Twins

Don Helin

Publisher Page

an imprint of Headline Books

Terra Alta, WV

Twins

by Don Helin copyright ©2022 Don Helin All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents, except where noted otherwise, are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any other resemblance to actual people, places or events is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any other form or for any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage system, without written permission from Publisher Page.

To order additional copies of this book or for book publishing information, or to contact the author: Headline Books, Inc. P.O. Box 52 Terra Alta, WV 26764 www.headlinebooks.com Tel: 304-789-3001 Email: mybook@headlinebooks.com Publisher Page is an imprint of Headline Books ISBN 13: 9781951556839 Library of Congress Control Number: 2022933991

P R I N T E D I N T H E U N I T E D S TAT E S O F A M E R IC A

To Elaine, for her love and support—Love always

To Dennis—long-time friend and talented reader.

To Cathy, Patti, Ashley, and all my friends at Headline Books.

You are the Best.

1 Wellsboro, PA, June 1, 10:30 a.m.

Everett Kenzo glanced up at the three-story library building.

He took one final look at the ornate design with the white pillars, knowing this would be the last time.

This was it. Once he walked inside the building, there would be no turning back.

Taking a deep breath, he glanced back at his partner, who sat in the vehicle on the driveway on the side of the library leading back to the Arts and Cultural Center. Kenzo could hear the gentle purring of the engine and was ready to run for the vehicle once he finished his task.

He walked up the three steps, pushed open the first door, then the interior door and stalked inside. Glancing around the lobby, he found himself face-to-face with one of the assistant librarians who smiled at him in welcome. “May I help you?”

He fondled the .45-caliber pistol in the right-hand pocket of his jacket, took another deep breath, then pulled it out and waved it in the air. “Put your hands up.”

She spotted the pistol. Her eyes widened, and she screamed.

The pistol was heavy, but he loved the feel of it, and power radiated through him. From now on, people would always respect him.

He was the scout for the Patriots Militia and all of these fools would remember him. Members of the militia had taken enough of a burdensome government and were going to fix it. He’d start right now.

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Kenzo knew the only way to win the country back was to fight the enemy — those who were so rich all they had to do was lie around all day and let everyone else do the work. Then they would swoop in like vultures and take everything.

Yet here in this little town, these people were dumb enough to sit around and let it happen. Or yet they were part of the group that sat and waited for the government to give them money — his money, his friend’s money. Money he had earned, and these bastards were trying to take it away from him.

He stormed up to the desk to face the librarian, shoulders back, head held high. She looked surprised to see his mask.

He laughed “That’s right. Now you will notice me. Put your hands in the air and tell everyone else in this room to do the same thing. Do it now.”

“All right, all right,” she cried. “Please, don’t shoot.”

She called out in a shaky voice, “Ladies and gentlemen.

Please, ah please give me your attention. This young man has asked that we put our hands in the air.”

Bitch. “Don’t disrespect me by calling me a young man. Don’t say I asked you to do it. I demand you do it and do it fast or I will shoot.”

He waved the pistol for emphasis. “I represent the Patriots Militia and you will respect me or the next time I will shoot you.

Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” She called out. “Everyone put your hands in the air.”

“That’s better. I have a bottle of gasoline in my pocket.” He pointed toward her left side.

“You have stacks of books and magazines on this floor that parrot the government’s lies.”

She looked at him, shocked. “Lies?”

“I want you to pour gasoline on the books in the back room and set fire to them. Together we will destroy the lies and all the other garbage the government machine cranks out.”

“What? Set fire to our books? We can’t do that.”

He fired, this time to the immediate left of the librarian’s head. “You argue with me one more time, and I will shoot and might even kill you.”

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He watched her shake. “Now do what I say. We need to burn all of the government’s materials in this library.”

“Yes, whatever you say. Only, please, don’t shoot me. Please.”

“It’s about time you respect me. You may want to join the Patriots Militia when you see all the plans we have to stop the government machine. Now throw this gasoline on those books.”

She took the bottle from him and hurried back into the large room, then threw the gasoline around on a section of books he had pointed out.

“What are you doing?” A woman in the back cried.

Kenzo heard her and yelled, “I am with the Patriots Militia.

You will remember this day. This is the start of a new system, and you are all fortunate to be part of it.”

“Wait,” the woman called. “You look familiar. Why?” “Who I am is not important. I’m part of a new militia and we will form it near here.” He turned to the librarian. “Here are matches, now light the gasoline.”

“Oh, please don’t do it. We can’t burn books.”

He fired, this time hitting her in the shoulder. “Bitch! You must follow my orders without question.”

She fell to the floor, crying and grabbing at her shoulder. Two women on the other side of the room screamed.

He took the book of matches, lit one, and threw it on the gasoline, causing it to burst into flames with a loud whoosh.

“Now you all must believe me. We will start by burning all these books that are full of government propaganda.”

At that moment, a male voice from near the door called out, “Drop the gun.”

Kenzo turned to see the sheriff eyeing him; a pistol pointed his way.

The sheriff moved toward his left. “Now drop it before this gets any worse.”

“Who do you think you are? I have started our campaign.

Others will follow.” He pretended to set his gun on the floor, then raised his hand and fired.

The sheriff grabbed his chest as he fell to the floor.

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“That’s right, Sheriff. You disrespect me and you will pay. I am the lead element of a new government that doesn’t give all of our hard-earned money away to people who don’t do anything.”

He fired another shot in the air. “Everyone on the floor. Now.” He watched with satisfaction as they complied. Then he heard sirens. Knew he had to leave. Took the remainder of the bottle of gasoline and threw it into the fire, causing it to spread faster.

He started to laugh. “It’s started. You’ll never stop it. Never.

Do you hear me? Never.”

The sheriff looked up at him from the floor. Kenzo shot him again. “You had your chance to be on our side, the winning side, and you blew it.”

He looked around at the people scattered on the floor, watching, crying. “You can’t challenge a member of the Patriots Militia.”

The sirens grew closer. Kenzo turned and hurried out the door to where his friend sat in the idling vehicle in the driveway of the library.

When he reached it, he opened the door and jumped inside.

He glanced at the driver. “It worked. Go. Go.” The driver flashed a thumbs-up and hit the accelerator.

Kenzo glanced back. Saw the flames. “People will talk about this forever.”

With a screech of the wheels, they roared out of the parking lot and turned right onto Main Street away from the approaching fire trucks.

“Finally they will honor us. Honor what we are doing.”

The driver reached out and they exchanged their secret handshake. Yes, it had worked.

8

2 Washington, D.C., June 3 Zack Kelly stood along the field George Washington University (GW) used for soccer practices. He loved to watch his daughter, Laura, punch the ball up the field during a scrimmage game against Georgetown University and he loved yelling for her.

Laura had come to live with him in D.C. a little over two years before when Zack’s ex-wife had been arrested and jailed for drug possession in Minneapolis.

The first few months had been tough because of two strong personalities who were not used to being together, but they had worked through the frustrations and the misunderstandings.

While they still had some challenges, their relationship stood strong and continued to build.

Now, she was a sophomore and one of the starting wings on the GW team. Zack snuck over as often as he could to watch a little before hitting work at the Pentagon. He loved it.

Fortunately, Admiral Steele, his boss and the president’s national security advisor, was a sports fan and had even managed to sandwich in enough time to watch a couple of her games himself.

Zack glanced again at his watch, knowing full well he needed to move out, but he hated to leave.

He had been an assistant coach during her senior year in high school, never having played soccer, but yet as a former high school football player had been able to share some lessons he had learned.

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Laura had become a top soccer player during her senior year at Washington Lee High School near their home in Arlington and was selected for a scholarship at GW. Zack was proud of her regardless, but it didn’t hurt that the scholarship eased his financial obligations. He hoped it would renew for the next three years.

Zack had stalled long enough and even saw Laura score a goal. He gave her a thumbs-up as she ran back down the field before he disappeared toward the parking lot to jump into his pickup truck.

He was already pushing his luck because the admiral had wanted him to attend a meeting at ten o’clock. Two members of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police needed to brief the admiral on a matter they declared to be of the utmost importance and required his immediate attention.

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3 Washington, D.C., June 3 Zack hurried into his office about nine thirty. Admiral Steele had called what he characterized as an emergency meeting. Zack knew when the president’s national security advisor called, he’d better haul.

He dropped a bag on his desk, grabbed a cup of coffee and hurried down the hall, checking his watch as he walked. Nine forty-five. Whew.

When Zack entered the conference room, he spotted two of his partners, Lieutenant Colonel Rene Garcia and Tara Fairchild.

Garcia was a military police officer who’d been on the job with him for about two years. Tara had come to the president’s national security team recently after nine years with the FBI. He didn’t recognize the two in civilian clothes sitting at the conference table and assumed they were from the Mounties.

Zack was about to introduce himself to the two strangers when the admiral walked into the room. Everyone stood, then Steele motioned for them to be seated.

Steele pointed at the two in civilian clothes. “Let me introduce Colonel Oliver Hendricks and Lieutenant Colonel Gabrielle Darcy. Both of these officers are from Canada’s National Law Enforcement Service of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.”

Hendricks nodded to Zack and the others. “Thank you, Admiral, we sincerely appreciate your time.”

Steele picked up a sheet of paper in front of him. “According to the White House chief of staff, the Canadian Embassy has asked us to review the issues you are bringing to the table.”

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He motioned toward Hendricks. “Why don’t you introduce your subject?”

“Yes, sir,” Hendricks replied. “Our office has a wide range of national security responsibilities, including criminal investigations as well as border integrity. Two of our key teams are the Security Enforcement Teams, we call the NSETs, and Enforcement Sections, we call the NSESs.” Steele made a note. “I believe I have worked with a couple of those teams throughout my career.”

“Yes, sir. Their duties include counterterrorism and they undertake criminal investigations into terrorist activities. The findings of one of our teams is what bring us here today.”

Zack pulled out his note tablet and took a sip of coffee.

Hendricks leaned forward in his chair. “In the way of background, you may remember it’s been a little over twenty-five years since the Oklahoma City bombing.”

He glanced around the table for emphasis. “This was the truck bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City on April 19, 1995, which killed 168 people.”

Zack had a bad feeling about this. “Holy crap, are you saying we might have another one of these bombings threatening us? If I remember right, this was the worst act of domestic terrorism until 9/11. What did your teams uncover?”

“We believe we face a serious threat of sabotage by a terrorist group against not only the government of Canada,” he stopped for emphasis, “but the United States as well.”

“Let me interject another thought,” Lieutenant Colonel Darcy said. “North Central Pennsylvania is one place our undercover teams have identified as a possible location for this threat.”

Steele frowned. “Why?” “Sir,” she continued, “Pennsylvania has one of the largest groupings of militia units in the country. Two days ago, a young man walked into a library in the small town of Wellsboro, Pennsylvania, and tried to burn all of the books.”

Zack thought for a moment. “I remember the story from reading one of our news summaries. What have you found out about it?”

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“We’re not sure, but the librarian said he was raving about the unfair treatment of common people by the government and rich people.”

“Kind of a standard chant,” Zack said.

“He was successful in starting two fires which did a great deal of damage not only to the collection, but also to the building,” Darcy said. “He shot and killed a sheriff and wounded the librarian in the shoulder.”

Hendricks was about to say more when Steele looked at his watch and stood, leading the others to stand also. “I have a briefing for the president in ten minutes. Zack, why don’t you get the key information from our visitors and let’s meet back here in an hour?”

“Will do, sir.” He nodded to the others. “With your permission, sir, I believe we should invite a representative from the FBI and the CIA to join our discussions.”

Steele thought for a moment. “I agree. Let me know when you’re ready to reconvene.” He hurried out of the room.

Zack looked around at the others. “We’ll continue our briefing here in thirty minutes. I’ll have coffee and rolls brought in while I call for a representative from those two areas.” *** While Zack, Garcia, and Fairchild were meeting with the two Canadian officers, two faculty members from McGill University were meeting over coffee and muffins at the Humble Lion, a coffee shop a short walk from the college in Montreal.

Brigitte Manon, a tall willowy blonde, and André Colbert, a heavy-set, dark-haired man with thick round glasses, were leaning in toward one another whispering in French so as not to be overheard or understood by many of the other customers.

“I understand you attended the conference call yesterday,” Manon said. “I couldn’t make it without tipping off my husband.

And you know he can be such a bastard if he thinks I’m running around on him — which of course I am.” She touched his hand.

“With you.”

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Colbert glanced around, then leaned in a little closer. “We believe we can make it happen before July Fourth.”

Manon sipped her coffee and took a bite of beignet to cover her surprise. “Does that give us enough time, Cherî? It’s pretty close, considering all the coordination we require, particularly internationally.”

“You’re right. I didn’t like it, so I sent a note overseas and expect a response shortly. They’ll be the ones to put a stop to it if need be.”

“I can’t help but think we’ll need to push it back several days.

In order to have all the right people in place, I’m sure we’ll need more time.”

“Relax. We can stop it with help from our friends in France.

What I’m most worried about is a recent congressional hearing in D.C.” Manon glanced up, a questioning look in her eyes. “Why? What does that have to do with anything we’re trying to do?”

“The United States Attorney General briefed a joint committee about the dangers of domestic terrorism and asked for more money to help prevent it.”

Manon sneered. “I don’t understand why that’s a problem.

The White House staff is always asking for more money.”

“Would you believe the attorney general himself was the one to lead the investigation into the 1995 attack on the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City?”

Manon’s eyes widened in surprise. “Are you telling me he was there? He personally saw what can happen? Oh no, he’s going to be driven by it. If he gets involved, it could make it more difficult to surprise the two governments.”

Colbert glanced around, then leaned forward. “If we’re going to pull off a repeat performance, they can’t be ready for it.”

Manon took a sip of her coffee. “Oui. The president’s staff is stepping up their investigations into terrorism. I heard that since he came into office, they have arrested more than four hundred people who were involved with the attack on the Capitol in D.C.” He took a sip of coffee. “I let it get cold.” He stopped for a moment and looked off toward the kitchen. “On the other hand, 14

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if we can pull it off, the justice department looks even worse. The attorney general is a two-time loser, forever branded with the death of hundreds.”

She smiled at him and reached under the table to touch his leg. “I love the way you think. Makes me excited and wanting to get moving forward.”

He laughed. “Brigitte, keep your excitement penned up until tomorrow night. Then I want you to release it. All of it.”

“I can’t wait.” She laughed. “How about now? Here? Wouldn’t that be exciting?”

Colbert bent over. “Stop it. I won’t be able to walk back to work in this condition.”

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4 Washington, D.C., June 3 After Admiral Steele had left for his meeting with the president, Zack called a break and contacted his CIA and FBI counterparts. It took him about thirty minutes to gather everyone.

Zack had worked with and liked Frank Harper, chief of the FBI’s Computer Crimes Office. Harper also had been a Washington Redskins football player before injuring his knee.

Zack stayed amazed at his size.

Samuel Wright was a senior agent with the CIA. He was the exact opposite of Harper, bald, with glasses, and often wore a wrinkled suit. Zack knew he had the confidence of the CIA Director, and that in Washington was necessary for a staff officer.

Together, the seven had worked out a draft plan for presentation to Admiral Steele.

When Steele walked back into the conference room an hour later, Zack introduced Hendricks again, then sat down.

Hendricks stood at the front of the room. “As you may remember, sir, the bombing in Oklahoma City was perpetrated by anti-government extremists Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols.”

Steele nodded.

“We believe French Separatists in Quebec may be working with extremist groups in the United States and perhaps even individuals overseas to bomb once again key targets in both the U.S. as well as Canada.”

Hendricks nodded to Lieutenant Colonel Darcy. “Gabrielle?”

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Darcy walked to the front of the room. “First, a short background on the French minority in Canada.”

Zack was surprised how she managed to catch his eye. Her blue eyes and black hair were a captivating combination—a very attractive woman with a winning smile.

“In 1867,” Darcy began, “Quebec joined Canada’s Englishspeaking provinces in forming Canada. Over the next century, many French Canadians feared they were losing not only their unique culture but their language as well.”

She took another sip of her coffee. “In 1995, by 50.6 percent to 49.4 percent, citizens of Quebec voted to remain in Canada, frustrating many of the more radicalized French.”

“Close vote,” Steele said.

“Oui. Most of these groups used negotiation to express their frustrations, although fringe groups have used more violent means. Today, these groups appear to be gaining power from the successes they’ve witnessed by extremist groups in the United States.”

Zack stood. “Thanks, Colonel Darcy. Now I’d like to introduce Senior Agent Frank Harper to share what the FBI has on these groups in the United States.”

Harper stood. “Admiral Steele, recently our focus has centered on the January 6th incident at the Capitol building.

Many of those involved are former law enforcement and military personnel. They hope to establish a network of activists to lay the groundwork for the creation of state militias.”

Steele raised his eyebrows at the comment, but didn’t say anything.

“During 2020,” Harper continued, “we tracked a total of 838 hate groups in the United States. Those groups tend to be spread over the entire country, although there are two states with the largest numbers, Pennsylvania and Alabama.”

“Have you seen any changes in these groups?” Steele asked.

“While historically these groups have been predominately hateful against certain groups of people,” Harper replied, “they now seem to be gathering younger members who talk about building a fascist state. This is probably where the young man in Wellsboro was coming from.”

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“What can you tell me about the incident at the Wellsboro library?” Steele asked.

“We are looking at a number of different extremist groups in Pennsylvania,” Harper replied.

“How can you tell which ones?” Zack asked.

“The young man who shot the librarian also set books on fire. Said he wanted to destroy books with any government propaganda in them. Fortunately, the librarian was only shot in the shoulder and will recover. Unfortunately, the young man shot and killed the sheriff who arrived on the scene.”

Zack snapped his fingers. “We need to interview this guy and find out what makes him tick.”

Harper shook his head. “The killer had a vehicle waiting for him in the driveway next to the library and was able to escape.

We found it abandoned on a country road about five miles away.

The truck had been stolen a few hours earlier.”

“Any leads at all?” Zack asked.

Harper paused for a sip of coffee. “I wish. But we’re worried fringe groups are gaining power again and this could be from recent events.”

“Sir,” Darcy joined in, “our undercover agents in Canada are hearing the same thing. They look at the attention these groups have received in the United States.”

“And they want some of that attention,” Steele said. “What exactly do you think will happen?”

Hendricks pulled out a sheet of paper. “We believe the most plausible scenario will be two bombings, one in the United States, probably D.C., and one in Canada, probably Quebec.”

“Timing?” Zack asked.

“Last year was the twenty-fifth anniversary of the bombing in Oklahoma City,” Hendricks replied. “Because of the pandemic, it’s possible they decided not to do anything at that time.”

Zack jumped in. “Which would bring us up to this year.”

“We don’t know for sure,” Darcy said, “but we see three possible times — July 4th, September 11th or December 7th.

We’re adding December 7th, the Pearl Harbor attack, because the idea of a surprise attack seems to have caught their attention.”

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Steele folded his hands which Zack knew was the signal he had been overloaded with data and needed a plan.

Zack stood. “Sir, here’s our initial thoughts. Send two or three of our staff to Montreal to make a presentation at McGill University, an English-speaking college in the middle of Frenchspeaking Montreal.”

Steele frowned. “Why there?”

“We would use it as a front until we can figure out what might happen there. The other team will be sent somewhere in north-central Pennsylvania because of the attack in Wellsboro.

The feeling by FBI agents is Pennsylvania could well be ground zero for the militia groups.”

Steele turned to Zack. “And I suspect you’re volunteering?”

Zack sighed. “Yes sir, before I get volunteered. And Garcia has volunteered — thank you — to teach a class at McGill University on military operations as a cover to do some recon.

Tara Fairchild will be available to help Garcia, if needed.”

Steele thought for a moment. “CIA and FBI rep.”

“Since the FBI is already involved in Pennsylvania, we recommend Harper join us there, and it would seem to make the most sense to have CIA Agent Wright join the team in Quebec.”

Steele thought some more. “Okay. I want Agents Harper and Wright to check with their bosses. If they get a thumbs-up, I’ll run it by the president. We need to get moving.”

Zack leaned forward in his chair. “Sounds good, sir.”

Steele glanced at Hendricks. “I assume you and your bosses are on board with our plan.”

Hendricks nodded.

“When do you propose moving out?” Steele asked.

Zack looked around the table to see nodding heads. “Seems to me it needs to be right away. If this threat is real, we can’t wait.”

Steele moved toward the door. “Details by the end of the day.”

“Yes, sir,” Zack said, “will do.”

As they stood there wrapping up, Gabrielle took Zack’s arm.

“Monsieur, what about White Nationalists?”

Zack glanced at her, a questioning look in his eyes. “What caused you to hone in on White Nationalists?”

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Gabrielle grimaced. “Ever since World War Two there have been French citizens who wish Hitler had won.”

“Really,” Zack said. “I didn’t realize that.”

“I’m concerned about a possible linkage between our current French Separatists and the Vichy government. This may have more historical significance than we first thought. I’d like to provide a brief summary if you have time.”

“Absolutely. When can you be ready?”

“The people I need are waiting at our embassy. I can have them here by noon.”

Zack thought for a moment. “Why don’t you make it one o’clock. We need to give our FBI and CIA reps time to brief their bosses and close out any hot actions.”

Gabrielle smiled. “Deal.”

Zack liked her smile. “And the name is Zack, not monsieur.”

She smiled again. “Oui, Monsieur Zack.”

Zack started to laugh. “I think Zack will do.”

She joined in his laughter. “How about Chéri?”

He liked being with her and he loved the musical chimes sound of her voice. “Yes. Chéri is always good.”

20

5 Mansfield, PA, June 3 Everett Kenzo lay on a mattress in a basement corner of a hundred-year-old farmhouse about fifteen miles northeast of Mansfield University. With the murder of a police officer on his hands, he knew the cops would be looking for him.

He had attended classes at Mansfield University for a single semester before he began joining the meetings of a militia group.

Kenzo knew the FBI would pick up on his college attendance and check out the university if they found his name. It had turned out the militia was able to use one of the classrooms at the university for their meetings. The school administration did not realize their actual purpose.

The militia leader’s themes had captured his attention. He argued about why so many who lived in the rural areas like his family had to scrimp and save for college while the big-city rich people had all the money they would ever need.

The audience cheered his comments. Then he told about how the government gave money away to minorities who lived in the cities, ignoring his friends and all of the others he had graduated from high school with. It wasn’t fair.

Kenzo couldn’t agree more. He and his friends were going to do something about it.

The door to the basement opened, and he heard footsteps on the stairs. Marcus Peters appeared around the corner.

“Hey,” Marcus called, “how are you doing? Got a burger from McDonald’s for you.”

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“Burger sounds great,” Kenzo replied. “I’m sick and tired of sitting here with nothing to do.”

“Ya gotta stay low, my friend. The cops, especially the FBI, are all over the campus. They must have figured they could get some answers from students here at the school.”

“I shouldn’t have shot the cop, but he really pissed me off.

Thought I was some fucking little kid trying to play grownup.”

“My folks are coming home tomorrow, so we gotta find another place for you to hide out. They won’t like it we had to do a cop.”

Kenzo grinned. “Yeah, I can understand how they feel.”

Marcus handed Kenzo his burger and some fries. “Once you finish, we need to head into Williamsport. Bigger city. Easier to hide. We’ll need cover.”

“I’m ready. We can leave after dark. It’ll take about an hour to get there. See what plans their guys have. They’ve been talking about some big operation, but I’m not sure what.”

“Okay,” Marcus replied. “I’ll pack up our weapons and ammo and we’ll leave as soon as it gets dark. Better to travel after dark.

Nobody can see into our car.”

Kenzo took a bite of burger. “Wonder what’s the next step?”

“We’ll see. Be sure and round up all of your stuff. We can pack it in the car after it gets dark.”

“Okay, thanks for your help. I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”

“You’d do the same thing for me.” *** When the planning group reconvened, Garcia and Fairchild had joined them. A woman with short gray hair and a wrinkled face sat next to Gabrielle. Zack wasn’t sure he should have taken her suggestion at face value, but figured if he couldn’t trust her he’d need to find out now.

When Harper and Wright arrived, Zack said, “Gabrielle, this is your show. We’ll have lunch brought in shortly.”

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She stood. “I would like to introduce Madeleine Barre.

Madeleine lived in France during the German occupation. I believe her story could help us on how we handle this situation.

Madeleine’s English is good, but I may need to help her with some phrases.”

Zack could tell that the woman was nervous by how she wiggled around on her chair, so he tried to help calm her.

“Madeleine, we welcome you to our meeting. First of all, let me introduce each of the meeting participants.” Zack went around the conference table and introduced each person.

When he finished, he said, “If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask.”

Madeleine took a sip of water. “Merci, sir colonel. I will talk slowly and try to answer questions you may have.”

She had propped her cane against the conference table next to her chair. Zack thought, what this woman may have gone through. “Please begin when you’re ready.”

“I was born Paris six years before Germans come. Early years like other children, but changed when the Germans would soon attack. Please, we were under the thumb of Hitler, a very dangerous man and killer.”

Zack nodded. “Certainly a scary time for you and everyone else.”

Madeleine began in a quiet voice. “Vichy France is name of the French State headed by Marshal Pétain from June 1940 to August 1944.”

She paused and glanced around.

“Take your time,” Gabrielle said. “We have plenty of time.”

“Merci. You have heard of Pierre Laval, yes? He persuaded the National Assembly to grant Marshal Pétain authority to assume full powers in the ‘French State’.”

“But what was it like?” Zack asked.

“We were scared,” Madeline said. “We knew how vicious the German storm troopers could be. Kill people who didn’t do what they wanted.”

“Enough to make anyone scared,” Garcia chimed in.

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She stopped and took another drink. “The German’s policies changed with their fortunes in the war. They engaged in a massive war with the Soviet Union and the United States. Needed absolute security in western Europe.”

Garcia raised her hand.

Madeleine pointed at her. “Yes.” “What about collaborators?”

Her hand shook a little when she reached for her coffee.

It took her a minute to drink. “By January 1944, collaborators such as the National Socialist, Marcel Déat, caused controversy with his article that France had no interest in defending Poland against Hitler.”

She took another drink, then continued. “Déat founded the collaborationist Populaire.” She paused. “A religious order in Italy took him in and concealed him until his death.”

“Did he have children?” Zack asked.

“I don’t know, but it is possible.”

“Gabrielle, can you check that out?” Zack asked. “If there are children who now live in Quebec that could bear on what we’re doing.”

“Oui,” Gabrielle said.

Wright leaned forward. “I’ll also check our files and see what I can find out. It could be interesting.”

“Thank you,” Zack replied. “I’m curious about any family of these men who might still be in positions of authority.”

“In the early stages of Vichy,” Madeline continued, “Pétain’s inner circle was made up of right-wing traditionalists.”

“Did Hitler want to make the Vichy French a full partner?”

Zack asked.

She shook her head. “Non. He tolerated the temporary Vichy state to help collect the occupation costs imposed by the armistice.”

“How did the Germans act during this time?” Zack asked.

“Short of manpower. Laval agreed to the, how you say, the conscription of able-bodied French workers in return for the release of French prisoners of war.”

“How did it work?” Zack asked.

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“Not well. He also attacked French underground. After the war, Laval and his friends argued he had played a limited collaboration with Hitler to protect France against a worse fate.”

She sipped her drink again. “Hitler concentrated on draining France’s raw materials and foodstuffs he found useful for the conduct of the war.”

“How did they treat Jews?” Fairchild asked.

“The numbers vary, but the Vichy government helped find and deport about 76,000 Jews to German extermination camps.

Only about 2,500 survived the war.”

“What about Laval?” Zack asked.

“He became a puppet of Hitler and was executed in October 1945.”

“What is the view today?” Agent Wright asked.

She took another sip. “After the war, supporters of Pétain claimed de Gaulle had represented the ‘sword’ of France, Pétain had been the ‘shield’ which protected France.”

“What do you think?” Zack asked.

She looked at Zack. “I believe families of the leaders of Vichy France still live in Quebec. Some of them are true believers in their cause.”

She glanced at Gabrielle. “You must be ready.”

“Why are you so worried?” Zack asked.

“Because I’ve seen and talked to them. They can be called white supremacists. And I’m worried they will fit in and help the extremists from your country.”

25

6 Washington, D.C., June 4 Zack had briefed a draft of their plan to Admiral Steele, who nodded his approval, then he took it to the president. The president provided final approval later that evening.

The next morning, Admiral Steele had sent a note to the Canadian Embassy advising them of the status of their request and thanking them for their assistance.

Garcia and Fairchild had departed with Colonel Hendricks and his driver for Montreal about an hour before. Hendricks agreed to make all of the advance preparations for them.

Agent Wright decided to fly as he had some extra things to do around the office and told Garcia he would join them in Montreal.

Zack made sure he had the information on where they would be staying. Their point of contact at the university would be a professor named Brigitte Manon.

Zack took a deep breath when all of the coordination was completed. He decided he would leave with Gabrielle and Harper about nine o’clock, roughly an hour from now.

The administrative office had secured two cabins at Hills Creek State Park, which was located about halfway between Wellsboro and Mansfield, Pennsylvania.

Harper agreed to set up an FBI operations center at one of the cabins. Zack and Gabrielle would stay in the other cabin and appear to be ordinary visitors.

26

Don Helin

It had been years since Zack had spent time outside at a state park and he wished he could have taken his daughter with him.

But he couldn’t. At least not now.

So he arranged with his aunt to move in for a few days with Laura to keep an eye on everything. Zack trusted his nineteenyear-old daughter, but still felt the need to have an adult in the house.

Of course, Laura was convinced no adult was needed as she could take care of herself, but didn’t fuss too much. Fortunately, Laura and her aunt were good friends and got along well.

It turned out to be a six-and-one-half-hour drive to the state park from Washington. Zack debated taking a helicopter, but they agreed that for a cover story, it made more sense if they appeared to be ordinary people on a few days’ vacation.

One of Harper’s FBI agents drove their car, which gave Zack a chance to talk over the case with the group. Harper summarized the issues for Zack and Gabrielle and what the FBI team on site had done so far.

“I’ve set up a round-the-clock operations center in the cabin next to yours,” Harper said. “We’ll have a full range of communications if you need it.”

“I’d like to discuss the shooting in Wellsboro with the lead agent,” Zack said. “Try and sort out what overlap, if any, there may be to what we’re doing now. Sure seems like there could be.”

Harper smiled. “Great minds think alike. I’ve arranged to meet with Agent Strong at what’s left of the Wellsboro library tomorrow morning. Phillip is a good man, but so far, we don’t have much to show for our investigation.”

Harper pulled out his cell phone and pushed in a number.

“When last we talked, Strong didn’t have a solid lead on the shooter or the getaway driver. We know the shooter mentioned the Patriots Militia, a group we haven’t heard mentioned before.”

“What do you mean?” Gabrielle asked.

“We have a long list of the extremist militias, but this new militia doesn’t seem to be one of them.”

Harper held up his hand and talked into the phone for a moment. When he finished, he said, “Unfortunately, no change.

Agent Strong will meet us tomorrow morning at eight o’clock.”

27

Twins

Zack made a note. “So chasing down this new group and figuring out what it’s all about appears to be ‘Job One’.”

Harper nodded.

“Have you heard anything from Garcia?” Gabrielle asked.

“Her point of contact is a Brigitte Manon,” Zack replied.

“What?” Gabrielle almost cried out.

“Brigitte Manon,” Zack replied. “Is she a problem?”

“Maybe. She’s the person we suspect may be involved with the group I told you about with possible ties to Vichy France.”

Zack raised his eyebrows. Thought for a moment. “You know, that could be good or could be bad. Garcia needs to know who she’s dealing with, but it might help her get some answers.”

Gabrielle smiled again. “Oui, Monsieur Zack. I’ll call her and tell her what I know about Manon.”

“Thanks,” Zack replied. “That’s important.”

“I’ll have my staff keep track of Manon and let you know what I find out.”

“Thanks.”

“Merci, Monsieur.

She did make Zack smile. *** Garcia and Fairchild’s vehicle pulled into Montreal about five o’clock in the afternoon. Garcia was glad Hendricks’ assistant did all the driving as it gave her a chance to review what they knew, as well as take a short nap.

When they arrived, Hendricks dropped the two of them off at their hotel which was only a block from McGill University.

Bidding farewell to Fairchild in the lobby, Garcia checked into her room. When she opened the door, she spotted a note from Brigitte Manon to give her a call when they arrived in Montreal.

After Garcia unpacked a few things and hung them in the closet, she picked up the phone and dialed.

When Manon answered, Garcia said, “Good afternoon. This is Rene Garcia. Tara Fairchild and I just arrived and checked into our hotel. Very nice, by the way. Thank you. As a military officer, I’ve sure spent time in a lot worse places.”

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“Welcome to Montreal,” Manon said. “We’re glad you’re here, and I know you’ll enjoy your visit.”

“Thank you,” Garcia replied. “I’ve never been to Montreal before and look forward to being here and learning about the university.”

“If you’re not too tired from your trip, I’d love to host you and Ms. Fairchild at a small informal dinner tonight.”

“That would be nice, “Garcia replied. “To be honest, I’m starved.”

“There’s a wonderful French restaurant a block from your hotel. I can meet you outside the front door in an hour. Would that be okay?”

“Sounds wonderful. Time for a quick shower and change into new clothes. I’ll let Tara know, and we’ll see you then.”

Garcia hung up and dialed Fairchild’s cell number. As it rang, she wondered what Manon was like and what she was getting into.

29

7 Montreal, Quebec, June 4 As promised, Brigitte Manon met Garcia and Fairchild at the front door of their hotel and escorted them to the La Society Montreal, located in the Vogue Hotel on Rue de la Montagne.

When Garcia walked in the door, she knew she was in a restaurant more exclusive than she usually ate in, but figured when in Montreal, why not enjoy herself? When would she ever be back?

After they ordered and the waitress brought their wine, Brigitte proposed a toast, “To new friends. Welcome to Montreal.”

Garcia and Fairchild raised their glasses and drank.

“Oh, my,” Garcia said, “this wine is so good.”

Fairchild took another sip. “Wonderful. Now, let me ask you, what do you do at McGill University?”

“I’m a history professor with a specialty in French history.

I was born in Quebec, but my grandparents moved here from France after the war, and our family has always had close ties to France.”

“Can you tell us what made them move to America?”

Fairchild asked. “Was it the war? Must have been an awful time for all your people.”

“My grandfather worked in the government during the war.

There were many bad feelings after the war ended. So he decided to move to Canada for a fresh start.”

Fairchild took another sip of her wine. “Forgive me if I appear too inquisitive. This is a time frame that excites me.”

30

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The waitress arrived, and Garcia and Fairchild both ordered lobster linguini. Garcia put down her menu. “Sounded terrific to me.”

After the waitress left, Fairchild said, “I’m really sorry. I don’t mean to swamp you with twenty questions. If I’m being too nosy, stop me, and let’s talk about something else, maybe the university.”

Manon shook her head. “No, no, that’s fine. I believe the French people got a bad rap during the war. I like to straighten people out about what they call Vichy France.”

Garcia saw a chance to get some necessary information.

“What do you mean they got a bad rap?”

“You had to be there to understand what it was like to be under the thumb of the damn Germans. Everyone thinks the French should have been heroes. People condemn them as collaborating with the Germans. Crap. The French government did the best they could in a terrible situation.”

Garcia decided to push a little more. “I don’t know much about it, but I’ve heard the French government captured a number of the resistance fighters for the Germans, plus I heard they sent thousands of Jews to the gas chambers.”

Garcia saw Manon’s face tighten up. “I’m sorry if I struck a nerve. I wasn’t there and have no idea what it was like and what I might have done.”

Manon shook her head. “It’s okay. It’s just I’ve heard so much negative talk about Vichy France, and it’s not fair.”

Manon paused a few moments. “I could criticize the U.S. for what they let the militias do at the Capitol building, yet it appears the government isn’t going to even look into it. Easy for me to critique from a distance.”

The waitress brought their dinners. Garcia started in on her lobster. “My goodness, this is really good. I’ve never had lobster linguini before. It’s delicious.”

Fairchild chimed in. “Yep. Absolutely wonderful.”

Manon started to say something, then she stopped. Then she started again. “My grandfather was involved with making many of those difficult decisions. He did it for what he called the greater good for the largest number of people.”

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“What do you mean by that?” Fairchild asked.

“Many of those given up to the Nazis were minorities, not French. And this is what the militias are protesting today.

Your government seems to be giving everything to minorities, forgetting about the needs of the whites. All they do is get stuck with paying their taxes. Others get all the benefits. It’s not right.”

“What do you think should be done?” Fairchild asked.

“We need to focus people’s attention on what’s really going on.”

“How do you propose doing that?” Fairchild asked.

Manon got a smile on her face. “I’m not prepared to go into details now. I don’t know you well enough.”

She paused again. “The other thing that really makes me angry is the way gays prance around. We see it all the time here in Montreal. I don’t know if you experience it in Washington.”

Garcia shifted her gaze to Fairchild, whose face seemed to tighten. She thought Fairchild might be gay and tried to catch her gaze. Oh, please don’t blow up.

Fairchild dropped her fork with a clang. “I get sick and tired of the damn boys who vilify women as being manipulative yet incompetent and genetically inferior. And then have the nerve to think those women deserve getting knocked around for having too much sex or denying sex to all those boys. Bastards.”

She stopped and glanced at Manon, then smiled. “You know, I’ve known a number of gays in my life and have never seen any of them prance.”

Manon stopped eating, put her fork down, and looked at Fairchild. Then she laughed, which lightened the mood.

Garcia caught Fairchild’s gaze and gave her a nod.

The rest of the dinner passed in peace. Garcia felt she had gained valuable information and looked forward to calling Zack when she got back to her room. *** Zack and the rest of the group pulled into Hills Creek State Park around eight o’clock. The sky was just beginning to get dark.

32

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Located approximately six miles northwest of Mansfield, Pennsylvania, the park surrounded a lake fringed by pine trees.

He wished Laura could have joined him, but he needed to focus on gaining information as soon as possible.

The cabins the FBI had reserved were next to one another on the edge of the woods. Perfect location.

Harper dropped Zack and Gabrielle off at their cabin. “We’ll set up the communications center at the cabin over there. I like this one for you and our meetings. It’s on the edge of the woods, away from everyone else and any prying ears. Nice and private.”

Zack called to Harper through the open car window. “Come over as soon as you’re set up, and we’ll develop a plan for tomorrow. Garcia should be calling in shortly.”

There were two bedrooms, one with a double bed and one with bunk beds. Zack pointed at the larger room and said to Gabrielle, “Why don’t you take that one, and I’ll hit the bunk beds. I suspect we won’t get a chance to do much sleeping anyway.”

“Oui, Monsieur. Merci. Who knows what will happen.”

“Right now, it’s certainly a work in progress.”

It took Zack only a few minutes to pull a change of clothes out of his travel pack, hang up some slacks, and lay out a few toilet articles. He picked up his briefcase and computer and walked out to the porch.

In a few minutes, Gabrielle pushed out on the screen door to join him. “This cabin is really comfortable. I checked out the kitchen. They even have a microwave and hot and cold running water. Wow, too bad that we’re working. What a place to relax and have fun.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Zack replied. “But, that’s the deal. We’re already way behind the guys we’re chasing.”

Zack glanced up to see Harper walking along the gravel driveway. “I’ll open my computer,” he called, “then update you two a little more.”

Zack leaned back on one of the lawn chairs and thought again how nice it would be to have Laura here. The great swimming beach and hiking trails made the park a place he definitely would return.

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Harper pulled his chair a little closer to the two of them. “I’ll touch a few more bases, and then we need to sort out tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” Zack said. “Fire away.”

“We’ve had our experts study these groups and develop points to be helpful. Many of these new groups are formed and gain membership in reaction to changes in society. These changes seem to challenge the whites and how they look at things.”

“Have you got an example?” Zack asked.

“Probably the best one is the Klan. Its membership was huge in the 1920s, then dropped off in the 30s and 40s only to return in the 1950s.”

“What caused the return?” Gabrielle asked.

“We think the Supreme Court decision in Brown vs. Board of Education making segregation illegal. Then it seemed to level off until President Obama was elected when it shot back up again.”

“Has it stayed at that level since then?” Zack asked.

Harper shook his head. “The membership has dropped off.

We think it’s because the Klan’s name became so toxic, something businesses didn’t want their employees involved in. Even though membership in the Klan has dropped off, there are a number of organizations to take its place.”

Zack nodded. “Wonderful.”

“One last point,” Harper said. “Many people with extreme views may not belong to any organization. For example, we found that many of those who stormed the Capitol in January didn’t belong to any specific group.”

Zack stood and paced around the patio for a moment. “Okay, where do we start tomorrow?”

“As I mentioned earlier, I’ve got the chief of our FBI team in Wellsboro meeting us tomorrow to walk through the library. We plan to interview a couple of witnesses.”

“Sounds good,” Zack replied. “Then I’d like to get a little feel for the town. Why did that guy choose this town? What else is going on?”

Harper nodded. “I’ll let our man know.”

“In the meantime,” Zack said, “let’s try and enjoy ourselves a little and take some time to think.”

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“I’ll drink to that,” Gabrielle said. “And I just happen to have a bottle of French red wine with me. Monsieurs?”

