Corps Justice Boxed Set: Books 1-3: Back to War, Council of Patriots, Prime Asset (54 page)

The Senator’s lifeless body crumpled to the
floor as Cal rushed to help the President. He looked up at the
Congressman in surprise. “How’d you learn to shoot like that?”

“Didn’t I tell you that Dad made me join the
Yale pistol team?” Zimmer deadpanned. He still couldn’t believe
he’d done it. He’d killed his own father.

Cal shook his head in wonder as his friends
surrounded the President. “Mr. President, would you mind if I
borrowed your phone?”

The President looked embarrassed that he’d
forgotten the small bomb in his pocket. He carefully extracted the
phone and handed it to Cal.

Stokes grabbed the Opel phone and dialed a
number from memory.

“You think you should do that, Cal?” Brandon
interrupted.

“You heard what the man said, Congressman.
We have almost thirty minutes until this sucker explodes.” He
turned his attention back to the phone and dialed a number from
memory. The other end picked up after the first ring. “Neil, we
have a problem.”

Chapter 42

Las Vegas,
Nevada

5:00pm, September 19th

The five friends sat on the large couch and
watched the kickoff of the Democratic National Convention. Within a
minute, Neil was snoring soundly.

“Poor guy. He’s been up since we got here,”
Brian observed.

Cal yawned and went to stretch before
remembering the stitches in his side. “Son-of-a…”

Everybody that was awake chuckled. Cal
looked around the room, still amazed that they’d all made it. It
had been a close call, but in the end, the technological genius of
the imperialist Japanese hadn’t come close to matching the skill of
Neil Patel. Rather than search through the haystack for the
trigger, Patel simply wiped out Ichiban’s entire system. He had, of
course, already made a copy of all the files for future use. For
now the threat was no more.

With the help of the President’s phone call
to the Japanese Prime Minister, all of Nakamura’s associates were
being rounded up as they arrived back in Japan. In Las Vegas, the
Secret Service gathered up the Russian clan under Japanese
contract. Rather than postpone the convention, the President was
patched up, the convention center cleaned, and the show
continued.

It was decided between Zimmer, the
President, and Cal that allowing the convention to run as planned
would be what America needed. Cal had to give the President credit.
Rather than use the whole episode as a stepping-stone in the
election (if the entire plot got to the public, they were all sure
the incumbent would receive more than his fair share of sympathy
votes), he chose to direct the Secret Service to keep the whole
thing quiet. They’d mourn for the dead soon.

It was also agreed that certain stories
would be concocted for the various deaths and injuries the team had
endured. The President would pretend that he’d fallen and
dislocated his elbow while dancing with his little girls.
Congressman Zimmer, who received a personal invitation by the
President to sit in his skybox, would tell his staff and the media
that he’d shattered his knee mountain biking.

The Opel smart phones were also being
quietly “recalled” through coordination with the FBI.

To further show his gratitude, the President
agreed to let the Silent Drill Marines skip the convention. They’d
all regained consciousness almost an hour later. By that time, the
arena had been cleansed by the Secret Service and the Marines were
moved to a new location in another part of the convention center.
It was explained that an exhaust valve had leaked and rendered them
all unconscious. The Marines were all smart enough to realize
they’d never smelled anything like exhaust, but let it go when they
were carefully warned by Capt. Andrews not to say anything about
the incident. It hadn’t hurt that the President had stopped by and
apologized for the malfunctioning trailer.

As for Senator Zimmer and the Nakamuras,
Ishi died just before Neil killed the Ichiban network. He never
uttered another word as he watched Brandon help coordinate the
cleanup. Ishi’s body was later disposed at a local crematorium.
Senator Zimmer and Kazuo Nakamura were transported by SSI personnel
to a local pet crematorium. Their ashes were already scattered to
the desert wind.

Just before he went into surgery to have his
knee repaired, Congressman Zimmer chose the story to end his
father’s life. He was lucky to have a team of top orthopedic
surgeons flown in by the President.

He whispered it to Cal just as the Versed
started to kick in, his smile giving away his drugged state. “Tell
the media that my Dad died humping a hooker.”

