Holding Their Own VII: Phoenix Star (9 page)

“Unless they think of the Alliance as insurgents. Are they that desperate?”

Moses didn’t answer, Nick’s question raising a dozen possibilities in his mind. “Someone with an M4 went down there and killed a bunch of Americans. I think our answer lies in Memphis, not here.”

Texas – New Mexico border

July 25

The couple rested, fussed over each other’s injuries, and tended to Hunter. Bishop strung his survival net between the truck and camper, fashioning a hammock, and then used his rain poncho to create a sunshade. They both enjoyed a short nap before the day grew hot.

Bishop tried everything he could think of to free their chariot. His first idea was to use the tire jack, but the soil under the front wheels was too soft to maintain a foundation.

Next, he attempted to shift the load further to the rear of the bed, but the fulcrum was too far forward.

Digging would take weeks, even if the people under the overpass would loan him a full-sized shovel. With his entrenching tool, he was looking at months before success. He would have to tell Terri the truth soon.

While Terri and Hunter slept, Bishop grew bored with his watch and decided to explore the burned out truck stop. The open terrain and proximity ensured no one from the overpass could get past him to bother his family.

His mind was occupied with freeing the pickup from its trap as he half-heartedly kicked around the property. Scouting for anything that could possibly help, he brushed aside blackened timbers and casually glanced inside the dust-covered cars and semis. It was obvious the area had been thoroughly scavenged.

His attention then moved to the overpass, quickly becoming fascinated with how tin, wood, semi-trailer parts and other materials had been combined to construct the very intricate structure. He could discern windows, doorways, a large fire pit, and even a worn pathway to what were probably the restroom facilities on the far side of the interstate. Amazing. A few faces turned his way, most of the residents staying inside.

“They’re probably as afraid of us as we are of them,” Bishop whispered to no one.

The man calling himself Cole appeared. The local nodded at Bishop, and then stared for a few moments as if pondering what to do.

Bishop waved the man up, deciding it wouldn’t hurt a thing to talk. Maybe local knowledge would provide a solution to his problems.

“So we got off on the wrong foot,” Cole greeted as he approached. “If we had been introduced like two normal people in normal times, I’m sure things would have gone more smoothly… maybe even friendly.”

Bishop smiled, “Most likely. How did you end up in this lovely corner of New Mexico?”

And so Cole told his story. Bishop listened, glancing at the burned-out shambles while trying to picture the tale. When his host had finished, Bishop asked, “So the gasoline was gone before the electricity went out – but what about the diesel?”

Cole blinked, unsure of the answer. “Ummm… I remember the guy at the register saying it was almost gone – that they were waiting on a resupply truck. We tried to syphon both tanks and only got air.”

Bishop pointed at the diesel islands, the rusted, burned out pumps looking like industrial scarecrows. “But that truck was sitting there filling up when the power went out. The hose is gone, but the fill nozzle is still sticking in the tank.”

Cole followed Bishop’s arm, and then shook his head. “That’s a good point. When I was turning onto the exit, someone had put a sign down by the entrance ramp, but it only said ‘NO GAS.’ I don’t remember it saying anything about diesel. It’s now part of a condo’s wall.”

Bishop had an idea. “There might still be diesel in there. There’s normally a check value where the tank connects to the pump-line. My unused college degree might actually come in handy. Is there anyone here we can ask?”

“Nancy was the café’s hostess. She’s still alive. Come on, I know where’s she’s at.”

A few minutes later, the two men located Nancy. She and another middle-aged woman were washing clothes in a small tube of water. Cole asked Bishop’s question.

“I don’t remember,” she initially replied, her brow wrinkling with effort to recall. “I know the gasoline was out before I showed up for my shift. My sister’s tank was low when she dropped me off, and I was worried about her making it back to our apartment.”

“But no idea about the diesel?”

Her finger pressed her lower lip, and then her eyes brightened. “I think there was a little diesel left. Fred came into the café, mad as hell. He’d been filling his rig when the electricity went out. I remember him ordering pork chops and mashed potatoes and hoping the juice came back on because he was behind schedule.”

Bishop looked at Cole, “So there could be diesel in that underground tank. As least that’s what I’m hearing.”