Harper shook his head. “Better make this the last one, as alcohol is illegal in Pennsylvania state parks.”

Gabrielle smiled. “Oh, you Americans. Such prudes.”

35

8 Wellsboro, PA, June 5.

Zack, Gabrielle, and Harper started from the park about seven-thirty to meet with Agent Strong, who headed the investigation into the library shooting.

As the FBI agent drove them toward Wellsboro, Zack said, “I talked with Garcia last night. She and Fairchild ate dinner at a superb French restaurant with Brigitte Manon, her point of contact in Montreal.”

“I’ll be interested in what Manon had to say,” Gabrielle said.

“From everything I’ve heard, she has close links to Vichy France.”

She thought for a moment, then sighed. “I’m worried those links may be active and not just history.”

Zack turned and leaned back to talk with her. “She admitted those links last night, according to Garcia. Then, Fairchild started asking some pointed questions about Vichy France.”

“How did that go,” Gabrielle asked.

“They garnered a strong response about how Vichy France has gotten a bad rap. Also, Manon expressed her extreme views about gays.”

“Looks like they’re off and running,” Harper said. “What’s next for them?”

“Today, Garcia and Fairchild receive a tour of the University, then Garcia will be making her presentation tomorrow. So she’s moving things forward.”

Harper chuckled. “Got to hand it to Garcia. She never lets any grass grow under her feet.”

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Zack took a few minutes to ponder his next step. Twenty minutes later, they entered the town of Wellsboro on Main Street.

In about ten minutes, they pulled up in front of the library.

A white building with tall pillars in front, it reminded Zack of an old church. He spotted smoke damage to the walls and roof and broken windows on the first and second floors.

When they got out of their vehicle, Harper waved at the man standing on the porch in front of the building. Philip Strong, the FBI section chief, waved back and walked down the sidewalk toward them.

He held out his hand toward Zack. “Phil Strong.”

Zack introduced himself and the others, although Strong already knew Harper. After introductions, Strong led them toward the side door of the library, the portion which wasn’t damaged by the fire.

“I hate to hear anyone talking about burning books,” Strong said. “I was particularly troubled when I heard about this library.

It’s such an old and beautiful facility.”

He pointed toward the front door. “It’s called the Green Free Library. Originally built in the mid-1800s, the building first became a library in 1917.”

“Been a long time,” Zack said. “Must have quite a history.”

Strong motioned toward the front with his hand. “As you can see, the library has pillars over the entire front. The patio is used for various activities, which I believe are tied into the Arts and Cultural Center in the back. Fortunately, the center was left untouched.”

“Much damage to the collection?” Zack asked.

“We’re not sure yet the extent,” Strong replied. “The librarian is still in the hospital, and they really haven’t had much of a chance to take an inventory. I think the sectional layout of the facility may have helped.”

“How do you mean?” Zack asked.

“The corridor between the rooms helped block the fire.”

“How is the librarian?” Gabrielle asked. “Will she make a full recovery?”

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Strong nodded. “Shot in the shoulder. She’ll probably be in the hospital for a couple more days, and then I expect she’ll be out with a sling. Fortunately, it wasn’t any worse.”

“Have you been able to interview her?” Zack asked.

“Twice.”

He paused for a moment, apparently to gather his thoughts.

“She gave us a description of the shooter, but it’s not particularly helpful — he wore a mask. She said he also wore a cowboy hat and sunglasses.”

“Anything at all?” Harper asked.

“Short, probably around five feet six or seven inches. Slender build. Little bit of a high-pitched voice. He did have an old-style six-shooter. Didn’t appear he was used to it as he had trouble holding it. They do weigh a lot.”

“Sheriff?” Zack asked.

“That’s a tough one. Very popular. Nice guy. Capable.

According to witnesses, he apparently gave the shooter time to lay down his weapon. The asshole opened fire, killing the sheriff with a second shot. Wife and three kids.”

Zack shook his head. “Why is it always the great guys who get killed?”

Strong led them out the front doors of the library. “How about we go over to the hotel for some coffee, then we can talk a little more about these militia groups?”

Zack looked at Harper and Gabrielle, who both nodded enthusiastically. “Sounds like a winning plan. Let’s walk.”

Strong nodded. “Sure. About fifteen minutes.”

“I’d love to see some of the town,” Zack said. “Get a little feel for the place.”

As they walked, Strong gave them a little background on the town. “We’re about ten miles east of the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania. Pine Creek cut through mountains over time to create an incredible canyon. It’s over sixty miles long. You can bike or kayak much of the distance.”

His comment caught Zack’s attention. This seemed to be the perfect place to vacation with Laura. They both loved to camp and kayak, so he put the information away for future reference and research.

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Zack turned toward Strong. “I’d love to bring my daughter here camping when all this militia crap is over.”

“I’ll bet she’d enjoy it.” He pointed toward one of the shops.

“They have good outfits, boots, whatever you need. That’s where I like to shop when I’m up here.” *** When they reached the hotel, Strong said, “The Penn Wells Hotel has quite a history. Originally built in the early 1800s, it developed into a destination unto itself in the 1930s for all the hotshots from Philly. Helped the town of Wellsboro flourish during that period.”

Strong pulled Zack aside. “The hotel is a great place to stay if you bring your daughter up here and decide not to camp.”

“Got me convinced,” Zack said. “Now I need to slow Laura down long enough to get some planning done. She’s just finished her freshman year at GW. Plays soccer and manages to get good grades along the way.”

Strong held the door to the hotel open for Zack. “How about if we have coffee and rolls, then we can order lunch in a while.

This is where I set up our headquarters. I can tell you the food is terrific.”

After they ordered coffee, he presented an orientation, much of the information Zack already knew. “I have several concerns, but there is one issue which really worries us.”

“What’s that?” Zack asked.

“We’ve been successful in arresting a number of the extremist leaders, but I think what we’ve really managed to do is drive them underground and online.”

“That can’t be good,” Harper said. “These groups are getting better at security for their computer materials.”

“Here’s what concerns me,” Strong said. “While these groups once simply espoused hatred, now they’re more focused on the revolutionary development of a fascist state.”

“Don’t like to hear that,” Zack said.

“Plus, we’re seeing stronger ties between these groups here in the United States and those in Europe.”

39

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That comment jarred Zack. He glanced at Gabrielle.

She nodded back. “Told you.”

Now he had to worry about ties between the Vichy French Gabrielle was talking about and the militia movement.

“How do these groups communicate,” Zack asked. “Haven’t they been knocked off social media?”

“True,” Strong replied, “but they simply have gravitated toward heavily encrypted methods on the Dark Web as well as distributing flyers. Flyers turn out to be a low cost but highly effective way of communicating from one group to another.”

“What effect has the pandemic had on these groups?”

Gabrielle asked.

“During the pandemic, many of these groups used flyers more often. It’s low-risk, basically contactless, and those distributing the flyers can wear masks without calling attention to themselves.”

Zack knew it was time to get moving. “Do you have the names of guys in these militias?”

Strong nodded. “Why do you want a list?”

“Many of these guys are former military. Maybe I might know some of them. I’d like to find out what makes them tick.

Particularly the leaders.”

“They keep changing and moving around, so we don’t know a lot of the members.” Strong thought for a moment. “But I think I can get you names of the militia leaders.”

“That would be helpful,” Zack replied. “Are any of the militia groups here in Wellsboro?”

Strong shook his head. “As far as we can tell, the closest group is located in the town of Williamsport, about an hour away. While I’m getting these lists together, how about if we have lunch?”

“You read my mind,” Zack said. “I’m ready for some chow.”

Strong handed around menus and called for a waitress.

Zack ordered a chicken cheesesteak sandwich, a Pennsylvania specialty. Gabrielle ordered a Cobb salad, and Harper the cheesesteak.

After lunch, they bid their farewells to Strong.

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On the way out, Strong handed Zack a roster of the militia groups. “It’s not one-hundred percent accurate, but it’s not bad.

Good luck.”

Strong whispered, “We need a break in our search for the person who shot the sheriff. I’m really pissed about it. Totally unnecessary.”

“That’s been on my mind. Plus, I have a feeling what happened here is probably tied to these militia groups we’ve been hearing about.”

Strong nodded. “I think you’re right.”

41

9 Montreal, Quebec, June 5 Garcia and Fairchild got up early and took the opportunity to visit some of the sites in Montreal Manon had marked out on the map she gave them at dinner.

It was fun walking as the air felt cool and the sky clear. “This is so much better than D.C.,” Garcia said. “Already humid back there. Gotta love this.”

Fairchild nodded. “I enjoy it now. But when it gets colder, it snows. I’m not a big fan of snow. Sure is nice now.”

At ten o’clock, they met Colonel Hendricks and Agent Wright at the address Wright had provided. A drab red brick building with all of the windows closed and curtains drawn. Garcia figured it to be a CIA safe house.

After coffee and biscotti at a conference table in a windowless room, Wright opened the discussion. “This afternoon, you’ll meet André Colbert. He has a thing going with Manon.”

Wright broke into a smile. “She has to keep moving fast to stay ahead of her husband, who’s the jealous type. He wouldn’t like it if he found out about the affair. Quite a temper.”

“Oh,” Garcia said, “One of those guys.”

“Colbert seems slippery enough so he’ll be able to stay ahead of the husband. But if not, things could get messy. Stay tuned.”

Opening a file, he said, “Colbert’s father was a key member of the Vichy political structure during the war.”

Garcia made a mental note. This seemed to lend credence to what Gabrielle had been talking about back in D.C. 42

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“As a matter of fact,” Wright continued, “when the Germans withdrew, old man Colbert and his wife made a run for Switzerland, then, later on, traveled to England. After the war, they finally ended up in Quebec where André was born.”

“Do we know what year that was?” Garcia asked.

Wright looked down at the file for a moment. “Not exactly, but we do know André was born here in 1975, the fifth son of Colbert senior and his third wife. The French certainly do get around.”

His comment and grin made both Garcia and Fairchild chuckle.

Wright smiled back at them. “As far as we can tell, André was fed a steady diet about the wonders of Vichy France and how Germany might have won the war if it hadn’t been for D-Day and the American attack at Normandy.”

Garcia shook her head. “He holds the Americans responsible for driving out the Germans and rescuing the French? Incredible.”

“What our file reads. We think it was simply the influence of his father holding on to an unreasonable view of Vichy France and what it stood for.”

“So what does that have to do with now?” Garcia asked.

“It appears Colbert is in contact with someone in the current French government who is in a position of authority.”

“What does that mean?” Fairchild asked.

“We believe that person and perhaps others from another foreign power, possibly Germany, may come here and attempt to take advantage of current problems in the United States, to push the government in another direction.”

“Okay,” Fairchild said. “What are you trying to say? How about spitting it out in plain English.”

Wright pointed his finger at her. “Here goes. We think forces from another country will institute a rebellion. Then use that as a front to attack our form of government to suit their purposes. Is that plain enough English for you?”

“Ah, yeah.” Garcia couldn’t believe it. “A rebellion?”

Wright nodded. “The better word may be a revolution.”

Fairchild shook her head. “How?” 43

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“We’re not sure,” Wright said, “but we think they will try and stage a number of events, perhaps explosions, perhaps attacks by militia forces. We’re not sure which as yet.”

“What are they trying to achieve?” Fairchild asked.

“We believe their goal will be for people to lose faith in our government and the government’s ability to protect them.”

Garcia looked at her watch, then stood. “Oops, we need to get going. What can we do about what you said?”

“Colonel Hendricks and I are tracking French nationals entering Canada or the United States. We believe they will be members of Le Pen.” “Le Pen,” Garcia asked. “What is that?”

“It’s a French ultra-conservative political party. The group we suspect will be helping with this possible revolution. My best guess is they would like an ultra-conservative government in the United States closer to their beliefs.”

Garcia nodded. “If you need help, let me know. We can come over a couple of times and help track these folks. When they arrive in Quebec, we need to watch to see if they travel into the United States.”

“I agree,” Wright said. “If that happens, it may give us a clue as to where the militias may cause problems and what they plan to do.”

“With that information, I can provide a report to Zack and Admiral Steele.”

Wright stood. “We asked for help; we need it. Otherwise, we might miss something.”

As Garcia left, she wondered about Wright. She hadn’t liked him, nor did she trust him. But what he’d said at the meeting made sense. Maybe he was okay. Just have to wait and see.

She smiled as she thought about her motto. Trust, but verify. *** Everett Kenzo and Marcus Peters walked down the university hallway, unusually quiet this time of day. A man in motorcycle

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boots and a vest sat at a conference table. The table held a sign for their meeting, which read Friends of Liberty.

The man looked up at them. “What do you two want? Are you on the list?”

Kenzo muted his anger against this pushy guy as he looked mean, and Kenzo wanted to enter the meeting without any problems. Plenty of time for revenge once he was on the inside.

He presented his identification badge and the pass he’d been given by the commander of his local militia group.

“Okay,” the man said. “Through that doorway and into the conference room.”

When they reached the conference room, another man in jeans and a sports shirt showing off his huge tattoo-filled arms, as well as a bushy black beard, blocked their way.

The man glanced at them. “Names?”

Kenzo gave his name and the name of his friend.

The big man nodded, then checked their names off a list. He stared at them, making Kenzo nervous. “All right, arms in the air.

I need to search you for weapons.”

Kenzo reached behind him. Before he could touch his pistol to pull it out and hand it over, the man had a gun out and pointed in Kenzo’s face. “Don’t move, asshole.”

Kenzo froze. “Wait a minute. I was just reaching behind me to pull out my gun and give it to you. I sure as hell don’t want any trouble.”

The man smirked. “Yeah, your intentions may be the best, but remember, Shorty, fast moves can get you killed around here.”

“All right, all right, I get the picture.” Kenzo handed over his gun. “I’d like it back.”

The big man looked at the weapon and laughed. “How long have you had this piece of shit?”

“Wait a minute. This was my dad’s gun. I used it to screw with the librarian in Wellsboro.” He puffed out his chest. “Scared the shit out of her.”

The man glanced at him. “Oh, so you’re the guy. I’ve heard Alpha mention you. Better let me keep it for now.”

45

Twins

Kenzo reached for the gun. In his best deep voice, he said, “This gun goes where I go.”

In a move so fast Kenzo hardly saw it coming, the man pushed his arm away and almost broke his wrist. Pain shot up his arm.

Kenzo cried out in pain. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You won’t need it inside the meeting room.”

Kenzo panicked. He hadn’t run into a guy like this before.

He began to rub his wrist. Damn thing really hurt, but he didn’t want to show the guy how much.

Before he could say anything else, the man motioned the two of them into the room where about twenty men stood around in small groups talking in hushed tones.

Posters about the Patriot Militia decorated the tables. Kenzo glanced around but didn’t recognize anyone from his militia group.

Not knowing anyone made him uncomfortable, but he didn’t want to appear hesitant or concerned. Just look like you belong and are one of the guys, he thought. Don’t let them see you sweat.

He spotted a table with a keg and a number of different beers on it. Turning to Marcus, he said, “Come on, let’s get something to drink.” He smiled. “I’m dry.”

Marcus nodded. “Me too.”

They walked over and picked up a couple of beers just as a man in jeans and a dark print shirt called out, “All right. Grab a beer and sit. We’ve got a ton of shit to do.”

Kenzo took a swig from his beer. A couple of chairs were free in the back, so he headed for them.

A tall man wearing a mask across his nose and mouth stood at the front, glaring at them as they were the last to be seated. “All right, sit down, damn it. We got work to do.”

He waited another two minutes for the noise to settle. “As many of you have heard, I’m known as Alpha. That’s all you need to know. We don’t want any names getting out until we’re ready.”

He looked around, obviously making sure he had everyone’s attention. “You’re here because you’ve expressed an interest in joining our cause. I realize many of you are from different militia groups.”

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Don Helin

He paused for a moment to let his comments sink in, then continued. “What we hope to do today is form a joint militia which I have chosen to call the Patriots Militia. This will give us more power and better coordination.”

There was a cheer of yes from the group. Kenzo and Marcus joined in.

Alpha walked down the middle aisle putting his finger over his mouth. “We need to be a little quiet here at the school. Plenty of time to shout later.”

He stopped next to Kenzo and looked down at him. “Are you Kenzo? The one who attacked the library in Wellsboro?”

Kenzo sat up a little taller, proud of what he’d done, and now he would receive his reward. Visibility. Well, hell, it was about time. “Yes, sir. That’s me.”

Alpha looked down at him, nodded, and said, “I wanted to make sure.”

With that, he turned and walked with a slight limp back to the front. Kenzo watched him walk, not sure of where he stood with Alpha.

Alpha turned back to face the audience. “This is the day. The day we organize and move forward as a group, strong, silent, moving our patriot fever to the front.”

Everyone in the group nodded, and there was a smattering of applause.

“It’s important all of you listen up as I believe this may be the last time to gather and talk before the big show.”

He paused probably for effect. “We represent the best hope against the forces in our government who are organizing the elites to strip away the rights of each of us as citizens. Bastards aren’t gonna take our guns.”

Another smattering of applause.

“Now, I have one last thought.” He walked back down the center aisle to where Kenzo sat and looked down at him.

His stare made Kenzo nervous. “Yes, sir, we are onboard with whatever you want to do.”

47

Twins

Alpha’s face remained blank, so Kenzo couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “You walked into that library and shot the librarian and a sheriff. Is that correct?”

Kenzo sat up a little straighter. “Yes, sir. We need to show these people we mean business.”

“Did you get clearance from me before you did it?”

Instantly, Kenzo felt uneasy. “No, sir. I belong to a small militia group here in Mansfield near the university. As a group, we agreed we needed to do something to bring attention to our cause.”

“You brought attention to our cause by killing the sheriff?”

Kenzo didn’t like the way this was going.

Alpha’s face tightened up. “Now I’ve got every cop in Pennsylvania on my ass, including the FBI. It’s going to be harder to do what we want because of the publicity, and all that shit belongs to you.”

Alpha pulled out his gun and pointed it at Kenzo. “By pointing your gun at that cop, you screwed things up, and you don’t even realize it. You are a massive pain in the butt to me, and this is what I do to a pain: I get rid of it.”

Kenzo panicked. “I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing. Something you’d be happy about. I’d never do anything against what you wanted.”

“You just did. Now I’ve got a headache I need to figure out and solve. You and your friend caused me a problem. One hell of a problem.”

Marcus stood, shaking. “I drove the van, but had no idea Kenzo was going to kill someone.”

“Why didn’t you know? Doesn’t your group plan an operation?

That’s what militias do. They plan, then implement.”

Alpha pointed his finger at Marcus for emphasis. “Not just implement without thinking ahead and determining the impact of their decisions and actions. Do you two realize what that means?”

Both Kenzo and his friend shook their heads.

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Don Helin

Alpha looked out at the rest of the group. “What it means is soldiers who go out and implement half-ass plans on their own without getting clearance receive a penalty.”

Alpha pointed the gun at Kenzo’s chest and pretended to shoot. He turned to one of the other members. “Get these two out of my sight.”

The man with the black beard walked over, grabbed Kenzo by the arm, and pulled him up. Then he pushed him toward the door.

49

10 McGill University, Montreal, June 5 Fairchild and Garcia walked into the staff dining room and paused. There must have been about thirty tables in the room, roughly half of them full.

Manon and a chubby man sat close at a side table. Her companion wore a sports shirt with tan slacks. He had heavy framed glasses, and his sandy hair was thinning on top.

“There she is,” Garcia whispered. “That creep doesn’t seem like the kind of guy I’d think Manon would hang out with. Must be Colbert. Do you suppose he’s got some hold on her?”

Fairchild nodded. “Just what I was wondering.”

Manon stood and waved. Garcia nodded, then she and Fairchild moved around a number of tables to reach her.

The man stood slowly with a motion that seemed more like a shrug.

Manon reached over to kiss them on each cheek. “Bonjour, Chéri. Welcome. Sorry, I wasn’t able to spend the morning with you, but I couldn’t shake my commitment. French class. I’m sure you’ve been there and know how it goes.”

“No problem,” Garcia replied. “Your sightseeing recommendations were spot on, and we had a great time finding our way around. Montreal is a beautiful city with much to see.”

Manon touched the arm of the man and said, “This is my friend and fellow professor, André Colbert.”

They shook hands. Garcia noticed he held on to her hand a little longer than seemed necessary. She didn’t like it but couldn’t twist his arm here in public. Not polite, but if he did it again...

50

Don Helin

The four of them walked up to a serving line. Garcia picked out a soup and salad, then returned to the table.

Once they were seated, Manon focused on the expectations of her class the next day. “We have all of the AV equipment you might need as well as techs who can help you with any problems so don’t worry about anything.”

The four talked about the university and Montreal in general.

When they finished eating, Manon led them to an auditorium with about one hundred seats.

She pointed around the room. “Will this work for your presentation tomorrow?”

Garcia nodded. “I have about an hour of presentation, but want to leave plenty of time for questions. I hope your students find it interesting.”

“I’m sure they will. As a matter of fact, I thought you might want to meet some of them this afternoon for an open discussion of the issues facing us.”

“That would be wonderful,” Garcia said. “It’ll help me ensure I’m on target with my presentation.”

Colbert leaned over and whispered to Fairchild. “They don’t need us here. How about if I show you around the university a little more?”

Fairchild thought for a moment. It almost sounded like some sleaze inviting a woman to see his etchings.

She debated. On the other hand, it would be a chance to get to know him better and see if he was really on the straight and narrow. “Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”

Colbert nodded and touched Manon’s arm. “While you’re practicing, we’re going to look around the campus.”

Fairchild glanced at Garcia. She spotted a frown of concern on her face.

Fairchild shook her head slightly. “Have a good practice. I’ll be back in an hour, and then we can figure out what we want to do for the rest of the day.”

As she walked off, she thought I’d better be back. *** 51

Twins

Colbert led the way down the hall. “Let’s walk over to my office. I’ve got some of the best wine in Montreal I’d like you to try.”

Fairchild thought Yeah, I’ll bet.

“After a glass, I can give you my standard orientation spiel.

Don’t worry, I’ll cut it short, so we can walk around some more.”

The alarm bells kept ringing in Fairchild’s head. But this was a chance to talk with the guy and see his digs. What the heck? It was why she was here. And she had plenty of confidence in her defensive skills.

When they reached his office, he unlocked the door and motioned her inside.

She took a minute to look around. A desk stood along one wall with organized stacks of papers on top, three file cabinets along a second wall, and two armchairs in front of the desk.

“This is a surprisingly well-organized office for a guy.”

Colbert laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

A small couch lined the third wall with two large paintings above it, one of the Eiffel Tower, and one of boats along the Seine River on a sunny day.

She hoped this wasn’t the normal casting couch guys always talked about, causing her to smile at her little joke. At least she hoped it was a joke.

Her gaze surveyed right to left to see everything. “Great digs for a prof.”

“I guess I’m one of those guys who can’t stand a mess.” He motioned toward one of the chairs. “Please take a seat.”

She walked over to the armchair and sat. “Thanks.”

He sat in the other chair and faced her. “Let me ask you, where are you from? I never quite understood what you do in Washington.”

Fairchild figured she could disarm him with her story. “I worked as an FBI agent for a little over nine years. Got so sick and tired of agents chasing me around the office, I quit.”

“I can understand why those agents would chase after you.

You certainly are a beautiful woman.”

52

Don Helin

She pretended to be embarrassed. Guys always felt that was endearing.

Pausing for a moment, she responded, “I got to know Garcia and spend time with her. She introduced me to her boss, and after a few months, he offered me a job. I really enjoy working with her.”

Colbert smiled again, a smile she didn’t trust. “What exactly do you do now?”

“I’m assigned to the work for Colonel Zack Kelly and do whatever is needed. I was told to accompany Garcia on her trip and help out, so here I am.” Time to turn the discussion. “What subjects do you teach?”

“French history. It’s quite a job. There are so many pros and cons of what the French have done over time.”

“Brigitte was telling us about the challenges in teaching about the French government during World War II.” He seemed about to say something more, then simply said, “People don’t understand what it was like to be under the thumb of the Nazi machine. They all think we should have done more.

Done better. That attitude does make me angry.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Fairchild said. “What do you think?

Could the French have done more?”

“We did the best we could. Was it perfect? No. Could we have done better? Maybe. But what makes me angry is so many of the leaders have been branded by one brush.”

“Is there anything you can do about it now?”

He looked at her as if he were appraising what she had said.

“I’d like to do more to help people understand the truth.”

She thought, now we’re getting somewhere. “What is the truth?

How would you explain it?”

“If you compare what’s going on in your country now with what the Nazis were doing, it’s not so different.”

“What do you mean? We’re not prisoners in our country.”

“Aren’t you? So many forces are fighting one another. Do you feel safe walking around your cities? Safe? I mean really safe?”

His comment made her think. Did she feel safe in downtown D.C.? She had to admit he had a point.

53

Twins

“Wouldn’t it be nice if you could walk anywhere you wanted without worrying about getting shot? Getting picked up. You need stronger law and order. Maybe if you had militias patrolling the streets, it would be better for you.”

“Militias? Are you kidding me? I think our police do just fine.”

“Yeah, but when your crooks get arrested, what happens?”

She watched him, then shrugged her shoulders.

“I’ll tell you what happens. The bad guys are out within a couple of hours to do the same crap again. At least that didn’t happen when the Germans were in power.”

“It sounds as if you want to bring the Germans back into power.”

“No, I’m not suggesting that at all. What I’m saying is you need to have stronger government in Washington and we need a more representative government here in Quebec.”

He paused for a moment. “The English don’t care much for the French and the reverse is true. Maybe we need a new government to establish better ground rules.”

His phone rang. He put up one finger and walked over to the desk to pick it up. He listened, then mumbled something and hung up.

“I’m sorry. There are some papers I wanted our center to copy for my class and they’re ready. I need to run down and pick them up.”

He laughed. “If I don’t do it right away, they tend to disappear.

Won’t take long. Maybe ten, fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, take your time. I’m happy to sit and relax for a few minutes. It has been a busy day.”

“While I’m gone, would you rather have a little wine or some coffee? It’s the least I can do for leaving you.”

She laughed. “I think it’s late enough in the day we could justify some wine. What do you have?”

“Let me try my favorite on you. You look like a red wine person.”

She smiled. “Definitely.”

54

Don Helin

She watched him open a bottle and pour two glasses. He handed her a glass, and proposed a toast. “To a beautiful woman and a new friend.”

She took another sip of wine. “This is very good. Not sure about the beautiful woman BS, but it is good wine.”

“No BS. Please relax. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Then we can go out and tour.”

He hurried out the door and into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind him. *** Fairchild sipped her wine for a few minutes. As she looked around his office, she debated what to do. Then she stood and walked over to his desk.

On top of the desk were lesson plans and a few books. She ran her fingers over the material, trying to get up the courage to open the desk drawers.

Probably wouldn’t hurt to open his center drawer. Just a quick peek. This might be her only chance. If he came in, she could say she was looking for a pencil.

She took a deep breath and pulled on the drawer. She was surprised to find the drawer wasn’t locked. Did she really want to do this?

When she pulled it open, she saw the usual pens, pencils, and a couple of tablets—nothing of significance. A quick look in the other drawers didn’t offer much until she got to the bottom drawer.

She glanced around the office once more, then pulled the bottom drawer open and spotted a folder: Vichy France.

She picked it up to peek through it. She spotted a memo from a Jacques (no last name) with a listing of names — some German, but most French.

Hurry. Put it back. No better read a little. The letter began, “At our meeting last week ….”

“Hey, what are you doing?”

55

Twins

Oh crap, caught. She had to think fast. Keep calm. “Just curious. You seemed like such an interesting guy, I thought I’d see what sort of things you are working on.”

She watched him, not sure she was getting anywhere. She tried a new approach. “I saw your folder on Vichy France. Brigitte talked about it and said you had some relatives who were active in the government.”

“Sure. Be glad to tell you about it. I wish you didn’t go through my stuff.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I should have asked first.”

“Okay. No harm, no foul. Let’s refill our glasses and we can talk some more. Can’t have my guest running out on me.”

He took her glass over to a side table and poured a little wine into hers, then into his. He stood so his back was to her.

He gave her glass back and raised it in another toast. “To new friends.”

She toasted back. “Thank you. You’re very nice and a gentleman.” She struggled to keep her voice neutral.

She thought about the paper. Who was the Jacques guy and why didn’t he want to put his last name into the memo? Gotta get that info to Garcia and Zack.

She took a sip of her wine and said, “Now where were we?”

He took another sip of wine. “We were talking about security concerns under our governments.”

“Right,” she replied, taking another sip, “don’t you think our forms of government, although Canada and the U.S. do have some differences, are much better than dictatorships like Russia or Turkey?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure. You don’t see all the protests on the streets in Russia, Turkey, and even China. People seem to be doing well. I spent time in Russia and Turkey and felt very comfortable.”

As he talked, his voice seemed to echo in her ears. Then she had trouble understanding what he was saying. She couldn’t believe she’d been stupid enough to let him drug her. “You shit, you drug-g-ed m-e-e—”

56

Don Helin

“I can’t have you running around and going through my drawers, now can I?” That comment caused him to break into laughter. “Anyway, the wrong drawers.”

She tried to call for help but nothing came out. Then her wine glass fell to the floor and shattered.

Her legs went weak and she began to sink to the floor, first on her knees, then flat on her belly. The world turned dark. Her last thought was Garcia, help me.

57

11 McGill University, Montreal, June 5 After their tour of the auditorium, Manon led Garcia to another classroom where twenty-five students waited. She began to think about Fairchild, which led to more worries.

Should she have stopped Manon and told her she wanted Fairchild to hear the questions?

Then she thought, no way. Fairchild could take care of herself.

Besides, Fairchild may find out some interesting information.

She’s good at pumping guys for information.

Manon stood at a podium and provided introductory information on Garcia, then turned the podium over to her.

“Good afternoon,” Garcia said. “I’m delighted to be here and look forward to your questions. This will assist me to focus my presentation for tomorrow. I want to talk about what you want to hear and not a bunch of useless crap.”

That comment brought some chuckles. A tall male student stood. “How can the United States that calls itself a great democracy allow students and militias to attack the Capitol building and not do anything about it?”

Garcia watched him and thought great question. One she didn’t have a good answer for.

“I question you on this,” the student continued, “as Americans criticize Vichy France for being a bunch of collaborators with the Germans, when they have no idea what it must have been like to be virtual prisoners under the Nazis.”

Garcia needed a moment to gather her thoughts. She smiled at the student. “You get right to the point.”

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Don Helin

That caused laughter among the students.

She needed to be truthful and not lead them on. “To me, what happened at the Capitol that January day was shameful.

Hundreds of people cut loose and burst into the Capitol hurting and threatening people inside the building and destroying property.”

She paused for a moment, holding up a hand to stop more questions. “As a country, we believe in the concept of freedom of expression.”

She thought of another point. “Many of those people felt they were on a mission of importance. We encourage people to express their views even if we disagree with what they say.

A good example is the number of students who burned flags to protest the Vietnam War.” She took a quick drink of water to borrow time to think a bit more. “Those protestors believed their candidate had been wronged and were trying to express their frustration where the final vote was being approved.”

She stopped again for a moment. “This whole mess is tangled up in politics right now. I suspect it will be months, if not years, before we’re able to develop any satisfactory answers.

She paused to take a breath. “As an individual, I believe that protest was wrong and should not have happened.”

Another student stood. “What do you think of the Black Lives Matter protest since you are a person of color.”

“Another interesting question. I’m not sure I agree I am a person of color, but I am Hispanic and proud of my heritage. My father is a professor and my mother a writer.”

She had to be careful with all of these answers. “Like everyone else, Hispanics come in all types — some are rich, some poor, some in the middle like me, some criminals, some police. You see what I mean. I think to paint an entire group with one brush is wrong.”

Another student stood. “I agree with what you say. So how in the world can you make all of the people of Vichy France look bad? It doesn’t seem fair to me branding an entire group of people by the acts of some.”

59

Twins

Garcia thought about that for a moment. “To be honest, I haven’t given much thought about what happened in France during World War II.” She looked directly at the student. “It must have been a terrible time for the people of France. I regret it if we Americans have swept them all under one banner. I guess I have to agree with what you say.”

Manon stood and applauded and the students joined in. “I think you see what many of our students are thinking about.

It’s about the history of France and our heritage. Some stayed when the Nazis came, some left, some fought, some only tried to survive.”

When the applause ended, she said, “Thank you so much, Colonel Garcia. We all look forward to your presentation tomorrow. As you can see, many of us have a number of questions.

I expect you will hear more tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much,” Garcia said. “You’ve raised many questions young people here have. I am going to adjust my presentation to better address those questions.”

Then it hit her. It had been about an hour. Where was Fairchild? *** When the three of them arrived back from Wellsboro, Harper headed back to his cabin to check on the FBI’s progress. After Zack and Gabrielle dropped their stuff and freshened up, they met on the patio, Zack with a Coke and Gabrielle a glass of water.

No alcohol is authorized in state parks. They thought they had better follow the rules.

Zack held up the list. “This is a list of the key people in the militias Agent Strong provided me. I want to find someone I know and trust to provide me the straight story about militias.

No BS. Get plenty of that in D.C.” Gabrielle laughed at his comment. “What a great idea, Chéri.

I’m sure you do get lots of BS in D.C. We get the same stuff in Montreal.”

60

Don Helin

As he ran through the list, he was surprised he knew a number of the key members, although it probably shouldn’t have surprised him. He’d been told many of the militia members were former military, police officers, or EMTs. As he scanned the rosters, he found the perfect person. Skip Pierson had been a company commander in one of Zack’s Ranger companies in Afghanistan.

Zack had appointed him battalion operations officer when he came out on the promotion list for major. He was proud to promote him six months later before Skip rotated back to the States.

He thought about it. When he had known Skip overseas, he was a man Zack could trust. But could he still trust him? That was the big question.

He turned to Gabrielle. “I think I’ve found the right person if I can catch up with him. I knew Skip during my tour in Afghanistan. We didn’t agree all the time, but I felt he provided me straight information.”

“Where is he located?” Gabrielle asked.

“Western Pennsylvania, just north of Pittsburgh.”

“We don’t have much time. Long way to drive?”

“If I can work out a meet, I’ll get a chopper to take me. We should be able to make it in three hours, maybe a little less.”

“Good luck. Hope it works.”

Zack drafted an email. He had to be careful what he said. He knew Skip well enough to be straight with him. At the same time, he needed a better understanding of what he was up against — an intelligence estimate, something he always depended on when he was a commander.

When he finished the email to Skip, he sent a copy to Admiral Steele along with a summary of what he was trying to do. Now he had to wait.

He glanced over at Gabrielle. “How about a jog to the lake and hop in for a quick a swim? Sun is going down so it’s starting to cool a little.”

Her face lit up. “What a great idea. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

61

Twins

When Gabrielle came out in her two-piece suit, it was all Zack could do not to stare. She was a beautiful woman. He kept reminding himself, don’t stare. Don’t be a drip.

The jog felt good, and so did the swim.

Both Zack and Gabrielle had picked up a sandwich and some chips from the lunch wagon at the beach, so when they returned, Zack pulled out another soda and settled down.

It was just starting to get dark and he spotted a fire pit about twenty feet from the porch.

He glanced over at Gabrielle. “There’s some kindling here in the box, so what say we gather larger pieces and start a fire? I’d like to stay out here on the porch for a while.”

Gabrielle stood, grabbed a box, and walked toward the woods. “I’ll give you a hand.”

The two spread out and gathered firewood from the area.

Luckily it hadn’t rained for a couple of days so most of the wood felt dry.

Zack spotted paper inside the cabin, crumpled it, then tucked it under the kindling. Once he lit it, the kindling caught right away. Felt good to have a fire going. They moved chairs closer to the fire pit.

The FBI comm center alerted him Admiral Steele had returned his note. When he opened the TWX, Steele had added a note, “Sounds Good. Implement.”

Now, he had to touch base with his friend and fellow member of the admiral’s task force Theodore Kelly. Just call me T.J., he always said.

At six foot, two inches, and once on a football scholarship at the University of Maryland, T.J. was a great guy to have on your side in a rumble.

Zack remained uneasy as T.J. was a black man, and Zack wasn’t sure how the militia guys would treat him. But Skip had always been color neutral, so it probably wouldn’t be a problem, at least with Skip.

Zack chuckled when he considered T.J.’s background, which could be a plus with the militia guys. He had gotten in a fight when he was a college freshman and badly beaten the other guy.

62

Don Helin

At court, the judge gave him the opportunity to stay out of jail if he entered the Army, something he willingly did.

It turned out he had a knack for flying helicopters. T.J. had flown Zack and many of his soldiers out of some pretty tough spots in Afghanistan. These days he was always looking for a mission to fly a chopper.

Zack glanced over at Gabrielle. “Now I need a plan for tomorrow. What should I ask Skip and how? I guess I want to ask him why are you doing this.”

Gabrielle laughed. “Come on, Chéri, seems a little heavyhanded, don’t you think?”

Zack nodded. “A better way to phrase it might be something like why did you get involved with a militia? What do you hope to gain from it? What are the advantages and disadvantages of belonging?”

She glanced at the fire for a couple of minutes, then gave him a thumbs-up. “Now you’ve got it.”

While he sat there, two emails hit at the comm center. One from Skip noting he would be available and one from T.J. Zack read it. “T.J.’s okay. He’ll prep a chopper and be ready so he and I can leave in the morning. Skip said he’d be available to meet to talk, so things are all set.”

He glanced at Gabrielle. She wore an orange blouse and beige shorts.

“Looks like I’ve got myself a mission in the morning with T.J. What are you thinking of doing?”

“Time to touch base with Colonel Hendricks, update him on what we’ve found, and check out what’s going on there. I hope Garcia and Fairchild are doing okay. I wouldn’t trust Colbert any farther than I could throw him.”

“Good to know. What say we move our chairs closer to the fire and relax?”

She nodded and smiled. “Wonderful.”

The flames leapt higher and lit up their surroundings. It had grown chilly in the woods, and the fire threw off a welcome warmth. The flames seemed to reflect in her eyes and gave a pleasant sparkle to her face and her smile.

63

Twins

He loved her smile. Her white teeth glowed in the firelight and added more warmth to their surroundings He finished the email to T.J., thought for a minute, then closed with the note, “Be sure to bring weapons and extra ammunition.

I’m not sure what we could run into. We may need some heavy backup.”

Now to relax and enjoy an evening with Gabrielle. She had set her chair next to his by the fire and had placed her hand on his arm.

Her hand was warm. He wasn’t sure where this was going, but he liked it and he liked her.

64

12 En route to Pittsburgh, June 6 Zack departed the state park at 0600 hours, pleased he’d received an okay from Skip who had provided an address and directions to his house.

T.J. had requested a flight plan to arrive at a reserve Air Force base with a heliport about an hour north of Skip’s address, then made arrangements for the two of them to sign out a vehicle.

They were about halfway into the flight when T.J. asked via his microphone, “How long has it been since you’ve seen Skip?”

Zack had to stop and think a minute. “I guess maybe five years.”

“Seemed like a good man when I knew him,” T.J. continued.

“Do you know when he got out of the service?”

“I screened his file. He left the Army in 2018, and his efficiency reports looked good. He must have had thirteen or fourteen years. I figured he was on the straight line for at least lieutenant colonel.”

“Roger. I liked Skip. Thought he was a good officer. Not sure why he got out. Guess we’ll find out when we get there.

Sometimes things don’t work out the way you want them to. And I’m not sure if he’s still married.”

“No idea,” Zack replied. “Say, did you bring weapons?”

“Is the Pope Catholic?”

“Okay. Sounds good. Ya just never know what to expect.”

They landed at the airbase a little after eight-thirty. T.J. locked down their chopper and gave it a quick check. “Always double 65

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check aircraft. When you’re in the air, it’s too late to do anything if you have a problem but pray like mad.”

“That’s what I like about you, T.J. Always checking,” Zack replied An Army green Ford was waiting for them when they arrived at the lot. They were on the road about nine-fifteen, T.J. driving and Zack negotiating the route.

Zack missed the Google Maps he used in his own car, but then remembered all the routes he’d navigated in Afghanistan with just a map and a compass. Guy gets kinda spoiled with Google Maps. *** Zack balanced the directions Skip had given him with a map and a little before ten o’clock they pulled up in front of the address Skip provided, a five-story apartment building.

Things were quiet on the street which appeared to be middle class with a few stores and mostly single-family homes.

Zack and T.J. walked up a couple of flights, down the hallway with some torn carpeting, and found Skip’s apartment.

Zack rapped on the door. The door opened, and there stood Skip, still looking much the same, dark hair, brown eyes, but he had added a beard.

He wore a light-blue work shirt and jeans. Smiling, he extended his hand. “Colonel Kelly, it’s great to see you again.”

“Come on, Skip, how about Zack? Colonel Kelly disappeared overseas a long time ago.”

“Okay, Zack. Sounds a little funny, but I imagine I’ll get used to it.” He turned. “T.J., nice to see you again, too.”

T.J. shook the outstretched hand and said, “And you too, Skip. Been a few years. How long?”

“I guess we were all in Afghanistan in late 2015. Does that seem about right?”

Zack nodded. “Yeah, but I’m so damn busy these days, I don’t get much of a chance to look back and reflect, which makes me

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sad. We had good times together despite all the shit storms we marched through.”

