Black Flagged Apex (67 page)

The girls screamed, and Sue Ellen Mills nearly fell into the pool trying to escape Munoz's grasp to get between Daniel's rifle and her children. He was starting to feel really lightheaded and could barely raise the rifle with his left arm.

"We need to get you some medical attention," Fayed whispered. "You’re starting to worry me."

Daniel cleared the haziness. He was going to finish this right here, right now. He wasn't sure why this was taking him so long.

"I'm fine. Mills, by the count of three, or I get to choose," he said.

"I can't
do
that," Mills screeched.

"Do what? Pick which one we shoot, or tell me where the convoy is headed?"

"I can't do either," he sobbed.

"Honey, just tell them what they want to know. Please!" his wife pleaded.

Daniel engaged the safety on his rifle and threw it to the stone patio behind him. He removed his pistol from a concealed belt holster and aimed it to the left of Sue Ellen's head. He had no intention of shooting her, but he was losing control of the situation. He was also starting to feel short of breath, which he knew was a symptom of progressive blood loss. He wouldn't be able to stand for very long. Maybe he wasn't getting enough oxygen to his brain to make these decisions. He didn't know. All he cared about was extracting the information and getting back to his life with Jessica.

For a brief moment, he lined the pistol's sights up on Sue Ellen's face. Maybe shooting her in the face would get Mills to reveal the convoy's destination. He didn't want to do that, but his finger added pressure to the trigger. He became tunnel focused on her and no longer heard the kids screaming and crying. Mills' pleading faded as he moved the trigger closer to its eight-pound pressure release. He could no longer guarantee that he wouldn't shoot her. Munoz's face appeared in the pistol's sight picture.

"Danny, you don't have to do this. Fayed can handle it," Munoz said.

Jeffrey Munoz had placed himself between Mills' wife and the barrel of the gun. Daniel squinted and realized that he needed to let this go. Munoz had stood in formation next to Daniel on their first day at Sanderson's experimental training camp in Colorado. He was one of the few surviving members of the original Black Flag program, and one of the few people that truly understood how Daniel's mind worked. Now he owed Munoz another favor. He lowered the pistol and turned to Fayed.

"He's all yours. Melendez, secure the family comfortably in the house."

"Thank you. Thank you," Mills muttered.

Fayed patted Daniel on the shoulder and approached Mills. Daniel stared out at the lake, shaking from the realization that he had been pulled back from the edge of the darkest hole he had ever seen. If Munoz hadn't intervened, he would have worked his way down the line until Mills started talking. He might not have stopped at that point. Jessica would have never forgiven him for executing children. He wished he could blame what almost happened on the blood loss, but he knew better.

Sanderson had awoken a menacing darkness deep inside of him. He'd drawn on its energy to survive his undercover assignment in Serbia, but it came with a price. It would never go dormant again, and it was always there, faintly whispering to him. Today it had risen up and screamed at him. Fayed stood behind Mills and placed his hands on the man's shoulders, pressing downward. He leaned down and spoke loudly enough to jar Daniel back into the moment.

"Don't thank him yet. Here's how it works. If you don't tell me the convoy's destination right now, I'm going to march you naked into the kitchen and sit you down on the front burner of that beautiful, stainless-steel Viking stove. Then, I'll turn the oven to broil and stuff your legs inside, jamming them in place with the door. We'll spend the next ten minutes testing the front burner settings, while broiling the flesh off your feet. I'm not kidding about this."

Mills looked horrified and gasped for breath.

"What is the convoy's final target?" Daniel said.

Deflated and scared, he blubbered, "The Capitol Building. I…uh…donated several million dollars to the right campaigns and called in the favor. Three semi-trucks with Arrowhead Water logos delivered the bottles fifty minutes ago. Restaurant Associates accepted the shipment. They handle the Capitol Building's dining and concessions. Can I see my family now?"

