New America 02 - Resistance Read online

  “Who in the hell is General Dupree, and what does the UAE need with his daughter?” Benjamin Black was sitting in his office in the Walt Disney World complex. His second in command, Jessica Bradley, had just returned from her scouting mission near Miami.

  Jessica had never heard the name either. “Maybe a disgraced UAE general, someone Sterling wants to torture. Maybe he’s gone rogue or something.”

  “I thought that, too, but it doesn’t seem to fit. If he was UAE, we’d have heard about him from the officers we’ve turned. He has to be with the PSA.”

  “So you just let that bastard Rutherford take an innocent girl? Without any fight? Just like that?”

  “Don’t start that shit with me! You weren’t here! They had hundreds of soldiers armed to the teeth, ready to slaughter all of us! I didn’t have a choice!”

  “Okay, okay, jeez. Calm down. I get it. Just pisses me off that they would kidnap an innocent girl like that.”

  “We can talk about the girl in a minute. Tell me more about what you found.”

  “The warehouse is a goldmine filled with pallets of non-perishable food. We have to make it a priority; it could feed all of us through the winter. I left one of my guys behind to keep an eye on it. As long as it remains untouched, he’s just gonna sit there and do nothing. If the UAE finds it, he’s gonna high-tail it back here and let us know. He has one of our long range radios and can call us when he’s about thirty miles out.”

  One of Ben’s first tasks when renovating his community had been to construct a lookout post one hundred seventy-five feet atop what once was Cinderella’s Castle. The height advantage gave them an impressive range of communication.

  Jessica continued. “What do we do if the UAE finds it?”

  “We send out a strike team and take it from them.”

  “Hell yeah, boss!”

  “For now, all we can do is wait for them to clear out of Miami. I don’t think they’re gonna send out scouting parties. How far away is the warehouse from their current position?”

  “About twenty miles.”

  “Good.” Ben had more pressing concerns than the food distribution warehouse. “What is the UAE doing down in Miami?”

  “Something huge. They have a two-square-mile perimeter completely blocked off. They’ve got so many soldiers there they could almost stand shoulder to shoulder around the perimeter.”

  “What’s inside it?”

  “That’s where it gets weird - nothing strategic, no military installations. The only thing that could be considered remotely important is a small airport.”

  “Huh. That is weird. If they’re having some big meeting, you’d think Miami International would be the better choice. Hmmmm. Small airport, tight security. What else is in there?”

  “A residential area, a high school, a cemetery, and a couple strip malls.”

  “Wait. A cemetery?

  “Yeah, a big one.”

  “I bet that’s it. It sounds like someone died, and they’re securing it for a funeral. At first I thought Sterling might be coming to Miami, but he alone doesn’t warrant that much security. If Sterling was meeting all the regional governors in one place...”

  “They would lock the place down tighter than Area 51,” Jessica added.

  “That has to be it.”

  Jessica was excited, but reserved. “So what difference does it make to us? We can’t do anything but send our condolences.”

  “I don’t know. We might not be able to do anything, but maybe we can find someone who can.”

  “Who?”

  “That’s where the little girl comes in.”

  “General Dupree?”

  “Yeah. How many generals do you think the PSA has? The guy’s gotta be important.”

  “Well, let’s just hop on our jet and fly to the PSA. I’m sure we won’t get shot down.”

  “You brought back a jet from Miami, smartass?”

  “No.”

  “Then shut up. We need to put our heads together and come up with something. There’s gotta be a way to get word to the PSA. They could wipe those fuckers out and put an end to all this bullshit. Do we have any contacts that could get the word out?”

  “Colonel Sanderson out of Fort Polk, maybe? I dunno.”

  “He might be able to get word to someone in Denver.”

  “Let’s get to work.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The polite man was waiting patiently for a meeting. The attack he’d orchestrated on behalf of his employer had gone off without a hitch, and it was time to brief him on the next phase of the plan. His competition, The Silent Warriors, while effective at spreading terror, were amateurs compared to him. If he were a prideful man, he would announce to the world that he alone was responsible for one of the most horrific terror attacks in recent history. Instead, he had no choice but to let The Silent Warriors take credit for his work; his employer would have it no other way. If there was even a faint whiff of doubt – if a single question arose as to The Silent Warriors’ involvement in the destruction at Fort McClellan - the polite man had no doubt he’d be quietly relocated…to an unmarked grave. Silenced.

  The polite man was sitting in an abandoned Applebee’s in Matthews, North Carolina. Much of the town had been burned to the ground and deserted for months. The polite man had three of his men keeping watch over the dilapidated building and could hear their status checks in his earpiece. His employer was running late, as usual. He knew his place; his employer didn’t need to remind him with such a petty power play. The polite man had the patience of Job and could sit in the restaurant for hours if necessary.

  “Sir, a vehicle is approaching.”

  “Thank you, I see it. No action required. Please monitor the perimeter and maintain radio silence unless a threat to security exists.”

  “10-4.”