Skip stepped aside. “Come on in. Got the coffee pot on. I remember how much the colonel loved his coffee.”

“Well, that’s true,” Zack replied, “and time hasn’t changed it one bit.”

Skip walked into the kitchen and brought back a variety of donuts along with a pot of coffee and cups. “I figured you guys would be hungry after your trip. I didn’t think T.J. would have arranged for a stewardess to set the chopper up as a breakfast flight.”

Zack started to laugh. He remembered Skip had a pretty good sense of humor. “A stewardess. What do you think, T.J.?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just be glad we didn’t crash into one of those mountains along the way while you were worried about donuts.”

Zack chuckled again. “Well, there is that.”

After a few minutes of small talk about the old days, Zack decided it was time to move into the agenda.

“Skip, you’d have to be in another world not to know what’s going on with our politics and the militias.”

Skip paused for a moment, then nodded. “I’m well aware of all the crap.”

Zack took a sip of his coffee. “At the pentagon, we’re having problems trying to catch up with what the militia groups are doing and why they’re doing it.”

“I understand what you’re saying.”

“I thought perhaps you could help me wade through the mess. Maybe help get some of this stuff straight in my mind.”

“Okay, Zack, I’ll do my best. I may not be able tell you everything I know, but I remember you were always a straight shooter with me and I appreciated it.”

Zack leaned forward. “The first thing I’m trying to figure out is why we have militia groups? What brought them on? Why are so many guys joining these groups? Some of them, at least on the surface, seem like pretty aggressive groups.”

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Skip took a bite of donut, then tapped his mouth with a napkin. “To really understand, you need to realize the history of militia groups goes a long way back. Maybe almost thirty years.”

T.J. leaned forward in his chair. “Thirty years. That’s a long time to hold a grudge.”

Skip tightened up, then swallowed what he was about to say.

“Just listen to the story, then draw your own conclusions. Ruby Ridge in Idaho was the site of an eleven-day siege in 1992.”

Zack knew much of the history about Ruby Ridge, then Waco, but he wanted to hear Skip’s take on the two events.

“The name rings a bell,” Zack said. “Can you summarize a little for me?”

Skip smiled wearily. “It began when members of the marshal’s service attempted to arrest Randy Weaver under a bench warrant.

Because of all the confusion surrounding the warrant, Weaver had refused to surrender.”

“Wasn’t someone killed?” T.J. asked.

Skip nodded. “A U.S. marshal and Weaver’s son were killed in a firefight. A little later, an FBI sniper shot and killed Weaver’s wife.”

Zack gasped. “Both his wife and son were killed by the Feds?”

Skip hesitated, then nodded. “The siege was ultimately resolved when Weaver and his three daughters surrendered.”

“Didn’t Congress hold hearings on the whole situation?”

Zack asked.

“That’s right,” Slip said. “The Senate called for reforms in federal law enforcement to prevent a repeat of the loss of life at Ruby Ridge with a goal to restore public confidence in law enforcement.”

“Was that the end of it?” T.J. asked.

Skip shook his head. “Timothy McVeigh later claimed the Feds’ handling of Ruby Ridge and the Waco siege was his motivation for the Oklahoma City bombing in 1995.”

“Could you talk a little about Waco, maybe the key points?”

Zack asked.

Skip stood and moved toward the table where the coffee sat.

“I think we need another cup of coffee before I start in on Waco.”

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Zack stood and stretched. “I’ll vote for another coffee. Tastes good and definitely needed after our early start this morning.”

T.J. stood also. “I’ll second more coffee. Need to shake up my brain waves.”

69

13 Mansfield, PA, June 6 Alpha stood in front of the group, organizing what he wanted to say.

He had made his point yesterday by directing that the little shits who had brought the wrath of the FBI down on his head be shot and killed. He didn’t want to do it, but Kenzo had left him no choice.

He adjusted his shoulder holster then looked out at the group.

“Yesterday, we had an unfortunate incident. Private Kenzo went out on his own, and we can’t have that. We must operate as a team. I am the captain of our team. Anyone have a problem with that?”

No one spoke.

“Okay.” He glanced toward his adjutant. “Did you get rid of the two bodies?”

Cedric Adams, his adjutant, nodded. “The wood chipper did its job. Won’t be any trace left of either of them. Don’t worry; we’re set.”

Alpha paused for a moment, wanting to set the right tone with his men. “I thought about killing them or not killing them, but I didn’t have any other option.”

He glanced around to see heads nodding.

“The downside is we lost two soldiers from our militia, but all soldiers have to learn how to obey commands and not go out on their own. Do we know any more about where the FBI is in their investigation?”

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Adams shook his head. “They’ve set up their headquarters in Wellsboro at the Penn Hotel. I’m not sure who, but it looks like a team arrived to meet with the Feds yesterday in Wellsboro.”

“A team?” Alpha asked.

“Right, three of them. A big black guy, a good-looking woman with black hair, and a tall white guy.”

“What did they want?” Alpha asked.

“Not sure, but they spent part of the day at the library then went over at the hotel. Looked like a group of Feds from Washington.”

“We need to get more intel on them. We’re getting too close to H-hour so we can’t afford to miss anything.”

“Wait a minute,” Adams called. “I’m getting a call from one of my people. Let me check and see what they’ve found out for us.”

He held up his finger. “Hold on.”

Alpha turned around to the rest of the group. “Okay. Fill your coffee cups and we’ll gather again in about ten minutes.”

He sat and made some notes to remind himself of points he wanted to make, then looked at his watch — ten-thirty.

He stood and glanced at Adams. “What’s the word?”

“They left Wellsboro after lunch yesterday. Spent the evening at Hills Creek State Park, then one of them flew out this morning in a chopper with the guy who brought it up here, my contact believes, maybe from Washington.”

Alpha pounded the podium. “Holy crap, a chopper. Must be more Feds. I’m hearing about too many Feds.”

Adams nodded. “The pilot filed a flight plan for a small reserve base just north of Pittsburgh. They then took a staff car and drove toward the city. I’ll follow up and let you know what else I can find out.”

“Stay on it. We can’t let any of this slip past us. You need to find out all you can. We may need to adjust our plans. Let’s reconvene in two hours to continue.” ***

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Skip took a sip of his coffee, then continued the discussion to answer Zack’s questions. “What we call the Waco siege was an attack by the Feds on the Branch Davidians’ compound just northeast of Waco in 1993. The Branch Davidians were led by a dude named David Koresh.”

“Now, why would the government attack a bunch like those guys?” Zack asked.

“The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives (BATFE), which you probably used to know as the ATF, suspected the group of stockpiling illegal weapons. The clowns obtained a search warrant for the compound and arrest warrants for Koresh, as well as a select few of the group’s members.”

Zack hung his head. “Oh crap, I can feel this one coming.”

Skip nodded. “When the BATFE attempted to serve the warrants at the ranch, a bunch of shots were fired. All that mess by the Feds resulted in the deaths of four government agents and six Branch Davidians.”

Zack glanced over at T.J. who shook his head, then back at Skip. “I’m almost afraid to ask what happened next.”

“The BATFE’s failure to execute the search warrant led to a long siege, I think around two months, by the FBI. Then the damn FBI attacked the compound, which led to a fire.”

“A fire?” Zack asked.

Skip nodded. “The fire killed over seventy Branch Davidians, including I think twenty-five kids, pregnant women, and Koresh himself.”

Zack sat still, remembering more of the details. He could almost feel the heat in Skip’s voice. “So what you’re telling me is, militia groups carry weapons to protect themselves from what they see as an overreach by the Feds.”

Skip jumped up, red-faced. “It’s not what they see as an overreach. It is an overreach by the fucking Feds. Needs to be stopped. My aunt died in that mess.”

Zack felt he had found the key to the hate.

“Come on, Skip, those days are gone,” T.J. said. “Things like that don’t happen anymore. It was a terrible time, but folks need to let it go.”

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“T.J.,” Skip was almost yelling. “Don’t you see? Who the hell fights our wars? Who went to Vietnam? To Afghanistan, to Iraq?

It’s the poor people. You and me.”

He glared at T.J. “The fat cats stay behind and make money, then clap for the poor bastards who have had their legs blown off. People are sick of it. And if you really thought about it, you would be too.”

Zack figured it was time to pop the question. “Skip, can you give me help in finding out what’s going on? I’m thinking of the shooting at the Wellsboro Library?”

Skip didn’t say anything.

“That was just plain murder,” Zack continued. “I can’t think of any reason why someone would walk in and shoot a librarian, then kill a sheriff and set fire to a library. What does that accomplish?”

Skip glared at Zack. Zack could almost feel the heat coming off of him again. He was really wound up, but first he took a deep breath.

“Zack, if the sheriff had shot and killed the militia member that would have been okay. But if the militia member shoots the sheriff because the sheriff has a gun pointed at him, that’s murder?”

Oh, boy, Zack thought. Proceed with caution here. You don’t want to lose him, although Skip may already be lost. “My understanding is the shooter had already shot the librarian before the sheriff told him to drop the gun. The sheriff didn’t just shoot the guy without warning.”

“You weren’t there, Zack, neither was I,” Skip said. “All we have is the word of the people in the library, and you know who they’re going to side with and that’s the sheriff.”

Zack didn’t see this discussion headed in a positive way, so he decided he’d better change the focus. “Can you help me find the shooter?”

“No, I can’t. I don’t know who the guy is or where he is now.

But even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. The head of the Patriots is one mean son of a bitch. If he found out I’d ratted out one of his people, I’d be dead.”

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Holy crap, Zack thought, Skip is scared. And anyway, there is a chance the shooter may already be dead.

Zack decided to adjust the course of the discussion. “Can you get me in to talk with this head of the Patriots? I think it would help me a great deal. All I want to do is talk. To understand.”

Skip shuddered. “Leave him alone, Zack. For your own sake, leave him alone.”

Zack figured it was time to go, so he stood and shook hands with Skip. “Look, Skip, I appreciate your time and sharing the background on these militia groups. It helps me to better understand what led to where we are now.”

“You’re welcome, Zack. I wish I could help you more, but I can’t. And if you’re smart, you’d pull out now while you can.”

“I can’t, Skip. Even if I wanted to, I can’t. My job is to figure out what’s going on and how we can tone it down.”

T.J. stood and walked over to Skip. “Thanks, Skip. We’ll see where all this goes.”

Skip grimaced. “I hope you can talk some sense into the colonel. He’s on a very dangerous path.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

After they got outside, T.J. turned to Zack. “I’m surprised you told Skip we would keep moving to find out what the hell’s going on.”

“I did it, so Skip would pass it along. Maybe this will smoke out the big man, whoever he is.”

T.J. glanced at Zack, smiled, and nodded. “Let’s hope.”

74

14 McGill University, Montreal, June 6 Garcia followed Manon back into the staff dining room, expecting to see Fairchild and Colbert drinking coffee. To her surprise and concern, neither of them was there. Even though the dining room stayed open until four o’clock, only a couple of tables had people sitting at them.

She glanced over at Manon. “Where are they?”

Manon shook her head. “I don’t know. I assumed they’d be here by now.”

“I’m gonna call Fairchild and see what’s going on.”

“Okay,” Manon said. “If you can’t raise her, I’ll give André a call. I’m sure they are still touring. It’s a big school.”

Not being sure of that at all, Garcia pulled the cell out of her pocket and pressed in Fairchild’s number. It rang four times, then went to voice mail. She heard the voice she knew so well, but not the greeting she wanted to hear.

At the tone, she said, “Hey, Fairchild, this is Garcia. We’re done with the question session. Manon and I are back in the faculty dining room. Give me a call and let me know where you are and what you’re up to.”

Manon tapped her arm. “Let’s walk over and get some coffee before they close. André knows we’ll be back about this time, so I’m sure the two will come in the door any minute.”

Garcia had an uneasy feeling. It seemed a little out of character for Fairchild. She clicked off the phone and followed Manon over to pick up a cup of coffee and a donut.

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“Will you give André a call and find out where they are and when they’ll be here? I’d like to know what they’re up to.”

“Oui.” Manon pulled her cell out of her back pocket and dialed. “André, this is Brigitte. Where are you?”

She listened, her face clouding a little. “What time was that?”

She listened some more, Garcia becoming more and more worried all the time.

“Okay. We’ll see you in few minutes for some coffee.”

She disconnected and glanced over at Garcia. “André said he had received a call to pick up some papers for his class. When he returned to his office, Fairchild had left. He isn’t sure where she went and why.”

“What?” That made no sense to Garcia.

“It surprised him she didn’t leave a note,” Manon said. “He assumed she’d be back shortly, but so far no Fairchild. Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”

Garcia puzzled over that. “No, none at all. As far as I knew she was planning to stay with Colbert, then return back here.

This doesn’t sound like her at all.”

She picked up her coffee, then set it back down. Her mind wasn’t focused on what she was doing. She’d been uneasy about Colbert from the moment she’d met him. Seemed too much like a sleaze.

She mentally kicked herself for not stopping Fairchild. But, then she thought, Fairchild’s a person with her own mind and not one to stop what she wanted to do. *** As Garcia was trying to figure out what happened to her friend, Fairchild was waking up, not sure where she was.

She looked around. She was in a small, cramped room with no lights. It looked to be a walk-in closet, but she couldn’t tell.

She felt pissed at herself for letting this happen. She knew better than to trust Colbert particularly after he had caught her at his desk, but her mind started running in another direction.

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The memo she’d seen was addressed to a number of people.

She didn’t recognize any of the names except one which rang a bell. She’d seen it in the last couple of days. But where?

Think. Where had she seen it? But the fog from whatever he had given her hung over her.

She realized some sort of cord wrapped her and she was cold, really cold. She looked down. Holy crap, she was wearing only her bra and panties. What the hell had happened to her clothes?

Colbert had stripped her before he bound and gagged her.

Whatever she had seen in his desk, Colbert figured she was now a danger to his plans. Yet she wasn’t sure what that might be.

Well, wake up, dummy, and think. Colbert is a leader in something, but what? *** The chopper had travelled about halfway back to Hills Creek State Park when Zack’s cell phone rang. He looked at the screen.

Although he didn’t recognize the number, he figured he’d better answer. “Kelly.”

“If you want to talk with me, you’ll be at the Wellsboro library at six o’clock today. Don’t be late and come alone.”

About to say something, Zack found himself listing to a dial tone. Skip must have been able to get ahold of this Alpha character.

He could ask Harper to trace the call, but Alpha probably used a burner phone so it wouldn’t do any good. He glanced at his watch. Only three hours to get there.

Switching to his microphone, he called, “T.J., the call I just received was from the guy I want to talk with. He told me to be at the Wellsboro library at six o’clock and to come alone. Can we make it?”

“Hell yes, if you need to I’ll get you there. But, remember what Skip said. Guy’s a mean son of a bitch.”

“Yeah, but he’s the guy I need to talk with. I guess I’ll just have to accept the fact he’s a mean son of a bitch. We need to get to the library in Wellsboro by six o’clock.”

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“Sure. Let me take a few minutes to sort it out. I’ll turn the plane over to my copilot. We’re set to land at the state park at five.

That should work if we radio ahead and get them to set up a car.”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“No, but I’m sure I gotta. It’s my one chance to see what’s going on and I can’t let it pass. Can you tune me in with Admiral Steele, then Harper? Better let them know my idea.”

As he was thinking of what to say to the admiral, his phone rang again.

“Kelly.”

“Garcia here. We’ve got a problem. Fairchild has disappeared.”

“What?”

“Yep. Just about an hour ago.” Zack listened as Garcia gave him a quick summary of what happened. “I didn’t like that creep, Colbert. I’m afraid something bad has happened to her.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Not sure. I’m not crazy about trusting Manon, and I’m uneasy about Wright. Something about him bothers me. I often wonder if he’s on our side.”

“Wow,” Zack exclaimed. “I don’t like to hear that. Keep me informed.”

“Will do. Now, I’m trying to think of someone who can jump into the middle of all this shit and find Fairchild.” She paused.

“Wait a minute, I have an idea. Let me make some calls. I’ll get back to you.”

“Okay, be careful. We can’t afford to lose you, too.”

“Believe me, I don’t like that idea either.”

With that, Garcia closed the call.

Zack sat there for a moment, thinking. Fairchild had disappeared. He had a meeting with the militia chief. And he still no idea what had happened at the Wellsboro library.

78

15 Wellsboro, PA, June 6 Zack stood in front of the Wellsboro library, the condition of the building a reminder of the stakes he faced. At precisely six o’clock, a black Toyota Highlander pulled up in front of him.

The back door opened, and a male voice called, “Get in.”

Zack bent over, stepped into the back seat, and sat. A heavyset man in a ball cap pulled down over his eyes, a dark jacket, and mask sat next to Zack, staring at him. He held a .45 caliber pistol pointed directly at Zack’s chest.

“This is motivation so you don’t get any funny ideas.”

“Okay, you’ve got my attention. What’s the plan?”

“We’re going to take you for a ride to give you a chance to meet our boss. If you behave, you have nothing to fear. If you get funny ideas, there will be trouble.”

Zack shrugged, displaying a calm he didn’t feel. “You can relax. I’m not stupid enough to try anything. Besides, I want to talk to your boss. I don’t plan to mess up my chance to do it.”

“That’s the right idea, Kelly. Just keep thinking that way and we’ll get along fine.”

He handed Zack a blindfold. “Put this on.”

Zack did as he was told. “Doesn’t seem right.”

“What?”

“You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“Mine’s not important. You’re here to meet the boss, not me.”

“Okay, what’s his name?”

“He’ll tell you what he wants you to know when he’s ready.”

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Zack decided to keep his mouth shut and wait.

It took about thirty minutes before they slowed.

“All right, you can take off the blindfold.”

Zack pulled it off and looked around. A white farmhouse stood in front of them, a shabby barn in the distance. White fencing formed a small pasture behind the barn.

They pulled up to the front door of the house. The driver stopped and cut the motor. “Out of the car, Kelly.”

Zack wondered if this was to be his last trip. He had already concluded they didn’t have anything to gain by killing him, and he hoped he was right.

Zack stepped out of the car and a heavy-set man with a beard and tattoos on his arms walked out of the front door of the house.

He also wore a mask over the bottom portion of his face. “Okay, Kelly, spread ’em. I need to give you a pat-down. Stand still and it’ll be quick.”

Zack had to smile. “You can’t believe I’d be dumb enough to bring a weapon with me.”

“From what I hear, you’re not dumb at all, but lots of people do stupid stuff. Glad to hear you’re not one of them.”

The pat-down was complete. The guy knew his job. “Okay,” he pointed toward the door, “Inside.”

Zack walked up three steps and pulled the door open, not sure what he would see.

Glancing around, he stood inside a hallway, with rooms off to the right and left and wooden stairs in the center of the hallway leading up to a second floor. It looked like a lot of the farmhouses he’d seen in Minnesota growing up.

“House looks to be in pretty good condition. Must be at least a hundred years old.”

No answer.

“Who does it belong to?”

Zack hear a voice from behind him. “Okay Kelly, turn right and walk slowly into that room. No funny stuff and quit asking so damn many questions.”

Zack turned right as directed and found himself in an office.

The office was organized with a desk on one side, a couch against a second wall and a number of chairs scattered around the room.

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Paintings of farmhouses decorated the walls and a number of guns were modeled around the room on tables. Drapes covered all of the windows.

A tall, slender man limped into the room. He wore a pair of Army fatigues and highly shined black boots. His face was covered with a mask and he wore dark glasses. “Well, Zack Kelly.

Welcome to my world.”

“Do I know you?” Zack asked.

The man shook his head. “Ya know, it’s probably best you don’t. Might not be healthy for you.”

“I sure as hell want to stay healthy,” Zack replied.

“You asked to meet with me. I’ve decided since I’ve heard good things about you I would do it. Please don’t do anything to disappoint me.”

Zack had been going over in his mind what he wanted from the discussion. “My message is simple. I’m looking for the why.

Why do we have all these militias? Are these militias a danger to our country? Should I be worried about the future of our country because of what you’re doing?”

“I think you have the answer to your first question. The government fucked with us, shot and killed a bunch of innocent people with no cause. No damn cause at all.”

“You’re talking about Ruby Ridge or Waco?”

“Does it really matter? Could be either. The fucking government asked for it. Set up an environment where average people need to defend themselves. We’re simply following up on those concerns.”

“Should I be worried?” Zack asked.

The man’s face broke into a grin below his mask and he chuckled. “It depends on where you stand about our government.

We’re in a period of revolution. During the Revolutionary War, the motto was No Taxation without Representation. Today it’s much different.”

Zack waited and it was obvious he would have to ask. “Okay, what is your motto now?”

Another chuckle. “Remember this one. Don’t tread on me.”

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Zack thought about it for a moment. Seemed to make sense.

“How are you going to tell if you’re being trod on?”

“Pretty obvious isn’t it. Fucking government’s trying to take our guns. Jamming gays, blacks, and immigrants down our throat for starters.”

“How do you mean?” Zack wanted to keep the guy talking.

Figure out how he could get inside his head.

“Guys like you and me are pushed to the side so goddamn blacks, immigrants, and gays can get everything they want.”

He started pacing, his limp obvious, then he glanced over at Zack. “Are you a parent?”

Zack debated his answer. He didn’t want to risk Laura.

“It doesn’t matter. If you are, think of what you’d do if someone killed your wife and daughter and the government didn’t do anything about it. Your government. Fellow military guys.”

“What are you talking about?” Zack asked.

“Suppose you were married to a foreign national and had a child. Loved them dearly.”

Zack nodded. “Okay?”

“Then, suppose some fellow military guys got buzzed and killed them. What would your government do? Punish them?

Hell no. Foreign nationals. Who gives a damn for Afghans. Boys will be boys. Military can be forgiven.”

Zack couldn’t believe what Alpha was saying. He shook his head.

“Don’t say nothing. Won’t do any good. You ought to be incensed like I am and like so many of my friends are.”

Zack didn’t know what to say. He knew there was no sense arguing. “I guess the question is how are you going to fix it?”

“Easy. Revolution. The colonials did it during the Revolutionary War. Why can’t we do it now? Our forefathers brought in help when they needed it. We may need to bring in help, too. I mean, why not? Talking doesn’t do any good. Tried that.”

That caught Zack’s attention. He needed to push a little harder. Keep him talking. “Where might help come from?”

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“Wouldn’t you like to know. But that’s part of our plan. Just remember the word: revolution. And nothing easy like that little piss-ant run into the Capitol building mess. We need to do more, and we will.”

Zack wasn’t sure what else to say. “Are you open to discussion on how to do this?”

“The time for talk is over. Just remember what I told you.

Revolution is necessary.”

Zack nodded. Not much he could do or say.

“Now, I promised Skip I would talk with you and make sure you make it back to Wellsboro in one piece. He obviously respects you a great deal. I’ve kept up my part of the bargain.”

Zack nodded again. “Yes, you have and I appreciate it.”

“I hope you’ll join us when it starts. I bet you’ll be surprised when you see who’s on our side. People you know and respect.”

That comment piqued Zack’s attention. “And when is that?”

“Soon, Colonel Kelly, soon. And you’ll know when it starts.

Again, I hope you’ll join us. If not, I won’t be able to protect you like I’m doing now. The decision is yours.”

Zack knew the interview had ended so he stood and turned back toward the door. “Thanks for your time. I was hoping we could discuss all of this like former military guys, but it sounds like you have your mind made up.”

“You’re right. I do.”

Zack looked toward the door and saw the man who had patted him down waiting.

He walked over to the hallway, turned left and pushed open the front door. The Toyota waited for him.

He got in and the car sped off. Now he needed to brief Admiral Steele. *** Lieutenant Pamela Scott arrived home from work and checked the clock. Ah, five forty-five, she thought, time for a beer.

A thirty-five-year-old homicide detective with the Fairfax County Police Department, Scott had finally found herself a real boyfriend who was taller than her five feet, ten inches.

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The best part of the whole deal was they would be taking their first trip together starting tomorrow. She really looked forward to the trip and all the fun they should have.

She had met Michael Wyatt, lovingly referred to as Bruiser, on a prior case with Zack Kelly. A giant of a man who stood six-four and 250 pounds of solid muscle adorned by limitless tattoos, Bruiser had spent several years as the vice-president of a motorcycle gang in Washington D.C. before meeting Scott. The two really hit it off. He quit the gang and they started hanging out together. She loved him and she figured he loved her.

As she opened the fridge and reached in to grab a Miller High Life, the phone rang.

Reaching over to grab the wall phone, she almost knocked over a pile of dirty dishes from breakfast that morning and dinner the night before. Damn, she thought, got to clean up those dishes. Darn things sure do stack up.

“This is Scott.”

“Scott, Rene Garcia.”

“Garcia, great to hear your voice. I wondered what you were up to. How ya been?”

“You wouldn’t believe what I’ve been up to, but unfortunately, I don’t have time to catch up. I’m in Montreal and need your help.”

Scott had to laugh. “Did you say Montreal? Montreal, Canada? What are you doing up there?”

“I’m in the middle of a mess. I was sent up here to give some classes and check out a few things which I can tell you about later. Fairchild traveled here with me and is missing,” “Missing?”

“Yep. I looked around and realized I don’t know anyone here I trust to help me find her. Of course, I immediately thought of my good friend, Pam Scott.”

“Oh, boy, I can feel the BS building. But, what can I do to help?”

“Come to Montreal and help me find Fairchild.”

She thought for a minute. She had never been to Montreal.

“You’re sure this is Montreal, Canada?”

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“The very same. Can you come? Now?” “Well, I am taking some vacation days.” Then it hit her.

“Bruiser and I were planning to take a few days and travel west to Denver. Kind of a chance to see if we could stand each other for more than a day or two.”

“Crap, bring him along.” She paused. “Hey, he’d be perfect.

We have some concerns about militias and what they’re up to.

Tell him we need him in his gangster mode. Market it as three days in Montreal, all expenses paid.”

“Ya know, he might buy it, especially the all expenses paid part. When would you need us there?”

Silence. Then a deep breath. “How about in the morning?

She’s been missing for about four hours and I’m panicked. I can’t tell you about it over the phone, but it’s dangerous.”

Scott knew Garcia, one of the calmest people she had ever met, even in the middle of a crisis. If Garcia was panicked, it was bad.

She thought for another moment. “Okay, my friend, let me see what I can do. You’re on your cell?”

“Yes. Hurry. Please hurry. I’m really worried for Fairchild.”

“Okay. I’ll text you with our flight schedule.”

She hung up. Bruiser wouldn’t be a problem. All she had to do was volunteer to take off a few of her clothes and Bruiser was on board.

Now, what the hell did Garcia get herself into, and what should she wear? If Bruiser should be in his gang mode, what did that mean for her? She could probably dig out some old T-shirts.

Might be kinda fun.

She picked up the phone and dialed Bruiser’s phone number.

When he answered she said, “Now about our trip west...”

85

16 Pierre Elliot Trudeau Airport, Montreal, June 7 Scott and Bruiser caught a Delta flight out of Washington National Airport and landed at Trudeau Airport, about twelve miles outside of Montreal.

As they hustled down the walkway, Scott waved at Garcia waiting for them. They pushed their way through the crowded terminal.

Garcia hurried up to them. She started to laugh when she saw Scott’s outfit. “Where in the world did you get your outfit?”

“On the phone you said you wanted us in a gangland mode.

Bruiser was easy. I needed a little work.”

Bruiser was all smiles. “I love the T-shirt.”

Scott spread her arms to show the stretch of her T-shirt over her ample chest. “What do you think?”

The T-shirt’s front read Jesus loves you. She turned around and Garcia saw, Everyone else thinks you’re an asshole.

Garcia could hardly stop laughing. “Great outfits. Now, we need to get you two out of here before anyone sees you with me.

Any suitcases?”

Scott shook her head. “We travel light. Just a carry-on bag works for me and for Bruiser.”

“Okay,” Garcia said. “Let’s grab a quick bite of lunch at a restaurant outside of the the airport to make sure we keep you two under wraps.”

She had borrowed a car from Manon. With a GPS as well as a map. She had been able to find her way to the airport.

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On the way to the airport, she had spotted a fast-food restaurant that looked clean and would work for them. She parked, looked around to make sure she didn’t see anyone she knew, and figured they could go inside safely.

As they ate, Garcia told them she was in Quebec because of reports of militia groups teaming up with French separatists to attack government buildings in the United States.

Scott’s eyes widened. “What?”

Garcia nodded. “We’re not sure, but the answer may come tonight.”

“Tonight?” Scott asked.

Garcia nodded. “A representative of the National Rally is speaking at McGill University at seven o’clock hosted by André Colbert. I’m hoping you’ll be able to attend.”

Bruiser shook his head. “I give up. What the hell is the National Rally? Sounds like a race track in Florida.”

Garcia smiled, then started to laugh again. “I’m glad you’re here. I need a little humor on my side.”

Bruiser took a small bow. “Happy to be of service.”

“Until June of 2018, the National Rally was known as the National Front, a political party in France.”

“Okay,” Scott said. “That must be why we’re in Quebec.”

Garcia nodded. “Since its inception, it has primarily been an anti-immigration party, advocating cuts to legal immigration and the importance of what they see as a protection of the French identity.”

“Why is that a problem?” Scott asked.

Garcia leaned closer. “We’re concerned they will be working with some of our militia groups to screw around with our democracy.”

She took a quick breath. “For example, like the attack on the Capitol building in January. And we sure don’t want a bunch of French separatists involved in our internal affairs.”

Scott took a bite of her burger. “Where does Fairchild fit into all of this?”

“My point of contact here in Montreal is a woman named Brigitte Manon. She’s a professor at McGill University. It turns 87

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out she works with a guy named André Colbert who in my view is an incredible sleaze ball.”

“Always one in every crowd,” Bruiser said.

Garcia nodded. “My cover is I’m here to speak to members of the student body about our form of government and how it works. Or in some cases how it doesn’t work.”

“Okay,” Scott said. “So how does that get Fairchild involved and in trouble?”

“Fairchild’s job was to provide support to everything I had to do. While Brigitte and I were meeting with some students, Colbert invited her to take a tour of the university with him.”

Garcia looked as if she might cry. “She accepted, thinking maybe she could find out some useful information.”

She got a hitch in her voice. “When she left with Colbert, that’s the last time I saw her.”

Scott put her burger down and looked out the window. “Oh, my, sounds bad.”

“When I finished my meeting, I came back to find Colbert, but no Fairchild. I climbed his case, but he claimed she left his office to look around on her own.”

“What do you think happened to her?” Scott asked.

“Fairchild had no reason to go out and wander around. She wouldn’t have left him.”

“Well then, what happened?”

“I think something came up and Fairchild used it to get more goods on Colbert. She wouldn’t just leave. No way. To be honest, I’m scared for her.”

Scott nodded. “Okay, I got it. What do you want us to do?”

“Attend the lecture tonight and stay close to Colbert. I’ll be there with Manon, but won’t know you. Maybe Bruiser can go back to his gang-banger roots and convince them he represents the militia guys.”

Scott lit up. “And I can be his moll. My moniker is Pam Shot.”

“Shot. Where did that come from?”

“Don’t know. Just kinda liked it.”

Garcia gave her a thumbs up. “Sounds terrific. Thanks so much for coming and so quickly. I’m glad you guys are here.”

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“Hey, we like Fairchild just like you do. If she’s in trouble, we want to help find her.”

Bruiser stood and flexed his huge muscles. “When will I be able to bust up some stuff? Maybe slug a few guys in the chops.”

Garcia did a small cheer and clapped her hands. “That’s the spirit. Go get ’em.” She looked around. “Let’s get out of here before we are noticed.”

The three got up and hurried out of the restaurant.

89

17 Montreal, Quebec, June 7 The afternoon passed quickly and soon found Scott and Bruiser sitting in the auditorium after changing their clothes and dropping off their bags at their hotel room.

Bruiser had put on a pair of jeans and an old work shirt. Scott in her T-shirt and jeans was already a hit.

She glanced around, then elbowed Bruiser in the ribs. “Quit looking around. You’ve got to focus on our job. Garcia needs us.”

“Yeah, but if I don’t look at everyone they’ll either figure I’m dead or worse yet they aren’t worth looking at. I’m only doing it to improve relationships between our two countries.”

Scott patted his knee. “Okay, pay attention. Here comes the guy we need to keep an eye on.”

André Colbert rose from his chair, and walked to the podium.

He welcomed everyone to the program, then turned back toward a seated Raphael Laurent.

“Mr. Laurent is from the Le Pen party of France. We are proud to welcome him to McGill University.”

Laurent stood and bowed to the applause.

Colbert motioned for everyone to sit again. “There are many of us who believe our countries spend too much money on immigrants, thereby cutting into the budget which should be helping us, the tax-paying population.”

He raised his hand to the cheers from the audience. “Now let’s hear from Mr. Laurent. Raphael.”

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Laurent stepped up to the podium. He stood tall and lanky opposite the short and stocky Colbert.

“Thank you, André. It’s a pleasure to be at McGill University and yes, to be back in Montreal. I have spent many happy days in Montreal. It’s always a pleasure to return.”

He adjusted his glasses and looked down at his notes. “First, let me provide a short background on my organization.” His comments brought a round of applause.

Scott applauded to cover the fact she thought he was full of shit. She turned and elbowed Bruiser to make sure he applauded, which he finally did.

Laurent raised his hand to acknowledge the applause. “Thank you. Assuming leadership of the party from her father in January 2011, Marine Le Pen immediately distanced herself from the extreme views that had been associated with him. However, she continued to present immigration, particularly from Islamic countries, as a threat to France.”

Bruiser leaned over to Scott and asked, “Why is that?”

Scott raised her finger to her lips. “Later.”

“Ms. Le Pen is a French lawyer and politician who led our party to a record showing in the first round of elections in March 2011, and we ultimately prevailed in two districts.”

Bruiser leaned over again. “Is that a big deal?”

Scott held her finger to her lips again. “Shhh.”

Bruiser smiled. “I know, but I just love to lean in close to you.”

That comment got another elbow in the ribs, but also a smile.

Laurent continued. “We’re very proud that Ms. Le Pen won eighteen percent of the vote, the highest-ever first-round total for a National Front presidential candidate.”

Scott found herself starting to yawn and knew she needed to stop it. She hadn’t slept much the previous night.

“Many of you may remember the deadly terrorist attacks in Paris in November 2015 which left more than 130 dead,” Laurent continued. “As a result, we were able to capitalize on growing anti-Islamic sentiment to gain more votes.”

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Bruiser leaned over. “So what?”

Scott found herself smiling. Bruiser did have a way with words.

“Marine Le Pen characterized the election of Donald Trump as President of the United States in November 2016 as proof that her brand of right-wing populism was on the rise.“ After another round of applause he continued, “When I meet party members on the campaign trail, they support the direction Marine Le Pen has taken our group.”

Scott looked around and noted that many in the audience were yawning. Maybe they were as bored as she was. She perked up at the next comment.

“Now why should this be important to my American friends in the audience? Let’s talk about your Revolutionary War. If you remember from your history books, the war was initiated by the thirteen colonies against Great Britain over their objection to Parliament’s taxation policies and colonial representation.”

Bruiser leaned in again. “Why do we care? Even I know about that.”

Scott turned to Bruiser. “Now pay attention. Remember, we’re here to help Garcia.”

Bruiser turned back to the front, obviously trying hard to stay awake like Scott.

Laurent put a chart up on the screen which showed a line between France and the United States. “Although talks proceeded slowly until the Colonial victory, France and the United States signed two treaties in February 1778, a commercial treaty and an alliance.”

Bruiser started to yawn. He looked around then whispered to Scott, “Isn’t that Manon?”

Scott glanced, then nodded. “I might have known you would be the one to spot her.”

“Hey,” he whispered, “don’t I get a medal or something?”

She smiled and touched his arm. “We’ll see. Who knows. You might get lucky.”

Laurent’s next comment caught her attention. “On June 13, 1778, France declared war on Great Britain. General Washington 92

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worked closely with the soldiers and sailors France sent to America, primarily through General Lafayette, a member of Washington’s staff.”

Laurent seemed to stand a little straighter at his next comment. “French assistance made several critical contributions required to defeat General Charles Cornwallis at Yorktown in 1781.”

Laurent flashed a slide up on the screen. It showed France helping the United States in the mid-1700s, then the United States helping France during World War Two. Scott’s eyes widened when she saw the bottom of the chart. On the bottom was a circle for the two working together in changing the government in the United States with a large question mark at the end.

“What I want to say in conclusion is that we helped you in your revolution in 1778, then you came to our aid in World War Two. Now it may be time for France to help you again in your battle for your own representative government.”

A roar of applause seemed to rock the auditorium.

Scott looked over at Manon. “Let’s go over and see if we can grab her attention.”

Bruiser led the way through the crowd, something his size made it easy for him.

When he reached Manon, he bumped aside the smaller man she was talking to who stared at Bruiser, then dropped his gaze to the floor.

Bruiser flashed a smile. “Hi. My friend and I are from Washington, D.C. I head up one of our biggest militias in the country.”

Manon nodded, probably not sure where he was going with his comments.

“We were told I should come here and see if you were serious about helping us. All I’ve gotten so far is a bunch of pissing around about history.”

Scott loved the way Bruiser could turn a phrase.

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He obviously surprised Manon, but she recovered quickly when she looked up at his size. “Let’s go out in the hall where we can talk more in private.”

Bruiser looked over at Scott who nodded. The two followed Manon out the door. *** When they reached the hall, Manon motioned for them to enter another room. She shut the door to the hallway and said, “Now what’s so important you had to push your way in to see me.”

Bruiser stepped forward. “My friends in Washington told me this was a place where we could talk about help for our cause. My gang is sitting on their rears because we don’t have enough guns or ammo to do what we want.”

He glared at her. “I don’t need a bunch more shit about the history of France and the United States.”

Manon stared at him for a minute, hands on her hips. “What is your name?”

“Why the hell should I give you my name if you don’t give me anything?”

Scott had to admire his approach.

Manon stood for a moment, then smiled. “You do have a direct approach. I like that. Are you involved with the Patriots?”

Scott perked up her ears. Who were the Patriots? What did they have to do with all of this?

Bruiser picked up on her comment. “So what if I’m hanging with the Patriots? My friends aren’t going to like it if I give you a bunch of information for nothing in return. I’ve seen some of my buddies get their nuts cut off for stupid stuff like that.”

Manon smiled. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want that to happen to you. That would seem to be a big waste of nuts.”

That was all of this Scott could take. Nobody was going to claim Bruiser’s nuts without a fight.

Scott stepped forward. “You seem to be ignoring me and I don’t like it. My friend here can be a little too straightforward.

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We were sent here to negotiate for some help. You know, mutual backscratching.”

Manon examined Scott for a moment, then said, “Come with me. I want you to meet my friend.”

They followed her down the hall to an office door which she pushed open. A man sat behind the desk. He looked up. “Brigitte, what is this?”

“These two represent a militia gang in Washington, D.C., and were sent here to negotiate some help from us. Apparently—” “Now stop right there.” Bruiser pushed forward. “I can talk for myself. I don’t need some broad fronting for me. We have an alliance of gangs. I was sent here to get some help. All I get is some fucking conversation about French history.”

Scott stood behind him, cheering him on. He was in his element and doing a great job.

The man behind the desk stood. “Okay, wait a minute. Let’s start again. Mr. Laurent is here to establish a relationship with a group of militias from the United States to foster a revolution.”

Bruiser leaned forward. “Yeah, I sat in on his talk and all I heard was a bunch of BS about history. How does what he’s supposed to do help my friends in D.C.?”

“Now stop for a moment. My name is André Colbert and I’m his sponsor here in Quebec. And you are?”

Bruiser looked around. “Just call me Bruiser and this is my main squeeze, Pam Shot. Now what the hell is going on and why should I care?”

Scott couldn’t resist a smile. His main squeeze? Hmm. Colbert stood there, silent, probably debating his next move.

Bruiser started to turn. “Listen here, asshole, if you’re going to turn soft on me, that’s it. I’m out of this fucking place. I’ll go back to my friends, and bang some heads together for wasting my time.”

Scott figured it was time for her to step in. “Look, Mr. Colbert, we want to develop a relationship. Something that is mutually beneficial.”

Bruiser glanced over at Scott. “That’s exactly what I was saying and nobody is listening to me.”

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Manon pointed at Scott. “Wait a minute. I think I see what this Shot person is saying. What do you have in mind?”

“No,” Bruiser said. “We’re here to find out what you have in mind.”

Colbert walked around from behind his desk and over to Bruiser. He looked up at him. “You certainly are a big son of a bitch.”

“That’s what’s kept me alive all these years. How would this partnership work?”

Colbert thought for a moment. “During the Revolutionary War, the United States negotiated a separate peace agreement with France. This turned out to be the best for the colonies and for France, by encouraging French participation in your struggle for independence.”

Bruiser leaned froward. “Is this where the Lafayette dude rides in on his big-ass white horse?”

Colbert had to smile. “Now I need to see some identification.”

It was time for Scott to step up. “Bullshit. We told you our names and where we’re from. We’re not asking for your ID, and we’re not giving you ours.”

Colbert gave her what must have been his best patronizing smile. “Now, listen here, little lady, I need to see your ID. Please give me your purse there.”