Daniel nodded to Fayed, who removed his hands from Mills' shoulders. Owen Mills stood on shaky legs, taking a few steps forward. He avoided eye contact, taking a path around Daniel that brought him close to the pool's edge. Daniel raised his pistol and fired two bullets into the CEO of Crystal Source, knocking him into the pool. He landed on his back, with his arms extended sideways. A crimson geyser exploded upward from the pool as his body disappeared underneath the dark water. He didn't wait to see if the body resurfaced. The dark whispering went silent for now.

"He deserved a lot worse," Fayed said.

"I agree, but we don't have the time. The feds will show up at any second, and I had no intention of losing any of these guys to an army of lawyers. Grab Tariq's gear. Berg's guy took a serious risk getting this gear to us. We roll in thirty seconds," Daniel said.

"I'll meet the team out front," he said and started removing Tariq's vest.

"Should we bring him along? I hate to leave him here, scattered among these criminals," Daniel said.

"Tariq's corpse is the last thing we need to be hauling around in a car. Sanderson can straighten this out with the FBI," Fayed said.

"Speak of the devil," Daniel said.

He removed a satellite phone from one of the magazine pouches and answered the call.

"Good timing. We just finished cocktails."

"Don't fuck with me right now. I can never tell if you're fucking with me. Did you get the information?"

"Still on the run?"

"Daniel, I need to make a few very important phone calls. Important to you and important to me. Cut the shit for once," Sanderson said.

Daniel could tell from the sound quality that he was on the road. For some reason, the image of Sanderson fleeing in a gypsy caravan made him happy.

"The Capitol Building. Delivered fifty minutes ago by three semi-trailers with Arrowhead logos. Tariq is dead."

"Jesus. I'm really sorry to hear that. Fayed's Middle East group took a beating. All right. You need to stay off the grid until further notice. Escape and evade. We're still on the FBI's shit list," Sanderson said.

"I assume you can fix that?"

"I'm working on a plan."

"You need to work fast because I'm going to require hospitalization within the next fifteen minutes. I've lost too much blood to ride it out."

"Get yourself to an ER. I'll have this squared away soon enough."

"That would sound more encouraging to me if I didn't suspect you were driving at breakneck speed toward some dingy hideout in Neuquén right now."

"Have a little faith. When have I ever let you down?"

Daniel didn't say a word. He waited for Sanderson to speak.

"All right. Don't answer that question. You'll be back in South Carolina with Jessica by…tomorrow," Sanderson said.

"I've heard that before."

Chapter 58

2:36 PM

The President's Study-The White House

Washington, D.C.

Frederick Shelby walked with two Secret Service agents through the walkway connected to the Oval Office by a hidden door located at the eleven o'clock position facing directly north of the president's office. The other hidden door led to his secretary's office. Shelby was surprised when the agents continued past the door and took him toward the hallway leading deeper into the West Wing. He passed two officers from the Secret Service's Uniformed Division manning a security checkpoint at the entrance to the hallway. With a simple nod, the agents passed through the checkpoint, along with Shelby.

The agents opened the first door on the left, which led into the president's study. Shelby nodded at the agents and entered, surprised to see Major General Bob Kearney and Lieutenant General Frank Gordon, both wearing headsets, seated in front of two flat-screen monitors and a small array of computer equipment. The president sat at his desk, facing the screens, with Jacob Remy watching over the generals' shoulders. The door closed behind him.

"Director Shelby, please take a seat. There's been an interesting development. General Sanderson has been running a ghost operation that tracked the virus canisters to a laboratory in Pennsylvania, just outside of Scranton. It appears that your instincts were right. Here's what we know: Owen Mills, the CEO of Crystal Source water and a major donor to True America, partnered with Jackson Greely and Lee Harding to destabilize our government."

Frederick Shelby took the seat offered to him. The president had skipped to the part he didn't know and suspected that Sharpe had withheld during their hospital chat. Sharpe still didn't trust Shelby, which was perfectly fine with the director. A little distrust increased your longevity on the Hill. He was mostly interested in how Sanderson had managed to earn the president's trust again so quickly. More importantly, Shelby wanted to know who Sanderson had used to neatly wrap this present and hand it to the president. Of the five people sitting in the president's study, only one stood out as odd. General Kearney. He nodded with interest and let the president continue.

