brewing and
the Marine in him wanted to be in the middle of it. Standing in the
hotel with Cal and his compatriots, Daniel started to feel at
home.

The last time he’d felt this comfortable was
when he’d finally won the respect of the acting platoon sergeant of
his first scout sniper platoon; a crusty old Gunny who looked like
he’d been in the Corps since the days of General Lejeune. The man
was a career Marine and respected by every enlisted Marine (and the
smartest officers) in the battalion. His most commonly used words
were ‘shit’ and ‘fuck’. Like any good Gunnery Sergeant, he was a
hard man to please. If you ever expected a compliment from the
Gunny, you’d be waiting until the second coming of Jesus.

They’d just completed a grueling training
evolution at Twenty Nine Palms. It was the lead-up to Daniel’s
first combat deployment. He’d shot like a pro all week. In
addition, his infiltration into the simulated enemy’s camp, the
subsequent mock killing of their entire battalion staff, and his
successful extraction, earned the platoon outstanding marks from
the training officials. The Commanding General had even taken a
turn commending the brave sniper team.

The old Gunny had turned to Daniel after the
final debrief and imparted some of the sweetest words Daniel would
ever hear in the Marine Corps: “Well, Briggs, looks like you’re not
the shitbag that I thought you were. Now go pack your shit. You’re
a fucking sniper now.”

Briggs remembered the crusty old bird
fondly. They’d become as close to friends as the Gunny would allow.
Tragically, the brave Marine died early into their second tour in
Afghanistan. He died a hero, standing in the open, calling in close
air support to destroy a heavily manned enemy position while his
lifeblood flowed freely from his right arm that was no longer
there.

As he did whenever remembering the man,
Daniel said a silent prayer for the old warrior. He knew Gunny was
up in heaven giving Jesus a run for his money.

He grabbed another couple pieces of survival
gear from a separate box and locked everything back up.

Leaving the storage facility, Daniel Briggs
walked with a steadier step. He was a man on a mission. He was a
man going home.

Chapter 24

Memphis,
Tennessee

9:15am, September 18th

The FedEx employee almost
laughed out loud as he read the order form. Some businesses just
didn’t know how to ship merchandise. Take this one, for example.
They’d literally paid double to have their packages delivered by
11am. They could’ve saved half if the same delivery was scheduled
for two hours later.
Stupid
, thought the delivery
supervisor.

He processed the shipment and scheduled the
smaller parcels for local carriers. They’d be gone in under an
hour. FedEx knew how to get stuff in and out, fast.

Chapter 25

Eighth &
I, Washington, D.C.

9:22am, September 18th

“Everything ready to go, First Sergeant?”
Capt. Andrews asked his senior enlisted Marine.

“Yes, sir. Second platoon is waiting by the
gate.”

“Good. How about we head that way?”

Both Marines, attired in civilian clothing,
stepped off toward the company van. They were booked on a
commercial flight with the rest of their platoon. Leaving from
Reagan National would be easy. In about seven hours, they’d be
unloading their gear in Sin City.

+++

The White House

“Mr. President, I’ve got your itinerary for
the convention.”

The tall president reached for the printed
sheet.

“I thought you were gonna start sending
these to me on my iPad, Bobby,” the President teased his junior
aide.

Bobby Johansen flushed in embarrassment. It
was true. He had promised to “stop killing trees” as the President
liked to say. Unfortunately, being swamped with the planning for
the trip to Las Vegas, Johansen forgot to deliver the itinerary
electronically. It hadn’t helped that he’d gotten an email from
that Asian guy when he arrived at the office. Something about a
delivery coming in later today. He wished he’d never gotten in that
mess during the campaign stop in Columbus. Now he had his unlikely
savior asking random questions about the President’s toys. The
President loved new technology. He was known to spend hours
scouring social media sites.

None of the inquiries were incriminating.
Hell, Johansen didn’t want to lose his job! No, the Japanese guy
owned a technology company; something to do with cell phones. He
wanted to get the inside scoop on possible upcoming government
contracts. It seemed to Johansen that the man wanted to be able to
brag to the public once the President received his newest smart
phone prior to the official release. The guy seemed nice enough. He
had helped Bobby out of that little matter with the Columbus
police.

Johansen didn’t see the harm. Hell, maybe he
could even get a free phone out of the deal.

“So can you send this to my iPad, Bobby?”
the President woke Johansen from his thoughts.

“Oh, yes sir. Sorry, sir. I’ll send it to
you right now.”

Chapter 26

Las Vegas,
Nevada

9:52am, September 18th

Daniel hurried to his
apartment and rushed to the bathroom. He quickly trimmed his beard
and then shaved it off completely. He tied his hair back in a
ponytail. Next he took out his one pair of decent jeans and threw
on a form-fitting, black t-shirt. He finished the look with a
weathered gray sport coat his mother bought him when he’d gone home
for his dad’s funeral.
I look halfway
normal again
, he thought, as he stared into
the bathroom mirror.
Mom would like to see
me like this
.

He linked up with Gaucho’s team twenty
minutes later. They were all dressed in varying levels of stylish
party attire. No one said anything about his appearance, but he
thought he saw Gaucho smile in approval.

Briggs gave the men a quick rundown of the
target. They were impressed by the level of detail in his
presentation. One of the operators, dressed in an expensive Armani
suit, asked Briggs how he knew so much about the place.

“Let’s just say I’ve had a whole lot of time
to visit most of the Vegas establishments. Zeitaku’s relatively
new, so I don’t know what your plan is to infiltrate the secure
areas.”

Gaucho answered the question, “Neil gave us
one of his toys.”

Daniel didn’t have a clue what the man was
talking about. He knew Neil was the good-looking Indian guy with
glasses. Briggs assumed he was just a computer geek that worked for
SSI.

“I don’t get it. What toys?”

Gaucho laughed. “Sorry, Compadre. I forgot
that you don’t really know our man Neil. His dad was some rich
Indian dude. He built a big telecom company or something in the
nineties. Well, Neil grew up working in his dad’s workshop. By the
age of ten, the kid could fix or build more shit than his dad’s
best technicians. So when Colonel Stokes brought Neil to SSI, he
put him in charge of the company’s R&D shop. You give the guy a
problem and he comes up with the solution.”

Briggs still looked confused. “Okay. So what
about the toy he gave you?”

Gaucho motioned to the dark-haired operator
standing next to him. The man handed what looked like an oversized
CD case to the team leader. Gaucho pulled out a large disk and held
it up. It was about eight inches in diameter and about a third of a
centimeter thick.

“This is what Neil came up with for one of
our little problems. We kept going on ops where the only way we
could see through a door was either to knock it down or use one of
those fiber optic cameras.”

“What does it do?” Briggs asked.

“You ever see one of those kids toys where
you unfold the paper and it turns into a snowflake or
something?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Well, this thing transforms into a ball.
Then we can drive the thing on a smart phone loaded with the right
software.”

“But isn’t that pretty obvious if somebody
sees it on the other side?”

“I ain’t told you the best part. We’ve been
testing a lot of this new camouflage shit. You know, the electronic
stuff that makes you look like a chameleon? So anyway, Neil used
that technology on The Sphere.”