Scott stared at him. “Okay. But wait a minute. I have a bunch of nude pictures in my purse so let me first pull them out.”

She dug her hand in her purse and after checking to make sure the sound suppressor was in place, she pulled out her pistol, and shot at a nude figurine she had noticed earlier, shattering it to pieces.

Both Colbert and Manon jumped, then stared at her. Manon’s hands shook, and tears flowed down her cheeks.

“The last ass who called me a little lady got his nuts blasted off. I don’t like nude statues of women, so I removed one for you.

Now, do we have a deal or not?”

Colbert nodded, his hands shaking.

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“Bruiser and I make a good team. If a bunch of guys jump us, Bruiser beats the crap out of them. If they try and pull weapons, that’s my scene. This is not amateur hour. If you want a deal, fine.

If not, we’re gone.”

Colbert gathered himself and quit shaking. “We have a deal.”

97

18 Hills Creek State Park, PA, June 7 When Zack returned from his meeting with the militia commander, he called Harper and asked him to set up a conference call for 8 p.m. He wanted to get an update from Garcia and see how things were going with Scott as well as the status of the missing Fairchild.

Zack opened the call with a summary of his meeting with the militia commander. “He told me the time for talk was over. It’s time for a revolution. Whatever he is planning could happen in the next few days.”

“Revolution, is that what he said?” Admiral Steele asked.

“What kind of revolution, Zack?”

“He referred back to the Revolutionary War.” “What do you think they’ll do?” Steele asked.

“What bothered me the most was when he said the colonials had called for help from the outside, and the militia would, too. He quoted the colonials’ motto No taxation without representation.

The motto of the militia is Don’t tread on me.”

“Did he provide a more exact time period when this might happen?” Steele asked.

“All he said was soon.”

“We need to keep moving forward with our plans,” Steele said. “Garcia, what’s up with you?”

Garcia provided an update on Fairchild, which unfortunately was no change. She mentioned the arrival of Scott and Bruiser.

And she said she would provide an update when she knew more.

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“As soon as possible,” Zack said. “Okay, Colonel Hendricks?”

“I’ve been receiving information a number of the Le Pen group have been arriving from France over the past twenty-four hours and gathering here in Montreal.”

“Let me add something here,” Garcia said. “Raphael Laurent, who is from the Le Pen organization, has just finished his remarks.”

She paused for a moment. “He stressed the need for revolution if people were not satisfied with the current status.”

“What was his reception?” Admiral Steele asked.

“The audience loved it, and he received a standing ovation.”

“How about these folks flying into Montreal from France?”

Zack said. “Are you able to identify and follow them? It’s important to know where they’re going and what they’re up to.”

“We have been identifying them as they arrive,” Hendricks said. “So far, we know who they all are. I don’t have the resources to follow all of them, but I don’t believe I need to.”

“What do you mean?” Zack asked.

“We’ll follow a few, those key leaders, and see if they leave town or remain here in Montreal.”

“I’ll keep an eye on them here as best I can,” Garcia said. “I suspect they’ll be getting together with Laurent and may hold a meeting. I’ll try and attend, but right now, I can’t come up with a good reason to do it.”

“Do the best you can,” Zack said.

“Will do,” Garcia replied. “Scott and Bruiser have outstanding disguises. I’m hoping they may be able to get into the group and feed us information.”

“What’s going on with Agent Wright?” Zack asked.

“He’s really keeping a low profile. And if you remember, I’m not crazy about the guy. I didn’t trust him to find Fairchild, and I really don’t see him doing much of anything to help us.”

“Understand. I’m glad Scott is up there to help you,” Zack said. “Do you need any more assistance?”

“Not sure. Right now, it looks okay, but if Scott can’t help me find Fairchild, then I’ll be looking for more help.”

“Okay,” Zack said. “Keep me in the loop.”

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“How about you, Zack?” Steele said. “What do you think would be the most productive thing you can do?”

“The FBI provided me a list of key members in these militia groups. I’ve spotted names of guys I have known over the years.

I’m going to see if I can get one or two who are willing to give me information. There have to be some of these guys who are worried about all this.”

“Okay,” Steele said. “I need to update the president. He may want to add more resources.”

“Will do, sir.”

Zack ended the call. *** After the incident with Colbert and Manon, Scott and Bruiser left for their rooms.

When they got inside, Bruiser asked, “What did you think?”

“Went great. Loved your performance.”

“Since we’ve had such a rough evening, I suggest we relax with a shower.”

She looked at him, saying nothing.

“I’m only thinking of you, my dear. I worry about your stress level. You need to relax.”

“I appreciate your concern about my stress level, but the vibe it sends to me is loaded with a bit of BS.” Bruiser thought about that for a minute, then said, “The reason I suggested we take a shower is that I would like to get naked with you.”

Scott looked at him, smiled, and took off her T-shirt. “Now you’re talking, Big Boy.” She watched him undress, never having seen him move so fast before. “Wow, how did you do that?”

“Motivation, my dear, motivation. And I promise to wash your front as well as I do your back.” And he did.

Later, as they lay in their king-size bed, she said, “What do you think we should do?”

“Probably the best thing we can do is lie here and fool around.”

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“I might have known that was a stupid question. I meant, we came here with the promise to my good friend, Garcia, that we will help her find Fairchild. And how is lying around here helping us find Fairchild.”

Bruiser thought about that for a moment and said, “This is helping me clear my head and enabling me to think better.”

Scott started to laugh. “You are so full of shit. This is helping you clear something, but certainly not your head. Now get off your ass, and let’s go over there and see what’s going on.”

He stretched and rolled out of bed. “Got your message loud and clear and I’m ready to hit it.”

As she dressed, Scott couldn’t help but be impressed with him. Perhaps her first real love.

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19 Montreal, Quebec, June 7 Scott and Bruiser found a heightened level of activity when they reached the auditorium where Laurent had given his talk, surprising for this late in the evening.

People chatted in the auditorium itself, standing around in the hallway where they had first met Manon, and a couple even stood outside of Colbert’s office.

Not one to be shy, Bruiser walked up to one of the young women and asked, “Hey, what’s going on? Is this the party corridor?”

She glanced over at him, saying nothing.

“My friend and I were here earlier, and it seemed deadly quiet.”

She looked up at him and kept looking up and up, flashing her eyes at the same time. “My god, how tall are you?”

“Not gonna tell you. I’ll let you keep on dreaming.”

Scott stepped back, realizing he might be making progress.

The young woman laughed, a tiny giggle, and said, “We just arrived on a plane from France, Monsieur, and only reached the hotel about an hour ago.”

“Now, why would a pretty little thing like you leave France for Montreal?”

Scott let out a short cough, and Bruiser looked over at her.

“You okay? Want me to get you some cough drops?”

About that time, Manon came out of Colbert’s office. She spotted Bruiser. “What are you doing here?”

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“Missed you and decided to come down and look around.”

Another louder cough. He smiled at her. “Sure you don’t need some cough drops?”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Manon said. “I’d like you to meet some of these people. You’ll probably be working with them in a couple of days.”

Scott swallowed her next cough. The guy was a genius at worming his way into places he hadn’t been invited.

Manon reached back and opened the door to Colbert’s office.

Scott was surprised he had already cleaned up the shattered statue.

Colbert stood talking with a short, sandy-haired man dressed all in black. He looked over at them. “What are you doing in here? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Bruiser jumped into the conversation, which he seemed pretty good at. “Hell, she’s just getting ahead of things, something you don’t seem to be capable of doing. Aren’t these the people we’ll be working with in the next couple of days?”

Scott couldn’t believe how he kept doing it. Time and time again.

“You know, we can leave,” Bruiser continued, “but then you’ll just have to invite us back. If these guys have come all the way from France to see us, why waste their time?”

Scott nodded. “Yeah, why keep them waiting? Do you really want us to leave?”

Scott saw Colbert’s anger, his tight lips, flashing eyes, and hard stare.

The man in black looked at Bruiser, his dark glasses made it difficult to see his eyes. “He’s right, André. We have a lot to do and get ready for. Maybe we should take some time now and talk with them.”

Then the two lapsed into French as they must have figured Bruiser couldn’t understand what they were saying. Scott wished she had taken French in school rather than Spanish.

After a rapid-fire exchange, the man looked at Bruiser. “What is your name and what is the name of this lovely woman?”

All of a sudden, Scott sort of liked the guy.

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“My name is Michael, but my friends call me Bruiser. My friend is Pammy Shot.”

Scott was glad he remembered her alias.

Bruiser continued. “Now, who the fuck are you, and what are you doing here?”

The man had a very smooth voice and manner. “You can call me Jacques. We are here because André invited us.”

Scott figured that was a good entry into their mission.

Bruiser kept at him. “All right, you’re pretty smooth with the ladies, but you don’t fool me. Be very careful around Pammy.

Now, you haven’t answered my question. Why are you here?”

Jacques looked at Bruiser for a moment, then he said, “That’s because I don’t want to answer your question. At least not until I know more about you and what your responsibilities are.”

“That makes sense.” Bruiser glanced over at Scott, who nodded.

“We’re here,” Bruiser continued, “because we were told by some of my fellow militia guys you could help us. We’re sick and tired of the way the government jerks us around.”

Jacques nodded.

“Now, I’m beginning to feel you’re jerking me around like our government.”

Jacques spoke softly in his French-accented English. “We mean no disrespect, Monsieur. However, we must exercise caution.”

Bruiser looked a little confused. “I don’t know who this fucking Monsieur is, but what you say makes sense.”

Jacques nodded. “Please give us an hour to organize; then we will gather in the auditorium and talk about our task.”

Bruiser took Scott’s arm and moved back toward the door.

“We’ll be back in one hour.”

Jacques nodded. “Merci, Monsieur.” ***

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Scott and Bruiser hurried back to their room.

When they got inside, Scott picked up her cell. “I’m going to call Garcia and let her know where we are. Things are moving, and I want her to know.”

Punching in the buttons on her cell, she waited. Soon she heard, “Garcia.”

“It’s Scott. We’re on break and due back in an hour. I’m not sure what our next step should be.” She updated Garcia on what they had uncovered so far, and they were soon going back to the auditorium.

“Wait a minute,” Garcia said. “Let me get this all straight.

What did you say the name of the guy is?”

“Jacques. We didn’t get any last name. No leads on Fairchild yet, but this may be our entrance to finding her.”

“I’m uneasy you may be walking into a trap. These guys are dangerous. I believe they could be capable of killing someone who gets in their way.”

“Agree,” Scott replied. “But this is what we wanted. If it gets too hot, Bruiser and I can always pull out. We’re in this hotel, so we should be safe; we’re not out on some deserted road.”

“Okay,” Garcia replied. “Tell me again where you’ll be and all the players you know so far. I’ll get ahold of Hendricks and Zack and let them know what’s going on. Be careful.”

“I always am.”

After she provided the names to Garcia, Scott disconnected the phone and looked at Bruiser. “I’m really nervous about this.

Garcia said we could be walking into a trap, and I think she might be right.”

“No sweat. If they try and pull something, we’ll just kick some ass and get the hell out of there.”

Scott shook her head. Bruiser was certainly an interesting guy. Perfect for this assignment.

105

20 Lancaster, PA, June 8 T.J. developed the flight plan for him and Zack. They had left Hills Creek State Park at five o’clock that morning, and landed at the Lancaster Airport at six forty-five. He tied down the helicopter as they prepared to leave by vehicle.

Zack had spent time throughout the night scanning the list of militia members, trying to find the right guy. He needed information, and he needed straight information without tipping anyone else off.

After calling a number of names on the list, he had contacted a Marine he’d known in Iraq who had left the service. Zack figured he might be a good place to start and had made arrangements for an early-morning meeting.

They were able to borrow a jeep from the reserve unit near the airport, using Admiral Steele’s name and stressing the importance of their mission.

With T.J. at the wheel and Zack guiding from the map, it took about a half hour to wind their way through the early morning Lancaster traffic on Route 501 and Route 30 and then catch Route 222 south toward Quarryville.

The FBI had provided him information that a group of militia leaders may have met in Quarryville a few days before.

“What are we looking for?” T.J. asked.

“I’m not sure of the exact plans they discussed, but the FBI indicated the meeting consisted of leaders who could be forming an organization called the Patriots.”

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T.J. pulled into Quarryville and they found Major Jeb Stuart’s house a little before 8 a.m. Stuart lived on a quiet side of Fourth Street just outside of Quarryville.

Stuart had left the Marines because of being dumped into a fourth tour in Iraq ahead of his peers. He felt they had dealt him a raw deal.

Zack could understand Stuart’s frustration and thought he might be a dependable source of information.

Zack double-checked the address, then he and TJ walked up to the front steps of a small, two-story house. Climbing the steps, Zack pushed on the doorbell, and a tall, rangy man with white hair opened the door.

The man offered his hand and said, “Please come in. I’ve put on the coffee pot as I expect that’s what you would want at this time of day.”

Zack shook his hand and introduced T.J. “A wise choice. We appreciate your willingness to talk with us.”

“Your call sounded important,” Stuart said. “Not something that could wait.”

Zack and T.J. followed Stuart into the kitchen and took seats at the table. Zack lowered his voice. “I hope we can trust your discretion. This information is not something we’d like to see spread around.”

Stuart nodded, poured the coffee, and passed a plate of donuts around. “I understand.”

Zack took a sip of coffee. “I work for the president’s national security advisor. We’ve received a number of tips that militia groups in the country may be planning some sort of operation that could hurt a number of people and damage our country.”

Stuart nodded.

“We have little information other than what you may have read in the newspaper about the young man who shot a librarian and killed a sheriff ’s deputy in Wellsboro. He seemed to be carrying out some sort of militia operation.”

Stuart poured sugar in his coffee and took a sip. “That incident was terrible. I have no idea why some fool would do that. I do

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know some of our groups are getting antsy to do something to catch people’s attention.”

“That attack in Wellsboro certainly caught our attention, and the attention of the FBI,” Zack said.

“What do you see happening?” Stuart asked.

“We are not sure. So far, the president has put together a program to combat domestic terrorism while at the same time, the FBI continues to receive information we find disturbing.”

Stuart took a bite of his donut, chewed, and smiled. “There is nothing like a donut and coffee early in the morning.” He paused.

“You probably realize I’ve been a member of the Oath Keepers for a while.”

Zack nodded. He didn’t want to tell Stuart he had a list of the various groups and that Stuart’s name was on it.

“Our group will accept anyone,” Stuart continued, “although we focus on current and former military, law enforcement, and first responders. People who have pledged to protect the constitution.”

Zack waited for him to continue, sensing it could be difficult for Stuart.

“Some of our members have split off from the larger groups and are going in another direction.”

“What do you mean another direction?” Zack asked.

“From what I’ve heard, their direction could be more lethal.

Something I don’t think is right, nor do most of my friends. I’m pissed at the military for my damn last tour, but I don’t want to blow up anything over it.”

That comment got Zack’s attention. “Do you think these people may want to blow something up in some sort of protest?”

Stuart nodded. “One of the reasons I quit going to the meetings.”

Zack wasn’t sure how to continue, so he decided to plunge ahead. “Would you be willing to go back and find out what you can, then let me know? If it looks like people are going to die, we need to stop it.”

Stuart looked out the window for a long time, probably weighing his answer.

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Zack and T.J. glanced at each other. Shrugged. Waited.

Finally, Stuart said, “I’ve pledged to do my best to help my country. I believe my career has shown that. But, if people could get hurt, well, that’s not right.”

Zack sighed a breath of relief. “Thank you. I agree that I don’t like everything our country does, but it doesn’t warrant taking innocent lives.”

Stuart sat there for a moment sipping his coffee. “Let me see what I can find out.”

“Thank you.” Zack reached in his pocket and pulled out a card. “This is my contact information. We’ll be available twentyfour hours a day. Don’t hesitate to call or text me.”

“I will do that.”

“We appreciate your help. The loss of people is something I want to avoid, no matter what the level of frustration.”

“I don’t believe some of these guys care much for people.

They believe most of them are government agents and don’t deserve protection.”

That comment really caught Zack. Regular guys are agents of the government and don’t deserve protection. It didn’t seem right.

Zack stood, and T.J. followed suit. “We appreciate anything you can do.”

Stuart nodded. “We’ll see.”

“I need to mention these groups may be moving soon. So if you find out anything, anything at all, please let me know.”

Stuart nodded. *** Scott and Bruiser took the elevator back down to the first floor, startled by the silence. So different from when they had arrived. Scott figured a big hotel like this would be busy all the time.

They hurried through the lobby to the conference room section for the proposed meeting with Colbert and the man in black called Jacques.

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Scott leaned over to Bruiser. “I’m concerned about what we’re doing. My ‘get the hell out of Dodge’ bell is ringing like mad.”

“What can they do to us?” Bruiser asked. “We’re in the middle of a good-sized hotel in the center of Montreal. If it doesn’t look good, we leave.”

“I wish I had your confidence.” She grabbed his arm, then reached up and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Well, it’s been nice. I was looking forward to jumping back into bed with you. I don’t want to mess that up.”

“Ah, those three little words, back into bed. They are magical, and I won’t let anything mess us up. Okay. Here we are.”

They turned the corner and started down the hallway. As they walked by a door, Manon opened it and motioned with her hand. “Quick, in here.”

They stepped into the room, probably twenty feet by twenty feet with about twenty-five people sitting at a table.

Everyone looked up when they came in, then back at each other and resumed talking. Two men were sound asleep in the back.

Manon pointed them toward three chairs in one corner. “You can sit here. I’ll sit back here to translate, at least hit the high spots for you.”

She sat next to Bruiser and leaned over to whisper something to him.

Scott moved over and squeezed in closer to Bruiser. “I think I can hear better over here.”

“Do you speak French?” Manon asked.

“No, but I’d like to learn.” She smiled at Manon.

Colbert moved up front and stood behind the podium, waiting for everyone’s attention.

He glanced around at the audience, making eye contact with each person. “I’d like to welcome you and thank you for making this journey to help our friends here in America as they helped us during World War Two.” A smattering of applause.

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He continued. “We will divide you into teams and send you to various parts of the country for communications and marketing the reasons for the attack.”

He paused to look at his notes. “We need to make people understand this effort is to help our American friends lift the yoke of oppression just as they helped us rid ourselves of the Nazi occupiers.”

More applause.

He then started speaking in French, so both Scott and Bruiser turned toward Manon for help with translation.

“He is breaking out the group into smaller sections and giving them guidance on how and where they will move forward after the incident.”

Scott glanced at Manon. “What is the incident they’re talking about?”

Manon seemed uneasy. “To be honest, I’m not sure. But I understand this will initiate our attack on your government.”

Bruiser’s face lit up. “Great. I’m always looking for a rumble.

Fucking exciting time.”

The door opened and a man hurried into the room and up to Colbert. Colbert turned abruptly to the man and yelled something at him in French.

The man backed off, then Colbert leaned over to him. He whispered in Colbert’s ear, making Colbert turn toward the two of them.

Oh, oh, Scott thought, what’s this?

She turned to Bruiser. “Let’s go out in the hallway and see if we can find some coffee. I’m about ready to fall asleep and not getting much out of this.”

Manon stood. “Let me see if I can call and have someone bring pots of coffee into the conference room. It’s late, and I suspect we all could use a cup.”

“Sounds good,” Scott said. “But I think I’d like to go out in the hallway and stretch. I need to shake myself awake.”

She stood and grabbed Bruiser’s arm. “Come on, let’s take a break.”

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Bruiser was about to disagree, when Scott glared at him and motioned toward the door with her hand.

He finally got the message and stood. “Okay. If you need to move around, I’ll go along with you.”

Scott glanced up at two men entering the room. Neither one looked like an intellectual giant, but pure and simple muscle.

She reached into her purse and fingered her gun, then pulled on Bruiser’s arm. “Let’s go. We can catch up on this later.”

As they turned toward the door, the men moved to circle them. One hurried over to block the door while the other called, “Wait a minute, you two, we want to talk with you.”

Scott pushed toward the door. She called out, “Right now, I don’t feel like talking to you. I’m heading out to stretch a bit.”

The man by the door folded his arms and blocked her way.

“The boss says you ain’t going nowhere.”

Scott continued toward him, pistol in hand but down by the side of her leg. She glanced down to make sure the sound suppressor was in place. “Your language is terrible. My mom told me to never use the word ain’t.”

Bruiser pushed past her. In a move so fast she couldn’t follow it, he had a knife in his left hand and brass knuckles on his right.

The man started to duck, but Bruiser was too quick. He punched him in the face with the brass knuckles and sent him flying, face bleeding. “It’s about time you treat my lady with respect.”

The other man pulled a gun and pointed it at Bruiser. “Okay, big man, you’ve proved yourself, now up against the wall.”

Scott raised her gun and shot the guy in the right hand, sending the gun flying. She watched him grab his hand then sink to the floor.

She turned to Colbert. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you proved you can’t be trusted. We came here to work with you. You listen to this piece of shit and find us guilty of something.”

Bruiser shouted out, “We’re leaving this rats’ nest. You’re missing out, but that’s tough shit.”

Colbert took a step toward them.

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She pointed her gun at him. “Move another step and your manhood won’t be worth a shit. Not now, not ever.”

Colbert raised his hands. “Wait. We’ve made a terrible mistake. My information was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

Scott smiled. “Damn right you’re sorry. My friend and I are leaving, and we’re taking Manon with us to make sure you don’t do anything stupid like messing with us again.”

Bruiser grabbed Manon’s arm and pulled her out into the hallway while Scott kept the rest of the group covered.

She turned back toward Colbert. “Now, let us think about what we want to do—if we’re going to leave town or what. Manon can let you know our decision once we talk it over.”

She backed through the door and turned down the hallway.

Together they walked to the elevator and pushed the button to go up to their room.

113

21 Hills Creek State Park, PA, June 8 Zack and T.J. landed at the helipad close to the state park.

They had radioed ahead, and Agent Short drove over to pick them up.

When they arrived back at the park, Zack stopped at Harper’s cabin office and updated him about what Stuart had said.

Harper paced around the room, his gaze toward the floor, obviously thinking, then he said, “We sent out a request to have the National Security Agency work to intercept communications in the area. We’ll see what they find out.”

Zack stopped for a moment. “I wish you’d been able to find out more about the Patriots. It appears the majority of the action, at least for now, is centered here in Pennsylvania.”

“Pennsylvania is the hot spot,” Harper said. “The state police are responsible for covering the area where Stuart met with you.”

“State police?” Zack asked.

Harper nodded. “They cover areas that don’t have their own police department. So far we haven’t heard much from them, but I’ve got two of my men meeting with their security guys right now.”

Zack’s phone rang. He held up his finger to hold Harper off.

“This could be important.”

He picked up the phone and put it on speaker. “Zack Kelly.”

“It’s Skip.”

“Right. What’s up?”

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“I’ve been hearing rumors the time for a possible operation might be getting close. I plan to drive to Williamsport and check around. Would it be possible to meet with you again while I’m there?”

“You bet, Skip. When do you plan on getting here?”

“I can call you when I know my schedule a little better. Will try and give you as much warning as I can.”

“That would be great.”

“Thanks, Zack. The more I thought about it, the more I worried we might be ready to unleash a real mess, one that we will have trouble pulling back from.”

When Zack hung up, he turned to Harper and Gabrielle.

“You heard that?”

Both nodded. “Now, who should go where?” Zack thought about that for a moment. “We need to follow it all closely, but how?”

Gabrielle leaned forward. “We’ve got to do undercover work in Quarryville and Williamsport.”

Zack nodded. “What do you suggest?”

Gabrielle perked up. “I’m ready to get out and start moving like I’m doing something again. Too much siting on my butt.”

Zack started pacing. “Now where should I meet Skip?”

“You told him you’d meet him in Williamsport. T.J. and I can fly to Quarryville and see what we can find out. It would be convenient if some of these French contacts show up. I might be able to gain information from them.”

Zack thought for a moment, then gave her a thumbs up.

“Good thinking.” *** Scott had grabbed Manon’s arm and pushed her along through the lobby. The lady behind the desk glanced up, a surprised look on her face.

They took the elevator up to their floor and hurried down the hallway to their room. Bruiser unlocked and opened the door, scanning the room to make sure no one waited for them. “Looks okay.”

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She chuckled quietly seeing the mess she and Bruiser had left the room in. She warmed and felt sorry Manon had joined them.

Bruiser pulled open the door to the bathroom, obviously checking to make sure it was also empty. When he walked back into the main room, he called, “All clear.”

Scott nodded and pointed Manon toward a chair. “Sit.” As Manon sat she said, “Look, I’m sorry for what happened. I didn’t think Colbert would do all that. He’s not the guy I thought he was.”

Scott stared at her. “I’m not sure I believe you, but that’s not important. We need to figure out what to do next. Can’t sit here very long as I suspect Colbert will send some of his goons up here. Must know our room number or soon will.”

Manon raised her hand. “Oh, he wouldn’t do that.”

“Bullshit, he wouldn’t. Look what he just tried to do to us.”

Bruiser stretched out on the bed and glanced at Scott. “What do you think we should do?”

Scott thought for a moment, then pointed at Manon. “What will Colbert do? Can we trust him to stay cool or will he come after us? Now be honest. Your life may depend on it.”

Manon’s voice was shaky. “I don’t know. When this first unfolded, I didn’t think it was a big deal. But over the past few days or so, he’s turned antsy on everything.”

Scott pushed her. She needed answers and right now. “What do you mean antsy and what’s so important?”

Manon pondered for a moment. “We’ve been asked to help with a project in the United States by coordinating French participation. Initially not a big deal, but now appears it is.”

Scott found herself frustrated with Manon. “No more talking in circles or I’ll shoot you in the foot and throw you out in the hallway, and I mean it.”

Manon looked out the window for a minute. “Look, I hosted another group for a presentation here. One of that group somehow frustrated Colbert and I believe he kidnapped her. No one knows what happened to her.”

Scott pushed again. “Why? Why would he do that?”

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Manon looked like she might cry. “I don’t know,” she shouted.

“I don’t know why for sure, but apparently that person did something that upset André.”

“Where is she now?”

Manon nodded. “Since it’s only been a day and he’d been running around, he may have moved her from his office in the university over to the hotel.”

“The hotel?”

“Yes. Since the French have arrived, André has set up his operations here at the hotel and rented an office for himself and for me. Mine is a few doors down from his. Both are marked.”

Scott glanced at Bruiser, sensing he’d picked up on what Manon had said. “You stay here with Manon. I’m going to slip down to Colbert’s office and see if I can find that person. Maybe she can clear up why Colbert has treated us like shit.”

Bruiser stood up. “Don’t you want me to come with you?

Could be dangerous.”

“You stay here and guard Manon, and I’ll go check his office.”

He smiled back. “But isn’t that where those folks are? You’re gonna run into them again and get in trouble.”

Scott shook her head. “No. His office is in another corridor.

Besides, he’s got his hands full and I doubt will be headed back to his office.”

She didn’t have to say it. Bruiser knew she had to get Fairchild out of trouble if at all possible. Her life probably depended on it.

She glanced at Bruiser. “If this bitch acts up, knock her out.

The time for Mr. Nice Guy has ended.

Bruiser nodded and smiled. “Got it.”

Manon started to cry.

Scott opened her purse, checked her gun to make sure it was loaded and the sound suppressor on, gave him a kiss, then headed out the door.

As she hurried down the hall she thought what am I going to do? She had to admit she had no idea, but she needed to try.

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22 Williamsport, PA, June 9 Agent Ace Short, one of Harper’s FBI agents, signed out a car from the FBI motor pool and stood ready to drive Zack to the town of Williamsport.

Short chuckled about his name. “Hard to be short and named Short. Then make my skin black on top of being short, and all of it provides periodic challenges for me.”

Zack couldn’t help but laugh also. “I guess you need a winning sense of humor.”

“No doubt about it.”

As they drove, Zack realized he was flying blind until Skip arrived.

He turned in the front seat toward Short. “I’d better stop at the police station and see what they know about gang organization and violence in Williamsport. I know who some of the leaders are, but I’m not sure of their location.”

Short nodded toward Zack. “I checked before we left and think we’d better stop at the State Police barracks first. The Williamsport Police Department is located in the City Hall on Fourth Street.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to go there first?” Zack asked. “Check with the local guys?”

“Normally I’d agree,” Short responded, “but I haven’t heard much good about the local guys. The reviews I’ve read have all been pretty bad.”

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Zack figured police coordination should be Short’s decision and decided to back off. “Okay, your lead.”

“I could tell you’re a smart guy. The State Police Barracks, Troop F, is located a little east of Williamsport in Montoursville.

How about if I call ahead and tell them we’re on the way?”

Zack liked Short. He seemed to know his way around and how to get things done. “Glad you’re here. Fire away.”

Short pushed buttons on his phone and talked for a few minutes. When he disconnected, he said, “We should be at the barracks in about twenty minutes.”

“Good job, “Zack replied. “Thanks.”

“I touched base with a member of the criminal investigation section. She’s been keeping an eye on the gangs. Fortunately she’s in and will be waiting for us.”

Zack nodded. “Sounds good.”

“I’m concerned about this gang stuff. We’ve been following it back at Quantico. There’s some really nasty dudes in these militias. From everything I hear, it could get bad.”

“I’m with you,” Zack replied. “Step on it, will you? I hope to beat my contact to Williamsport and have a chance to look around.”

Short sped up. “Okay. You’re the boss.”

Zack thought, yeah, right. The boss who isn’t sure if he’s doing anything right. *** Scott hustled out of their room and looked up and down the hallway. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she bolted for the stairs, deciding not to trust the elevator in case one of those clowns watched for her.

When she reached the lobby, she peeked out of the stairway door and saw no one other than the clerks behind the desk and a couple of businessmen reading the paper.

She cut across the lobby and hurried down the hallway toward Colbert’s office. She knew she was treading on dangerous ground but needed to find Fairchild. From their history together, she knew Fairchild would do the same thing for her.

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The auditorium where the meetings were held was a separate hallway from Colbert’s office but close enough her pulse jumped about ten notches.

When she got to his door, she found it locked as she expected.

Getting out her favorite lock picks, she went to work on the door. Couple of minutes. No challenge.

A twist of the lock and a push. She moved inside his office.

Debating for a moment, she decided to walk around behind the desk where she spotted a closet.

She tried the handle and found it also locked. Her heart jumped as she picked that lock. Nothing inside but a rack of what appeared to be expensive coats, shoes, and some slacks. Crap.

She spotted another door and opened it to find the bathroom.

Empty. Things like this were never easy.

Scott hurried back to his desk and began to scan through his papers, hoping for a clue to where he might have stashed Fairchild. She skimmed each paper, many in French, without finding anything helpful.

She worked to open his desk. Locked. She tried one pick–too big. The second one clicked the lock. She didn’t want to shoot the lock off–too noisy.

Damn it. No clues. She looked at her watch; the clock was ticking. Now what?

Wait a minute. She thought about Manon’s office. He could have stashed Fairchild in there and not told Manon. Or that nogood bitch knew and didn’t tell her.

She didn’t think Manon had a chance to visit her office since Fairchild had disappeared. She’d give Manon a pass unless she found out otherwise.

Okay, move. She hurried over to the door and peeked out of Colbert’s office. No one in the hallway. Good. Move. Move.

Scott slipped out of the door, shut it, and hurried down the hallway, checking over her shoulder toward the lobby. Still no one in the hallway.

She pulled the gun out of her small bag. Fortunately, the doors were still shut.

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She resisted the impulse to run. Running always made you look guilty, and people started asking questions. Just trying to find a friend who had been kidnapped. Yeah. Likely story.

She reached Manon’s office to find the door locked–naturally.

You never get a break when you’re in a hurry, particularly when you are stretching the law a long way.

She wiggled her trusty pick inside the lock and was inside in a moment. She shut the door and turned on a light. She hurried across to the closet, which was not locked and held probably a half dozen coats inside.

Scott thought she heard a cry from the bathroom. She ran to the door–locked. She dug into her bag again, her hands slipping in her hurry as she grabbed her pick.

She wiggled it inside the lock, turned the handle, and threw the door open.

121

23 Montoursville, PA, June 9 Short pulled into Montoursville on what appeared to be the main drag about noon. They passed a number of stores and restaurants as they drove through town.

He glanced back at Zack and pointed toward his right. “The airfield is only a couple of blocks that way, so if you decide to come in by helicopter, F Troop of the Pennsylvania State Police is only about five minutes away.”

Zack nodded. “I hope they can help us.”

“Right now I think this is our best shot.”

Zack had to admit he was probably right.

Short turned left on Walnut Street. “F Troop supports about half a dozen counties, which includes the town of Williamsport.”

In a block, he turned right on Cherry Street. A large red brick building came in to view on the left. “You’ll see they have pretty nice digs.”

“I’m glad we’re scheduled to see their criminal guy.”

Short turned into a large parking lot to the left of the building.

“You’ll find Montoursville has an interesting history. It’s named for a native American who acted as an interpreter for the Colonial governments during the French and Indian War.” “Local tribe?” Zack asked.

The agent nodded. “You need to know this town is very sensitive to terrorism. Remember the TWA Flight 800 that was destroyed by a bomb in 1996?”

“Oh, boy, do I. A terrible thing.”

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“The worst part for this town was that of the 230 who were killed, twenty-one of them were from Montoursville. The sixteen students who were killed had been selected for an exchange program along with their five chaperones. Wonderful kids.

Great chaperones. You’ll see a statue in the middle of town as a memorial to those people.”

Zack thought for a moment. “If that’s the case, these townspeople won’t like a bunch of domestic terrorists. That might help us.”

“Let’s hope.”

Once Short parked the car, Zack opened the door and stepped out, then hustled up to the door. He had no time to waste.

At the front door, Zack pulled out his military ID and walked up to the desk sergeant.

“Good afternoon. I’m Colonel Zack Kelly. FBI agent Short called ahead for us to see someone from your staff about a pending criminal investigation.”

“That’s right, Colonel. Sergeant Foster is expecting you. I’ll let her know you’re here.”

In a moment, a short, red-headed woman walked out from the back wearing no makeup and a determined look in her eye.

“Colonel Kelly, Agent Short, I’m Sergeant Foster. Please come back to my office.”

Zack followed her past a number of offices until they reached one with a desk and a small conference table. A series of file cabinets lined the opposite wall.

Foster pointed toward the chairs around the table. “Have a seat, Colonel. I bet you’d like coffee.”

“You must be a mind reader. We’ve been on the road and coffee sounds great.”

She reached behind her for a coffee pot and cups. “I hope you don’t mind, but my china cups and sterling silver spoons are on loan to the Smithsonian.”

Zack had to chuckle. “You’d fit right in at the Pentagon.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Perfectly happy where I am. I’m the project person for militias at F Troop. I’d like to skip any bullshit and get right down to why you’re here.”

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Zack was a little taken back by her direct approach, but appreciated it. He briefed her on what they had learned about a possible militia attack.

He did not mention the French connection, yet. He thought he’d start with the militia groups, then he could move into the French connection later if need be.

Foster watched him. “I don’t see yet what you need from me and why you’re here.”

“I contacted an Army officer who worked for me in Iraq. His name is on a list of militia members the FBI gave me. I have no idea how broadly the list has been circulated.”

Foster glanced over at Short. “I doubt I have a copy and it sounds like something that would help me.”

Zack swallowed hard and glanced over at Short, who shrugged.

Foster must have caught Zack’s glance. “You may not be surprised, but I do have problems with the FBI sharing information with me. Oftentimes information that would be helpful in my caseload.”

She stood and walked over to a file cabinet. “I believe in this case we may have received the information and even shared a little of it with the FBI.” Foster returned to her chair. “When did this first start?”

“A few days ago, I met with members of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. They had information about a possible attack on the U.S. by a group of extremists, mostly from various militia groups.”

Foster leaned forward in her chair. “When?”

“We don’t know. It could probably happen sooner rather than later. We also received information there could be extremists from Quebec working with the militia groups.”

Foster stood and began to pace. “Damn, this is the sort of information we should receive right away. Anytime folks from other countries are involved, it can get messy faster than crap.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Zack replied. “When I talked to Skip, he said there were militia members who had broken off and formed a new group called the Patriots.”

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Foster opened a file on her desk. “We’ve been tracking a militia in Williamsport called the Oath Keepers.”

Zack made a note.

“I’ve been led to believe by my sources there is a group that has broken off from the main militia, but I haven’t heard the name ‘Patriots’ yet. That’s a new one.”

She stood and leveled her eyes at Zack. “Exactly how long have you known this?”

Zack thought about that comment. He needed to settle her down. They would have to work together. “We’ve been trying to determine the credibility. What do you know, if anything, about this group that has broken off from the main militia? Anything special?”

She nodded. “We haven’t been able to confirm this as yet, but my source says two of their guys are trained explosives demolition experts.”

Zack leaned forward. “Do you have names?”

Foster looked down their list. One is Paul Samuelson, who goes by the code name Delta; the other is Ted Frances, who goes

by Echo. This Delta lives north of Williamsport and Echo west of Quarryville. *** Scott looked in and gasped. In the middle of the restroom floor lay Fairchild, stretched out spread-eagle and tied down on a board.

She wore only her underwear and a gag in her mouth. Her eyes were open but appeared to see nothing.

Scott rushed to her side, knelt down, and felt for a pulse. Oh, God, she pleaded, don’t let her be dead.

Scott wanted to cheer when she felt a pulse, slight, but definitely a pulse. She pulled her knife off her belt and cut the ropes holding Fairchild’s arms and legs.

She sliced the gag, then watched it fall away from Fairchild’s mouth.

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No movement. No indication of life other than the slight pulse. Must be drugged with something strong. She needed to get Fairchild the hell out of there.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and pushed in Garcia’s number. After two rings, she heard, “Garcia.”

“Scott,” she whispered. “I’ve found Fairchild. She’s pretty drugged up, but I’ve felt a pulse. Faint, but a pulse. Need help getting her out of here.”

“Where are you?”

“The bathroom in Manon’s hotel office. Do you know where that is? Manon told me Colbert had set up an office here in the hotel, and hers is a couple of doors down from his, name’s on the door. Fairchild was stretched out on the floor.”

“Manon told me about the offices also, but I never thought to check there. Those no-good rotten bastards. I’m on my way.”

Scott had to think for a moment. “Wait, let me think about this. We need to get her out of Manon’s office before Colbert finishes in the auditorium and comes back to check on her.”

“I can be there in a couple of minutes. If I can get down the hallway without him seeing me and into her office, we can get her out of there.”

“All right, when you get here, knock three times, then rap twice quickly, so I’ll know it’s you.”

“On the way. That bastard. I should have known better.

Should have shaken his tent more.”

Scott disconnected and hurried to the closet. She found a long coat that would cover Fairchild, then hurried back to the bathroom, hoping against hope Colbert wouldn’t choose that moment to enter the office. She checked her watch again; time was against her.

Scott struggled to lift Fairchild to a seated position against a wall as she was still out cold. She slipped the coat over Fairchild’s shoulders and put an arm into each sleeve.

Scott decided to use a fireman’s carry to get her up and into the other room. She struggled to lift her, but was able to move her into the main office and prop her up in a chair with arms. Oh hurry, Garcia, for God’s sake, hurry.

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It took eight minutes, which seemed like hours, before she heard the three knocks then two quick raps on the door.

Scott hurried over and opened the door to peek out and was relieved to see Garcia. She pulled the door open, and Garcia rushed in.

“Where is she?” Garcia whispered, her voice shaking.

Scott pointed at the chair where Fairchild sat, her head sloping against one side, still out cold.

Garcia rushed over and knelt down. She tapped Fairchild’s arm. “It’s Garcia. Can you hear me?”

No response.

She felt for a pulse. “I see what you mean. Very faint, but still a pulse. Let’s get her out of here.”

Scott nodded. “But where?”

“I called Colonel Hendricks and asked him to to get an ambulance for us. He said he would have it at the front door of the hotel. Thought it should only take a few minutes.”

Scott looked at her, confused. “Hendricks?”

“Oh, sorry,” Garcia said. “He’s with the Canadian Mounted Police. Our point of contact here in Quebec. The one who opened up this whole mess by briefing Admiral Steele almost a week ago.

Seems like years with all that’s happened.”

Scott thought for a moment. “Now, how the hell are we going to do this. Gotta be fast.”

“Let’s get on either side of her, and we can walk her like she’s had too much to drink.”

Scott nodded. “That should work. There weren’t a lot of people in the lobby when I came down.”

“I didn’t notice too many in the lobby either. With this coat over her shoulders, we should make it.”

Scott took a quick look around the office to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything of her own. She didn’t want anyone to know who was responsible for taking Fairchild if she could help it.

Satisfied, she reached down and took one arm. “Pretty heavy.

Gonna be a challenge.”

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“I know, but she’s my friend and I’m gonna do this. Let’s get going.”

The two struggled Fairchild to a standing position between them, then moved toward the door.

When they reached the door, Scott opened it and peeked up and down the hallway. “Good news. No one wandering around in the hall. Let’s go.”

They walked Fairchild out into the hallway, then Garcia reached back to pull the door shut.

Straining to prop Fairchild up, Scott began to walk. “Where the hell is Bruiser when you need him? If he wasn’t watching Manon, he’d be here.”

Garcia had to stifle a giggle. “If he were here, he’d probably float her down the hall with one arm.”

They made it to the elevator, then pushed the button to take them up to the lobby.