Cal snorted as they wheeled the Congressman
back to the operating room. Maybe that guy wasn’t so bad after
all.

He made a call to Travis and floated
Zimmer’s idea.

“How about we just tell them he had a heart
attack?” Travis offered.

“Sounds good.”

Cal hung up the phone and wondered what
would’ve happened if they really had leaked the hooker story.

+++

Ten minutes later, Cal’s cell phone
rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Cal, it’s Brandon.”

Before his surgery, Congressman Zimmer had
made Cal promise that he’d call him by his first name.

“Hey, man. How ya feeling?”

“Anesthesia’s almost worn off and they’ve
got me on some good pain meds. Can’t feel my leg, so that’s
good.”

Zimmer paused as he fought for the right
words to say.

“Cal, I just wanted to thank you again for
all that you’ve done. I…I don’t know what would’ve happened if you
hadn’t been there.”

“No problem. That’s our job, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, but I was a real…”

“Don’t worry about it. Trust me. I’d have
been surprised if you hadn’t been an ass when I first met you. You
would’ve made me feel bad about talking so much crap about your
political affiliation.”

Zimmer chuckled and paused again. “Cal,
I…uh…was wondering if you could do me one more favor.”

“What’s that?”

“I was wondering if you could go with me to
see President Waller.”

Chapter 43

Las Vegas,
Nevada

11:36pm, September 19th

President Waller entered his suite and
stared at the two guests sitting in his living room.

“Will there be anything else, Mr.
President?” his Secret Service agent asked.

“No, we’re good Kurt. Thanks.”

The imposing bodyguard nodded and walked out
of the room.

“Thanks for waiting for me, gentleman,”
Waller said stiffly, “the President wanted to have a word with
me.”

He walked to the wet bar and chose a bottle
of Jack Daniels. After pouring himself half a tumbler, straight up,
he headed over to the leather sectional and took a seat.

“What did you want to see me about,
Congressman?” Waller asked impatiently.

Brandon had thought about what he would say
to the father of his murdered lover. What could he say?

“I…I just wanted to say I’m sorry…and that
if you want me too…I’ll turn myself in to the authorities,” Zimmer
stammered uncharacteristically.

Waller sighed and his face softened. “Now,
why in the world would you want to do that?”

“I just thought that after what happened to
Be…I mean, Patricia…”

“Let me stop you right there. First, you
were both consenting adults. Second, the fact that she was being
used as a pawn by that Japanese murderer…” his eyes hardened then
mellowed again, “…it wasn’t your fault, son.”

“I know, but I keep thinking that if I’d
recognized her or if…”

“Don’t talk about what ifs, Brandon.” Waller
said in a fatherly tone. “Patricia was a big girl. She made her own
decisions. There’s no way you could’ve known who she was. She’d
changed a lot since my days in the Oval Office. Besides, I’m
guiltier than you are in this whole thing.”

“Why is that, sir?” Zimmer asked in
bewilderment.

“Well, I’m guilty for not keeping a better
eye on my little girl. I got too busy and didn’t follow up like I
should have. If I had made the effort of spending more time out
west, I’m sure I’d at least known SOMETHING was going on. But more
important to this discussion, I’m guilty of leaking our
organization’s existence to your father.”

Cal, with Waller’s permission, had already
told Zimmer about the Council.

“Now, sir, I don’t know how…”

Waller held up his hand. “Let me finish.
Once Cal told me it was your father who was scheming for the
Presidency, all the pieces fell into place. I remember every
conversation I had with Richard. I’m the one who gave him the
opening. I’m the one who almost got us all thrown in jail. So you
see, it’s really up to YOU whether I should turn MYSELF in.”

Cal and Brandon stared at the man in
complete shock.

Cal broke the silence. “Mr. President, you
know that I would never…”

“It’s okay, Cal,” Waller soothed, “I know
you’d never turn me in. It’s one of the things about you and your
guys. Dependable to the last man. You would never expose a secret
operation. I only wish we had more men like you. So, I guess the
ball’s really in the Congressman’s court, isn’t it, Brandon?”

