Chain of Command
Authors: CG Cooper
“Chain of Command”
Book 9 of the Corps Justice Series
Copyright © 2015 Corps Justice. All Rights Reserved
Author: C. G. Cooper
Editor: Karen Rought
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This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, locations and events are all products of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to actual events or real persons are completely coincidental.
Any unauthorized reproduction of this work is strictly prohibited.
Warning:
This story is intended for mature audiences and contains profanity and violence.
Dedications
To my loyal group of
Novels Live
warriors and Beta Readers, thanks for your help in crafting this novel.
To our amazing troops serving all over the world, thank you for your bravery and service.
And especially to the United States Marine Corps. Keep taking the fight to the enemy.
Semper Fidelis
- CGC -
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Disney Yacht Club Resort
Lake Buena Vista, Florida
10:37am, December 3
rd
A refreshing breeze blew in across the small lake that separated the Disney Yacht Club Resort from Epcot and the Boardwalk retail strip. The cool seventy-degree morning did little to dissuade the grandkids from building mountains and forts in the hotel’s sand-filled swimming pool. The three-acre water paradise was like a magnet. It drew in every kid who clamored by their parents’ bedside whenever the sun came up.
He watched his four grandsons and one granddaughter as they switched from building to destruction. The youngest, Lily, boisterous with her blonde curls and swim-diaper-stuffed swimsuit, squealed as her brothers and cousins smashed and swept their creations away.
He smiled as they played, savoring each moment. He laughed with them. There had been too many lost moments over the years. Some were inevitable, some self-imposed. Best not to lose more.
His hand reached over and touched his wife’s leg. She was engrossed in the latest Danielle Steel novel, seemingly not noticing the goings-on in the pool. But he knew better. She was a good mom, a terrific grandmother. She could hear a cry from across the house or detect danger as it was happening, a modern day supermom. Like so many military wives, she’d learned to adapt, to play the role of mother and father while her husband was away.
Without looking away from her book, she set her hand on top of his. It wasn’t as smooth as it used to be, or as soft as the first time he’d felt it, but he loved it just the same. If the past month had taught him anything, it was that family was important, possibly the most important. He sighed.
It hadn’t been easy. His two sons had grown up on bases all over the world, following him as he climbed the ranks. He understood their bitterness. They’d never had a home, always traveling, always moving.
But things were better now. He’d made an effort to reconnect, whereas in the past he probably would have buried himself in work. He wouldn’t take the credit, though. It was his wife who’d finally given him the ultimatum.
She’d dealt with the missteps, the poor communication and the open-ended deployments, but she drew the line at her family.
“You’re about to lose them,” she’d said with that hard Southern edge he’d come to associate with her mother. “You either fix this or I leave.”
They’d railed back and forth. He told her he was doing it all for her even though he knew just as the words left his mouth that it wasn’t true. He loved the uniform, the challenge. He thought that maybe after a day or two she would back down, see the error of her demands.
But she hadn’t and he was glad for it.
They’d been in Florida for almost a week. Breakfasts in bed or lobster omelets at the Captain’s Grille. During the day they’d traversed the Magic Kingdom and worn out the rides as the grandkids begged for the next amusement. Lily loved the Peter Pan ride and Grant preferred Thunder Mountain. At night they ate at the Beaches and Cream Soda Shop, sharing the enormous Kitchen Sink sundae for dessert. Lily giggled as he stuffed spoon after spoon into his mouth. They hadn’t come close to finishing the whopping sugar creation, but he’d tried for them.
While the kids napped, he corralled his sons and spent the time getting to know them again. His oldest was a school teacher, soon-to-be a principal. The second was back in school getting his law degree after a disappointing run as a financial planner. Neither had followed him into the service, and now he knew why.
For years he’d been bitter about that fact. They were both fit, gifted athletes and natural leaders. They would’ve done well in the service, fighting for their country. Instead they’d taken after their mother, gone the liberal route, often taunting him with their politics.
He didn’t care anymore. His wife was right. All that mattered was that they were together at last. One family.