When they reached the lobby, Scott peeked out. Seeing no one who looked suspicious, they started to walk Fairchild into the lobby.

A slender man in a suit stood at the desk. “Is your friend okay?”

Garcia shook her head. “We think she had a little too much to drink. We’re not sure and have called an ambulance.”

“Let me hurry over and help you with the door. The revolving door will be pretty difficult.”

Scott managed to mumble, “Thanks.”

As they reached the door and the man held it open, they heard the siren. In a moment, an ambulance screamed around the corner.

With the help of the orderly, they placed Fairchild in the back of the ambulance and Garcia stepped inside. “Hey, Scott, see you at the hospital?”

Scott shook her head. “You handle that part. I’m going to check on Bruiser and Manon.”

“What are you going to do next?” Garcia asked.

“Not sure,” Scott replied. “As far as I know, we’re on the inside of the group, which should give us lots of info.”

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Garcia motioned to the orderly to keep the back door open for a minute. “Hey, my friend, thanks for all your help. You saved her life. But be careful. With Fairchild gone, you may be the chief suspect.”

“I’ll be careful, but if we can stay on the inside, I think that’ll be good. Will give you a call when I know more.”

Garcia waved and moved up next to Fairchild as the orderly shut the door and the ambulance roared off, separating the heavy traffic.

Scott waved at the departing ambulance, then turned back toward the door to the hotel, debating her next step.

She thought of Bruiser and Manon. What about Manon?

What should she tell her? She decided to duck the whole issue— none of her damn business.

First things first, got to get up to the hotel room without getting caught. Then, we’ll see.

129

24 Montoursville, PA, State Police HQ, June 9 Zack swallowed hard when he thought about Foster’s latest comment. “If those guys are explosives experts, that could really create problems for us.”

“I agree,” Foster said. “We’re prepared to put a tail on these guys, at least the one here north of Williamsport, until we find out more. We need to know exactly where he is.”

Zack thought of T.J. and his skills. “My friend, T.J., is an explosives expert, too. He’s flying one of our team to Quarryville right now, but I’d like him back here when he’s finished. I hear there’s a regional airport in town. Maybe we can bring him in there, then have his helicopter available in case we need it.”

“That’s fine,” Foster replied. “First of all, what’s going on in Quarryville? I hadn’t heard anything about it, and it’s not far away.”

“It’s possible a militia group met somewhere around Quarryville to discuss a possible attack. We’ve sent a couple of FBI agents there to check it out.”

“You need to bring our State Police staff in on that. The FBI forgets about locals, and that pisses us off. We often know more than they do.”

“You’re right,” Zack said. “Agents are going to talk to your counterparts who cover Quarryville.”

“Let me contact our aviation guys. I need your friend’s radio signal, then they can get in contact with him. Get him back here.

We need all the help we can get.”

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Zack mulled all of this information in his head. “Let me share some of what I know and see where you think we should focus.”

Foster stood and smoothed her jacket over her gun. She picked up her pad. “Don’t worry, none of what you say will leave this building.”

Zack nodded. “I know that’s the case.”

“First of all,” Foster asked, “has the FBI found the man who shot the librarian in Wellsboro and killed the sheriff?”

Zack shook his head. “Not that I know of. I talked to the agent in charge in Wellsboro yesterday and at that time, they had not. We’ve been staying in touch with them, but haven’t heard any more current update.”

Foster grimaced. “The militia probably killed the shooter.

I’m sure their leader realizes killing a sheriff activated the FBI. Something he probably didn’t want to happen.”

“You’re right on that one. I did get a break. Skip Pierson helped me meet with a militia leader who goes by the name Alpha.”

“Alpha, that’s interesting,” Foster said. “What did he have to say?”

“Gave me some background on what caused the formation of the militias and how hard it will be to get these guys to put their weapons down and turn them around in their thinking.”

“Anything else?” Foster asked.

Zack felt it was time to update Foster on the representatives from France arriving to help the militia groups.

Foster’s eyes widened. “When the hell were you going to tell me that?”

“I am now.”

“That adds a whole new dimension to what we have.”

“Representatives of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and the CIA are tracking foreign operatives coming into the United States who seem suspicious.”

“Good. Keep me in the loop.”

“My staff member is Lieutenant Colonel Garcia. I’ll give you her contact info in case you run into a possible French operative here in town.”

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“Good.”

“My concern is the border between Canada and the States is porous. They will probably slip those contacts into our country without documentation, assuming we’ll be tracking them at the border.”

“Makes sense.”

Zack thought about how to proceed. “It seems to me you have the best shot at what’s going on in Williamsport. I will find out if anything new is happening in Quarryville. And will check with my contacts in Quebec to see if there has been any movement there.”

“Okay. I’ll call Colonel Garcia and make sure she has all of my contact information.”

Foster gave him a nod and headed back to her office. *** By the time the ambulance brought Garcia and Fairchild to the hospital and Fairchild had been moved into a treatment room, Colonel Hendricks was waiting for Garcia in the hallway.

“How is she?” He asked.

“Not sure. We believe that bastard Colbert kidnapped her and dumped her in the bathroom adjoining Brigitte Manon’s office. He must have moved her from his office at the university earlier. Tied her up with rope, gagged, and drugged. Can you imagine that?”

“Yes, I sure can. I’ve asked for special handling for her and a secure room. I have two of my best men here to guard her.”

Garcia sighed. “Thanks.”

“We certainly don’t want anything more to happen to her. I can’t imagine what the last twenty-four hours have been like.”

“Yeah. Really pisses me off, but she’s tough and I’m hopeful she’ll be able to bounce back after a period of time.”

Agent Wright hurried down the hallway. When he reached them he asked, “How is she?

“Out.” Garcia said. “The bastards drugged her. We don’t know what he used yet. Pulse is weak, but stable. The doc told me 132

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she must have been given heavy doses of the sedative at regular intervals to keep her out like she is now.”

A slender young man is a set of blue scrubs stepped out of one of the exam rooms. “Ah, bonjour. Colonel Garcia, yes?”

“Yes, that’s me. How is she?”

“Ah, stable, yes. She was pretty heavily sedated but will come out of it soon. I didn’t see any evidence of damage to her body or organs. Once she shakes the drug, she should be fine unless there is something I’ve missed.”

Garcia took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Thank you.

You think she’ll be okay?”

“Oui.” It took Garcia a second to register oui meant yes, and she smiled. “When will I be able to see her?”

“Perhaps in a couple of hours. We will keep her under observation, and I’ll check on her regularly. I understand she’ll be moved to a secure room.”

Hendricks stepped forward. “I’m with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. We’ll have her under armed guard to make sure she’s safe as well as are any of your staff who are treating her.”

The doctor smiled. “Oui. Merci. I understand. Any questions, please let me know.”

Hendricks nodded. “Merci.” He turned to Garcia. “I’ve reserved a small conference room for us to use as a headquarters as long as Agent Fairchild is here.”

“Great. Let’s go. Hopefully with coffee.”

Hendricks laughed. “Of course. Coffee and even some tasty goodies.”

Garcia smiled for one of the first times since she heard about Fairchild. “Thanks. Sounds great.” *** When Garcia entered the conference room she headed for the coffee and croissants, both of which helped beef up her sagging body considerably.

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Her mood on the other hand stayed dark. Colbert was definitely at the top of her shit list. Garcia would make him pay for what he had done to Fairchild.

When they were seated, she summarized what had transpired over the past few hours. “Scott and Bruiser have been successful in getting inside Colbert’s organization.”

She thought for a moment. “Scott tells me there are around twenty people who have arrived from France. I assume they are to help the militias, although I’m not sure how as yet.”

Hendricks glanced over at Wright who nodded. “It looks like twenty-two persons so far have arrived from France in the last three days. All of these people are from the organization Le Pen.” Wright jumped in. “As Colonel Garcia knows, we’ve been tracking people arriving from France who meet our profile. So far, most appear to be political operatives who are experts in either marketing or communications.”

Garcia took a sip of coffee. “It would seem these people are to help with any move toward organizing. But how would they do it?”

Wright leaned forward. “My guess would be to build political groups within the United States to undermine our present government.”

Garcia slammed her cup down. “Yeah, but we have all sorts of splinter political organizations that operate inside the U.S. and don’t do much of anything. How would this be different?”

“I will hazard a guess,” Wright replied. “My bet is they expect to bomb a number of key organizations, maybe even the White House or Congress. Then these operatives would have materials to help them move their agenda forward.”

Garcia stared at him, her mouth open. As she sat there wondering how that might work, her cell phone rang. She picked it up. “Colonel Garcia.”

“Good afternoon. “I’m Sergeant Foster with the Pennsylvania State Police. I’ve been meeting with Colonel Zack Kelly and he gave me your phone number.”

“Great. How may I help you?”

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“We’re becoming more and more concerned with the potential for bombings by militia groups. He told me to work with you on our response.”

Holy crap, Garcia thought. She stammered a little. “We have to work together to stop them. And we have to do it now.”

135

25 Troop J, State Police HQ, Lancaster, PA, June 9 T.J. landed smoothly at the small Lancaster Airport and made sure the helicopter was properly tied down.

Troop J of the Pennsylvania State Police was located about three miles east of Lancaster on Route 222. Gabrielle had called and made an appointment with a representative of the Criminal Investigation Division.

A short, muscular man in uniform, standing next to a State Police cruiser, waved. Gabrielle walked over and extended her hand.

“Good afternoon,” he said. “I’m Sergeant Bright, from the Office of Criminal Investigation. I’ve been assigned to keep track of the various militia groups in our area of operations.”

“Thanks so much for meeting us,” Gabrielle said.

“You had mentioned in your call you want to discuss militia groups in the Quarryville area. We’ve had a number of issues with a group called the Oath Keepers.”

“One of my fellow officers, Colonel Zack Kelly, met with a member of that group. I understand you coordinate State Police support for the town of Quarryville.”

“That’s right. We provide backup to the borough police team.” He laughed. “And a whole bunch of other towns. That’s what keeps us so busy.”

About that time, T.J. walked over and Gabrielle introduced him. The three climbed into the police cruiser and drove off toward the State Police offices.

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Gabrielle turned to look over at Bright. “I believe there was a recent meeting of militia groups here in Quarryville.”

“That’s our understanding,” Bright replied. “And jives with what we’ve heard.”

In about a fifteen-minute drive, Bright made the U-turn off Route 30 to reach the headquarters and pulled into a parking lot.

After he parked, they got out and walked up the sidewalk.

Gabrielle looked up at the three-story building. “Big office.

Ah, what have you heard about these groups?”

“We understand those at the meeting were trying to coordinate with a number of groups who might be involved with an upcoming operation.”

“Do you know how big the group was?” Gabrielle asked.

“We’re not sure of the exact location of the meeting or how many were involved.”

“You say you have an informant?”

Bright nodded. “He told us he might have a tape of some of the various leaders coming and going, but seemed hesitant to share it with us. Obviously scared.”

“That would be very helpful.” Gabrielle shared the details of what they knew so far. Bright’s eyes widened when she talked about the French citizens who had flown into Quebec, apparently to be involved with the operation.

She lowered her voice. “Right now, we can’t prove any of this, but it’s possible the French are political operatives connected to a political group in France.”

Bright shook his head. “This is serious stuff.” *** Scott got back to their hotel room safely.

Bruiser gave her a hug when she opened the door. “I’ve been worried about you.”

She whispered to Bruiser she had found Fairchild and Garcia had taken her to the hospital.

Bruiser nodded. “Wonderful. What’s next?”

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She whispered so Manon would not hear. “I feel I have to get all the information I can for Garcia, then get the hell out of here before our true identities are discovered.”

“You sure?”

She nodded.

“Okay. What about Manon?”

“We’ll take her along. We need to leave now. It’s not going to get any easier.”

Bruiser walked over to Manon. “Let’s go.”

Scott opened the door to their hotel room and peeked out into the hallway. Seeing no one, she motioned for Bruiser to bring Manon out the door and together they all headed for the elevator.

When they arrived on the conference room floor, Scott stepped out of the elevator and motioned for them to follow her.

She led them down the hallway to the room where she knew Corbett had been meeting with the other French operatives.

She opened the door and found the room empty. Stepped inside and tried to figure out what this meant. “Where the hell is everybody?”

Manon answered, “I’m not sure, but they may either be in his office or perhaps getting something to eat. I’m sure they’re hungry and exhausted.”

Scott chuckled. “They’re probably on a high because they’ll be helping coordinate a revolution.”

She led the way down the hall to Colbert’s office. Figuring the direct approach to be the best, she opened the door and looked in. Colbert sat at his desk talking to Jacques who sat in one of the other chairs.

Colbert glanced up and yelled, “Where the hell have you been? While we’ve been meeting, someone took the woman I found going through the material on my desk.”

Scott glared at him.“Where do you think we’ve been? Nursing our wounds from your pissing all over us back in the auditorium.”

Colbert studied her, his mouth open.

“We’ve decided to give you another chance,” Scott continued.

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D.C. So let’s move forward. If you mess with us again, we’re outta here.”

He continued to stare at her. “The woman stood at my desk, going through my papers. Suppose she found our plans. What do we do then?”

Scott needed to settle him back so she could find out the plan. “Is all that really a big deal? Is she really dangerous on the loose? Did she know any of your actual plans or materials, you know dates or locations?”

“I think I caught her before she found anything critical,” Colbert said. “I talked with Colonel Garcia. She was floored when she found out what the woman had done. She’s on the outlook for her, too.”

Scott was surprised Garcia’s quick thinking had worked. It seemed like he still trusted her. “Are we together or should the two of us bow out of here?”

Colbert seemed to settle back down again. “I didn’t keep important material in my desk, but rather in my safe. So, we should be okay. Let’s move forward.”

He turned to Manon. “Now, what about you?”

“I don’t want to be involved in all this sneaky stuff. All I wanted to do was to get some information for my class on the United States government. That’s why Colonel Garcia came here to make the presentation and brought the woman with her.”

Scott jumped back in. “Is it a big deal the woman seems to be gone? Maybe good riddance. If we hurry up and get our shit together, it won’t matter.”

Corbett thought about that. “I’m still uncomfortable she was going through my stuff, but you’re right. It won’t matter.” He smiled. “Maybe this will just be a footnote in our after-action report.”

Scott breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, now what are we going to do?”

Colbert went over to the safe and began to turn the dial.

Scott glanced over at Bruiser who nodded. Maybe we’re getting somewhere.

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Colbert pulled a package of materials out of the safe. “I’d like to reread this package and make sure I understand the players and the timing. Give me an hour, then let’s meet in the conference room and we’ll go through it.”

Scott moved toward the door. “Okay. I need some coffee and need to start packing my stuff because it looks like we’ll be headed out in the morning.”

Colbert barely looked up as he was busy reading the material.

He mumbled, “Okay.”

140

26 State Police Headquarters, Montoursville, PA, June 9 Zack paced around Sergeant Foster’s office, waiting for her communications tech to set up the conference call.

Soon Gabrielle, Garcia, and Sergeant Bright showed up on the screen. “Hey, Gabrielle, how was your trip?” Zack asked.

“Easy with T.J.,” she said. “He is good at what he does.”

“Garcia, how is Fairchild?”

“The docs are taking their time bringing her back to reality.

I’m a little worried about PTSD.” Zack nodded. “I’ve been thinking about her all day. Okay, I believe we have everyone necessary to get our call underway.

Agent Harper?”

“I think it’s time we set up a surveillance net in central Pennsylvania with a focus on militia groups in the Williamsport and Quarryville area.”

“How long will it take to do it?” Zack asked.

“Not long. We’ve done the best we can, but without a full surveillance team, we could be missing too much.”

“What do you need from me?” Zack asked.

“With the shooting in Wellsboro and the threat of French involvement, I should be able to get approval from the FBI to form a working group, but a push from Admiral Steele will help clinch it.”

“I’ll talk with him right away.”

“Garcia, how will we know when things get started from your side?”

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“Good question.” Garcia paused for a moment. “We have two people on the inside who should be able to tell us when they leave and where they will be going.”

“Sounds good,” Zack said, “Once we have that information, we can provide it to the people who are at the sites where they’re headed.”

“Sergeant Foster?”

“It seems Williamsport is the coordinating point right now for the militias.”

“How do you know that?” Garcia asked.

“From everything we’ve learned from our people on the inside, there’s a lot of action.”

“This goes along with what Skip told me,” Zack said. “The guy they call Alpha met me not far from Williamsport.”

“It may change over time, but right now it’s the Oath Keepers we are tracking,” Foster said.

“How big a group is that?” Garcia asked.

“I’m not sure, but I believe it’s the largest one around here.

We’ve heard some of them are breaking off and forming a new group that looks to be more violent. We do have people on the inside who should help us keep an eye on developments as soon as it starts.”

“Thank you, Sergeant Foster. Sergeant Bright?”

“Yes, sir,” Bright said. “Troop F of the Pennsylvania State Police also has six counties we are also responsible for. The town which is our current focus is Quarryville.”

He paused. “We’re looking into the meeting with a number of militia leaders.”

“Okay.” Zack thought for a moment. “Sergeant Bright, I’d like you and Gabrielle to take a trip to Quarryville. Get a sense for where thing are. I have a feeling this will be important.”

Sergeant Bright glanced at Gabrielle who nodded. “Sounds good, Colonel Kelly. That’s what we’ve been talking about. No substitute for being on the ground.”

“Absolutely,” Gabrielle added. “We’ll let you know what we find out.”

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He looked around at all the members and saw heads nodding.

“Let me know if you find out any key information. Garcia, as soon as you hear if any of the French operatives are moving, let me know immediately and we’ll reconvene the group.”

“Will do,” Garcia replied.

Zack paused for a moment to see if there were any questions.

Hearing none, he said, “Agent Harper, do you have anything to contribute?”

“Not right now, Zack,” Harper said. “We’re pretty sure the man who killed the sheriff in Wellsboro has himself been murdered.

Thanks for including me in the call.”

“Okay,” Zack said. “I will be staying here with Sergeant Foster.

T.J., I’d like you to return here as soon as you can. This will be our coordination point, and we’ll probably need the helicopter here for quick trips.”

With that, Zack terminated the call. He picked up his cell and pushed in Admiral Steele’s number to brief him about the call and the need for a surveillance net.

“The net sounds like as good idea,” the admiral replied. “I’ll touch base with Director Sullivan right away.”

After Zack finished briefing him, Steele said, “It may be necessary for you to fly in and brief the president. Right now, I’m keeping him up to date.”

“We’ll be ready if you need us. I’ll keep you up to speed as this unfolds.”

“Good luck. Will be waiting to hear any more details.”

143

27 Montreal, Quebec, June 10 Scott stood in the center of their room, throwing stuff in her overnight bag and trying to figure the best thing to do. Manon had decided to go back to her room and organize her own stuff.

Scott was surprised Colbert wanted Manon to go on the operation. She didn’t seem to be crazy about it, but Colbert wanted her to help him organize things. The fact she was goodlooking probably factored into his decision.

She glanced over at Bruiser. “What do you think we ought to do?”

Bruiser threw a pair of shorts into his overnight bag. “Damned if I know. Right now, we really don’t know much about their plan other than having met a cast of characters.”

“My concern is we’re out of their clutches, so we can pull pitch if we want. I remain uneasy about this whole mess.”

Bruiser nodded. “My thoughts exactly. All we gotta do is go to the airport, get a ticket, and get the hell out of here. If we go back, we’re locked into whatever their plan is.”

Scott started to pace. “Yeah, but we’re probably losing the chance to find out exactly what their plans are, including the times. Everything Zack needs.”

“We know who the players are, and the fact they are leaving in the morning should be helpful. And right now, we’re in one piece. I kinda like it that way.”

“Yeah, but if we know more, we can give Zack the actual plan.

He can knock them out before they even get it off the ground.”

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“Damn it, I know that,” Bruiser cursed. “Those fuckers are desperate and dedicated to their plan. They want to take over our government.” Bruiser paused. “We can’t let them do that.”

He looked ready to give in. “Okay, what’s your idea? As if I didn’t know.”

Scott went over to the window and looked out in the darkness to the lights of Montreal below. “I think we gotta hang in there.

We’re the only ones who can do it.”

She continued packing and thinking. “All right. Here’s the plan.”

Bruiser leaned forward and pretended to write. “I’m listening with bated breath.”

“You stay here.”

“No, I don’t like it. I should go with you if you decide we need to go back.”

“Come on, Bruiser, I don’t need your protection. I’m a big girl.”

“I know you’re a big girl.” He laughed. “That’s one of the things I like about you.”

Scott giggled, which broke up a little of the tension.

“But,” he continued, “if you go to meet with them, what am I going to do?”

“Be ready to cover me. If I’m not back in an hour, you come down. I’ll leave my pistol with you. If things go bad, you can bust me out of there, save me, and we can hit the road.”

He nodded. “All right, I’ll be the safety plug.”

“On the other hand, if you come down and all is well, then we can go forward with them and be the inside track for Zack.”

He gave her a hug. “Be careful. Colbert has staked a lot on this plan and probably will go to great lengths to pull it off.”

She gave him a hug and a long kiss. “I think we’ve got it.”

He looked down at her. “Hey, let’s get serious. How about about a quickie before you go?”

She shook her head. “Bruiser, is sex all you ever think about?”

“Nope, sex with you is the key idea.”

She stepped back and started opening her shirt. “Well, a little preparation never hurts. Will get us tuned up to go.”

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Bruiser almost ripped off his shirt. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Scott laughed. “I’m not the one who asked.” *** On her way down the stairs, Scott found herself humming a song. Then it dawned on her. She’d forgotten to call Garcia.

Pulling out her phone, she pushed in Garcia’s number.

When she answered, Scott said, “I wanted to give you a quick update.” She summarized where they were and the basics of Colbert’s plan.

Before she finished, Garcia butted in. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. You’ve found the time they’re leaving and the numbers.

That will be a lot of help.”

“But–” “Seems to me going back into the lion’s den when we know what they are capable of doing is too dangerous.”

Scott stopped on the third floor, and leaned against the wall for a minute. “You make a good point. One that Bruiser made to me several times. He thinks we should declare victory and run like hell.”

“Smart man.”

“But if I hear their briefing, I’ll know exactly what they’re planning and when. If we miss something critical and they successfully blow up the White House or something like that, we’ll always wonder if we could have done more. I don’t want to be in that position.”

Scott paused and heard Garcia’s breathing.

“Just a minute,” Garcia said, “let me digest what you said.”

In a moment, she replied, “You make sense. I’ll call Zack and let him know. We’re just lucky you got Fairchild out alive. Now be careful when you go down there for the meeting.”

Scott chuckled. “I always am.”

146

28 Quarryville, PA, June 10 Gabrielle and Sergeant Bright dropped T.J. at the Lancaster airport and waited while he processed his helicopter, and his copilot arrived. It took about an hour to finish all the necessary processing for his trip back to Montoursville.

Bright drove south until they reached Highway 30, then turned onto the highway and headed for Quarryville.

“I think it’s best if we turn off on Strasburg Pike and take some backroads,” Bright said. “It isn’t the most direct route, but it will give you a comprehensive view of the area.”

“Okay,” Gabrielle said. “You’ve been here before and know what you’re looking for.”

When they reached the borough of Strasburg, instead of following the main road, Route 741 West, he turned onto Lime Road, a winding back road, then onto Walnut Run Road.

As Bright pulled out from the stop sign, he said, “We have three persons of interest along this route. Rumor has it these three volunteered to join the new group, the one they call the Patriots.”

“How are you tracking them?” Gabrielle asked.

“As best we can. That’s what I want to talk with you about. We don’t have enough personnel to do a credible job.”

Gabrielle thought about that for a moment. “Zack has arranged for a surveillance group from the FBI to target persons of interest around Williamsport. I can ask him if he can arrange for more.”

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“We believe these guys are involved. One of them, Ted Frances, was a military expert on explosives. The other two are involved, but I’m not sure how.”

“After I get a better feeling of how we might want to manage our resources, I’ll give Zack a call.”

As they drove along Walnut Run Road, Bright mentioned that Frances’ house was coming up. “Too obvious to stop, but I want you to see it.”

As they passed the house, Bright nodded.

Gabrielle saw a normal-looking ranch-style house and behind the house was a large outbuilding.

Once they passed it, Bright said, “You see the barn. We’ve been wondering how we can see what’s inside it. Could be some explosives he’s been storing.”

Gabrielle thought for a moment. “I can check with the FBI or maybe the CIA and see if we can get a drone to fly over the property. I don’t think we want to sneak up on it. Probably too dangerous. Also might tip them off.”

“Keep this one in mind. I’ll point out two other houses we’ve been watching because of who owns them.”

Bright pulled out on Route 222, the main road between Lancaster and Quarryville. In about ten minutes, Gabrielle saw the outskirts of Quarryville.

“Quarryville is an interesting town,” Bright said. “It was chartered as a borough in 1892, but its history goes back as far as 1775.”

“What led to the development of the town?” Gabrielle asked.

“Limestone was extracted from the area, and the settlement followed largely due to the development of the quarries.”

“Sounds like a working man’s kind of town,” Gabrielle said.

“Absolutely. I think many of the young people ended up in the military, which may have eventually led to the growth of the militia movement here.”

They pulled into town and up to a stop sign.

“Where are the borough offices?” Gabrielle asked. “Should we stop there?”

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“I know many of the staff at the office, and they’re great, but I don’t think we want to stop there yet.”

“Too much chance for gossip?”

Bright nodded. “I’ll go by the offices, but don’t think we should stop this time anyway.”

They passed the borough offices, then Bright drove up one block to Church Street and turned left. About four blocks out of town, he nodded toward a house. “This belongs to another one of our persons of interest.”

Six blocks later, he nodded toward another house. “That’s the other.”

“Okay, got it. Thanks for the tour.”

“Unless you have any more questions, let’s head back to the office and talk things out.”

Gabrielle nodded. “I need to make some calls.” *** Scott reached the door to Colbert’s office, took a deep breath, then pushed it open. Empty. Damn, what happened? Where did everyone go?

It dawned on her they might be in the small conference room off the next corridor. Probably needed room to spread out their papers and maybe take notes.

She turned and hurried back down the corridor to the conference room area, giving herself a small pep talk. Scott, get your mind in the game.

She reached the door to the conference room Colbert used and pushed it open. The entire team sat gathered around four tables with Colbert standing in the middle. All members seemed to be looking at her.

“Shot,” Colbert called, “You’re late. Take a seat. We don’t have much time.”

She pulled up a chair next to one of the other women and sat.

Colbert turned back toward the screen. “As I was saying, we’ll be leaving tomorrow morning for the United States.”

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He flashed another slide on the screen. It listed six cities and two to four names under each — Washington, D.C., New York, Philadelphia, Detroit, Dallas, and Los Angeles.

Colbert looked around at the team. “You have been brought in because of your skills in either news reporting or Facebook marketing. We already have hackers in place in each of these cities ready to go.”

Scott marveled at the strategy. So simple, yet it appeared to be effective.

“Once this starts, the hackers will cloud the current systems.

You are responsible for replacing the lost communications with the material we have provided to you.”

Scott knew she had to get out of there to alert Zack. If the key to the start is some sort of explosion, and they control the news and social media, they would have much of the population eating out of the palm of their hand.

Colbert ran his gaze over each person. Scott almost felt the chill when his gaze swept past her. “You have been given this assignment because of your background and skills. If anyone has a problem, now is the time to tell me.”

No one moved. Colbert controlled the room.

Scott tried to figure an easy way to get out.

“Any questions?” Colbert asked. “Last chance.”

This was her chance. “You don’t have my name up on the chart, nor do you have Bruiser’s name. Does that mean I need to get my own tickets?”

“No, that won’t be necessary.”

Scott couldn’t quite figure out how it would work, which made her uneasy. “How will we be able to help? Bruiser is knowledgeable about D.C., and that’s where we should be.”

Colbert nodded toward the man by the door. “My concern is that while your friend was an active member of the militia in Washington, there is no record of you.”

Oh, crap, she thought, work your way out of this now. “Look, we went through this once before. You contacted some rummy who didn’t know our system.”

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“No.” Colbert smiled at her. “The problem for you is that this contact knew too much. He knew your friend was in the gang, but got all tied up with a homicide detective from one of the suburbs, a Pamela Scott.”

Scott turned to see the man standing behind her, a gun in his hand.

Busted. Now what to do? They had her.

Colbert continue to smile. “Please don’t insult my intelligence.

We’ll be taking you with us, not as an operative but a hostage.

Negotiating material in case we have a problem. So this is your chance to wear handcuffs like you always are putting on other people.”

Scott looked up, fresh out of stories.

She heard the deep voice behind her. “Stand up and let’s go.

Don’t make this any worse than it is. If you don’t fight back, we can do this the easy way. But if you fight us, it will go very poorly for you. Choice is yours.”

Scott figured the choice was pretty straightforward. Go with them until she found a way to beat it.

She stood, turned around, and held out her hands for the cuffs he held.

He clasped them on and led her out of the room.

As she walked out, head high, she thought, Bruiser, get down here. Hurry. *** Zack paced around the small conference room that served as his office. He needed more information–just as he did when he faced a group that had stolen a loaded Predator drone from the Pentagon in order to assassinate the president.

What was he dealing with here? Would his plan work? Was he on top of it?

He glanced over at Sergeant Foster. “You and Sergeant Bright need to coordinate with T.J., who’s our bomb explosives guy. I’ve asked him to list the possibilities and prioritize them by ease of usage and effectiveness. We need to figure all the angles.”

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“Will do, Colonel Kelly. Anything else?

“What are you hearing the militia groups will use and where?”

“So far, we’ve heard a lot about what McVeigh used in the Oklahoma City bombing. Which was incredibly successful and is pretty easy to obtain, particularly here in farm country.”

“What exactly are you talking about?” Zack asked.

Foster picked up a piece of paper. “McVeigh’s background as a soldier helped him construct a bomb containing more than 5,000 pounds of ammonium nitrate fertilizer. He mixed it with about 1,200 pounds of liquid nitromethane and 350 pounds of Tovex, a combined weight of almost 7,000 pounds.”

Zack thought about that. “How were they going to buy and store all of that material, then move it to the site when they needed to?”

“McVeigh and his partner removed the supplies from their storage unit and nailed boards onto the floor of the truck to hold the thirteen barrels in place. They mixed the chemicals using plastic buckets and a bathroom scale. Each barrel, full, weighed nearly 500 pounds.”

Zack tried to visualize all that. “What these guys did required a lot of advance planning and time. If our suspects in the Patriots are planning to implement something in the next few days, I would think they’d have to have their actions underway by now.”

Foster nodded. “We’ve been checking with all the suppliers in a three-state area and can find no indication of anyone building up a cache like that or even anywhere close.”

“Good. Keep it up. Be sure and talk your ideas through with T.J.” Zack’s phone range. He saw it was from Garcia.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“We may have lost Scott. Bruiser came to me a little while ago. She’s disappeared.”

“What about Colbert. Have we rung him out yet?”

“Just got back from seeing him. He says he hasn’t seen Scott all day.”

“Do you believe him?”

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“Hell no. She was hoping to get more details for us. I’m afraid she might have gone to the well one too many times.”

“What does Bruiser say?”

“They debated just hitting the road, but Scott wanted to try one more time.”

“Sounds like Scott. What about your contact?”

“I checked with her. She hasn’t seen anything unusual since yesterday.”

“Don’t like the sound of this.”

“Me neither.”

“Keep on it. We’ve got to find her.”

“That’s the priority for Hendricks, Wright, and myself. I think once Colbert and his team have left, I’m just treading water. What would you like me to do?”

“Let me think about that. I want to talk to the Admiral Steele.

Things should be breaking around here, and I suspect we’ll make good use of your skills. Maybe in Washington D.C., since you know the area.”

“Let me know.”

“In the meantime, find Scott. We can’t leave her behind.”

153

29 Montreal, Quebec, June 10 Bruiser stood in the lobby, stewing. He had talked to Garcia.

She checked again with Manon a second time. No results.

Nobody knew anything, and he didn’t believe it for one minute.

He wasn’t going to leave Scott here. No fucking way. Step one: Talk to Manon.

He stomped over to her office and pushed the door open.

She was talking on the phone. Fuck that. He reached across the desk, took the phone from her hand, and pulled the plug out of the wall.

She looked up at him, wide-eyed. “What…? What are you doing?”

“I want my friend, and I want her now. If I don’t get her, I’m going to start shooting.” He pulled the gun out of his pocket and pointed it at her forehead. “Now talk.”

Eyes wide, hands shaking, she yelled. “You must believe me.

I don’t know where she is.”

He reached over, grabbed her arm, and pulled her around the desk, kicking and screaming. He slammed her in a chair and pointed the gun at her forehead. “Where? Who?” Voice shaking, she managed to stammer, “Colbert. Has to be Colbert. Has to be him.”

“That’s what I fucking thought.”

Pulling her up, he pointed her toward the door. “We’re going to go visiting. Go see the bastard. You lead. If I don’t like it, I’ll shoot. Don’t think I won’t.”

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She stumbled to the door, pulled it open, and stepped out into the hallway.

“Make a sound, so much as a peep, you’re dead. I’m tired of fucking around with you assholes.”

Grinding the gun into her back, he pushed her ahead. “Take me to Colbert. Now. No messing around.”

Together they stumbled down the hallway, Manon leading.

It took only five minutes until they reached the conference room area.

Bruiser ground the gun further into her back. “Which door?”

She whimpered, “I don’t know.”

“You damn well better find him or you’re dead.”

“Maybe this way.”

They stumbled down the hallway to the third door on the left. She pointed at it.

Bruiser kicked it open, knocking it partially from its hinges.

Slammed her first into the room. Colbert stood next a stack of suitcases talking to two other men, They all looked up.

“See here,” Colbert yelled, “you can’t come in here.”

Bruiser threw Manon to the floor and kicked the door shut.

“Bullshit, I can’t. You crossed the line when you took Shot. Now let me have her, or you’re dead.”

“She’s not here.”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know.”

Bruiser fired a shot, missing Colbert by inches. “Next one is in your foot, then I’ll work up until you’re dead. And don’t think I won’t.”

Colbert started to shake. “You’re nuts.”

“You’re right. Now tell me where she is, or I’ll shoot.”

Colbert glanced at Jacques, eyes wide.

“Now.” Colbert shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Bruiser fired again, hitting Colbert in the right foot.

He screamed and fell to the floor.

Jacques held up his hand. “Wait, merci.”

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“I ain’t waiting for nothing. I want her now. You’re next.”

“Okay.” Jacques walked over to a door behind the stage and tried to pull it open. “Locked.”

Bruiser moved toward the door, keeping his eyes on Jacques and Colbert squirming on the floor. He shot the lock on the door and kicked it open. Looking in, he saw Scott tied to a post.

He turned to Manon. “Untie her now. If you take more than one minute you’re dead.”

Manon hurried over to Scott, hands shaking, and untied her.

Scott ran over to Bruiser, and he swept her in a hug with his left arm, keeping his eyes on the rest of the group.

She looked up at Bruiser. “Thank you. I owe you.”

Bruiser kept his eyes on the others. “I know. Couldn’t leave my best bud in this hell hole.”

Scott went over and knelt next to Colbert, taking his shoe off.

She turned to Manon, “Give me your shirt.”

Manon jumped back. “My shirt?”

“Now! I need to stop the bleeding until we can get him to a doctor.”

Manon ripped off her shirt, displaying a small, colorful bra, and handed it to Scott. She began to wrap Colbert’s foot.

Bruiser glanced over at Jacques. “Why the fuck did you lock her in that room?”

“We found out she’s a police officer in the D.C. area and you are no longer with the militia.”

Bruiser thought for a moment. Saw a possible opening. “You dumb fucks. Did you ever think of talking to us?”

Colbert continued to cry on the floor. Jacques looked at Bruiser and shrugged.

“I left the militia as vice president when I met Pam. She’s a cop. Big fucking deal. You automatically thought that’s bad. We are frustrated with our government, saw a chance to improve it, came here to help, and you messed it up.”

Bruiser glanced down at Scott trying to help Colbert. She smiled up at him and gave him a thumbs-up.

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Jacques shook his head. “Oui. We made a mistake. Are you still willing to help us? I have much to do. Could use help. Merci.”

Bruiser glanced down at Scott. “I don’t know. I need to talk with Pam. How am I going to ever trust you again? You were probably going to kill her. You’re lucky because then I would have killed you.”

“I’ve learned my lesson,” Jacques said. “I don’t know about Colbert.”

“We need to call for an ambulance,” Scott said.

“What can we tell them?” Jacques asked.

Scott looked up at the two of them. “I’ve got it. Colbert was showing us his new gun and it went off by accident. If we all claim the same thing, there shouldn’t be any problem. If there is, we’ll be gone by the time they start to get too nosy.”

Jacques laughed. “Oui. You’ve done this before.”

Bruiser nodded. “You bet your ass.”

Scott whispered to Bruiser. “I almost did.”

Bruiser smiled and gave her a hug. *** Zack waited to hear from Foster and Bright on what they had learned. He hated to wait. His cell rang.

He picked it up. “Kelly.”

“Skip Pierson. I’m calling to let you know I’d like to drop by to talk with you. I think it’s important.”

“I’m at the State Police barracks in Montoursville, just east of Williamsport. Do you know where that is?”

“Sure. I can find it. Give me a few hours to get there. I’ll call when I’m getting close. Should be about four hours.”

“What’s up?” Zack asked.

“I’m hearing rumors that the guy we talked about has headed out of town for a big meet-up. Probably will delay things.”

“Any idea where?”

“No, sorry, but I’ve got some other details I’d like to discuss in person rather than over the phone.”

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“Okay. Give me a call when you get close. Do you mind if I add a couple of State Police officers to our meeting?”

Silence for a moment. “Let me think about that.”

“Got it. See you in a few hours. Thanks for calling, Skip. I look forward to seeing you.”

As he hung up, Zack wondered if he had made a mistake.

Could he trust Skip? Was he getting set up?

Well, no time for that now. Time was too important and he had to assume Skip was on the up and up until he found out differently. Picking up the phone, he buzzed Foster.

When she answered, he said, “I have a contact coming in to talk with me in a couple of hours. I’d like you to be involved if he agrees.”

“If it’s part of what we’re working on, I need to be there.”

“Okay, come in. I don’t want to discuss this on the phone.

And hurry, we need to brainstorm this out.”

“Be right there.”

158

30 Washington National Airport, Arlington, VA, June 10 Scott followed Jacques off the plane, Bruiser right behind her.

She smiled when she thought of his edict. He wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. Period. It gave her a good feeling.

She wasn’t sure exactly what was happening but knew she and Bruiser were in the middle of the action. Jacques told her he knew where to get more information.

They’d managed to get out of Montreal and onto a plane.

Colbert admitted to the police officer he had accidentally shot himself in the foot playing with a gun they had found in one of the rooms of the hotel.

The detective who investigated the shooting seemed skeptical, but he couldn’t figure any way to prevent them from leaving. By the time he found out the gun was registered to Scott, they’d be in D.C. She hoped she could explain it all later. The only problem was she felt naked without her trusty pistol.

She hadn’t been able to pick up her bags, so her clothes probably smelled. But she couldn’t change any of that now and so couldn’t worry about it.

As soon as Jacques picked up his bags, the three of them walked outside and waited in line for a cab.

Jacques asked the driver to take them to the Willard Intercontinental Hotel in downtown Washington and off they went.

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Scott’s eyes widened when she heard Jacques direct the cabbie to the Willard Hotel. From what she remembered, the Willard was elegance at its best.

“Are you sure you meant the Willard?” she whispered to Jacques. “That is a super pricey hotel.”

He turned to her and smiled. “Oui, there are going to be, how you say it, perks to what we do. We need to establish a front we will be able to negotiate from. I will ask them to send the bill to the French Embassy.”

She leaned back and poked Bruiser in the ribs. “Did you hear that? We’ll be traveling in style like we always should have been able to do.”

He whispered back, “’Bout fucking time.”

She had always tried to plan, but with what was happening, she found it impossible. Just go with it—all she could do.

The one thing to catch her attention was his comment about the French Embassy picking up the tab. Was the government involved? She had to get the information to Garcia if they were. *** The driver pulled up in front of the hotel. Scott looked out the window and saw a covered walkway that led up a set of stairs to the front door.

A doorman hurried down the steps and opened the back door of the cab for them. He seemed to wrinkle up his nose when he looked inside. He probably smelled them.

The doorman smiled and said, “Welcome to the Willard Hotel. We hope you will all enjoy your stay.”

Jacques was next to the door, so he got out first, then Bruiser.

The doorman retreated as Bruiser stepped out of the cab.

The doorman started to reach in for Scott when Bruiser bumped him out of the way and reached in to pull her out.

She gave him her hand and almost got lifted out, giving him a peck on the cheek as she stood. “Thank you, my knight in shining armor.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

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She realized Bruiser could only put up so long with being a knight in shining armor.

The doorman led them up the stairs and opened the door.

When she stepped inside, she couldn’t believe the grandeur of the hotel: long drapes with sheers, a fountain bubbling in the center of the lobby, and a welcome desk that looked like it was made of gold.

She glanced at Bruiser, who must have read her mind, and looked back. He wiggled his eyebrows, then got back in character and stood by quietly.

