Sam woke up at 6.30 am to the sound of a toilet flushing. He surveyed the room and instantly knew his worst nightmare wasn’t a nightmare. He had lost his wife and child and was on the run with his brother.
He walked down to find his brother still lying on the sofa while Agent Clark was checking kitchen cupboards to see what had survived the three years. So far, just coffee and even then the choice was black or none at all.
“Coffee?” she offered as she turned to look at Sam in the doorway.
“Please,” he said, rubbing his shoulder. The muscles had stiffened while he slept. “Is he awake?” he asked as he dipped his head towards his brother.
“Not yet,” responded Clark, pouring three coffees.
Sam took two steaming mugs and headed towards his brother, kicking the sofa as he approached. “Come on, wake up!”
Senator Charles Baker sat bolt upright. “Wha, whoa, what’s happening?”
“Some bastards are trying to kill you. Now wake up!” demanded Sam almost smiling. His brother had always been a heavy sleeper who, when disturbed, woke up with a start.
After a few shakes of the head and a slug of Clark’s coffee, the Senator came back to life. Two more slugs and the full horror of what had happened the previous day began to hit him.
“Shit, what are we going to do?” he looked at Sam.
Sam checked his watch. 6.45 am. It was time to make the call he had been considering.
“I’m going to put a call into the Secretary of Defense.”
Both Clark and the Senator reacted, the Senator beating Clark by a micro second. “Wait a minute! Last night you said we couldn’t trust anybody!”
“I don’t but a man whose life I saved probably isn’t anybody. James Murphy is the single most honorable man I have ever met. I’m willing to bet my life he’s got nothing to do with this. Trust me.”
Clark was unconvinced. However, the Senator relaxed as he recalled the rescue of Pilot Colonel James Murphy. Murphy had been shot down over Iraq during the first Gulf War. Being the pilot of a tank busting A10 Warthog, the Iraqis had little sympathy for Murphy and had made his time with them particularly unpleasant. As it became apparent that Murphy would soon be moved to Baghdad and paraded in front of the world’s press either before or during a summary execution, a rescue operation had been initiated. Over 100 miles behind enemy lines, Sam Baker was one of two pararescuemen to join the Special Forces team. The Special Forces were in the first chopper while Sam and his colleague were in a second chopper which would hold off until the Special Forces team had found Murphy. They would then swoop in and pick him up. Everything went to plan, right up until the SAM missile took out the Special Forces helicopter. The press had leaked the operation and thanks to CNN, the Iraqis knew they were coming. As the Iraqis celebrated, the pilot of the second chopper began to turn back. Sam had other ideas and with a pistol to the pilot’s head, he forced him down, landing a few hundred yards from the makeshift camp. Sam jumped out and carried out the rescue mission. The confusion and chaos caused by the first helicopter’s crash had given him a diversion that he used to full advantage.
His pararescue colleague had to stay in the chopper to stop the coward pilot turning tail and leaving them behind. Five minutes after landing, a very beaten up but extremely grateful Colonel James Murphy was in the air and heading home. Funnily enough, the helicopter pilot who had sworn to both Sam and his colleague that they would be court-martialed was very quiet. Even when the President had awarded him the Silver Star, he had not taken the opportunity to complain to his ultimate Commander-in-Chief about Sam’s actions.
“OK, if you’re sure you can trust him,” said the Senator,
“I’m godfather to his first son and he sends me a card every birthday and Christmas. Trust me, he’s not in on this.”
Sam picked up the phone and dialed a number he had been given many years earlier. Murphy had given him the number if Sam ever needed anything and he had repeated ‘anything’ with conviction.
As the number dialed and began to ring, Sam posed a question.
“What do you know about James Lawson?” Before the Senator could respond, Sam was speaking into the phone.
“Mr Secretary?”
“Yes, I know it’s Jim, Mr Secretary.”
The Senator tried to listen into the call but James Lawson was all he could think about. James Lawson was the kingmaker. Nobody got anywhere without him. It was one of the biggest issues with his campaign to be president. Lawson was behind Russell. As desperate as he was to hear what the Secretary of Defense was saying, he was more desperate to know why Sam had mentioned his name.
Sam hung up.
“Well?” prodded Clark immediately.
“He’s definitely not involved and is coming here to pick us up and escort Charles and myself to meet with the President.”
“Holy shit!” exclaimed Clark, smiling as the tension of their current predicament began to ease.
“What about Lawson?” asked the Senator, not really having registered what had just been said. His mind was racing.
“Oh sorry, when you guys fell asleep last night, I went out and caught a guy that had followed us. Creepy little bastard.”
Both looked at him in horror.
“Anyway, turns out that was who he worked for, James Lawson.”
“Worked for?”