  The polite man stood, smoothed out his suit coat and straightened his tie. He watched as two armed men entered the restaurant, their rifles pointed at him. The polite man, familiar with the routine, slowly raised both hands as one of the men approached. “Put your hands on your head and turn around. Any sudden moves outta you and you’ll regret it.”

  “My good man, I assure you you’ll get nothing but cooperation from me.” The armed man quickly patted him down as the other thug did a full security sweep of the restaurant. “We’re clear.”

  “Sir, may I please take my hands from my head and sit down?”

  The armed man tensed, sensitive to the defiantly mocking undertone of the question. “I don’t give a fuck, man. Do what you want.”

  The polite man smiled. “No need for profanity, sir. I’ll take my seat, thank you.”

  The armed man’s rage seeped from every pore. “Are you fucking with me?”

  “No, sir, not at all. I am not a fan of profanity and prefer more… civilized conversation.”

  “Whatever, asshole.”

  “Now, now, sir. I’ve been nothing but polite and respectful to you. I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist that you apologize for your behavior or things will become… unpleasant for you.”

  “Say what, asshole? You better watch who the fuck you’re talking…”

  The polite man quickly extended his arm, his rigid fingertips sinking into the warm hollow at the base of the thug’s throat. With his free hand, the polite man grabbed the rifle and rammed the stock into the man’s chin, causing him to bite off the tip of his tongue. The thug, along with his foul mouth, fell to the floor, spitting blood.

  “STOP!”

  The startling bellow jerked the backup’s attention to the doorway where his boss stood, his pistol drawn and aimed directly at his head. “Boss! He just…”

  “I don’t care what your foolish partner did, although I have no doubt his ignorant mouth put him on the floor. Lower your weapon! NOW!”

  Before the perplexed thug could lower his MP5, he was shot dead; the armed cohort he’d attempted to cover served as easy target practice as well. “Come now, Charl
es. Still easily offended by colorful words?”

  “I abhor such language; it’s disgusting.”

  “You really are something, my friend. You put Bond villains to shame, yet you can’t handle cursing?”

  “I’m sorry. I did warn him.”

  “I’m sure you did.”

  “And now I have to drive myself out of here. You know how much I hate to drive.”

  “Please, let’s sit down. We have a lot to talk about.”

  Charles had already taken the liberty of cleaning the table and chairs prior to his employer’s arrival. “Sir, can I assume you saw the reports on Fort McClellan?”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “It was perfect. The investigation was recently completed, and all the evidence points to The Silent Warriors. Witnesses even reported that the assailant was Middle Eastern.”

  “Racism. He was Indian. I selected him for that very reason.”

  “It worked perfectly. What about the family and your crew?”

  “Disposed of.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’m glad you’re pleased with my work.”

  “I never doubted you, Charles.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “How’s the next mission coming along?”

  “Ahead of schedule. Mr. Everton had a change of heart much sooner than I expected. He’s ready to cooperate. His military service will work to our advantage. He should have no problem infiltrating the target and planting the device.”

  “You have forty-eight hours. Will that be sufficient?”

  “Ample time, sir.”

  “Outstanding. Since you’re in the final stages of your current mission, it’s time to start preparing for the next one. You’ll be happy to know your payment will be double.”

  “Sir, double the pay usually means double the challenge.”

  “That’s putting it lightly, Charles. I would say the job is nearly impossible. It’s not really about the money though, is it? It’s putting that brilliant mind of yours through the ringer that pleases you.”

  “You know me well, sir.”

  “Go ahead and take a look. Take your time.”

  Charles picked up the folder and began to read. He skimmed through it quickly then started over, memorizing every delicious detail. Once he was finished, he placed the packet back on the table and smiled.

  “Well?”

  “Sir, this job will not be too difficult for me to accomplish.”

  “Really Charles? Why is that?”

  “I already have a spy inside Beck Castle.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Deep within the bowels of Beck Castle, General Richard Dupree was snatched from slumber by another horrible nightmare. His battle with PTSD was often a losing one, barely allowing him two hours of sleep at a stretch. It certainly wasn’t the recipe for a steady hand or a clear head, but Richard had grown accustomed to the routine.

  Richard shuffled down the hall and looked in on his son, relieved to find him fast asleep. In desperate need of coffee, he made an entire pot and sat down to the tedious chore of reviewing status reports and emails from his twelve generals. An email from Max detailing Howard’s success in securing his third cruise ship, the Freedom of the Seas, made Richard smile. Good for you, Howard. Didn’t know you had it in you. Richard spent the next thirty minutes sending encrypted messages to his officers in preparation for the invasion of California. Just as he was about to log off, a new email popped up. It caught his eye because, although Richard received hundreds of messages a day from people all over the PSA, none of them came directly to his computer. Instead, the messages were intercepted and screened by Hal before being delivered to his inbox. The subject line of this one read Urgent! You Must Read This ASAP!!! Richard couldn’t resist the opening click.