"They feigned an attack against the public water supply, which drove bottled water demand through the roof and tanked the public's confidence in our ability to defend against domestic terrorist attacks. Apparently, they used most of the virus to contaminate thousands of bottled water containers, shipping them to various targets along the east coast. One of the targets was the United Nations General Assembly. Sanderson's people stopped that convoy. Another convoy delivered several thousand bottles of contaminated water to the U.S. Capitol Building roughly one hour ago."

"On a Sunday? Directly to the Capitol Building? Mills must have some serious connections," Shelby said, shaking his head.

"Apparently so. Deliveries are normally cleared by the Capitol Police at an offsite delivery center, during the week. I'm sure Mills took advantage of the bottled water shortage to arrange the delivery. With the House and Senate in session, this had the potential to destabilize the legislative branch and trigger a coup. Picture every Congressman and Senator sipping from one of True America's poisoned bottles. Can you imagine the worldwide impact if these attacks had been successful? This could have shattered the world order."

Shelby bit his tongue. The plan itself was diabolical, but he could see where the president was going with this. Destabilizing the government. Coup d'état. World order. All big words he would use on camera to make True America sound like the greatest threat to humanity since the Nazis. More like the greatest threat to the monopoly his political party now enjoyed in D.C.

"We're tracking four additional convoys right now. One of them is headed up Sixth Avenue in Manhattan. The NSA is tracking this live. NYPD is already following the trucks in unmarked cars. We'd like to determine the convoy's ultimate destination before Emergency Services takes them down. We have another convoy passing through Parsippany, headed east along Interstate Eighty. Probably headed to New York City. The two remaining convoys are further out, headed south along Interstate 476. One just outside of Philadelphia and the other approaching Allentown. We think these are headed toward the D.C. area. General Gordon has a helicopter strike force headed for the northernmost convoy. Philadelphia police will stop the other before it enters the city."

Since his agency's law enforcement services clearly weren't needed at the moment, Shelby didn't pay much attention to what the president said. His mind scrambled to process the bigger picture. Shelby did his best not to grin, as the sheer audacity of Greely's plan unfolded in his mind. He couldn't think of two groups reviled by more Americans right now than the United States Congress and the United Nations.

Unleashing the Zulu virus on them was a horrifying and repugnant act of terrorism, but on some deep level, Shelby was willing to bet that the attacks would have resonated with many Americans. According to polls, the number of Americans who closely identified with True America's core message grew larger every day. A major part of their message centered on the sad state of politics in D.C. and the need to enforce a more isolationist foreign affairs policy. This was a desperate gamble by Greely and Harding. Despite most Americans' daily grumblings about politicians, the horrific reality of their act would have driven True America's support base into the ground. The success of Greely's plan to send America a wakeup call would have destroyed the mainstream movement.

"Director Shelby?"

"Sorry, Mr. President. I'm just trying to absorb the scale and complexity of their plot. This is unbelievable."

"It's hard to comprehend. By now, you're probably wondering why I've called you in here. Today's events will require special handling by someone I can trust. Sanderson has given us the location of the laboratory used to contaminate the bottles. It's about an hour out of Scranton. I want your people to get there first. You can coordinate with the Pennsylvania Department of Health to get a HAZMAT team to assist your people on-site. I also want the FBI to take charge at the White Mills distribution plant in Honesdale. Sanderson's people stopped the final convoy at one of the warehouses and left quite a mess. State and local police have already responded to the scene, but I don't trust them with the evidence. This is too important."

"I'll send teams to each location immediately, Mr. President. What about Mills or Greely?"

The president looked at Jacob Remy for guidance and also locked eyes with General Kearney.

"Owen Mills, Jackson Greely and Lee Harding are dead. Owen Mills owns a massive estate on Lake Wallenpaupack, right outside of Honesdale. Their bodies can be found near the pool toward the back of the estate. No local police response has been detected in that area, so it appears that Sanderson's attack on the estate went unnoticed. I'd like to keep this as quiet as possible for now."