Cole shook his head, “But we tried to syphon both sides, gas and diesel. We tried with a garden hose, and all we got were fumes.”

“Those tanks are huge, and often the bottom slopes away from the opening at the top. I can’t make any promises, but there might be some fuel still in that system. Not much, but enough worth checking it out.”

Cole spread his hands, “But we don’t have any pumps or electric power. Even if we find some fuel in the reservoir, how would we get it out?”

“I’ve got an idea,” Bishop announced, a slight grin crossing his lips. “But before I try this, is there any reason why those trucks in the lot wouldn’t run if they had fuel?”

Cole considered before answering, “Mine should if the battery was charged, and it had fuel. I imagine a couple of the others might as well.”

Bishop’s head was still throbbing, every muscle in his body protesting and sore. He knew Terri wasn’t faring much better. “Today, I’m not going to do much but convalesce. I do have a question. “If I get one of those trucks running, it should pull my pickup out of that ditch without any problem – right?”

Cole’s smile was extra-large, “No problem.”

Chapter 5

Camp David, Maryland

July 26

The staff meeting ended on time, the Colonel taking note of Mr. White’s lingering as the president’s advisors filed out of the room.
He wants to speak to the Commander in Chief alone
, he thought.
Let him
.

He waited patiently, standing at ease beside the sole path leading to the guest quarters. The immaculate landscaping of Camp David provided his cover, a strand of oak surrounded by mulberry a convenient, hidden position.

The Colonel reassessed this next move. He’d put out gentle feelers, trying to pick up any trail left behind by what he was sure was a false flag operation in West Texas. His gut told him Mr. White’s fingerprints were all over the op, but so far, there wasn’t a shred of physical evidence.

The role of detective would have been easier before everything went to hell. Ballistics analysis, fingerprints, computer crosschecking of statements, and other forensic technologies could prove Bishop’s innocence. But little, if any, of that was available. What high-tech capabilities were in play painted a damning picture of his friend. The drones were all too convenient.

Time was another factor working against Bishop. Despite the lack of internet, email and other communication capabilities, word was spreading of the massacre. Morale was already low, the men and women of the armed forces stretched to the breaking point. Martial law degraded both the civilians and their military keepers, and the last thing any service member needed to hear was a story about their comrades being gunned down in cold blood. If Bishop were spotted, cornered, or captured, it wouldn’t surprise anyone if an “accident” occurred.

Despite his highly motivated quest to clear Bishop’s name, the Colonel found himself lacking a clear path to the objective. Perhaps the rabbit could be flushed from the brush pile.

It was a move born of desperation, and the Colonel knew it. Mr. White was nothing if not a professional – a man skilled in the clandestine arts. More so, he was obviously ruthless and not without resources.

But he’s suffering from the same restrictions and barriers I am
, the Colonel thought as he waited for the prey.
He’s handicapped by the same lack of communications, transportation, and technology
.

Time to see if the rabbit will run.

After a few minutes, the sound of footsteps announced someone approaching. The Colonel stiffened, coiled to confront the man he’d been waiting for.

Indeed, it was Mr. White. There was no mistaking the starched white shirt and monotone tie, accented by plain, black-rimmed eyeglasses. The mysterious man seemed lost in thought as he negotiated the path, completely at ease while surrounded by the security provided by the Secret Service. The Colonel intended to change that.

“What did you do?” he hissed, startling the unsuspecting man as he stepped out of the foliage. “I smell spook shit all over this incident in West Texas,” he continued, taking brisk steps to close with his target.

Mr. White recovered faster than the Colonel expected, the smallest flash of surprise crossing behind his eyes before they returned to normal. The reaction was quickly replaced with guile. “You should be careful jumping out of the bushes, Colonel. People can be edgy… they might misinterpret your actions as an attack and defend themselves. Someone could get hurt.”

“Go for it. Nothing would make me happier,” came the response.

The predators sized each other up, like two competing lions circling a kill.

“You’re out of your league, Colonel,” Mr. White finally warned. “Besides, last time I checked, we were on the same team.”