The kids were changed and the adults were trying to herd them into the jogging strollers. Lily was the only one cooperating, a fact that made him smile. He bent down and hugged her, receiving a wet kiss on the nose in response.
“I love you, Grapa,” she said, still not able to pronounce “Grandpa” properly.
“I love you too, sweetie.”
He kissed her on the forehead.
“So we’ll meet you at the French cafe in an hour,” his wife said, stuffing snacks in her purse.
“I’ll see you there,” he replied.
“Are you sure you won’t come with us now?” she asked, her tone clearly indicating what she thought about his other commitment.
“It won’t be long, honey, I promise.”
It was a lie, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“Okay. Don’t forget to put on some sunscreen,” she said.
He nodded and then kissed her on the lips, moving in for a hug. He savored the smell of mint shampoo and the perfume he’d bought for her the day before. In that moment he realized how much he loved her, how much he needed her. He couldn’t let go.
“Um, honey, the kids are leaving,” she said.
“Right.”
He let her go and stepped back, smiling.
“Love you, honey.”
She smiled back and took off after the family.
He watched them go.
When they’d finally made it over the bridge leading into the international entrance of Epcot, he turned and headed back to the room.
He emerged five minutes later and left out the front entrance, nodding to the hotel’s greeter in his ship captain’s uniform. The prayer came to him as he walked, a snippet remembered from some long ago sermon.
Lord, forgive my thoughts, my actions and my words.
Before he knew it, he was surrounded by prickly palmettos and towering pines. The busy roadways were far behind. He had no idea how long it had taken him to walk to where he now stopped, but there he was, at the spot.
There’d been a lot of hikes over the years. Back-breaking rucksacks and sweat-filled boots. Perspiration and blood. He and his men, one foot in front of the other.
He thought of it now with nostalgic reverence as he fell to his knees, the emotion threatening to overwhelm his resolve. Images of his wife, his sons, his grandkids around the periphery as he sank further into the gloom. Then came his men who had died, given their lives for their country or for the brother standing next to him.
Please, God, watch over them
.
He took a deep breath and reached into his pocket. It was time.
The Assistant Commandant of the Marine Corps put the barrel of the Colt 1911 in his mouth and pulled the trigger.
Chapter 2
Quantico, Virginia
8:11am, December 4
th
Cal Stokes waited as his host finished the phone call. The former Marine staff sergeant didn’t wait on many people. He was the silent owner of Stokes Security International (SSI), a company founded by his now-deceased father. SSI assigned expert former military operators to corporations and governments all over the world, and they raked in millions every year. He was now the de facto leader of The Jefferson Group.
In the public eye, The Jefferson Group was a consultancy that provided a wide range of expertise ranging from network stability to personal security. Their real mission was only known to a handful of people.
Sanctioned by the President of the United States, Brandon Zimmer, the warriors of The Jefferson Group operated out of Charlottesville, Virginia, executing secret missions in the States and overseas. In short, they were President Zimmer’s black asset. Untraceable and highly effective.
The Commandant of the Marine Corps, General Scott Winfield, hung up the phone and exhaled.
“Anything new, sir?” asked Cal. The Assistant Commandant of the Marine Corps, General Douglas Ellwood, had disappeared while on vacation two days before. Search parties were combing Lake Buena Vista, led by local NCIS agents.
Gen. Winfield nodded. “They found him.”
“He’s dead.”
Another slow nod.
“It looks like suicide.”
Cal’s stomach turned. He’d recommended that Gen. Ellwood not be allowed to go to Florida, but the Commandant overruled him. One of those unwritten rules between comrades.
“You were right,” said Winfield.
The normally upright warrior looked deflated, his face drawn.
“You had no idea that he would do that, sir.”
“I should have. You did.”
Cal didn’t reply. Nearly a month earlier, at the Marine Corps Birthday Ball held at Marine Barracks 8
th
& I, Gen. Winfield and his good friend, Gen. McMillan, USMC, who also happened to be the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, informed Cal of a new threat to the Marine Corps. The punchline from Winfield had been simple. “We believe that come this time next year, there will no longer be a United States Marine Corps.”