The desk clerk welcomed Jacques to the hotel in French, impressing Scott about his knowledge. Then she remembered Jacques had told them the French embassy was paying for their room.

She heard the attendant say their suite was ready. The clerk hit a bell with her hand, and a bellboy appeared as if by magic. The clerk handed a key to the bellboy, and he gathered up Jacques’ suitcases and motioned them toward an elevator The elevator looked as if it were lined with gold and ran as silent as the night.

When they reached the third floor, the bellboy led them down the hallway, the thick carpet muting their steps.

Wow, she thought, examining the paintings hanging on the walls, the rich really do live in another world. Maybe there was something to this revolution idea. Although it should be accomplished peacefully by voting, not blowing up buildings and killing people.

When they reached the door of their room she saw a sign and realized this was a suite of rooms. The French Embassy did it up well. So it looked as if they had separate rooms, which would help them stay undercover.

The bellboy led them into their room. Jacques tipped him and he left.

Scott continued to be frustrated she hadn’t been able to contact Garcia to let her know what had happened. By now, she was probably frantic about their safety, but that couldn’t be helped. Scott would fix it as soon as she could.

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She had to maintain her identity and couldn’t risk a phone call where Jacques could listen in. In spite of his courtesy and manners, underneath he had shown himself tough and even mean so she didn’t want to challenge him.

Scott checked out the room. Absolute luxury. A finely carved wooden desk under the beautiful crimson drapes. She looked in the corner of the room and saw two men sitting in overstuffed chairs, both masked and both holding guns.

Her first impulse was to duck and hit the floor. Then she realized she couldn’t do that. She thought about backing out of the room but knew she had to stay. “What the fu–” Fortunately, Bruiser took charge. He glanced at the men and whispered, “Okay, what the fuck is this? You guys better be on our side or I’m going to kick your asses for sitting there like a big fucking deal with masks and guns.”

One of the men glared at him. “Just sit down, big boy, and shut up. I’m in charge of this operation. I’ll give the orders.”

Bruiser glanced at Jacques. “Who is this dipshit? Are you going to take him pushing us around?”

Jacques shook his head. “Oui. He’s my contact here in Washington. We must pay attention to what he has to say.”

Bruiser glanced back at the two men. “All right. I don’t like it, but I don’t have much of a choice.” He walked over to a table and pulled out a chair. “Now dipweed, what have you got to tell us?”

As he sat, Bruiser pulled out a second chair and swung it at the two men, knocking them both off balance and onto the floor.

He jumped toward them and hit the one, grabbing his gun while reaching for the other.

The other man with the gun yelled, “Stop, or I’ll shoot the woman.”

Bruiser stopped and let his arm with the gun drop to his side.

“All right, what is this all about?”

“Like Jacques said, I’m in charge, and I want to make sure I know all of the members of my team. I can’t afford any screwups.” He smiled. “Now be a good boy and give my partner back his gun. Now.”

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Bruiser reached over with the gun and passed it to the man on the floor who was shaking his head, still stunned.

“What’s your name?” Bruiser asked the man with the gun. “I like to know who I’m working with.”

“You can call me Alpha.”

It was Bruiser’s turn to smile. “And I’ll bet that’s Bravo.”

Alpha nodded. “You learn fast. Now, who are you?”

“You can call me Charlie, and my girlfriend is Delta. Or if that’s too tough to remember, I’m Bruiser, and this is Pam. Now what’s the deal? When are we getting the show on the road?”

“That’s classified until I know I can trust you.”

“We’ve been working with Jacques for a couple of days, and so far, things have gone well.”

Alpha glanced at Jacques, who nodded and said, “They’re okay.”

Alpha thought about that for a moment. “If that’s the case, have you got the rest of your team in place?”

Jacques nodded. “The entire team left Montreal this morning and all should be in the six cities by tonight. Some have longer flights. What are you waiting for?”

“We need to finish getting the explosives together and moving them to the sites. That should be finished by noon the day after tomorrow. We may need one extra day, but I should know that by tonight.”

Scott couldn’t help it, but she glanced at Bruiser. She had to get in touch with Garcia. Zack had no idea of the timeline these creeps were on.

Bravo spoke up. “We should be able to hit them completely unaware. I’ll be meeting with their team chief later today in Montoursville. He thinks I’m on his side.”

Scott had to ask, “Do you know who the team chief is?”

Bravo laughed. “A fucking colonel, an Airborne Ranger and all that shit who thinks he a big deal. He has no idea of the problems his hot-shot government has caused for all the little people we care about. Thinks I’m on his side and will give him the hot poop. Will he be surprised.”

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Scott took a deep breath to cover her surprise. “Well it’s about time we strike back. I hope we can do it without too many casualties.”

“Are you kidding me?” Alpha said. “Gotta hit these encased bureaucrats with one hell of a stick. Then maybe they’ll listen.”

Bruiser stepped into the conversation. “What do we need to do to keep things moving?”

Alpha leaned forward. “Nothing for now until we get all of our operatives in place. The hackers are ready and we’ve got the explosives.”

Bruiser seemed to ponder for a moment, then he said, “Maybe we can float around D.C. and buy some final gifts before the place explodes.”

“No fucking way. We lay low. Can’t afford to have anyone caught before we’re ready or —” Alpha gave them a harsh look “— you know, have anyone spill the beans.”

“What does that mean?” Bruiser said. “Don’t you trust us?”

Alpha kept his gun pointed at Bruiser. “I don’t trust anyone but my own mother, and I’d never turn my back on her.”

Bravo stood. “I need to get the hell out of town and head up to Pennsylvania to meet with the big man.”

Alpha stood. “I’m headed out also. Need to finish some lastminute details with my uncle. Then we should be ready.”

He looked directly at Bruiser. “Now, no one leaves the room until I say it’s okay. I’ve got one of my men outside in case any of you get any ideas. He’s got orders to shoot first and ask questions later.”

With that, the two men started toward the door. “Even though I believe you guys are on the team, don’t get any stupid ideas. This is too big to let anyone screw it up.”

When he reached the door and opened it, he turned back.

“Now remember, if you try to leave the room, my man will shoot. I’ll be back in a few hours after I brief my uncle. Then we’ll discuss it further.”

Scott was about to ask what they were supposed to do all that time, but she figured she’d just keep her mouth shut.

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When Alpha reached the door, he turned back to them.

“We’re close, so for now, sit back and relax.”

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31 Montreal Hospital, Quebec, June 11 Garcia hurried down the hallway toward the rooms. She flashed her ID to the police officer standing in front of Colbert’s door and pushed it open.

Colbert lay in his hospital bed, his leg above the bed in a sling. He looked up at Garcia. “What the hell are you doing here?

I don’t want to talk with you, you damn turncoat.”

“Oh, my,” Garcia replied, “such language and from a smoothtalking Frenchman. I can’t believe it.”

“Shut up and get out of my room. I got nothing to say to you or any of your friends, whoever they may be.”

Garcia smiled sweetly. “Wait. I thought we could be friends.

You know, work together to improve French-American relations that you keep hyping.”

Colbert glared at her, then turned to look out the window.

“Get out.”

“I brought a good friend of mine to visit you. She really insisted on dropping in and saying hello.”

Colbert looked up, his gaze shooting around the room, trying to figure out what Garcia was up to.

Garcia walked over and opened the door. Fairchild entered, dressed in a robe over her gown with slippers on her feet.

Fairchild smiled at him. “Hello, André. I knew you’d want to see me and say hello. It seems we have some unfinished business since you drugged my glass of wine. Don’t you remember?”

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Colbert lurched back in the bed and launched into a stream of French, ending in “You bitch, you can’t prove a thing.”

Fairchild’s gaze was cold and hard. “Oh, but we can. It seems Manon will tell a court what you did and you’ll be headed to jail for a good long time. So I hope you learned how to take a shower with those big guys without having to bend over to pick up the soap.”

His eyes softened and looked as if he might break into tears.

“You wouldn’t do that. I trusted you and you tried to steal my documents.”

Garcia sat down in the chair next to his bed. “Are those the documents you planned to use to blow up government buildings in the United States? Then have your French chums step in and help establish a new government?”

Colbert glared at her. Said nothing.

“You know like the French helped the Americans during the Revolutionary War?” Garcia continued.

“We weren’t planning to do all of that,” Colbert cried out.

“Only trying to help the militias establish a minority government.”

Garcia wanted to reach over and strangle him. “You’re going to jail, Colbert. How long and where will be determined by how much you help us.”

His voice began to shake. “What do you want?”

Garcia pointed her finger at his face. “All of the information you have. Everything in your safe and in your head. Remember, if you hold out on us, you’ll be spending lots of time in those showers with the big guys who love little creeps like you. And we’ll be sure to tell them what a creep you are.”

Colbert looked down at his hands, then up at Garcia. “What specifically do you want to know?”

“For starters, I want the combination to your safe and the key to your desk. Do you have any lock boxes in banks? I want the list of those and your authorization to open them.”

Colbert watched her, his face void of any expression.

“Next, I want you to list all of the people you’ve been working with, where they’re from, and their proposed jobs.”

Colbert started speaking French at her again.

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“I don’t know what those words are all about, but it better mean you’ll give me everything I want.”

“They’ll kill me.”

“Well, I can’t say I’d miss you, but we should be able to provide security and a new identification if you cooperate. So, start writing and hurry up. Time is of the essence. I’ll be back shortly, and the information better be complete.”

Garcia and Fairchild stepped out of the room.

“I thought that went well,” Garcia said. “I’m surprised Manon agreed to cooperate.”

Fairchild looked around, then whispered, “I guess my facts aren’t exactly accurate. I may have built them up a little.”

Garcia chuckled. “What do you know? A person after my own heart. By the way, how are you feeling? I’ll probably head back to Washington in a few hours and wondered if you could keep an eye on things here.”

Fairchild got a big smile on her face. “It would be a pleasure to keep an eye on Colbert. Would that also include Manon? I understand she wants to stay here rather than go with the teams to the States.”

“Absolutely. I think Manon has recognized the error of her ways, and you may be able to turn her so she can be an asset.”

“Wonderful. I’m sick and tired of sitting around and having everyone feel sorry for me. Delighted to get back to work.”

“You’re on,” Garcia replied. “First thing is to sort out whatever you can get from Colbert, then see if you can turn Manon. She certainly has been involved with these guys.”

“Go in peace and I’ll get busy,” Fairchild said. “I’ll start by going into Colbert’s room and letting him know the good news he’ll have me as a buddy.”

Garcia walked down the corridor. At the corner, she turned back and waved, a big smile on her face. ***

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Zack sat in his tiny office conference room at the State Police barracks, musing about his upcoming meeting with Pierson. He wondered why Pierson all of a sudden wanted to talk with him again. Too much of a coincidence? Well, he’d just have to wait and see.

He picked up his cell and called Agent Harper. When Harper answered he asked, “How are we doing with the surveillance network?”

“Approved and working. Thanks for the plug from Admiral Steele. We’ve got a carefully picked team of agents. They know about the security issues and are here on site. What’s up?”

Zack told him about his upcoming meeting with Skip Pierson.

“I knew Pierson overseas. He gave me the lead about this Alpha guy. Now he wants to meet again. Not sure if I can trust it.”

“What time is your meeting?” Harper asked.

“He’s on his way. Said it would probably be in a few hours, but he will call when he’s close.”

“You’re still at the State Police barracks in Montoursville?”

“Yep. We have to be careful, so we don’t spook Pierson. He may be on the level.”

“Don’t worry. These guys are specially trained. I call them ghosts. Let me know exactly when he is supposed to arrive and what he looks like. Be sure to take the guy into a closed room where he can’t look out a window.

“Will do. Thanks, Harper. I feel better.”

“No problem. We’re the FBI. We aim to please. *** True to his word, Skip Pierson called about three and onehalf hours later and told Zack he’d arrive in about twenty minutes.

Zack called Harper and gave him the alert.

Zack walked to the front door of the police barracks and looked out, wondering if he could spot any of the surveillance team.

Cherry Street was a typical neighborhood of moderately priced homes, many of which had been built in the last thirty 169

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years. Not a lot of traffic. That would probably change when people came home from work. Could be tough to hide the surveillance team.

He didn’t see a thing out of the ordinary and guessed that was the way it was supposed to be.

Five minutes later, Zack saw a red Toyota RAV4 pull into the parking lot and stop. Pierson stepped out of the vehicle and headed toward the front door, glancing around as he walked.

Zack waited a moment then opened the door and stepped out. “Hey, Skip, nice to see you. I wasn’t sure if we were going to get together again or not.”

Skip extended his hand. “I got to thinking about what you said, Zack, and figured I should help out where I can.”

Zack nodded and smiled. “Good to hear, Skip. I appreciate it.”

“You know, I was really pissed about that last tour in Afghanistan. But in thinking about it, I still love my country and don’t want to see a bunch of wild men try to take it over.”

Zack took his hand and shook it. “I agree our country isn’t perfect, but it’s way ahead of what’s in second place. Come in, and let’s talk.”

When they reached the conference room, Zack turned and asked, “Do you mind if I invite Sergeant Foster to our meeting.

She works in the criminal investigation office.”

Pierson paused for a moment. “Well, I guess it would be okay.

I don’t want any of what I tell you to get around. It could cost me big with the other members of the militia if it does.”

“I understand and so does Sergeant Foster.”

When they reached the conference room, Zack introduced Foster.

Foster shook hands. “How about coffee and a bagel?”

Pierson laughed. “Never turn down a cup of coffee and something to munch on. Been a while since I ate.”

Zack figured he should move right to the subject. “Now, Skip, what brings you here?”

Pierson leaned forward. “I’ve been hearing rumors.”

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“About ... ?” Zack asked.

“About the militia plans. I understand they’ve been coordinating with French operatives from Quebec. You know how coordination between different countries works and if I’m hearing things correctly, it has really slowed things down.”

When Zack heard that, he began to discount Skip and all he had meant when they had worked together. The guy might be telling the truth, but everything he’d heard from other sources was the operation was a go and soon.

He glanced at Foster shaking his head for her to be quiet.

“Good news,” Zack responded. “If what you say is correct, it gives us more time. Do you have any idea when it might come off?”

Pierson shook his head. “I suspect it could be another five or ten days. I’ll stay tuned in and let you know what I find out.”

“Do you have any idea where they might be setting up and working?” Zack asked. “My meeting with Alpha was about fortyfive minutes from Wellsboro. I kinda thought it might be around here.”

Pierson stopped and thought for a moment. “I have no idea why that would be the case.”

“We had heard about meetings around Quarryville earlier this year. That might be a site where they’re putting all of this together. What do you think of that?”

His eyes widened. “Don’t know of anything special around Quarryville, but I’ll keep my ears open.”

Zack hoped he hadn’t screwed up, but he had to move on.

Pierson stood. “Thanks for the coffee and bagel. Hit the spot. I’d better get moving. I’ll let you know what I find out. Is Quarryville where you think the attack may be?”

Zack figured he’d better be careful here. “Not sure, Skip.

Depends on what else I can find out. But I’ll let you know. You can always reach me on my cell.”

Zack led Pierson out of the conference room they had been using and down the hallway. He opened the front door, and Skip waved on his way down the sidewalk.

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Zack glanced around, but nothing unusual showed. He saw only a phone company truck with a guy working on some wires.

He watched Pierson glance around, appearing to search the area before getting into his car. Skip, you prick, Zack thought.

You’ve gone over to the other side.

Once Pierson was in his car, he picked up his cell and talked to someone for a few minutes. Then he looked around again, before pulling out into the street.

As Skip left, Zack watched to see if any other cars moved.

None did. These surveillance guys were good.

He’d be interested in where Skip ended up. If he was working with the militia, he should be headed to where the others hung out. This could be a big break for the team.

Zack walked back into the office, trying to determine his next move. The first step was to call Harper.

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32 Montoursville, Pa, June 11 FBI Senior Agent Strong sat in the unmarked Toyota on Broad Street in midtown Montoursville listening to his radio.

He had set up the telephone truck in front of the State Police barracks on Cherry Street to monitor the initial direction the subject would take.

Agent Harper had told him Kelly would get Pierson away from the front window so the agent could plant a tracker on the RAV4 while the suspect was in the meeting.

He watched the computer screen, and indeed, the tracker was in place on the back of the vehicle and seemed to be working perfectly.

Strong spoke into the microphone. “Suspect is in his vehicle and moving east on Cherry Street, then turning right on Walnut.”

That surprised Strong as he expected the suspect to turn left onto Walnut as Broad was the main street through Montoursville.

As planned, the agent on the motorcycle traveled down Walnut following two blocks back.

“Suspect turning left after two blocks then left again.”

Strong smiled. Guy was probably checking for trackers.

Sure enough, five minutes later, the RAV4 was on Broad Street heading west.

“Bet he’s headed to the interstate,” Agent Bush in the other Toyota said.

Strong watched the screen. “Okay, let’s go.”

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They drove slowly down Broad Street two blocks behind the other Toyota which was a block behind the RAV4.

Three blocks later, the RAV4 turned left onto Interstate 180.

Strong spoke into the mic. “Looks like he’ll be headed either north on Route 15 or maybe south into Williamsport. We’ll hang back. You take the lead in following him.”

“Wilco,” Agent Bush said. “He’s headed north on Route 15.”

“Roger,” Strong replied.

He changed frequencies and brought in Agent Harper. “We’re following the subject who is headed north on Route 15. Tracker is working perfectly. Just like in school.”

Harper laughed. “I’m glad you were an honor grad at surveillance school. Keep me in the loop.”

Strong disconnected in time for a call from Colonel Kelly.

“Hey, Colonel, things are moving along. The subject is driving north on Route 15.”

“I’m a little surprised,” Zack replied. “I figured he’d turn south into the Williamsport area rather than north on Route 15. What is it, about one hundred miles to the border with Canada?”

“Not sure, but I’ve learned you can never tell. These guys have been in hiding and want it to stay that way.”

“Agree.”

“Our agent was able to put the tracker on the inside of his back bumper while you were talking. Right now, I’m running third. He did a couple of evasive turns, but we had enough vehicles plus the tracker, so we’re okay.”

“Where is he now?’

“Our tracker shows he just passed the Trout Run turnoff on Route 15 and is headed toward Buttonwood. Staying well within the speed limits. Probably doesn’t want any visits from the highway patrol.”

“Who knows what he’s got inside the trunk of that vehicle.

Let me know when he turns off.”

“Will do.”

The subject had just passed the Buttonwood exit, and Strong was about to enter the information in the log when he heard from the front car, “He’s got his turn signal on.”

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Strong looked down at a map and had to smile at the name of the town north of Buttonwood. He called Harper. “We’ve been on Route 15 thirty-seven minutes heading north. He just flipped on his turn signal headed into the town of Liberty.”

“Liberty?” Harper exclaimed. “Well, I’ll be damned. Guess the guy is trying to make a point.”

“I’m going to have the Toyota keep going and put the motorcycle first behind him. He hasn’t seen him yet, and in a small rural town, a motorcycle shouldn’t be that big a deal.”

“Keep me in the loop. I’ll call Kelly.”

“Okay, I’m going to try and figure out what happens in Liberty.”

He pulled the town up on the web and found Liberty was a small borough in Tioga County, Pennsylvania. He had to smile when he saw the population was 249 at the 2010 census. Guess that is what you call a small town. *** When Alpha stepped into the hallway, Scott heard the door lock, then she turned to Jacques. Scott and Bruiser needed to get out of there to warn Garcia and Kelly, but they also needed to protect their identity with Jacques. They couldn’t let him hear their conversation.

“Well, how do you like that?” she asked. “Just left us high and dry, with nothing to do.”

Jacques shrugged his shoulders. “Doesn’t sound like he’ll be gone too long. I wouldn’t mind a little downtime. Been a long few days, and we still have time to go. Need to be alert. How about you?”

She glanced at Bruiser, who nodded. “Sounds pretty good.

What say we take the big bedroom and you can have the other one?”

Jacques nodded. “Oui. I’m too tight to sleep, but I wouldn’t mind a chance to rest a little. Let me know if anything happens.”

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Scott got up and looked out the window. “No problem. I don’t think I can sleep either, but a little rest time before the shit hits the fan would be nice.”

Jacques glanced over at her, a puzzled look on his face. “What is this shit and fan?”

Scott had to laugh. “It’s just a saying we Americans have which means before things get busy.”

Jacques smiled at her. “Merci.”

He walked into the other room and shut the door.

Scott glanced around trying to sort out an alternative. “We need to figure a way past that guard and get out of here for a few minutes so we can make some calls without worrying about Jacques or Alpha.”

“I got just the idea.” Bruiser said. He picked up the phone and hit zero. When the desk clerk answered, he cried. “We’ve got a fire from our stove in the kitchen, and it’s spreading like mad.

Oh, God, please help us. I think it’s grease.”

“Sir, stay calm. Get out of the room and hurry down the stairs. Don’t run, and do not take the elevator.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you,” Bruiser screamed, “I’m afraid I really messed up, and it’s spreading. We need help.”

“Get out of your room. Help is on the way.”

They heard a siren in the hallway, loud and constant. Suddenly, people ran into the hallway, screaming, and more footsteps ran.

Bruiser pulled the door open a crack and peeked. “I see the guy Alpha had mentioned standing across the hall looking up and down the corridor. People are running in a panic past him.”

Bruiser ducked down, and using a large man hurrying down the hall as a shield, he worked his way across the hallway and hit the guard in the belly, doubling him over.

A woman in a bathrobe running past the two of them stopped. “What did you do that for?”

Bruiser looked past the woman. “I’m afraid he must have gone into a full panic attack. He tried to stop a bunch of us from leaving. The police will have to take care of him.”

“Yes,” she yelled from down the hall. “We gotta get out of here fast. Don’t stop for nothing.”

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“You bet,” Bruiser called. He held on to the man as he dropped to the floor. He reached inside the man’s jacket pocket and grabbed his gun.

“Good job,” Scott called from behind him. “Let’s get out of here before Alpha or another of his buddies come back.”

“Right behind you,” Bruiser said.

She headed for the stairs as they had been told. No elevators in a fire. She reached the lobby to see absolute panic and bedlam.

Firemen were running in the front door. Two police officers were standing on the front stairs directing people. Hotel staff were moving people out the front doors.

“Let’s get outside in case Alpha is still here,” she called and ran for the door.

When she reached the sidewalk, she looked up and down the street and spotted a cafe. “Come on. I think I see a place to call from and also to get something to eat.”

“Perfect,” Bruiser called. “I’m starved.”

Scott knew that was always the situation with Bruiser. She turned and, watching for Alpha, hurried past the crowds in front of the hotel down the sidewalk toward the restaurant.

Another fire engine pulled up. Firemen spilled out of the vehicle.

Scott covered her ears with her hands. “Damn sirens are so loud it hurts my ears, but it got the job done.”

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33 Liberty, PA, June 11 When the RAV4 turned off Route 15 at the Liberty exit, Strong radioed the lead Toyota to keep heading north, turn off at the next exit, move on the south ramp to Route 15, and then wait for further instructions.

Strong knew it would be too obvious to have the Toyota follow the target off the ramp at the exit. That vehicle had to be ready for any next steps.

Strong keyed the mic. “After you get off at the Liberty exit, Agent Allen, slow down and keep your distance with the motorcycle. The tracker is still showing the car on my screen.”

Strong paused for a moment. “I want you to keep an eye on him and see what you can find out about the town. Be alert. We don’t want to tip him off.”

“Roger,” Allen replied.

By the time the motorcycle had passed Strong and taken the exit, Strong remained heading north. He kept his radio tuned to Allen so he could hear his comments and be prepared for any possible change.

“Sir, I’m passing an elementary school on my right, and there’s a high school on my left. Going down a steep hill into the main part of town.”

“Good,” Strong replied. “Keep it up.”

“I’m at a ‘T’ intersection with a stop sign. Looks like a state road through town. Yes, it’s Route 14, which appears to be in pretty good shape. I see a number of homes which need repairs.

There are many American flags on the homes.”

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“Hmm,” Strong commented, “could this be the home of the Patriots?”

Agent Allen’s voice came on the radio. “I’m headed up a hill.

The road looks like it gets deserted out of town, open fields.”

Silence for a moment. “The RAV4 is parked in front of a house. Let me slow a little to catch the address. There it is. On the mail box.” He read it off to Strong.

“Okay, good job. See if you can find a place to hang out tonight in the town without raising concerns. Let me know what you come up with.”

Strong thought about what to do next. Pretty tough to hang around a small town at night without arousing suspicion. He’d run the address to find out who lives there then keep an eye on the tracker screen. He could ask for a fly-over with a drone if needed.

If Pierson stayed in town, the two agents in the other Toyota could get a motel as close as possible to Liberty and be ready to go, or just sit in their car, depending on what Allen finds out.

They’d have to wait and see.

He had a good feeling this would turn out to be the lead they needed. He passed his instructions to the rest of his team. *** As soon as Scott and Bruiser entered the restaurant, Scott was on her cell to Garcia, updating her on the things they’d been through in the last twenty-four hours.

“When we reached our room in the hotel, we were met by two slimeballs in masks, with guns pointed at us. One of them called himself Alpha, the other Bravo.”

“Alpha is the name of the guy Zack met when they had him blindfolded,” Garcia said. “He’s the leader of this operation. His second-in-command is a guy named Bravo.”

“Now get this,” Scott said, “The way this Bravo talked, he’s the guy scheduled to meet with Zack later this afternoon.”

“With Zack?” Garcia almost yelled. “That would have to be Skip Pierson. He’s supposed to be one of the good guys.”

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“I gotta tell you, he implied he was leading Zack on, giving him a story to send him off the track. He’d feed him data the operation wouldn’t start for up to maybe ten days when really it looks like things will kick off in forty-eight hours, probably less. “ “I’ll call Zack. He’s being set up.”

“Sounds like it,” Scott replied. “Alpha said they would be ready by noon the day after tomorrow. Could be a day later, but he’d know for sure in a few hours.”

“That bastard,” Garcia replied, almost with a hiss. “That’s exactly what he told Zack the first time. Thank heavens you’ve got an inside track. What are your plans?”

“I’ve got to figure a way to get back in with Jacques. He’s coordinating the French connection.” She stopped for a moment.

“Oh my, I’m starting to sound like a movie.”

Garcia laughed at her comment.

“As soon as we finish with something to eat, we’ll head back and try and stay close with Jacques.”

“Thanks so much, and keep me up to speed. I have a plane ticket for later this afternoon, so should be in D.C. by nightfall.”

“I think we’re in pretty tight with Jacques. We need to set up a way to stay in contact. I can’t use a phone.”

“How about the old spy trick? Do you know which way your window faces?”

“Not sure of direction, but we don’t face the White House, and it’s a suite.”

“Give me your room number. I’ll make sure I can see your window. If you leave your shade halfway up or drape half closed, I’ll know to stop in, probably to clean the room. You can pass a message to me.”

“Wow, my friend, Garcia, the spy master.”

Garcia laughed. “Give me until tonight. My plane lands at six o’clock. I’ll ask Harper to have an agent figure out where you are. We’ll set up a way for you to contact us once you have more information.”

Scott laughed. “I love this spy thing. I hope nothing will go wrong.”

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“Remember, give me until ten o’clock tonight, then be sure and open any knocks on the door.”

“Okay, will do. This is Agent O Double-O Nothing signing off.”

Garcia started to laugh, causing Scott to join in.

Scott disconnected and realized how the stress had built into everything and how much a short laugh felt good.

She sobered when she thought about heading back to the hotel in about twenty minutes.

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34 Liberty, PA, June 12 Agent Allen was able to find a gas station to hide himself and the motorcycle. He told the night manager some hot chick he’d met at a bar invited him to a party, but he wasn’t able to find it.

Allen had his attention and immediate friendship when he described this girl in detail. The manager gave Allen some names of possible girls but didn’t seem to hit.

He did let Allen stay in the garage with the agreement Allen would be gone in the morning before the day staff arrived in the shop at eight o’clock.

Allen pretended to sleep but stayed awake and watched the road. About five-thirty in the morning, he saw the RAV4 drive past the garage.

Allen radioed Strong to share the information, then waved back at the night manager, shouted thanks, hopped on his cycle, and took off slowly down the street. No need to hurry as the tracker was still in place.

Agent Strong heard the call from Allen and watched the subject’s movements on his screen. He had parked slightly off the Trout Run exit in a small community park.

He alerted the other Toyota to begin slowly moving so they could fold in behind the subject if he turned south at the exit.

Strong could take the lead if the subject headed north.

The tracker showed the vehicle turning north, so Strong closed the distance and fell in behind the RAV4.

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Strong watched as the Pierson drove past the next exits, then turned on his signal when he reached the second Mansfield exit.

Was he headed to the college? That seemed to be the case.

Once Pierson turned off at the exit and down the ramp, he pulled into a Sheetz gas station. Strong was able to pull in on the other side of the station. The subject filled his tank but didn’t go inside. Surprisingly, he bought no coffee despite the early hour.

The reason became apparent when two blocks later he turned left onto Main Street and stopped at a coffee shop on the corner.

Strong realized Pierson was eating breakfast. He thought for a moment, then directed one of the agents in the Toyota to go inside. The driver kind of looked like a college professor.

Strong noted the subject ate with two other men who looked like they could be militia members — tattoos, short beards, T-shirts, and jeans — but there was no way to know for sure.

The agent got a picture of the three with his pencil camera.

He forwarded it to the FBI laboratory with a request for a rush identification.

When Pierson left the cafe, the other two joined him in his car. The three pulled out from the curb with Strong behind them.

They hadn’t seen his car. He stayed way back as the tracker was working full on.

Four blocks later, they turned right onto Decker. Strong pulled over and waited thirty seconds, then turned right and began the tail. Pierson travelled at the speed limit, so he probably had weapons in his car and didn’t want to be stopped by any police officers.

Strong stayed back with the other Toyota behind him in case they needed to make a switch. About two miles up the state road, Pierson entered Richmond Township.

Strong decided to pull over and let the other Toyota take the lead. A little over a mile down the road, the RAV4 turned into a farm lane and up to a barn that had definitely seen better days.

The agent with Strong took a photo of the barn and the mailbox.

They forwarded the address to the FBI to find out who lives there. He asked for a quick response.

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Strong pulled in a mile west of the farm lane and found a good hiding place. The other Toyota turned around and drove back to Main Street, where they had turned right and waited a half block from the intersection.

Twenty-two minutes later, Strong received the identity of the two apparent militia members. Both were veterans, but the taller one was an explosives ordinance expert named Paul Samuelson.

Strong smiled. Gotcha. He put in a call to add four more agents and two different cars. They were definitely on the right track. *** By the time Scott and Bruiser had finished eating and walked back to the hotel, the fire trucks had left, and things seemed to be returning to some degree of normalcy.

They took the elevator, which was working again, up to the third floor and got off.

Scott looked up and down the corridor, surprised to not see the militia member who had been assigned to watch them. She hoped he had been relieved of his duties. That thought made her smile.

When she arrived at their suite, she tried to push the door open, but of course, it was locked. She knocked on the door. No response. She knocked a second time. Still no response.

She turned back to Bruiser. “What do you think?”

“Let me try.”

Bruiser pounded on the door and shouted, “Hey, let us in.”

In a moment, Jacques appeared at the door, eyes wide, looking startled.

“We tried knocking several times softly, but you didn’t answer, so I gave it my special hit.”

Jacques put his finger up to his mouth and ushered them in.

When they got inside, he shut the door, glancing at Scott.

“Why did you leave? You left me holding the bag.”

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Scott looked at him, surprised. “The siren was sounding in the hallway. A damn fire. You don’t wait for anything.”

Jacques squinted at her. “The hotel people said the report of the fire came from this room.”

Scott needed to do some acting now. “Here? There was no fire here. Look around, no evidence of a fire. Where did she get that idea? Maybe the person who reported the fire gave the operator the wrong room number. Lots of stress in a fire.”

Jacques nodded. “That’s what I told them, but they didn’t believe me. Then you knocked out the man watching our room.”

“Hell, we ran into the hallway and looked around. The clown with the gun pointed it at Bruiser. Big mistake. Bruiser ducked down and tackled the guy, taking his gun.”

She glanced at Jacques. “We figured if he didn’t have a gun, you’d be safe and could get out of the room and run down the hall.”

“Oui. The militia boss who was here said they are looking for you. That you are trying to subvert our plot.”

“Us? Do you think we’d come back if we were going to subvert the damn plot? Hell, we’d just go to the cops.”

Jacques thought about that for a moment.

Scott started to pace, banging her fist into her hand. “I’m sick and tired of being treated like second-class citizens. We’ve tried to help the cause and all we get is criticized.”

Jacques watched her. “They are very suspicious of you.”

“Well the hell with them,” Scott exploded. “We should just leave and say forget it all. I’d like to stay and help you, but if all I’m going to get is criticized, then we’re leaving.”

Jacques seemed to be thinking.

Scott looked down for a moment, then up at Jacques. “It’s up to you. If you think we can help, we’ll stay; if not, we’re gone.”

“Oui, I’d like you to stay until I can talk to this Alpha. I am overloaded with messages to send out to our teams, and you can help me get them organized and out.”

Scott extended her hand. “We’ll stay at least as long as you need us. Then we’ll see.”

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Jacques smiled. “Merci.”

Well, she thought, was he convinced? She couldn’t tell for sure.

He was a master at keeping a straight face.

186

35 Lancaster, PA, June 12 Gabrielle and Sergeant Bright had driven the back roads around southeastern Pennsylvania, focusing on the area surrounding the borough of Quarryville.

Bright had developed a list of the militia groups’ members, particularly the Oath Keepers.

“Most of these guys are okay guys,” Bright said. “They have strong feelings about the government and while they may talk tough, it’s been my experience only a few seem to be the types to take on something like we’re talking about.”

“You mean bombing buildings or hurting people?” Gabrielle asked.

“That’s right,” Bright replied. “Those seem to be the guys who might have joined this new group.”

“The Patriots?” Gabrielle said.

Bright nodded. “Those are the guys I suggest we ask for help with FBI surveillance.”

“Makes sense,” Gabrielle replied. “Thanks for working up a package.”

It took a little over an hour for Gabrielle and Sergeant Bright to drive back to the state police headquarters.

As soon as she arrived, she placed the call to Zack on a secure line. “Bonjour, Monsieur Cherî, Gabrielle calling.”

It took a moment before he answered. “Gabrielle, you threw me off for a moment with your greeting.” He chuckled. “I like it.”

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“I’m glad you do, Monsieur. Maybe we’ll make a Frenchman out of you yet. Who knows, one day I may get out my French maid uniform. Haven’t worn it in years. Probably too tight.”

“I’m trying to picture that and better quit, or I won’t get any work done. It’s fun to talk with you, and right now, I need a little happiness in my world.”

“I understand.” She reviewed the actions they had taken and the suggestions by Sergeant Bright. She paused for a moment to let him think about her ideas.

“I think what he says makes sense, and I’ll support his recommendations,” Zack said. “Please hold for a moment, and I’ll conference in Agent Harper.”

It took about three minutes before Harper’s voice sounded on the phone. Zack reviewed the points Gabrielle had made.

“Did I miss anything?” Zack asked.

“No, sounds good,” Gabrielle replied. “I think Zack got it all correct. I want to emphasize Sergeant Bright is a thorough, dedicated police officer, so I take his ideas seriously.”

“It helps me get the resources by having a well-designed proposal,” Harper replied.

“The one I think we need to watch out for,” Gabrielle inserted, “is this Ted Frances. He lives just outside of town on the south side and was an explosive ordnance sergeant in the Army. If anyone could be a problem, I think it’s him.

“Okay, let me get on it,” Harper replied. “Zack, I may need a push from the admiral to get another group, but I think it’s important to have them.”

“Agree. I’ll call him as soon as we get off here.”

“Okay, Zack,” Gabrielle replied. “Merci, mon vieux.”

Now Zack would have to check and see what she had just told him. At least as soon as he could after he called the boss. *** Zack dialed the admiral’s number and breathed a sigh of relief he was in the office.

In a moment, Zack heard, “Steele.”

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“Sir, Zack here. Things seem to be really picking up. I think we’ll see something in the next twenty-four hours.”

“Update me.”

Zack spent about five minutes summarizing what he knew, including the request for another surveillance team.

“What you say makes sense. I think it’s time you and Harper fly in here. I’d like you to brief the president.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll include the FBI and the CIA. I think we all need to be lined up and coordinated.”

“T.J. and his chopper are here, so we can be there in a couple of hours.”

“Okay,” Steele replied. “Come ahead. I know the president is here today, but I’m not exactly sure when we’ll get to see him, but we will. He’s asked about it a couple of times.”

“I believe we’re close and will need to take some dynamic action soon. I’ll call you when we’re in the air and T.J. has an exact arrival time for us.”

“Thanks, Zack. I’ll alert the president.”

As soon as he hung up, he called Harper. Then he contacted T.J. It appeared they would have a “wheels up” within two hours.

He and Harper would have time on the chopper to pull together a short briefing for the president. He thought for a moment. Better get ahold of Garcia. She has a part to play in the briefing.

He marveled at the size of the operation the Patriots were pulling together and believed “D” Day was close. *** Fairchild had received material from Colbert, although it wasn’t all she requested. After she categorized it into sections, she went back to the hospital to see him.

She showed her ID to the guard and pushed open the door.

Colbert lay in bed reading.

He looked up when he heard the door open. “Get out. I don’t want you here.”

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“Now, what kind of an attitude is that? And after all we’ve meant to each other.”

“Get out.”

She grabbed his injured leg and began to squeeze.

Colbert let out a scream. “Stop it.”

Fairchild stopped squeezing and looked at Colbert, trying to look sincere. “Oh, my, does that hurt?”

“You bitch,” he hissed at her.

She grabbed his leg again and started to squeeze again, this time a little harder.

“Stop. Stop. Please stop.”

She stopped. “Now that I have your attention, I want to remind you of what you promised Colonel Garcia. You would provide me the keys to your desk, combination to your safe, and any other strong boxes.”

He looked at her, thinking.

She moved to grab for his leg again.

“All right. All right. Stop. No more. I’ll get it for you. The key to my desk is taped to the picture behind my desk. The combination to the safe and the location and combination of one safety deposit box is in the right-hand desk drawer.”

She smiled and nodded.

“Just don’t touch my leg.”

“I certainly wouldn’t want to hurt you. But remember, if you’re lying to me, I’ll be back, and I won’t stop squeezing as quickly.”

“All right, I got it.” He lapsed into French, and Fairchild suspected he was cussing her out.

She felt good about helping Garcia. As she walked out, she decided it was time to find Manon and talk to her.

She wondered what she’d find with Manon. The woman seemed tainted by Colbert. Perhaps it was time to give her another chance.

Fairchild would have to decide once she saw her again. She didn’t want to see her in jail after all this was over, but...

190

36 National Airport, Washington, D.C., June 12 Garcia grabbed her go-bag and hurried down the plane’s aisle and into the terminal. She’d learned to travel light after a number of unfortunate experiences with checked baggage.

When she reached the lobby, she called Zack. “Hey Zack, I got your message on the plane. Just arrived at National. Have you got a time for our meeting with the admiral?”

“He’s on the president’s schedule at 2000 hours and would like us to be in his office at 1930. Does that work for you?”

“Hell, for the president, I’ll make it work. This will give me time to grab a quick shower and a badly needed fresh uniform.”

“Great. See you then.”

“Wait. Did you get my text? Don’t trust Pierson.”

“I got it. Thanks for the heads-up. He’s a problem.”

As she hurried out of the terminal, she wished she had a little more time to spend with Harold her cat. Unfortunately, that wasn’t to be.

Her cat would be pissed at her for running in and out. Well, tough one, Harold, she thought. I’ll make it up to you as soon as I can. But when the president calls, I gotta haul. You know. Well, I guess you don’t know.

When she reached the cab stand, she motioned, and a cab pulled up and stopped.

She asked him to hurry as she had an important appointment.

He’d never believe her if she told him it was with the president.

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As she sat back for a moment, she gathered her thoughts and began to put together a summary for the boss.

Admiral Steele would be delighted Fairchild was making a comeback and would be out of the hospital in a couple of days.

Fairchild would be valuable back in Quebec to gather needed information from Colbert. She wouldn’t spare the pain if he tried to short-change them on information.

Her time in Quebec should give Fairchild a chance to recover mentally as well as physically. *** Zack checked his watch. Their helicopter was fifty-five minutes out from Washington. T.J. would be able to drop Harper and himself off close to the White House. Their meeting was in the situation room so they’d have complete security.

He smiled when he remembered Chief of Staff Winand’s guidance. Don’t give Bradford anything he doesn’t need to know.

Hit the high spots and nothing more.

He was glad the three of them had a chance for a quick practice with the admiral. Garcia would give a short overview of the French involvement, and Harper would detail the shooting in Wellsboro and background information on the militia groups.

Zack would focus on the current plan and timing. At the end, they would need the go-ahead from the president to implement.

There would probably be some blowback from people in central Pennsylvania about pointing them out concerning militias. But that would be for the president to worry about.

His biggest regret was that he doubted there would be time for him to get together with Laura. That was his major problem with his current job. He loved the action, the people, and the variety of his assignments, but all of it took away from time with Laura.

He would call her, but once the president gave the “Go,” he’d have his hands full getting everything lined up.