“I’ve never been on your team, because you and your kind aren’t team players. I’ve watched your type fuck things up from Iran to Columbia. Your calculations are most often flawed, and when those annoying, unintended consequences rear their unwanted heads, you go running to the military to bail your ass out. It’s been my experience that brave, honorable men often die trying to fix your brand of skullduggery.”

Mr. White shrugged, seemingly unconcerned by his accuser’s words. “We have our good and bad days, Colonel. Don’t we all?”

“Yes… yes we do, and I intend on providing you with a very bad day, sir. I’m digging, and digging deep. If I find out you manipulated that massacre in West Texas in any way, shape, or form, I will take matters into my own hands. Your actions will not stand, and the backlash could delay the recovery for years.”

Grunting, Mr. White’s tone indicated he didn’t take the Colonel seriously. “What are you going to do, Colonel, kill me?” The man chuckled, “I’ve had professionals trying to end my life for years. You’ll forgive my genuine lack of concern.”

The Colonel returned the flippant attitude with a condescending smile of his own. “No. Death would be too simple and finite. Exposure is what your kind fears. We used to call your ilk vampires… the light of day is your worst nightmare.”

Spreading his hands, the counter-insurgency expert’s voice carried sarcasm. “So what will you have me do, Colonel? Surrender? Confess? Taste the barrel? I don’t think you know shit, because there’s nothing to know. You’re fishing in a pond where there are no fish. You’re wasting your time… time that I’m sure the president would prefer you spend on more productive projects.”

“I want you to set the record straight with the president. I want to end the persecution of an innocent man. I want this government to conduct itself with honor.”

The smirk returned to Mr. White’s lips, “Innocent man? How ridiculous. There are no innocent men, Colonel. And even if your friend were above reproach, would you truly sacrifice the good of millions over the life of a single man?”

“It’s called liberty. It’s a concept you should read up on sometime.”

Mr. White laughed loudly, seeming to enjoy the statement. Finally, he replied, “I gave you too much credit. You fit the ex-military mold perfectly. Everything is black and white, good or bad.” His voice then became cold and low. “Let me tell you something, Mister Liberty and Honor, when we delayed the Iranian nuclear program without the loss of a single American soldier, no one screamed about liberty. When we turned the Iraqi Al-Qaida leaders against each other and saved thousands of military causalities, no one gave a rat’s ass about honor. My country is hurting, sir. My beloved United States of America is at the brink, and I’ll sacrifice a thousand men to save her.”

“Our country isn’t worth saving if we have to resort to that,” came the reply.

The CIA man’s attitude relaxed, his casual posture indicating the conversation was over. “You should really do a better job of picking your friends, Colonel. I can see associating with mass murderers has tainted your logic,” he closed.

The two men stared at each other for a long moment, and then Mr. White stepped around his antagonist and continued toward his quarters.

Watching him walk away, the Colonel shook his head and whispered. “We
will
see about that. I have an asset you no longer possess. I still have faith and trust in a few of my fellow humans… something you lost a long time ago, Mr. White.”

Alpha, Texas

July 27

The single Humvee rolled into Alpha’s main square promptly at 7:55 a.m., the representatives of the US government arriving for the scheduled negotiations without fanfare or escort. Tensions were high, as it was the first meeting between the parties since the attack at Midland Station.

General Owens exited the passenger door, a briefcase and bottle of water in his hand. He turned to enter the courthouse and almost ran headlong into Nick.

“General,” the ex-operator greeted, his expression showing resolve.

“Sergeant.”

“General, I’m afraid there’s going to be a delay in the negotiations this morning. An important matter has come to our attention, and we feel it needs to be addressed before any further talks can proceed.”

Owens didn’t like surprises, and his face said so. “What’s this all about, Sergeant? Why did you let us travel all this way if the meeting isn’t to take place?”

“Because I need
you
to solve the problem, sir.”

Owens’s back stiffened, not sure of the big man’s intent. “Go on.”

“I need you to accompany me, sir. You and you alone.”

“And where might we be going, Sergeant?”

“I don’t want to disclose that until we are on our way. I give you my word you won’t be harmed. We’ll have you back here in Alpha in six hours. You’ll have to trust me, sir. This matter must be addressed before any agreement can be reached.”

The undersecretary joined the two men, “General, is everything all right?”