Zimmer didn’t know what to say. He’d come
here hoping to apologize and dreading the possibility of going to
jail. Now, a former President was asking HIM if HE should go to
jail.

“Mr. President, if there’s one lesson I’ve
learned through this whole ordeal, it’s that there’s a reason for
secrets. I didn’t know how important it was until this week. It’s
also imperative to have men like you and Cal fighting the good
fight, taking it to the enemy day-in and day-out. I never
understood that before. Call it ignorance maybe. I don’t know. But
my eyes have been opened to a whole new reality. I only hope that I
have the chance to go back to Washington and do what’s right for
this country.”

Epilogue

Camp Spartan,
Arrington, TN

9:47am, September 24th

Cal and Daniel rounded the last bend and
slowed their pace down to a jog.

“How’s your side feel?” asked Briggs.

The doctors had told Cal not to excercise
for two weeks because of his stitches, but he just had to go for a
run and get the crud out. His wound was burning, but his body felt
great. He hadn’t had a chance to work out in weeks.

“It’s okay. Just feels good to get out on
the trail, you know?”

The sniper nodded, barely even winded.

“Hey, I’m gonna go over to the barracks and
get cleaned up. Wanna meet for lunch at eleven?” Daniel asked.

The day after the convention massacre,
Briggs accepted a position at SSI. He hadn’t even hesitated as Cal
extended the invitation and a handsome compensation package.
Internally, Daniel was overjoyed. His prayers had been answered and
he’d found a new home.

His duties weren’t completely ironed out
yet, except for being Cal’s constant companion, but the sniper was
already making a name for himself on the live fire range. The
operators around the campus all started calling him Snake Eyes.

He’d made one request as they’d said their
goodbyes to the President in Las Vegas: that the President stop the
processing of his Medal of Honor. Daniel still felt as if he didn’t
deserve it. The President finally acquiesced. Two days later, a
small package arrived at Camp Spartan for SSI’s newest employee.
Daniel opened the box and found a Medal of Honor along with a note
from the President. It read:

“Sgt. Briggs, I understand your reasons for
not wanting this medal, but I must tell you that you are wrong. You
are a hero to this nation and your sacrifices will always be
remembered. I will keep my promise and not publicly give you this
award. But, I did think that you should have this from a very
appreciative Commander in Chief and a grateful nation. Semper
Fidelis and God Bless.”

He’d only shown it to Cal who nodded and
patted his friend on the back. As a Navy Cross recipient, Stokes
knew how Briggs felt.

“Yeah, I’ll see you there at eleven,” Cal
replied.

Daniel broke off towards the barracks and
Cal continued on.

Winding up by The Lodge, a large log cabin
style hotel for visiting VIPs, Cal noticed a black SUV parked out
front. He wasn’t expecting any company.

“I wonder who that is,” Cal thought out
loud.

He sprang up the steps and headed for his
room on the second floor. It was great not having to drive to work.
Before he got to the bank of elevators, he heard someone call his
name.

“Cal!”

He turned around to see Congressman Zimmer,
leg braced and walking with a cane, coming his way.

“Hey, Brandon, what are you doing here?”

“You know, I thought I’d stop by while I was
in the neighborhood.”

Cal laughed. “Seriously, what are you doing
in Nashville?”

“I was wondering if we could have a little
chat.”

“Sure. You mind coming up to my room?”

They talked about how the Congressman’s
rehab was going and Cal bitched about his stitches while they rode
the elevator and then walked to Cal’s suite.

Cal held the door for Zimmer.

“Wow! Nice place you’ve got here,” Zimmer
admired as he looked around.

“Yeah. One of the perks of being an owner, I
guess.” Never one to beat around the bush, Cal dove right in. “So,
how can I help?”

Zimmer winced as he took a seat on the
closest chair. “Well, there’ve been some developments in my
political career,” he said cryptically.

“Don’t tell me there’s another psychopath
trying to blackmail you!”

“Nothing that much fun. No, I’ve been
approached by the Democratic Party to run for my dad’s open Senate
seat in Massachusetts.”

“Well that’s great, isn’t it?”