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A sophomore in college now, in a couple of years, she’d be off making her own way in the world and might not even stay in Washington.

He knew she needed space, but it was hard for him to give it to her. It had only been a couple of years since she had arrived on his doorstep, and those had been wonderful years.

He thought about retiring from the Army, but he wasn’t sure that would be a good step. He smiled to himself. Nothing like having a worn-out dad hang around all the time. Nope.

Okay, Zack, he thought, get it together. You’ve got to be at the top of your game. Never get a second chance to make a good first impression on the president. *** Colbert lay in his hospital bed, disgusted at how things had turned out. He was so close to success then that monster had shot him in the leg. Now he was out of action with nothing he could do.

He heard a rustle, and the door creaked open. A slender man in a trench coat, dark glasses, and a hat pulled down over his forehead entered the room. He had a revolver in his right hand.

Fear clutched at Colbert. “Who are you?”

“A friend.” The man handed Colbert a briefcase. “I want to make sure you’re able to defend yourself. You don’t want to be here without any options.”

Colbert didn’t know what to say. “Why? Who?” “You and Alpha are on the right path. I don’t want anyone to get in the way.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Suppose someone comes in here and tries to stop you. What would you do? You need to be able to defend yourself.”

Colbert opened the briefcase. Inside he saw a pistol and three phones along with codes.”

“Those are the burner phones you normally use,” The stranger said. “Also, you know how to use the codes, so I made copies for

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you. They are safe for you to make a call to Alpha if you need to.

The pistol, of course, is self-explanatory.”

“Why are you doing this? I don’t know you.”

“I know. But I know someone else, and I want him to succeed.

He deserves it. Just take the phones, codes, and pistol and quit asking so many questions.”

Colbert thought for a moment. “All right, thank you. I now feel better. Is the pistol loaded?”

The man laughed. “What good is a pistol that isn’t loaded?

Colbert nodded. “Who are you?”

“I repeat, just a friend.” The man turned to the door. “You should hear some shouting in a few minutes. I had to kill the guard so he wouldn’t be a problem. You don’t know anything about that. Haven’t seen anyone.”

Colbert laughed. “I know nothing.”

With that, the stranger turned toward the door, opened it slowly, and slipped out.

194

37 White House Situation Room, June 12 Zack stood along the wall, waiting for the president to enter the room, then for Admiral Steele to introduce him.

At exactly 2000 hours, the president, followed by Chief of Staff Winand, walked into the room and sat at the head of the table. The president looked up at Admiral Steele and nodded.

Steele glanced at the assembled group but kept his focus on the president. “Sir, tonight we will address what we believe to be a significant threat to the United States. First, I’d like to introduce Lieutenant Colonel Garcia.”

Garcia stood. “Sir, four days ago, we met with members of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. They had information on a plot by a militia group in our country against the government and supported by elements of a small French political party. At this time, we are not aware of any French governmental involvement in this plot.”

“How certain are you about this plot?” the president asked.

“I regret to say, very certain,” she replied. “Between materials developed by the CIA and our undercover agents, we believe these operatives are being currently moved to six U.S. cities.”

Garcia paused for a moment. “Sir, if you have no other questions, next I’d like to introduce FBI Senior Agent Harper to provide an update on our efforts with the militia groups.”

The president nodded.

Agent Harper stood and moved to the podium. “Four days ago, a young man shot and killed a sheriff in Wellsboro, 195

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Pennsylvania, and wounded a librarian. We believe that was the initial strike by a new group called the Patriots, who are gathering the more radical elements of other militia groups.”

The president glanced over at the FBI Director. “Director Sullivan, is this correct?”

Sullivan nodded. A tall, attractive, and extremely intelligent woman, Sullivan had been on the job for only a few months.

“What Agent Harper has said is accurate. Fortunately, we know who these operatives are and should be able to round them up with reasonable advance warning.”

The president nodded. “Are you talking about the Oath Keepers? And others?”

“Yes, sir,” Harper replied. “We believe the killer of the sheriff was murdered by members of the Patriots because he didn’t get permission from their leader for the shootings.”

Harper waited on the president for a moment. “Sir, we do have these people under surveillance but haven’t moved on them yet.

Winand leaned forward. “Hells bells, why not?”

“Sir, we believe if we wait, they will lead us to the bombs.

We’d like to make sure we have the right militia members before we start arresting people and tip them off.”

The chief turned to the FBI Director. “Is that correct?”

Sullivan stood and smiled. “Yes, sir.”

Admiral Steele glanced over at Zack. “Now, I’d like to introduce Colonel Zack Kelly who has been coordinating our efforts.”

The president nodded at Zack.

“Good evening, Mr. President.” He put a graph on the television screen. “Sir, we believe this incident will begin with an armed attack of some sort–probably an explosion.”

He glanced at the president and knew he had his rapt attention.

“Next, we expect hackers will disrupt normal communications, which will be replaced by materials from a number of French operatives.”

The president put in finger up. “Who would this be?”

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“We think these operatives will be drawn from elements of one of the most conservative parties in France. They will distribute information for newspapers as well as social media to present their arguments.”

The president leaned forward. “Do we have a threat assessment about cybersecurity from the National Security Agency?”

“Yes, sir,” Steele said. “I have contacted the director and explained what we need. He told me he would get back to me within a couple of hours and we could determine how best to gain information from signal intelligence.”

“When do we anticipate this will begin?” Winand asked.

“Our best estimate is noon the day after tomorrow.”

“What if it happens earlier,” Winand asked. “Shouldn’t we be rounding up these characters?”

“We’ve debated timing,” Steele said. “If we move too early, we tip them off and may have difficulty proving anything if we don’t catch them in the act. One the other hand, if we wait too long, then ….”

The president turned to Winand. “Chief, what do you think?”

“Sir, I’ve been following this closely with Admiral Steele. He has all the right players together. The Pennsylvania State Police have been very helpful. I say we gather tomorrow afternoon for a final briefing, then set a timeline.”

The president thought for a moment. “All right, but I have to tell you I’m uneasy. I don’t want another 9/11 on our hands with the loss of hundreds of people. Past things these clowns have done have been scary, and I don’t want any of that crap on my watch.”

He sat quietly. Everyone knew to give the president time to think.

“All right. We meet again at noon tomorrow. I want a specific timeline and schedule at that time.”

The president stood as did everyone else. He started out the door, then turned back to face the group. “Remember, no 9/11’s on my watch.”

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*** When Zack returned to Admiral Steele’s office, a tall, slender man with uncombed wavy black hair and thick glasses was waiting for them.

He stood when Admiral Steele walked into the office. “Sir, I’m Henry Mortimer from the National Security Agency’s Cybersecurity Collaboration Center.”

Steele took the extended hand. “Great. I’m glad you’re here.

We were waiting to hear from you about this operation. Please come into my office.”

Steele glanced over at Zack. “This is Colonel Zack Kelly who is coordinating our efforts.”

“Yes, sir, I’ve met Zack before and look forward to working with him again. I’m here in response to your call. As you may remember, Admiral, our job is to coordinate all partnerships to prevent cyber threats to our country.”

“What have you uncovered so far?” Zack asked.

“Through our information sharing network, particularly in the north-central United States, we’ve uncovered several efforts to hack into a number of our most critical communications networks such as rail, air, phone, and internet.”

“Isn’t it too early now?” Zack asked.

“What we want to do is make sure we know what a normal flow of data is so we can spot efforts to disrupt that flow. Do you have a sense of when this hack will begin?”

Zack nodded. “The best estimate is noon the day after tomorrow. We expect they will try and shut systems down, but we’re not exactly sure where. This means sometime in the morning the hackers will probably begin their efforts. We expect them to focus on news media and Facebook. Does that make sense?”

Mortimer thought for a moment. “It’s always hard to determine exactly when they will begin because it should take several hours to get in and start causing trouble in the systems.”

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He paused for a moment. “It helps for us to know the systems they’ll go after. The more we know, the more we can focus on where we anticipate the problems to arise.”

Zack nodded. “We anticipate they will attempt to hack in and cause problems in the various news media systems as well as Facebook, so people won’t have valid information they feel they can trust.”

“Then what?” Mortimer asked.

“At that point,” Zack continued, “I understand they will begin to pump their information into the system to confuse people and make them lose faith in our systems. That’s basically all we know for sure. So what do you think?”

“Our collaborative relationships leverage the unique strengths of both government and industry and represent a vital part of a whole-of-nation approach to cybersecurity.”

Zack stared at him for a moment. “Okay, what did you just say?”

Mortimer laughed. “Basically that we’re not sure what to do.

We just need to start. Scan systems in the six cities for interrupts, then alert the social media security folks to be watchful.”

“Be careful there,” Zack said. “We don’t want to alert our subjects that we may be onto them.”

“No problem. We put out alerts all the time, but we’ll just put a little extra oomph on this one.”

“I want you to attend the next briefing for the president. Help him understand the complexity of what you must do.”

“Happy to be there,” Mortimer replied. “But I’ll have to say he’s pretty tuned in to what we do and how difficult it can be to catch some of these pros.”

Mortimer saw Zack’s confusion and raised his hand. “Do we have any ideas of the level of skill we’re talking about?”

“It could be government staff level or political party people.”

“In any event, it sounds like they should be pretty good.”

Zack nodded. “Sorry to say.”

199

38 Willard Hotel, Washington, D.C., June 12 Bruiser and Scott sat with Jacques at a dining-room-sized table in the center of their hotel room, trying to help out wherever possible. Scott could tell Jacques was becoming frustrated as he began to curse quietly under his breath as he tapped on his computer Scott couldn’t do much because Jacques didn’t share what he was trying to do. She had tried a couple of times to figure out exactly what he was doing so she could give him some relief.

Finally, she’d had enough. “Look Jacques, you complain about not getting everything done, yet you don’t give us any idea what you’re doing so we can help.”

“Merci. It just seems like it’ll be more trouble to brief you on everything I’m doing rather than to keep doing it myself. Plus, Alpha is very sensitive to giving out any information except to a select group of people.”

“Yeah, but why is it a problem? We’re read in on what’s going to be happening, and it doesn’t seem that complex. It wouldn’t take much to get us up to speed.”

She wanted to get any of the latest information she could pass on to Garcia.

Finally, Jacques glanced over at her. “All right, we have made some changes in the timing and you have not been completely brought in on what each of the teams will be doing.”

His comment got Scott’s attention. “Well,” she said, trying to maintain a calm, bored voice, “if we’re going to help, we need to know the plan. Simple as that.”

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“All right,” Jacques replied. “We are planning on initiating our attack at noon in two days. We tell people one day, so when it doesn’t happen they relax. Figure we have stopped implementation for some specific reason.”

Scott didn’t think the FBI would do that, but she didn’t say anything. She figured Jacques would continue, which he did.

“What you don’t know is that the six teams have explosives they will be setting off in each of the six cities.”

Scott had to stop any comment or facial expressions. Her face was a mask. Finally, she calmly said, “That should work. Will be very effective.”

“Oui,” Jacques replied. “We are very proud of our plan and the way we have kept it quiet. Now you must stay in the hotel room and help me. I can’t let you out of the room that you know the total plan.”

“What can we do to help?” Scott said.

“We have to let each team know where they are to pick up their explosives and how to transport them without an accident.”

He laughed. “We don’t want a bomb to go off and kill people who don’t count.”

Scott couldn’t believe he said that. She had assumed Jacques was a decent guy who just got roped into something. But this guy was really one of the leaders and a totally uncaring son of a bitch.

“Where do each of these teams have to go to get their explosives?” Scott asked.

Jacques went over and opened the small lockbox and retrieved a map and a list of instructions. “What is taking me so much time is that we have to encrypt each message so only our team members can open and read it. I need to be able to do it faster.”

“Why don’t you get the instructions,” Scott said, “and I’ll encrypt them for you.”

She still didn’t dare look at Bruiser. She gave a fleeting thought to killing Jacques but didn’t think that would help. She’d get caught, and someone else would take over.

She finally looked over at Bruiser, who seemed to have his poker face on. “Why are you sitting there on your ass? Get over here and help us sort this out.”

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He mumbled something she couldn’t completely understand and figured that’s what he meant to do. Couldn’t seem to be too concerned or too involved.

He lumbered over to the table Jacques and Scott were sitting at and pulled up a chair.

He looked at Jacques. “What’s first?

“We need to start with the San Francisco team. They should have arrived about a half-hour ago and will be at their hotel. We need first to ensure they are in position and ready to take the next step.”

“Which is?” Scott asked.

“Give them their pickup point and to go check it out. I will draft the message to them then you must encrypt it. When we are done with that team we will move to the next team.”

“All right,” Scott said. “I’m ready.”

“It will probably be about four hours before we finish. By that time, Alpha should be here, and we’ll figure out the next steps.”

Oh, crap, Scott thought. They needed to figure a way to get the word out before Alpha returned. And they needed to do that right now. Zack wasn’t on the right track. *** Scott glanced over at Bruiser. “Would you help out with the encrypting for a few minutes while I head into the next room?”

Jacques looked up at her, skeptical.

“Is it all right if I go to the bathroom? I guess I could stay out here and get a little bowl.”

Jacques laughed. “Oui. I wasn’t thinking right. Guess I must be tired. Merci.”

She went into the bedroom and shut the door. Hurrying over to the window, she took one side of the drapes and closed it. They didn’t have shades in a fancy-schmancy hotel. Oh, Garcia, she thought, please get this. I need to pass something to you.

She stepped out into the living room. “How about if I order something to eat? I’m starved.”

Bruiser looked up and beamed. “Absolutely. I’m always starved. How about a huge burger and fries?”

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“Jacques, how about you?” Scott asked. “I’ve got the menu here. The hotel has some delightful dishes. We might as well enjoy ourselves since we’re trapped in this hotel.”

“Oui. May I see the menu? Merci.”

He selected a fish dish and Scott went the burger route. It sounded terrific since she really was hungry.

Scott had written a note and slipped it up her sleeve while she was in the bedroom. She planned to slip it back out again when she signed for the check. She prayed that would work, assuming Jacques stayed busy with his papers.

She couldn’t believe how slowly the time moved and how loud the clock ticking beat in her brain. For crap sake, Garcia, hurry up before Alpha arrives.

It was about twenty-five minutes before Scott heard a knock on the door.

Jacques looked up, but Scott stretched and stood. “Why don’t I get it? I bet it’s our food order.”

Jacques nodded and went back to his notes. Bruiser wasn’t as quick as Scott helping Jacques but managed to keep up. They were tracing instructions and locations in the third city but still had plenty of work left to do.

She opened the door and almost broke out in laughter. There stood Garcia in a short blue skirt and matching uniform top pushing a tray of food.

Garcia smiled. “You ordered from the dining room, Señorita?”

“Yes,” Scott said smothering a smile. She slipped a paper to Garcia, who palmed it.

Scott stepped aside. “Please bring it in.”

Garcia pushed the cart in from the hallway, then suddenly lurched forward. Right behind her stood Alpha, obviously having placed a gun pushing into her back.

Alpha glared at Jacques. “Dammit, Jacques, I’m getting tired of bailing you out. How come you let these pricks pull the oldest trick in the game? You are so stupid.”

Jacques squinted at Alpha, a questioning look on his face.

“They just wanted to order food. How was I to know they had someone outside to help them?”

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“That’s what you’re getting paid for: to know this stuff.”

Jacques stared at Garcia.

Oh, oh, Scott thought. This can’t be good.

“Haven’t I seen you before someplace?” Jacques asked.

Garcia answered quickly in Spanish. “Maybe at the hotel, Señor. But I don’t remember, and I see many people all day long.”

Scott wondered if the Spanish would be enough to satisfy Jacques?

Jacques snapped his fingers. “Your uniform stopped me for a moment, but now I remember your face. You were the woman with Manon in Quebec. The one who she planned for the presentation.”

Garcia tried again in Spanish, but Alpha pushed her down to the floor. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t like it.”

“These two are helping me with the operation,” Jacques said.

“Helping me encrypt messages to the teams in the six cities.”

“You mean they know about the whole operation?”

Jacques nodded.

“Well, then I guess we will all stay together.”

Garcia spoke again in halting English. “But Señor, my boss.

He specs me back. Soon. Will miss me.”

Alpha thought about that. “You’re staying with us, bitch. Boss or no boss. If he calls, we’ll just say you went downstairs with the big tip we gave you and must have run off.”

Jacques looked at Alpha. “But what if she is police?”

Alpha smiled. “Then we’ll have to kill her.”

Garcia sat up and glared at Alpha. She began in pure English, “I am active duty Army and work for the president’s national security advisor. I did this because I wanted to meet you.”

Alpha glared at her. “Isn’t that where that fucker, Zack Kelly, works?”

Garcia nodded and returned his stare. “No bullshit. Don’t you think I get pissed off at the many things that happen to me?

I am a woman in a man’s world. I am Hispanic in a white world.

And to be honest, I’m sick of it.”

Alpha watched her closely. “All right, what is your game?”

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“I want to help you, but only if it gets me a better place in the world. Zack Kelly and I came here at the same time, both lieutenant colonels. Here I am still, a lieutenant colonel, and that white prick gets promoted early to colonel.”

Garcia stared at Alpha, probably trying to figure if she was getting anywhere. “I’m the officer who got wounded in Iraq guarding a supply train, hospitalized, and still has a bad leg. It bothers me, but I don’t get a fair shake. What I want to ask you is, what in your brave new world are you going do for me?”

Alpha stood still, seemingly taken back by what Garcia had said and unsure how to respond.

Garcia hopped up and started toward the tiny kitchen. “Let me make some coffee to go with our food.” She smiled at Alpha.

“You can even have part of my share of the burger, and then we can discuss this like real people.”

Alpha still stood silent. So Garcia continued. “I agree we need to get out of here cause the FBI is all over this place. You’ll probably get stopped, but I know how to duck out a back way.”

Alpha watched her as she moved out to the kitchen.

Scott couldn’t believe what Garcia had done. Would it work?

How could she and Bruiser help? Probably just keep their big mouths shut and go with the flow.

In about ten minutes, Garcia had coffee started for all of them.

She returned to the main room. “I suggest we get all of our stuff together as I think we may get visitors soon.”

Alpha nodded. “I’m not sure what our next step is, except we need to leave. Jacques, get all of your papers together. Don’t leave anything important behind.”

“I think it’s best if I stay in D.C. and meet with my team of operatives here,” Jacques said. “We need to make sure each of our teams knows what to do.”

“Makes sense,” Alpha replied, then he glanced at Garcia.

“I don’t know what your game is, and I don’t have any idea if I should trust you or not. But you need to know, if you try and jerk me around, you’re dead.”

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Garcia laughed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. And you need to know if you jerk me around or think because you’re the big white guy you can get in my pants, you’re dead.”

She glanced at Scott. “So let’s get our stuff together and get out of here. We can drink our coffee on the road.”

206

39 White House, Washington, D.C., June 13 Zack sat behind his desk in the White House National Security office and thought through his next series of steps. The operation would start within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, and he had to be ready. They wouldn’t get a second chance.

He waited for Garcia to call with the additional information she planned to get from Scott after returning from the hotel room.

Zack remained uneasy with Garcia going in, but she had told him it seemed the best way to get the information they needed.

In about fifteen minutes, the phone rang. The secretary answered and called Zack to tell him there was an Agent Sommers on the phone for him. Surprised, Zack had expected Garcia.

He reached for the phone. “Colonel Kelly.”

“Sir, Sommers here. I think we may have a problem.”

Zack hated calls that started that way.

“What’s up?”

“We waited for Colonel Garcia to return from the room, but she didn’t. Finally, we couldn’t wait any longer and sent another attendant to gather any trash from the meal. I figured that would be a safe cover story.”

Zack held his breath. He didn’t like the way this call flowed at all. “What did she find?”

“An empty room. They apparently took all of their notes, computers, and other materials and left. They must have known a back way out of the hotel because we had the front covered.”

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Zack tried to control his temper. “You didn’t think to have someone with Garcia who could stay on the floor and watch for any problems?”

“To be honest, that’s what I wanted to do,” Sommers said.

“But Colonel Garcia vetoed that plan. She said if this Alpha guy had people watching, it would tip them off. She didn’t want to risk it.”

“Damn it.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but my instructions were to go with what she wanted. This operation had to be handled delicately and she was in charge.”

“I understand. Not your fault. Will you go back upstairs and check everything again?”

“Yes, sir. Do you need anything else from me?”

“That’s all I can think of. If you think of anything else, please let me know right away.”

“Okay, sir.”

All of a sudden, it hit Zack. “Hey, wait. Have we sealed the room? I’d like to come over and look around. Never know what I might spot. Be sure no one messes with anything until I get there.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll get on it right away. When will you be here?”

“I’m leaving now. Maybe fifteen minutes.”

As he hurried out the door, he thought, Garcia, give me a clue. We need information, and I suspect you’ve got it.

He spotted an FBI agent. “I need a ride now. Let’s go.” *** With the siren on the FBI black sedan, eighteen minutes later, Zack pulled up in front of the hotel. He jumped out and was met in the lobby by Agent Sommers.

Sommers extended his hand. “Let’s head upstairs. I’ve placed an agent in front of the door with instructions to let no one inside.”

“Great,” Zack replied. “I’m hoping she left a clue as to what happened and where they’re going.”

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Sommers nodded as they headed for the stairs. With only about seventeen hours to go, he had little to work with right now.

When they reached the third floor, Sommers led the way down the hall. The agent on the door moved aside and opened it for them. Zack stepped inside and stood silently for a moment, taking in everything.

A stack of papers littered what appeared to be a dining room table in the center of the main room. There were messed-up couches and beds, but not much else. He looked through the papers but saw nothing of value.

He called to Sommers. “I need one of the agents to go through these papers and see if I missed anything. They may have made a mistake and left something important, but I doubt it.”

He circled the room, opening every drawer, every closet door, but nothing showed up. He looked under chairs, the couches, tables, but nothing.

It took him about an hour to go through the entire suite of rooms without finding anything of importance. He looked out the windows, but nothing on the ledges.

Finally, in a fit of disappointment, he sat down. He glanced at Sommers. “Could you get some coffee for us?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll call down.

Over the years, he’d found he did some of his best thinking with a coffee cup in his hand, sometimes only partially filled, sometimes cold.

Garcia always laughed about it. “Zack, I don’t know what you’d do without coffee. We’d have to put you out to pasture.”

He had to agree with her. Then he thought, Garcia, what happened here? Are you all right? Please give me a clue. Something I can work on.

One of the agents hurried in with the coffee.

Zack took it. “Thanks. I need a break to think.”

He leaned back and took a sip. It tasted good. It made him feel silly to talk to her like that, but he was up against it. Garcia had always seemed to be there at the right time with the right information.

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He looked down at his coffee cup, staring at it, trying to figure out his next move. He took another sip.

They were supposed to start something in the morning. Was that information still accurate? Had they made changes?

He thought some more. He stared at the cup, and then it hit him: Garcia, coffee.

He hurried into the kitchen, where he spotted a partially full pot of coffee. She must have made a pot for somebody.

He stared at the pot and the cups around it. He checked each cup, then poured out any remains, and turned the cup upside down. He stared at the pot, then at the filter Garcia must have used to make the coffee.

He pulled the damp filter out of the coffee maker and stared at it. He dumped the coffee grounds into the sink and looked at the filter.

He smiled as he saw on the inside of the filter, printed neatly in Garcia’s handwriting: (Twins plus 6) plus 1.

A message to him. Thanks, Garcia. Okay, think. Think.

His team had foreseen the possibility of two vehicles with bombs. Do they look alike? What had she tried to tell him? Why is the number six inside the parentheses? Number of bombers?

What is the number one outside of the parentheses?

Bombs in twin vehicles? The six must have meant the people in the six cities had bombs also. The plus one outside the parentheses was separate from the bombs.

Zack took a sip of his coffee. Could that mean time? They are starting one day later than he’d been told before. Genius. If it didn’t go off in the morning, we would assume they had put it off for a while. But really it was only one day.

Garcia, you’re a genius.

Zack put down his coffee cup, grabbed the filter, and made a break for the door, startling Sommers.

“Got something?” Sommers called.

“Think so.”

“How did you know about the coffee?”

“Been blessed with a partner who knows me all too well.

We’ve got to get back for a brainstorming session. Hurry. No time to waste.” He needed input and he needed it now.

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He ran out into the hallway and took the stairs down to the first floor two at a time, scanning scenarios in his mind.

He grabbed his cell and called Admiral Steele. He told him what he had found and the code Garcia had left.

“What does it mean?” Steele asked.

“My best guess is all six teams have bombs and they will extend the operation one day.”

Steele thought for a moment. “That seems to make sense.”

“Sir, we need a meeting of all the players to brainstorm how to stop their operation. If I’m reading the message from Garcia accurately, then we have to worry about bombs in all six cities, making our response far more complex.”

Steele thought some more. “Okay. Remember we need to brief the president tomorrow.”

“First, let’s see if everyone agrees with me. Then we need a plan, and we have only one day to do it in.” *** Fairchild located Manon at her office in McGill University.

Based on what Colbert had told her and the information he had provided, Fairchild had checked all of the material Colbert had in his desk, his safe, and one safety deposit box.

The material felt dated. It listed all of the French participants, where they were located within the six cities, but stopped at the last twenty-four hours, the time period she was most interested in.

She walked into Manon’s office, unsure of the reception she would receive.

Manon stood and came around her desk, kissed her on both cheeks and said, “Bonjour, Chéri. I’m so sorry for what Colbert did to you. I had no idea he’d do that. In fact, I had no idea of the person he was.”

Fairchild wasn’t sure if she believed Manon, but it sounded genuine so she decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Manon sat in one of her chairs and motioned for Fairchild to

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sit in the other.

“Do you know what they are planning next?” Fairchild asked.

“From what I understand, Rene Garcia may have been taken prisoner by the militia members.”

Manon put her hands over her mouth. “Non, I was afraid of that. Those militia guys are bad. Just like Colbert.”

Fairchild shared what she received from Colbert and had read through. “It doesn’t feel current. Is there more?”

Manon motioned Fairchild toward a chair and offered her a cup of coffee. “I believe Colbert may have burner phones the group is using for communications.”

Fairchild leaned forward. “Burner phones? Do you know where they might be?”

“Colbert wouldn’t let them out out of his sight. But I don’t know if he could have them in the hospital. If so, I suspect they may be in his briefcase.”

“They wouldn’t let him bring that material into the hospital.”

“I don’t know. He has a way of getting things done.”

“That bastard,” Fairchild cursed. “Holding out on me.”

“I’m not surprised. He’s not the man I thought he was. This French operation is so important to him. He believes he owes it to his parents to help the militia people right the wrongs inflicted on them.”

Fairchild wasn’t interested in hearing that crap again but figured it probably was the truth. She stood. “I need to get over to the hospital and find those phones. See if I can connect with the militia gang.”

Manon jumped up. “Let me drive you. I know the way and can get you there much faster.”

“That would be nice,” Fairchild said.

Manon came over and gave Fairchild a hug. “I’m so sorry for what happened to you, Chéri. Please believe me I would have warned you had I known. To be honest, I’d like to be your friend.”

The hug by Manon felt good. Fairchild gave her a hug back.

She didn’t want to take time for any of that now. But after all this mess is over, well, who knows about the future?

212

40 On the Road in PA. June 13 Garcia chafed at having a cloth bag placed over her head, covering her face and extending down to her neck. Damn thing was hot and scratched.

“Why do I have to wear this bag over my head? I thought we were on the team.”

She could hear the creak of Alpha’s seat as he turned. “I don’t know if you’re on the team or not. I can’t trust you.”

“Well, you’d better figure it out ’cause these bags are hot and stuffy. If you want me to stay with your group, then you need to relax. Let us take these stupid things off.”

“What I do know is you’d better hope I can trust you because you must realize I can’t let you go until I do.”

“Am I supposed to take that as a threat?” Garcia said.

“You can take it any way you want, but I can’t let you run out and tell your buddies what we’re planning.”

“What is it going to take for you to trust us? And don’t give me that take off your clothes crap.”

Alpha started to laugh. “Believe me, the last thing I’m thinking about is seeing you and Scott naked.”

Garcia heard Scott chuckle. “Come on now, Alpha, it’s not that bad.”

Bruiser jumped into the conversation. “I can testify; it’s pretty damn good.”

His comment made Alpha laugh. “All right, you win. I’ll cut the rope off your hands. If you make a false move, I won’t hesitate to shoot you, and we’ll have to put you in the wood chipper.”

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“Ouch,” Garcia replied. “I don’t want any of that.”

She felt someone holding her arm, then her hands came loose. She reached up and took off the bag. “Thank you. Now I can breathe.”

Looking around, Garcia asked, “Where were we? On a freeway? Looks like we’re on the road to Philly.”

“You asked me to cut the rope so you could take the bag off your head, which I did. Now, can you just sit back and as they say, enjoy the ride? And shut the hell up.”

Garcia pretended to salute. “Yes, sir.”

Now what, she thought. If they tried to knock out their captors, they risked an accident. Better to just sit back and as he says enjoy the ride then look for possibilities.

She glanced over at Scott, who nodded to her. They still needed to find out for Zack exactly where all the bombs were.

Soon they passed the exit for Aberdeen Proving Grounds.

According to the sign, the next exit was Route 222 and the towns of Perryville and Havre de Grace.

She tried to think what might be in Philly. Maybe blow up some of the historical monuments. No, not big enough targets.

It surprised her when they turned off on Route 222, headed northwest. What is up that way? She couldn’t remember.

“I thought you’d be headed to Philly. Surprised me you got off here. Not much here that I know of.”

Alpha didn’t reply. No reply was his reply and another message to shut up.

They crossed Route 10, then soon entered Pennsylvania. She remembered the FBI had said a number of militia groups were located in Pennsylvania.

In about thirty minutes, she saw a sign for Quarryville.

Thought for a moment. Tried to remember. Didn’t the FBI mention a possible meeting in the town of Quarryville?

She glanced over at Scott and gave her a thumbs-up. Be alert Garcia, this could be the site.

When they reached what looked like the main square in Quarryville, the driver turned left at Fourth Street. She filed that away and watched as their van moved slowly about four blocks.

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“Here,” Alpha said. “Turn right on Church. This is where we want to be.”

They traveled about three blocks, then turned into a driveway and stopped. Alpha opened the door. “Stay put. Let me check it out. I’ll let you know when you can get out.”

Bruiser had been dozing and woke up to look out the window.

“I don’t give a shit about all your security stuff, but right now, I’d like to climb out and take a piss.”

Alpha laughed at the comment. “I can understand. Give me a minute, and then you can get out.”

Garcia leaned over to Scott and whispered, “Now what?”

Scott shook her head and whispered back, “Wish I knew. The last thing I want is to be put in the same room with a bomb.”

Her comment caught Garcia. “I’ll have to agree with that.” *** Zack rode to the White House with Agent Sommers and two other agents in the FBI staff car, again, with the siren and lights blazing.

He immediately got the nod to see Admiral Steele.

“What do you think we should do with this additional information?” Steele asked.

“We think there might be more than one bomb. The note from Garcia implied there are two look-alike vehicles with bombs, plus a new twist. The French operatives in the six cities might have bombs also.”

“We didn’t know that before?”

“No, sir. Our indications were these operatives would only provide messages to counter whatever our government provided.”

Steele thought for a moment. “We need to get the FBI after the bombers. I understand we know which cities and when.”

“We know the cities and where the operatives are now, but not where they may end up.”

“What else?” Steele asked.

“I think Garcia was trying to tell me the operation will start one day later than we thought. That’s smart because if it didn’t happen when we thought, we might relax.”

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“Do we have any idea where Garcia and Scott are now?”

“No, sir. We know they had a vehicle waiting for them in the back of the hotel. We’re checking the security cameras to see if we see which ones.”

“No idea?”

“The State Police know where the various militia members live or work. We’ll get them checking those places to see if they can come up with something, anything.”

“We’re due to update the president. Do we have enough to share?”

“I think we do. We can tell him we believe there will be two vehicles, the operatives will have bombs in each of the six cities, and we think it will be pushed back for one day. I think that’s plenty.”

Admiral Steele thought about that for a moment. “I do, too.

I’ll set it up with him as soon as we can possibly get in. Also, we need to make sure the FBI and CIA know everything we do.”

216

41 White House Situation Room, June 14 Zack walked into the situation room, glad Admiral Steele had been able to set up the briefing so quickly.

He wished he had more specific information to provide the president and hoped he didn’t get laughed out of the room with what he had.

Zack stood up again the wall, waiting his turn to brief.

The CIA director and the FBI director hurried into the room along with the director of NSA. Well, Zack thought, we have all of the right people in the room.

He took a deep breath. Gonna be a challenge to pull all of this together.

In a moment, the aide called attention, and the president and chief of staff walked into the room. The president took his place at the head of the table, and Admiral Steele stepped forward to the podium.

“Mr. President, we have an update on the most current data on the potential of a bombing by members of the Patriots assisted

by French operatives, we believe from the LePen party.”

The president nodded.

“I’d like to again introduce Colonel Zack Kelly who has been coordinating our program. Zack….”

Zack took a deep breath then stepped forward. “Sir, yesterday we provided you the most current information we had on the plot by the Patriots to initiate their program. Since that time, we have received additional information.”

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He summarized what he had done and how he had gotten the additional information from Garcia.

“Sir, I believe that Colonel Garcia’s message is accurate. From what I can tell, she has been taken by the head of the Patriots, and unfortunately, we have no idea where she is at this time.”

Chief of Staff Winand looked at Zack for a moment, then said, “Zack, I have a lot of respect for you and for Colonel Garcia, but do you honestly expect us to move forward based upon a note on a coffee filter?”

“Sir, I realize this is not as much to go on as I would have liked, but it’s what we have, and I believe it’s accurate information.”

Zack paused. “It makes sense to me they would push back the implementation date if they believed we might have tomorrow as the date, with the hope we would relax our guard.”

“But what if the first information is accurate?” Winand asked.

“Won’t we look stupid if we don’t prepare to stop it tomorrow?”

“Sir, I’m not recommending that at all. I think we need to move forward with action to stop any attack. They don’t know we have inside information. I don’t want to risk them finding that out.”

The FBI Director raised her hand.

“Sullivan,” the chief called.

“Gentlemen, I’ve been following this case closely since we have Senior Agent Harper monitoring much of our surveillance.

We have a good idea where the operatives are located in the six cities and who they are.”

“I understand that,” the chief replied.

“We plan to continue with our surveillance,” she said. “If it appears the operatives might be driving to pick up bombs, or we see activity in the six cities, we will be prepared to take action.”

“That makes me feel better,” the chief said.

Sullivan smiled. “I believe what Zack is saying is that if things don’t happen tomorrow, and I believe he is probably right, they won’t, then we tighten our guard for the next day rather than dropping it.”

Winand turned to the president. “I agree with Director Sullivan. We’ve been following the activities of the French 218

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operatives and believe we have them located. If they start moving and it looks like they’re arming themselves, then we move in.”

Winand turned to the director of the NSA. “What have you found out?”

“We’ve been monitoring phone conversations of the operatives we believe are involved. So far, there does not seem to be additional communications between the groups. One of my concerns is they are probably using burner phones to limit our surveillance.”

Winand turned to the president. “Sir?” “I wish I had more information. But as so often happens, we only get a small part of what we really need. I believe we are on the appropriate course and need to move ahead.”

He looked over at Zack. “Thanks for all you’re doing. I only hope that Colonel Garcia and the two other undercover people we have involved are safe and will continue to be safe.”

The president turned to Admiral Steele who stepped to the podium. “Move forward with our current program. If you receive any additional information, let me know immediately.

Rest assured, I will not rest until we put this one to bed.”

“Yes, sir. We’ll run as tight a rein on these folks as possible. I plan to convene a conference with the staff as soon as we finish here.”

The president stood and turned back to Steele. “If there is any doubt, take the most conservative course. I don’t want a bunch of good people injured by this crew.” *** Garcia paced around the inside of the small room where they had been placed. Four hours had passed since the van they were riding in arrived and they were pushed into the room.

It felt to her like an additional room added onto a garage. She could periodically hear vehicles moving around the building.

She also heard traffic moving on the street, so assumed they were still in the town and hadn’t been moved to a more rural setting.

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She glanced over at Scott. “How are you doing?”

Scott smiled. “I wish we could get busy doing something and not just sit here. I don’t sit around worth a darn.”

“Agree. It’s eleven o’clock in the morning and nothing seems to have moved so it appears the idea of pushing everything back one day has been approved by Alpha. I’d like to know what they have in store for us.”

Scott paced up and down the room. “I suspect we wouldn’t like it if we knew. I keep wondering how we can get more involved.”

Garcia pointed at Scott. “We’re not worth darn if we’re not able to talk to these guys. See what they’re thinking.”

She looked up at the ceiling and noticed the windows at the top of the walls. Glanced at Bruiser. “Can you lift me so I can look out the window? See what’s happening.”

“Sure. Pam, would you give us a hand?”

Scott pulled a table over for Garcia to stand on, then stood next to it to balance her.

Garcia jumped up on the table and, using a hand from Scott, stood on Bruiser’s shoulders. She barely made it to the window level.

“See anything?” Scott asked.

“We’re on the edge of town,” Garcia said. “I see cars moving slowly along the street, not speeding.”

“Any trucks in the driveway?” Scott asked.

Garcia shook her head. “Only a school bus in the back of the driveway. But no trucks.”

“Are you sure?” Bruiser asked. “We thought they would use a truck to move the explosives.”

“Well, none so far. Maybe they’re keeping them in the garage.”

She jumped down and brushed herself off. “I think we should try and get their attention. See if we can get them to let us out of here.”

“How are you going to do that?” Scott asked.

Garcia picked up a tool from the work bench and threw it through the window, causing a noisy shattering of glass.

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“That’s how,” she said. She picked up a second tool and threw it through another window.

When the third tool went through a window, Garcia heard a key in the lock. “Well, here goes.” *** Fairchild was still trying to get her mind around Manon’s hug and comments. She seemed nice enough, but was she just trying to take advantage of her? Fairchild had already let that happen once and wasn’t going to let it happen again.

Manon drove Fairchild to the hospital in record time, and they hurried through the lobby, then took the stairs two at a time up to Colbert’s room.

The guard was missing. Fairchild walked over to the nurse’s station. “What happened to the guard?”

“He had some sort of stroke and died. Colonel Hendricks is working to replace him.”

“Okay. I hope he can hurry. I don’t want that clown to get away.”

The nurse nodded. “We’re being extra careful to keep an eye on him, particularly when we have to go into his room.”

Fairchild walked back and entered Colbert’s room. He lay in the same position she had seen him in before, head on a thick pile of pillows and leg up in the air.

Glancing up at Fairchild, he said, “What do you want? Haven’t you done enough to me?”

Then Colbert spotted Manon. “You. What are you doing here and with that piece of shit?”

Manon stepped back from the ferocious tone of Colbert’s voice and glanced at Fairchild. She didn’t say anything.

He got the idea. “You’re here with her? I can’t believe it. You double-crosser.”

Fairchild stepped forward. “Believe it, you jerk. You have no idea how much trouble you’re in. You’re going to jail for a long time.”

Colbert had a questioning look in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

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“You’ve been holding out on me. Tell me about your burner phones. I want them, and I want them now.”

Colbert glared at Manon, disbelief on his face. “You’ve gone over to them. You witch. And after all we’ve meant to each other.”

Manon glared at him. “All I was to you was a simple piece of ass who did everything you asked and gave you all you wanted.”

“Enough of that,” Fairchild interrupted. “What I care about now are those burner phones. Get them out of wherever you have them and do it right now.”

Colbert sneered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve got a short memory, Colbert.” Fairchild took a step forward and put her hand on his leg. “Remember me? I want those phones. Now.” “You can’t make me. Those guys will kill me.”

“But they’re not here, and I am.”

Fairchild pushed down on his leg and squeezed it hard. He screamed. “No, you’re killing me. Stop. I’ll give you the phones.”

Fairchild moved her hand. “Okay, where are they?”

“Here.” He reached into the drawer of the bedside table. In a surprisingly quick move, he pulled out a pistol and aimed it at Fairchild.

Just as he pulled the trigger, Manon jumped in front of Fairchild and took the bullet in the center of her chest.

Fairchild jumped over Manon and batted the gun out of his hand before he could fire again. The gun flew across the floor.

She reached to her right and scooped it up.

“You bastard,” Fairchild called. “I should kill you. Right now.”

“But you won’t.” He smiled. “You’re one of the good guys, and good guys don’t do those sorts of things.”

“You’re right.” She smiled back at him, then squeezed his leg as hard as she could, relishing the scream. “But this is what I can do. And I will.”

She ran to the door and pulled it open. The nurse had heard the shot and a medical team came running down the hallway.

Fairchild bent down and whispered to Manon, “Doctors are on the way. Stay with me. You’re important. Stay with me.”

Manon leaned up toward Fairchild. “I meant that hug, and I meant I’m sorry.” She slipped back to the floor.

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Fairchild held her head up until a doctor could kneel and replace her.

The doctor took a quick look at Manon and called for a stretcher. “We need to get this woman to surgery. Immediately.”

Fairchild didn’t want to let go of Manon’s hand. She watched as the medics took Manon out of the room.