Owens ignored the question, his gaze boring into Nick’s eyes, trying to make a decision. Finally, he turned to the politician and said, “Yes, everything is fine. There’s been a change in plans. I am going to accompany this man on a fact-finding mission. I’ll be back in six hours.”

The man from Interior didn’t like it. “Sir, this is most unusual, shouldn’t we…”

Owens interrupted the protest, “I’m sure our hosts will provide accommodations, Mr. Undersecretary. I’m sure they’ll make you quite comfortable.”

The general’s aide joined in, “Sir, may I suggest that I accompany you on this mission?”

Owens looked at Nick, the big man offering, “This is an extremely sensitive matter, General.”

The staff officer caught the meaning; Nick didn’t trust the other members of the delegation. Turning to the others Owens responded, “Gentlemen, please excuse me for just a moment. I would like to have a word in private.”

When Nick and he were out of earshot, the general said, “Major Berkley has been with me since I joined the 7
th
Mountain four years ago. I would trust… I
have
trusted
the man with my life.”

“If he sees what I’m going to show you, both of your lives could be in danger. I’ll leave that up to you, General. I don’t care if he comes along.”

A few minutes later, Nick and Moses left Alpha, the two Army officers riding in the back seat of Nick’s crew cab truck. Nick informed Owens of their destination as soon as they left Alpha.

“Why are you taking us there? The Army has already conducted a detailed investigation.”

“We found new evidence,” Nick replied. “Undeniable facts that lead any reasonable man to a very, very dangerous place. I want you to see what we uncovered with your own eyes, and I don’t want anyone else knowing about it.”

Owens was skeptical. “This is all so cloak and dagger for a Green Beret, Sergeant. I’m not sure I follow.”

“You will, sir. You will.”

The four men drove the rest of the trip in near silence. After arriving at the canyon, Nick led the expedition to the base of the south face. Nodding to Moses and then holding up one of the photographs, he said, “We are going to send this man over to the position shown on this image. You can see exactly where the murderer was standing by this tree trunk and oddly shaped rock. Do you agree with his placement, sir?”

Owens glanced back and forth, checking the noted terrain against the photo. “I do,” he concurred.

As Moses moved to the indicated position, Nick and the two officers began climbing to the rim. Again, Nick held up the surveillance photo. “As you can see, General, that tree is blocking the view of our man. If we assume the drone was flying overhead, there’s no way this picture could have been taken from the air.”

The general studied the angle, but wasn’t convinced. “I’ve seen aerial images that were distorted before. I concede that it does look strange, but that’s not proof of anything.”

“I’m not done, sir. Please follow me.”

The three men then climbed down to the ledge where Nick led his guests to the imprint of the tri-pod. Again, Owens was skeptical. “No offense, Sergeant, but you could have made those indentations yourself.”

Nick smiled, “Yes, sir, I could have. But I couldn’t have made this picture myself. Look at Moses.”

Owens sighed, examining the picture and comparing it to the real life scene below. He studied every detail for several moments and then turned abruptly to his aide. “Major, do you see this?”

The younger officer stepped forward and conducted his own comparison. “Sir, this photograph was taken from this position. I can’t speculate what that means, but it is clear to me that this is the exact spot.”

“Thank you, Major. Please, give us a moment.”

“I get it, Sergeant. I’m not stupid. But this doesn’t prove anything. That’s still your man shooting innocents. Why someone was up here with a camera, I have no idea. But that doesn’t change the fact that this Bishop character mowed down my people.”

“It wasn’t Bishop, sir. I believe I can prove that, but I need your help.”

“What makes you say it wasn’t your friend? What evidence do you have of that?”

“Because I believe him, sir. He told me what happened here. He told me why he was here, but swears he didn’t fire a single shot. I know and trust the man, sir. I’ve fought beside him more than once.”

Owens stepped away, peering across the valley. “I have to admit, the presence of the drone bothered me. Yes, we are using the little airborne bastards for everything these days, but I still thought it was odd to have one covering a deployment like this. Now, you’re showing me evidence that it was more than a drone watching the proceedings. Almost like someone was expecting something to happen here that night. I understand the concept of a false flag, Sergeant. What do you want from me?”