  General Dupree, I can’t tell you my name, but I have information that is of vital importance. I have been in contact with a fellow patriot in Florida, a man by the name of Benjamin Black. Ben recently liberated a group of slaves, one of whom was your daughter. He is certain of this fact because a UAE colonel brought a large force to his front gate and kidnapped her. The colonel is using your daughter as leverage against you. Ben said the colonel mentioned your name in reference to the child. He said the convoy headed north before his scouts abandoned the chase for safety reasons. Ben also wanted me to tell you that President Sterling and his regional governors will be in Miami for a funeral the day after tomorrow. We hope the PSA will use this information and strike a serious blow. God bless you. I hope you get your daughter back.

  “I thought you might find that message interesting, sir.”

  “Hal, I don’t know what to make of this.”

  “If you don’t mind me saying, sir, I think this is good news.”

  “My daughter’s been kidnapped by a lunatic! How is that good news?”

  “Sir, the UAE knows her importance. That means she is safe for the time being. It also means she is alive and well.”

  “Hal, you’re quite the optimist. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, sir.”

  “Tell me every last detail about this email.”

  “It was sent from an encrypted terminal in Fort Polk, Louisiana. Given that Fort Polk is controlled by the UAE, the origin points to a spy.”

  “What? UAE? What if this is a trap?”

  “Sir, I don’t believe it is. The UAE goes to great lengths to stop all messages from making it across PSA borders. This is the first one that has ever been successfully sent. The details about the funeral are valid as we learned them from Stacy Reid. I think the message is real.”

  “I think you’re right. What do you think will be the UAE’s next move?”

  “Sir, my analysis leads me to believe that in the near future, the news of your daughter’s capture will be presented to you in exchange for your cooperation. The UAE will attempt to employ you as their operative.”

  “That’s not going to happen. Where do you think they’re holding my daughter?”

  “I’ve been reviewing satellite footage of Florida. The convoy in question did, in fact, head north as the message indicates. I tracked it to Fort McClellan where the convoy split up in different directions. Most of the vehicles entered a large building inside the base. None of the images I’ve reviewed indicate that a child left the building. It is difficult to ascertain her location at the current time.”

  “Well, at least it’s a start.”

  “How do you wish to proceed, sir?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t very well postpone the invasion of California for personal reasons. It would be a waste of time to attempt a rescue until we’re certain of her location.”

  “Would you like my advice, sir?”

  “Always.”

  “Sir, I believe you should wait for the UAE to contact you. They will no doubt keep her perfectly safe so they can use her as leverage. Once they contact you, we will have more information to go on.”

  “You’re right as usual, Hal.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “When is the president expected to return?”

  “Sir, President Beck is scheduled to return this afternoon. Would you like me to bring him up to speed on the matter?”

  “Yes. Tell him I endorse your plan and I look forward to his counsel.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  “I guess that settles it then.”

  “Settles what, sir?”

  “I’m headed to Seattle to lead the invasion of California.”

  “I see, sir.”

  “I’m impressed that Howard liberated the last cruise ship so easily. I was certain it was going to get ugly and the military was going to have to drag those people off the ship.”

  “Sir, I share your assessment. The president’s speech impressed me a great deal.”

  “You impress me, Hal.”

  “Thank you, sir. May I ask why?”

  “You can calculate a trillion differen
t outcomes to any situation, and Howard still managed to surprise you. If anyone knows Howard, it’s you.”

  “Sir, I can say without bias that my creator is a truly remarkable man.”

  “He is, my friend, he is. I’ll be leaving for Seattle within the hour. Prep the stealth jet for my departure.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Richard headed for his son’s room, anxious to say goodbye before he headed out. His firstborn rolled over as Richard plunked himself down on the bed.

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s early, son. You don’t have to get up. I just wanted to talk to you before I leave. I know you’re upset about your sister. You’re mad at me and that’s okay. I’m mad at me, too.”

  “I’m not mad at you, Dad.”

  “It’s okay, son. I just want you to know that I love you and your sister very much.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “I can’t explain it to you, but Chrissy will be coming home soon.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “Where is she?”

  “You don’t worry about that, Timmy. Just trust your Dad, okay?”

  “Okay. How long will you be gone?”

  “I don’t know. Your grandparents are expecting you after school today.”

  “Okay, Dad. I’m still sleepy.”

  “Go back to sleep. I love you.”

  Timothy Dupree didn’t reply, but simply smiled as Richard kissed his forehead.

  ***

  Director Maxwell Harris and his wife, Elizabeth, were seated next to President Howard Beck at the guest of honor’s table, along with several of the military’s high-ranking brass. Senator Wilson had spared no expense in staging this black tie affair in the president’s honor. The guests turned toward the stage as Senator Wilson approached the podium.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention, please. Thank you all for coming this evening. I hope you’re enjoying the festivities so far. It is truly a singular honor to be hosting, for the first time, the president of the Pacific States of America.”

  The banquet hall erupted in thunderous applause, and everyone was on their feet. Howard was enjoying his lemon pepper chicken and looked around in confusion and annoyance at the mealtime interruption. He grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and gently pulled her down within earshot. “What’s going on? Am I supposed to do something? When are they going to stop?”