“Oh, no, not you, too,” Fairchild whispered. “Please don’t let this happen.”

Fairchild turned to Colbert and banged his leg again, then pulled herself up and looked in the drawer. Three cell phones lay in the drawer.

She pulled out her own phone and called Hendricks. When he answered, she told him what happened. “I need some technical help. Also, we need to replace the guard.”

Then she looked at her watch. Eight o’clock. Not much time.

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42 White House, Washington, D.C., June 14 Zack sat at his desk, trying to sort things through in his mind.

He checked his watch, then glanced over at T.J. “Exactly sixteen hours until D-Day, H-Hour.”

He gave a list to the secretary. “These are the folks I’d like on a conference call. Could you please contact them as soon as possible?”

In about thirty minutes, the secretary came to where he sat.

“Sir, all the parties are on the line.”

He picked up the phone. “Good evening. We’re down to sixteen hours until we believe they will begin their operation.

Agent Harper, will you summarize the FBI priorities?”

“The senior agents in each of the six cities are running surveillance on their assigned groups. So far, none of them have started moving. They will first need to pick up the bomb materials. We’ll be watching.”

“Should begin moving shortly,” Zack said.

“Right. We believe they will pick up the explosive devices early in the morning. We plan to catch them with the explosives.

We still don’t know the final targets, but our agents have been brainstorming targets in each of the six cities.”

“Good,” Zack replied. “I’m sure they will prioritize the best targets in each city.”

“We’re also alerting fire and rescue units,” Harper replied.

“We’re not telling them anything specific, only that we have indications of a possible attack and to be ready.”

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“What about the two vehicles we’ve been worrying about?”

“We continue the surveillance of the militia homes, assuming we’ll be looking for trucks, but are not ruling out anything else as yet.”

He took a breath. “We are coordinating with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives agents to make sure we have additional support to defuse any bombs in each of the cities.”

“We briefed the president this morning,” Zack said. “His guidance is to select the most conservative course of action. That is the one with the fewest possible casualties.”

“Easy to say,” Sergeant Foster said. “We have a lot of information, but I am still worried we are missing something.”

“I agree with you,” Zack said. “The stakes are high if we miss something. We’ve held off arresting people because we want evidence of what they’re doing. But if it gets too close, we’ll have to round everyone up.”

“Just don’t wait too long,” Foster said.

Zack understood and had an uncomfortable pain in the pit of his stomach. They were missing something. “How about the NSA?” Henry Mortimer’s face came on the screen. “We’ve been picking up additional streams of data which could be from interference by hackers. As we pick up relevant phone conversations from the people we think are involved, we will be sharing that information with the FBI.” “Zack,” Agent Harper said, “let me add that we’ll be meeting with the chief of police in Washington and the head of the Capitol police department to let them know to beef up security on a low key basis.”

“Okay, sounds like we’re covering the bases. As something comes up, please let me know immediately. Even if you think it’s a small detail, call and let me know. Does anyone have anything else?”

Hearing nothing, Zack concluded. “We’ll be opening the Pentagon operations center at 2000 hours to coordinate the

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operation. I’ll be sending out contact information to each of you.

If you think I’ve missed someone, let me know.”

He took a deep breath to try and think of anything else.

When he couldn’t, he said “Okay. Good luck.”

As soon as he disconnected, the secretary came hurrying into the office. “Sir, Agent Fairchild.”

Zack picked up the phone. “Tara is that you?”

“It’s me.” She summarized what had just happened and the burner phones she had gathered.

“Great work. We need those phones.”

“I’m working with Colonel Hendricks. His tech guys are looking at them. My idea is to get them down to you. Maybe we can confuse them into believing we’re Colbert.”

“Fantastic.”

“Hendricks is laying on a plane. We can be at National in about three hours. That will give us tonight to try and figure them out. I do have Alpha’s passwords and call signs. Colbert wrote them all down and had them in the drawer.”

“Okay. Give me your flight number and arrival times. I’ll send a police vehicle over to National to meet you and bring you to the Pentagon. How is Manon?”

Fairchild paused for a moment. “I’m not sure. She felt badly about what happened to me and wants to make it better. She probably saved my life.”

“Thank heavens for her action. I sure hope she makes it.”

“Oh, Zack. I do too, I really do.” *** Zack sat at his desk trying to figure out additional things he could do.

The burner phones were a gift. With the call signs and passwords, they had the capability to contact Alpha and try to gain information, but who in the world could do it without tipping him off?

Then it hit him. He picked up the phone and dialed. In a moment, Gabrielle answered. “Bonjour, Chéri.”

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“We may have gotten a break.” He summarized what Fairchild had told him. “I’m thinking maybe you could pretend to be Manon and build a way to get into Alpha’s confidence.”

“That just might work,” Gabrielle said. “He’s never met me, and I’m pretty familiar with Manon. We need a story about what happened to Colbert. Maybe the truth. He’s in the hospital.”

“Let’s say Colbert wants to punish Fairchild for what she did.

You could say you brought her down here to tie to the bomb.

Alpha might go for that.”

“I like it,” Gabrielle replied. “If we do it right, we could find the location of where they are. I could say Colbert wants me to put Fairchild in the vehicle before it explodes.”

“Okay, Fairchild’s on the way with the phones and should be here at the Pentagon by midnight. We can use T.J. to pick you up and bring you back here. I’ll get him going.”

“I’ll be ready, and we should be able to make it to Washington by midnight or shortly after. You know, I feel good about this working.”

“Oh, man, it has to. See you soon.”

Zack hung up and looked at the wall. This has to work.

227

43 The Pentagon, Washington D.C., June 15 Fairchild burst into Zack’s office at ten minutes after midnight.

She ran over to his desk and gave him a hug. He hugged her back.

“I was so worried when I heard what had happened to you,” Zack said. “I’m glad you’re back with us safe and sound.”

Fairchild shivered. “I owe it all to Scott. I’ll never forget how close they came to killing me. She found me after Colbert had moved me to his office in the hotel. Between Scott and Garcia, they got me to the hospital. No doubt saved my life. Now I may have a chance to return the favor.”

Zack explained what he was thinking.

“I think it should work,” Fairchild said. “Alpha hasn’t met Manon or Gabrielle. It’ll be a French woman on the phone. He shouldn’t know the difference.”

Zack leaned forward. “And remember, it’ll not only be a French woman, but a French woman with the password and the code from Colbert.”

“Do we have any idea where Jacques is?” Fairchild asked. “If he’s with Alpha, that could be a problem. One we should be able to overcome, but could be more of a challenge.”

“I’m going to call our tech guys. They should be able to help us figure out how to make it work. I’ve got a couple of Harper’s guys too, so between them they’ll sort it out.”

The five men arrived in Zack’s office and Fairchild turned over the phones to them.

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It took about a half-hour to work through the systems and check the codes and passwords.

Zack began to feel a little more comfortable about their plan. *** By the time Gabrielle arrived at one ten, the techs had a pretty good idea of the number to call and how best Gabrielle could appear to be Manon.

“Now,” Zack said, “we’ll get only one chance to tell the story of why Gabrielle, playing Manon, is on the phone and not Colbert, so we’d better make it good.”

“I think the truth or some reasonable version of it should work,” Fairchild replied. “That way, if Jacques is there, he can verify what happened. He knows Colbert is in the hospital.”

“Okay, makes sense. Now, how are we going to explain Fairchild and Manon here in Washington and not in Quebec?”

Zack asked.

Gabrielle thought for a moment, smiled, then replied, “I don’t think we should place them in Washington. Fairchild needs to be in Quebec along with Manon.”

“Okay, what’s next?”

“Manon understands how much Colbert hates Fairchild.

She’d embarrassed him, leading him to become injured. She knows Colbert wants Fairchild to die with the bomb. Fairchild has ruined everything for him and put him in the hospital.”

Zack thought about that for a moment. “I like it. How is Manon going to get Fairchild to Washington?”

“I’ve thought of that, too,” Gabrielle said. “One of Manon’s wealthy sugar daddies has a plane and could have volunteered to loan it for the cause.”

Zack gave her a thumbs-up. “She’s gratefully accepted and will show him how grateful she is when she returns triumphant to Quebec. Since it’s a private plane, we can say Fairchild is under guard and in handcuffs. Couldn’t do that on a commercial plane.”

Fairchild jumped into the conversation. “I like it. Manon is doing this for Colbert. He’s in the hospital. He wants to make sure 229

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everything goes off as planned. Manon must get rid of Fairchild for him.”

“When do you think we should contact Alpha?” Zack asked.

“As soon as the tech guys have it all set up,” Gabrielle said.

“We need to give them time to get down here. They could even be on the plane and ready to leave when Manon makes the call.”

“Good point,” Fairchild said. “It’s a few hours to get here and we want the two to be ready to meet Alpha in the morning.”

Zack thought about it for a moment and took a quick sip of coffee.

“Okay. Let’s go for it. As soon as we’ve called Alpha, I’ll share with Harper and the others what we find out.” *** The FBI’s technical experts placed the call for Gabrielle with everyone holding their breath. It seemed to echo in the room as the tone began to ring. Gabrielle took a deep breath, and Zack gave her a thumbs-up.

It ran six times before a voice answered, “Yeah.”

“Oui, Monsieur, this is Brigitte Manon,” Gabrielle said. “I’m at McGill University in Montreal and have been with André Colbert. He is hurting badly because of what that monster Fairchild did to him, and he wants revenge.”

Silence for a moment. Then the voice read 62114. Gabrielle looked at the sheet and read, “41126.”

Silence for a moment, then the voice said, “Where’s Colbert?”

“I left him a few minutes ago in the hospital. He’s in much pain and under a pain killer which messes with his mind.”

“I want to talk with him.”

“You can’t because he’s back asleep again, and I’m in a car on my way to the airport. Before he fell asleep, he grabbed my arm and said, ‘make Fairchild pay.’”

Zack and Gabrielle held their collective breath and waited.

“I can’t run my whole operation around him just because he’s hurting. Too many loose ends. Too many things can go wrong.”

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“You don’t need to. I’ve got her here with me and she’s in handcuffs. As I said, we’re at the airport. We can be in Washington in four hours. This is so important to André and I love him and want to help.”

They held their breath again.

Finally, they heard, “Okay. I want to first talk with Jacques to make sure he thinks it’s okay. When you get to Washington, call me.”

The line went dead.

Zack turned to Gabrielle and gave her a hug “I think you pulled it off. Congratulations.”

Gabrielle looked as if she might be sick. “I need a bathroom.”

Zack took her arm and led out into the hall. He pointed toward the bathrooms. “Well done. Now there’s the bathroom.”

She started to run down the hall. “Tell me again when I get back.”

He called down the hallway, “In the meantime, I’m going to contact Harper. Let him know what happened.”

231

44 Quarryville, PA, June 12 Garcia remained frustrated about her inability to get involved with the actual operation. Her efforts with the broken windows had only angered Alpha.

So here they sat. The hours passed slowly and finally at six o’clock in the morning there was the sound of someone unlocking the doors.

Alpha walked into the room, a smile on his face and a gun in his hand. “Okay everyone, to show I have a good heart, I will provide you breakfast before you leave.”

“Where are we going?” Scott asked.

“You’ll find out in good time,” Alpha said. “In the meantime, come and enjoy a country breakfast.”

They all trooped over to the house and into the kitchen. Three militia members stood guard around the room with weapons drawn.

The food smelled wonderful, but Garcia had no appetite.

Bruiser, on the other hand, looked starved and wolfed down a huge breakfast.

When they finished, Alpha stood up in front of the group. “All right, you wanted to know what’s going on. Now I can tell you.

We’ll be leaving in about thirty minutes. You’ll all be transported on a bus.”

He paused and looked at each of them. “I only hope that you didn’t mess us up. Assuming things go the way we think they should, you’ll be let off the bus when we reach our targets. The White House and Capitol.”

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“But what if ….?” Garcia asked.

“Well, if things don’t go as planned and we find you have been responsible, then you will continue on the bus to its final destination.”

Garcia didn’t like the way he said “its final destination.” She glanced over at Scott who must have realized what he meant and had an uncomfortable look on her face.

She nodded at Scott. It would be up to them to do something.

They had to carefully pick the time and place. Probably only one shot at Alpha and it had to be a good one.

“Okay,” Alpha said. “Time to load up.”

The three walked outside. A school bus idled in the driveway.

“Okay, climb on board the bus like good students.” Alpha laughed. “And as they say, leave the driving to us.”

Garcia stepped on the bus behind Scott, not sure if she would ever be able to step off it again.

She looked toward the rear of the bus. A number of large cartons and three barrels laced with wires stood in the aisles. She knew exactly what the cartons were. They’d have to get off the bus before it reached its final destination.

She took a seat and glanced at Scott. Neither said anything.

Nothing to say. Where was Zack? Did he know where they were?

They were joined by three beefy men with masks and a number of tattoos on their arms.

Alpha stepped on last. “Please give me your attention. I think you realize you’ll be riding on the bus for awhile. If you sit tight and don’t create any problems, we won’t feel it necessary to tie you up. But if you give us problems, I’ve told my men to not hesitate to tie you up.”

He paused. “And if you try anything untoward, then they have directions to shoot. I hope that won’t be necessary.”

He smiled at them and waved as he stepped down. Then he stuck his head back in and said, “Be sure and enjoy the ride.” *** Sergeant Bright and a surveillance team from the FBI had been watching four different houses of militia members in 233

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Quarryville for the past twenty hours. Bright had a feeling one of these houses would be the one where the bomber would strike from.

He waited down the block from the house on Church Street.

This was the home of the explosive ordnance expert and seemed to be a reasonable place to begin. He felt good about it.

A few people wandered around a school bus first thing in the morning. Bright suspected they were school bus drivers, but he needed to keep a lookout for them. Still, a little early for students.

About seven o’clock, another school bus arrived. They were probably getting ready to begin picking up students. He dropped back a little. Had he been wrong? He was so sure.

The two buses lined up side by side and he thought to himself, they looked like twins. The sight took him back to his school days in northern Pennsylvania, very much in the country.

A few people loaded on the first bus. He only wished he had discovered the trucks. That seemed to be the most likely carriers for the bombers to use.

Rental trucks had been what they’d used in the bombing in 1998 that had been so awful, and he didn’t want to think about that possibility again. He had to stop them. He couldn’t be wrong.

The FBI agent in the car with Bright had reported the arrival of the second bus, but no trucks yet. From what he heard on the radio, it appeared the other sites hadn’t seen any trucks as yet, either. If they were to begin the operation at noon today, they needed to get the trucks moving.

He checked his watch again. Could he be wrong about this being one of the loading sites? He wondered if the agents at Mansfield College were finding anything.

Then it hit him. He hadn’t been wrong about the site, only the vehicles. How could he have been so stupid? Right in front of him all the time. And he’d missed it But not anymore. He snapped photos, then grabbed his cell phone to call Colonel Kelly. He had to get the word to him. He was sure of what he saw.

A thought hit him. If these were the vehicles, then who were the people getting on the buses? Oh no, could they be hostages?

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45 Washington, D.C., June 15 Agent Harper called Zack to tell him he believed his agents in Washington had spotted Jacques with the rest of the team they had been watching.

“There were originally four operatives,” Harper said, “then all of a sudden about eight hours ago, a fifth man appeared. Now there are two women and three men.”

“That must have been about the time they all left the hotel,” Zack said.

“One of our agents took a photo of this fifth guy. We forwarded it to Colonel Hendricks in Quebec.

“Was Hendricks able identify the man?”

“Yep. It only took him an hour to confirm with Facial Recognition the man was this Jacques. Apparently he doesn’t like to use a last name, but only Jacques.”

“Since you’ve identified him,” Zack asked, “what do you propose we do?”

“Our senior agents in the various cities are reporting teams moving, most likely preparing to pick up their bombing material.

I don’t believe any of them have gotten the material, but they seem to be preparing.”

Zack thought about that for a moment. “Admiral Steele says whenever our senior agents confirm the teams have the explosives in their possession, they should prepare to apprehend.

We need proof of what they are trying to do.”

“My concern,” Harper said, “is we may tip off Alpha if we do it too early.”

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“And if we wait too long,” Zack said, “we run the risk of them getting the explosives and setting them off. Remember the president’s guidance. If in doubt, take the conservative course.

No 9/11’s on his watch. I can’t say I blame him.”

“We are following this Jacques,” Harper said. “As the leader of the group, he should be key to timing. If we can nail him when he picks up the explosives, then we should be able to roll up the rest.”

“Seems reasonable,” Zack said.

Harper paused for a moment. “Aren’t they supposed to set off the explosives at noon, Washington time, to coincide with the bombings in D.C.? That means nine o’clock, for example, in San Francisco.”

“Let me talk to the admiral,” Zack said. “We’ll go with Jacques. You track him and arrest his group when they pick up the explosives and move to detonate the bomb.”

“Got it.”

“Then roll up the rest as they plant bombs. I expect it will take time for them to put them in place and set the fuses.”

“I agree,” Harper said. “Each of the FBI teams has bomb explosives experts as well as agents from the BATFE, who should be able to defuse any bombs.”

Zack thought for a moment. “I’ll call you as soon as I hear.

The admiral may want to get the okay from the president.”

“Got it. We’ll stay on top of Jacques and do our best to monitor the rest.”

“Good luck. I’ll let you know as soon I hear from the boss.” *** Promptly at seven o’clock in the morning, Gabrielle posted another call to Alpha.

When he answered the phone, they could hear the sound of traffic and moving vehicles. “Yeah.”

He called numbers to Gabrielle, and she authenticated back to him.

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“Monsieur, this is Brigette Manon. Yes, Chéri, We have landed in Washington. I have Fairchild with me, and the bitch is in handcuffs.”

“Where exactly are you? Do you have wheels?”

“Standing outside National Airport in a rental car lot. I am ready to join you so I can give the bitch what she has coming to her.”

She glanced over at Zack, fingers crossed. The stress and pressure continued to build.

“I’m not sure I can screw up our whole plan for one person.”

“Chéri, André meant everything to this operation. He has been your point of contact, scheduled all of the programs, and set up all of the meetings. He is a wonderful man, and Fairchild put him in the hospital.”

“Yeah, but this is bigger than one guy and the bitch that pissed him off.”

Gabrielle grimaced. “You’re going to want his help in the future. After this day, the future should be very bright. He’ll be your contact with the French.”

“I’m not sure of that. I have Jacques, but you do make a good point. All right. Let me check a map.”

They heard the rustling of paper. He called an exit number off Interstate 95.

“We’ll meet you there at ten o’clock.”

Gabrielle let out her breath and smiled at Zack. “Merci.

André is still out, but when this is over, I’ll tell him what you did for him.”

“Maybe you and I can get together for some wine tonight. To celebrate our victory. I remember seeing your picture. Very nice.”

“Oui. It would be my honor, mon vieux. I’m sure I can give you my special treatment for your help. In the meantime, I’ll see you this morning at ten o’clock at that exit.”

“Don’t be late, or you’ll miss us.”

“Merci, Monsieur.”

237

46 Washington, D.C., June 15 Agent Harper kept his eye on the door of the warehouse Jacques and two others had entered about six minutes earlier.

The two females waited outside in the panel truck, motor idling.

Harper had deployed four agents to the back side of the warehouse and four more on either side. There were six agents along with two sharpshooters next to him.

It was hot in his bulletproof vest, even in the cool morning air. Harper knew the element of surprise would help, but he had participated in too many of these operations to be overly confident. This was definitely an opportunity for Murphy’s Law to strike — if anything can go wrong, it will.

It seemed to take forever for Jacques and his team to pick up their explosives. Harper felt confident that is what they were doing, but if they didn’t have any explosives, all of his proof went down the drain.

He continued to field calls from his other teams, and the suspense kept building. The agents in Denver were waiting for their assigned operatives to bring out the explosives. The agents in Philadelphia likewise were at what they thought was the actual pickup site.

He straightened up as the door to the warehouse opened and Jacques hurried out. Damn, he was empty-handed.

Then not far behind him were two men, both carrying boxes.

Whew. Proof.

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They loaded the boxes into their van. Should he strike now or wait until they were at their proposed site? He debated, then decided to wait.

Conceivably, they could come up with some song and dance BS. They were planning to use the explosives to blow out tree stumps. Not likely, but certainly possible. He’d seen it before.

Their surveillance cars were ready and started up after the van left the lot. Taking turns, the two vehicles followed the van into the city. They traveled across the city and back toward Virginia.

Harper assumed their target had to be the Pentagon.

He called Zack to let him know so he could alert security at the Pentagon and have them prepare a welcoming committee.

Harper needed to back off his group so as not to make Jacques suspicious.

It seemed all was moving forward. *** Zack had to prepare for the meeting with Alpha at the rest stop, and he had only a couple of hours to do it.

He gathered Gabrielle, Fairchild, and his friend, Lieutenant Colonel Shell, who commanded a ranger battalion, and along with T.J., flew out to the exit where they were to meet Alpha.

T.J. found a landing site close by, and Shell had a number of his soldiers and their vehicles join them at the site, including an ambulance.

It was a typical rest stop along the interstate. This would be tricky because they had to clear the site so no one would get injured without alerting Alpha.

As former military, Alpha certainly knew the tricks to setting up an ambush, so Zack had to carefully select the ambush.

When the group arrived at the site, there were a number of parked cars and a few cars and trucks moving in and out of the exit, parking, then leaving.

“Why not get a bunch of our own cars here to take up the spaces?” T.J. asked. “Then after Alpha arrives on the exit ramp, we can put a truck at the entrance driveway to block it.”

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Zack nodded, thinking about his idea. “Hopefully, once Alpha gets into the parking area, he won’t notice a truck blocking the driveway.”

T.J. nodded. “There is that. But it seems to me we need to stop other traffic from entering the rest stop.”

Zack glanced at Colonel Shell. “Could you have some of your guys scout out positions on the highway so we’ll know when Alpha’s approaching? Maybe start about ten miles out.”

“What exactly are they looking for?” Shell asked.

“Great question. I’m not exactly sure. I understand it will be two vehicles, probably trucks, with a car most likely containing Alpha in the front.”

Shell shook his head. “Will be kinda tough to spot. Lots of trucks on the road.”

“Don’t I know it,” Zack said. “But it’s all I’ve got right now.”

Zack walked around the exit with Shell, checking locations for their snipers.

“I’d like to have a sniper about every ten feet if we can find enough locations. We don’t know where Alpha will park his vehicles, so we’ll need to cover the entire parking area.”

“Got it,” Shell said.

Together they paced the parking area, picking out places for the snipers.

Shell had made notes of their findings. “I’ll go ahead and place them now. It won’t be that long before this guy arrives.”

“We expect them about ten o’clock,” Zack said, “but it certainly could be earlier. We’ve got to be ready.”

Zack’s cell phone rang. He picked it up.

“Colonel Kelly, this is Sergeant Bright. I’m at the house on Church Street in Quarryville. I think we’ve missed the point.”

“What are you saying?” Zack asked, a little impatient as he had a lot on his mind.

“At the house of the explosives expert, there are two school buses with people moving around them, and they seem to be loading people.”

Bright had Zack’s attention.

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“We’ve been blinded about vehicles, thinking trucks. I think they’re using buses. And what I’m watching here is hostages being put on the buses.”

“Are you say–?”

“Yes, sir. So simple. I’m almost positive they’re using school buses. Brilliant. We’ve assumed them away. And one of the subjects we’ve been following is a mechanic. I bet he’s souped up those buses.”

“Use your surveillance team to track the buses, but be careful so they don’t realize you’re onto them. Stay in touch with me. We need to figure out how to help the hostages.”

School buses. Zack had missed it too.

He disconnected and called to Colonel Shell. “I’ve got your targets, and they’re not trucks.” *** Garcia looked out of the window, sometimes not seeing anything at all. She watched the hills, creeks, barns, fields, cars, and trucks, seeing but not really seeing. Thinking. Trying to figure out how they could get off the damn buses.

She glanced around at the others. The three militia members were awake and sharp. Not missing anything.

When they arrived at the destination, would Zack be there as a welcoming committee? Would Alpha let them go? Knowing Alpha, she doubted he would willingly let them go. They would have to fight their way off the bus.

Garcia had the uneasy feeling they would have to make their own way. But how? She glanced over at Scott, who was alert, obviously thinking of things they could do.

The two locked glances.

Well, she figured, the hell with it. She had to try something.

“Hey,” she said. “When are we going stop? I’ve got to go to the bathroom. Can we pull over for a minute?”

One of the militia men sitting right behind her, ignored her, looked out the window and didn’t acknowledge her at all.

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She tried again. “Hey, you, I gotta go to the john. Give me a break. Can’t we stop for a minute? Won’t take me long.”

Nothing.

Scott tried. “Look, can we stop for a minute? Give us a chance to go to the bathroom. Don’t be a jerk. Give us a break.”

The guy finally looked at Garcia. “Shut the fuck up. If you keep talking, I’m going to knock you out.”

He stared at Garcia. “Alpha told us to be nice to all of you, but if you keep up with the bullshit, I won’t be nice anymore. So once more: Shut up. We ain’t gonna stop ‘til Alpha says stop.”

Garcia saw her chance. “How long will that be?”

“Listen, wise ass. We stop when Alpha says stop and not before. Now, shut up. No more talking.”

Garcia figured she’d pushed it as far as she could. She glanced over at Scott, who shrugged. Probably didn’t see anything else worth doing at the moment.

Oh, man, Garcia thought, I don’t want to go up in some bomb blast.

242

47 The French Embassy, Washington D.C., June 15 Jacques diverted from his trip toward Virginia to stop at the French Embassy along Reservoir Road in Northwest Washington. He needed to pick up two ID badges to get him inside the Pentagon.

He hurried up to the side door where his friend waited for him. She kissed him on each of his cheeks then slipped him the badges.

“Chéri, I am ready when you are done. We can then leave, yes.”

“Yes, my dear, leave and do all the things we have always wanted to do together.”

She smiled her loving smile. “I’m packed and ready to go.”

He gave her a hug, turned, and hurried back to the van. As he walked, he looked over at Georgetown University and thought back to the years he had spent there.

Terrible memories. He’d been called a Frog and a stupid Frenchman. So many threats and beatings–it made him hate Americans. Helping Alpha helped him feel good again.

He reached the van and climbed in. “Let’s go.” The college memories disappeared, at least for now.

They passed the Watergate, symbol of past efforts to change the government, around the Lincoln Monument, then across the Potomac on the Memorial Bridge.

Jacques leaned forward as they crossed the Potomac and drove into Virginia. This was it. He’d been waiting for three days for this moment. This was his moment of triumph.

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He looked up at the mansion of Robert E. Lee, wondering what that statesman would be thinking at this time. One of the classic revolutionaries and a hero to Jacques, Lee wasn’t afraid of taking chances, of making enemies. He did what he thought was right.

He pointed toward the left, and the driver turned south toward the Pentagon. He fingered the two ID badges in his pocket, key to their entrance.

When they pulled into the driveway for deliveries, he jumped out, opened the back doors, and flashed his badges. “Here they are. The material you have been waiting for.”

The man winked and gave him a knowing smile. Together they moved the boxes into the storeroom.

Jacques had to laugh when he thought about the fire drill in two hours. All of the workers at the Pentagon would be pouring through the lobby and toward the doors and the deadly bombs.

They moved the boxes into the lobby and set up the Claymores under the cover of the drapes they had brought in.

He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like: revolution and revenge for him. How many would die when they triggered the Claymore mines? Oh, the chaos that would cause.

He leaned back and thought about it. He had done his work.

Soon all would be ready. All they had to do was wait for the fire drill.

The triggers on the Claymores would do the rest.

As he stood there, Jacques felt someone standing behind him. He turned to see a tall, well-built man in a blue suit and blue-and-red-striped tie.

“Good morning, Jacques. My name is Harper, and I believe we have some serious matters to talk about.”

He pulled out a small leather case and flashed a badge. FBI. Jacques couldn’t believe it. He had been so careful.

“You might be interested in knowing,” Agent Harper said, “we’re on the way to the French Embassy to pick up your friend and inquire how she had been able to get the governmental ID’s which allowed you to enter the Pentagon.”

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He felt Harper take his arm and together the two began a walk toward the door. The FBI would probably roll up all of the others. To be honest Jacques wasn’t sure what he thought about this result, but he would probably have a lot of time to think about it.

Agent Harper turned Jacques over to one of the other agents.

Harper glanced at his team. “I’ve got to check and see what’s going on in the other cities. Once I get the information, I can call Zack. Well done, guys.” *** Nine-ten a.m.

Zack took the call from Harper, glad to hear Jacques had been arrested with all the proof they needed. Now he needed to stop Alpha, rescue Garcia, Scott, and Bruiser, and dismantle all of the bombs.

He glanced around the rest stop. There were still a few who had recently stopped for a break. He wasn’t sure what to do with them. It would be hard to send them away without tipping off Alpha. On the other hand, he couldn’t let them stay. They had to start moving them out and blocking others in about twenty minutes.

He had expanded his early warning system up to fifteen miles out. The soldiers were to alert when they saw the two buses following the car but not intercept them.

Colonel Shell had done his part by placing sharpshooters at a number of sites around the parking lot.

Zack placed the car with Gabrielle and Fairchild in it near the front of the parking area. That way, when Alpha pulled in, he would see them right away so he wouldn’t drive too far into the parking area.

He had a truck ready so as soon as Alpha moved into the parking lot, a truck would take its place at the entrance, stopping other vehicles from entering.

The driver would immediately put up a disabled sign to look like he had maintenance problems.

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He paced around the site, checking and rechecking. This was the worst part of any operation, waiting, always waiting.

He had touched base with Admiral Steele, who had updated the president.

Steele was delighted to hear Harper had stopped Jacques at the Pentagon. It would have been catastrophic if he had been successful.

Zack’s radio buzzed. Two school buses following a Toyota had been spotted fifteen miles out.

Operation was a go.

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48 Rest stop off Route I-95, Maryland, June 15 Zack paced around the entrance to the rest stop. He gave the order to have all the other vehicles moved.

His radio buzzed. Buses spotted at ten miles out. He walked over to the car with Gabrielle and Fairchild.

Gabrielle leaned out the window.

“Ready?” Zack asked.

“Oui, Chéri. Guess we have to be.”

Fairchild leaned over. “Time to get those bastards for all they’ve done and all they’re trying to do.”

Zack knelt next to the window. “Try to get Alpha out of his car so our shooters can get him if necessary. I’d like to take him alive if possible. Our priority is to get our people off those buses safely.”

“We’ll do our best, Chéri,” Gabrielle said.

Zack put his hand on her arm. “I know you will. I want to thank both of you for this. I think it’s our best chance to stop Alpha and free our friends.”

Both nodded. They were ready.

As Zack walked away, he called, “Good luck.”

With that, Zack walked back to the small command post he and Shell had set up behind a tree and on a picnic table. Pretty austere, but he’d been in worse in Afghanistan.

“Three miles out,” the radio called.

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Everything ran through Zack’s mind again. He couldn’t come up with anything missing.

“One mile,” The spotter said.

“Here we go,” Shell said.

Zack had communications with all of the key elements. Now it was just a matter of waiting. *** Fairchild sat in the back seat of their rental car and looked over her shoulder as the Toyota pulled into the rest stop. Next, she saw the first bus, followed shortly by a second. It took her breath away seeing the buses after hearing, then thinking, so much about them. The damage they could do was staggering.

Sergeant Bright was right. The buses did look like twins. Both had Mansfield University written on the sides and were freshly painted bright yellow with black lettering. All ready to pick up students.

The Toyota pulled into the spot next to their car. It idled for a minute, then the driver cut the engine.

Fairchild wasn’t sure what she expected, but in a moment, a tall, stocky man stepped out of the passenger side. He adjusted the mask on his face, stretched, then walked over to her car. She noted he had a slight limp.

She looked up at him through the window. Except for the mask, he looked like just another guy. Could this man be a mass killer? A monster? Seemed like it.

The two buses idled one behind the other in the driver’s lane, waiting. Her friends on those buses, under the risk of dying? Hell no. Not on her watch.

She had to stop it. Had to. Would never forgive herself if anything happened to them.

T.J. had told him he suspected they would not be able to quickly detonate the bombs, but of course, he wasn’t sure how the bombs were fused.

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Under some circumstances, it could be done with the simple flip of a switch. She hoped, yes prayed, that wasn’t the case here.

Gabrielle whispered, “Okay, here we go. Good luck.”

Gabrielle stepped out of the driver’s side of the car and walked around to meet Alpha or the man she assumed was Alpha. None of them had any idea what he looked like.

His male voice called out, “Get her out of the car. You wanted to get rid of her, and you’re wasting time.”

Fairchild couldn’t believe how cold-blooded he sounded.

What had happened to him to make him so cold-blooded?

Gabrielle walked over to the car and opened the door, a pistol in her right hand. “Okay,” she said, “out of the car and be quick about it. We don’t have all day.”

Fairchild pushed herself forward and stepped out of the back seat and stood to face Alpha. She couldn’t resist. “Why are you doing this? What have any of us done to you?”

“You have no idea, bitch, what’s happened to me and why I’m here. Just walk over to that bus and get on board. We have an appointment to keep.”

“You bastard. You think killing hundreds of people is just another appointment?” She shook her head. “You are so sad.”

He reached across and slapped her face, startling her. She almost fell to the ground.

She struggled to regain her balance and managed to keep standing. When she stood straight, she was slightly taller than the terrorist.

She looked down at him. He didn’t have to say anything, but he knew.

She brushed past him and walked toward the bus. The door opened, and a man stood in her way.

“Get out of my way. Isn’t it enough you want to kill me? Do you have to feel me up, too? Pitiful bastard.”

The power of her voice caused him to step back. She climbed the three steps and stood in the front, glancing around the bus.

Garcia sat in the second seat from the front on the left side and Scott and Bruiser on the right. What a break. Having all three on this bus made it easier.

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One man was standing next to her and two men sat in the seats behind Garcia and Scott.

If this was going to work, she needed to do it right now.

She turned and kneed the man next to her. He yelped and bent over, then dropping down, she pulled the pistol from under her skirt and fired at the two men behind her friends, hitting each one in the face.

Garcia and Scott were on their feet in seconds. Garcia whipped around. She looked back to see the two slumped in the seats of the bus. It looked like both of them were dead.

Bruiser was on his feet kicking the man in the front down the stairs and out the door of the bus.

The snipers opened fire on the second bus, killing or wounding the men on the bus.

At the sound of the shots, Alpha had grabbed Gabrielle and pushed her into their rental car. “Drive bitch, or I’ll kill you.”

Gabrielle jumped in and jammed the car in gear, jumping the curb and roaring down the pavement toward the exit.

A panel truck blocked her path, but she was able to drive around the truck on the grass. Then she pointed the car directly at a tree, hitting it head-on.

After the car hit the tree, suddenly everything fell silent.

Fairchild ran toward the car, praying Gabrielle survived the crash.

Thankfully the car had not caught fire yet. Fairchild grabbed the driver’s side door and pulled. Stuck.

Yelling for help, she pulled as hard as she could. Stuck. In a moment, Zack and Bruiser joined her. They broke the driver’s side window and shattered the windshield.

Three soldiers joined them. One of the men used a bar to pry the door open.

Another team worked on the passenger side door and were able to pull Alpha out of the car.

Zack’s team lifted Gabrielle out of the car, a shattered mass of humanity. Fortunately, Zack had thought ahead and an ambulance pulled up. He reached down to take her hand.

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Her eyes opened for a moment. Looked at him. “Chéri.”

Zack squeezed her hand. “Chéri.”

He couldn’t tell if she smiled or not.

A man bushed past him. “I’m a doctor. Get me that bag.”

He bent over Gabrielle. “Move her out of here. She needs oxygen.”

A paramedic rushed up with portable oxygen.

Fairchild looked up to see T.J. landing his helicopter on the open pavement. The medics placed Gabrielle on a stretcher and together with the doctor raced for the chopper.

Zack called to the doctor, “How is she?”

He shook his head.

Fairchild started to cry. She never cried. But the possible loss of this talented, beautiful woman made her cry. She collapsed to the ground and sobbed.

She felt arms on her shoulders. Looking up, she saw Zack.

Tears in his eyes.

Together they hugged and were soon joined by Garcia. *** It took Zack about an hour to wrap up everything at the site.

Then he asked the State Police for an escort to Walter Reed.

He had to see about Gabrielle. He didn’t realize how much he cared for her until she drove her car into that tree to stop Alpha from escaping. Oh, please, he thought, don’t let her die.

When he arrived at the front door, he was led up to the surgical waiting room where a small group had gathered.

Garcia came over and took his hand. “She’ll make it. I can feel it.”

Zack nodded, unable to talk.

One of the doctors came out, dressed in surgical scrubs, and dropped his mask. He shook his head.

No, no. It was all Zack could do to not drop to the floor.

He looked over and noticed Agent Wright weeping. Zack hadn’t even realized he was in the room. Agent Harper and

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Agent Sommers walked over to Wright. Harper took Wright by the arm.

Zack walked over to talk to Wright. “I’m sorry. Gabrielle meant the world to all of us.”

Harper shook his head. “Not Gabrielle, but Daniel Wright, his nephew. We found his ID in his billfold when he arrived at the hospital.”

Zack didn’t understand and squinted at Harper.

Wright stared at Zack, tears staining his cheeks. “My nephew, Daniel. Alpha.”

Zack stared at him, speechless at first. Then he said, “Your nephew was Alpha?”

Wright nodded.

The anger built in Zack. He felt like hitting Wright.

Harper put his hand up. “Don’t. He’s had enough for right now. His nephew was career Army. Married an Afghan woman and the two had a child. Very much in love. She was murdered by a group of drunken GIs while he was stationed overseas.”

Zack let that sink in and stepped back.

“Apparently, the military never took serious action against the GIs. They got off easy despite Daniel’s pleas because they were veterans of the war and she was from Afghanistan.”

Zack squinted at Harper, who nodded. “Agent Wright says he tried to stop Daniel from what he planned to do. He says he would have told us if we couldn’t stop him. We don’t know if that’s true or not.”

Zack just stared. He couldn’t comprehend what Wright had failed to do. He was about to say something more when another doctor came through the OR doors.

Zack turned toward the doctor. The doctor smiled. “Are you Colonel Zack?”

Zack nodded.

“Ms. Darcy, ah Gabrielle, has a long road ahead to heal, but she will. She said to tell Colonel Zack, ah Chéri, she would like to go out for dinner when she’s better.”

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Zack stood there trying to hide his emotions. He turned to Garcia and Fairchild, who each held a hand. Together they hugged each other and started to weep from happiness.

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49 The White House, Washington, D.C., July 1 Admiral Steele stood in front of the auditorium awaiting President Bradford’s arrival. Zack watched and waited for the boss.

A voice called attention as the president walked into the room, followed by Chief of Staff Winand. Once the president took his seat, Admiral Steele took a step forward.

“Good afternoon, Sir,” Steele said. “We’re here today to honor a team who headed off what might have been a tragic event. Sir, I’d like to introduce Colonel Zack Kelly who was the team chief.

Zack?”

Zack stepped forward, feeling a little gaudy in his dress blue uniform, but he had figured it would be best with all the highpriced help here today. Glancing to his right, he smiled at his daughter, who waved at him from her chair in the front.

Zack nodded to the president. “Good afternoon, sir. Today it’s my pleasure to thank a terrific team of experts who helped head off a potentially terrifying event.”

He glanced at his notes for a moment. “You know the background, sir, so I won’t go over that again. We have the Royal Canadian Mounted Police to thank for the alert and for helping us work through all of the problems.”

He took a breath. “A real team effort. We have Senior Agent Frank Harper and the FBI to thank for much of the background and for the excellent surveillance and arrest of all of the suspects.”

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Harper stood to applause.

He glanced at Bright and Foster. “The FBI worked together with the Pennsylvania State Police, Sergeants Bright and Foster, to help us pinpoint the location of the suspects and the potential vehicles.”

Applause for that group.

He pointed at Garcia and Scott. “Two critical spaces were filled by my partner, Lieutenant Colonel Rene Garcia, and someone who has helped us on so many cases, Homicide Inspector Pamela Scott and her significant other, Michael Wyatt, often referred to as Bruiser. At a continuing great risk to their lives, they provided the inside information we needed to stop the attack.”

More applause.

Zack moved over to a row of three chairs. “These talented women are perhaps most responsible for our successful operation.”

“First of all, Tara Fairchild, a member of our task force. Tara was captured when she tried to gain information from those planning the event. She almost died. She later volunteered to meet with the suspects to help the others escape, completely at her own peril.”

He motioned for Fairchild to stand to applause.

“Next, I’d like to recognize Brigitte Manon, a professor at McGill University in Montreal. Brigitte worked with the French component of this operation until she realized what they were actually doing. She then moved to our side, providing key assistance and information, then almost died when she threw herself in front of a bullet meant for Agent Fairchild.”

He motioned to Manon, who leaned forward in her wheelchair and received applause.

Lastly is the woman who helped us trap the leader, then nearly died from capturing the head of the operation, a man called Alpha. If not for her quick action of driving her car into a tree, he may have been able to escape.”

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Zack waited for the applause to end. “Gabrielle demonstrated the starch of the Mounties with all she did, and we’re so glad to have her on our team.”

She smiled up at Zack from her wheelchair, winked, and mouthed, “Chéri.”

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