“Yeah.”
“Worked, you said ‘worked’, in the past tense?” quizzed Clark.
“Yes, past tense, dead guys don’t work,” said Sam matter-of-factly, ending that point of discussion.
“James Lawson is perhaps one of the most influential men in Washington, if not the most influential.”
“Good for him and trust me, we will soon be referring to him in the past tense too.”
“That’s not my point. My point is if he’s involved, there is literally nobody in Washington we can go to. Nobody would be where they are if Lawson had not had a hand in it.”
“What exactly did the Secretary of Defense say?” Clark’s initial enthusiasm had significantly waned.
“Trust me, he knew nothing. He was absolutely stunned at what’s happened.”
“And you gave him this address?”
“I trust the man!” Sam ended the discussion by walking towards the window.
The US Secretary of Defense replaced the receiver and just stared at it. Either Sam Baker had gone mad or his country had. There was no other explanation. What Sam had described did not happen in the world’s most democratic country. The United States of America was not some tin-pot dictatorship where, if you didn’t like the opposition, you just took them out.
But Sam Baker was the most honorable man he had ever met. If he ever had to have somebody watch his back, Sam Baker would be top of the list every time. There was nobody more reliable and he certainly didn’t sound mad.
His first call was to Fort Belvoir and the commanding officer of the 701st Military Police Group. He was not going to take any chances. The 701st was home to the US Army’s Protective Services Battalion. Their role was similar to that of the Secret Service, only their protectees were military: — the Secretary of Defense, the Under Secretary of Defense and the Chairman and Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, along with many other high risk individuals within the military.
His second call was to the Oval Office. Despite being only 7.00 am, he knew the President’s private secretary would be up and taking calls. He was right and he made it clear that he would be with the President within the hour and insisted his diary be cleared as a matter of national security. Such a request by one of the President’s most senior and trusted staff ensured instant compliance. Accordingly, the President’s meetings were cleared between 8.00 and 9.00.
Fifteen minutes after his call to the 701st, the door bell rang. Showered and dressed, the Secretary of Defense opened the door to two fully loaded Humvees and an armored limousine, all with blue lights flashing and a total of ten men. All, as he knew from experience, were battle hardened. He checked his watch, 7.30 am and with the lights and sirens, they could make Georgetown in a little over 25 minutes, even at that time of the day.
It had not been Vice President Russell’s best night’s sleep by a long way. Between the nuclear threat to America and the failure to deal with Senator Baker and his brother, it had quite possibly been one of the shittiest nights of his life. He just hoped that the ringing phone would bring some good news. So far, everything had succeeding in trumping previous disastrous news.
“Russell!” he answered.
“Mr Vice President, this is Nancy.”
Russell instantly recognized the old bag who looked after the President’s calendar. She loved the power and was desperate to remain in post under Russell. Not a chance, there would be a very attractive young piece of fluff adorning his office, not a miserable old dragon who had lost the ability to smile at birth.
“Hi Nancy, how can I help?”
“Well, the other day, you mentioned you’d like to be informed of anything out of the ordinary.”
Nancy was staking her claim and showing she was loyal.
“Yes!”
The longer Nancy spoke, the harder he found it to breathe. This was disastrous. It took all his strength to thank Nancy before hanging up.
It was 7.20 am and the Secretary of Defense was going to see the President any time between 8.00 and 9.00 as a matter of national security. Nothing new had happened overnight, of that he was sure. The Deputy Secretary of Defense was on top of everything and he was Russell’s man. That could only mean one thing, Sam Baker had reached out to the man he knew was senior enough to make an impact and most importantly, knew he could trust. They all knew it was a risk but as Sam was supposed to have been the first to die, it had been ruled out as an issue.
Russell considered calling Preston but there was nothing he could do, likewise, Gates. He hit the speed dial button for the Head of the CIA. When it came down to it and you needed some real sneaky bastards, there was nobody better.
“Allan, we’ve got a problem,” he opened.
“Already taken care of,” came the very calm response.
“You don’t even know what it is yet?”
“I was just about to call you. I received a call from a friend over at Fort Belvoir, a little while ago,” The conspiratorial tone of his voice came over loud and clear.
“And?”
“The Secretary of Defense requested two fully loaded Humvees and his Armored limo to take him to see the President, with a pick up on the way…” Johnson paused.
Russell’s frustration was growing. “You know where the pick-up is and you can beat them to it?”
“Nope, not a clue.”
“So how in the hell is it sorted?”
Russell could hear the smile down the phone line. “The Humvees are loaded with my men. Eight fully armed. The Secretary will have his two normal bodyguards in his limo but that’s it, the rest of the men are ours!”
Russell smiled for what seemed the first time in days as he replaced the handset.