Authors: CG Cooper
“I saw
Act of Valor
on our way over. You know, the one about the SEALs?”
Dan spit on the ground. “SEALs.”
Hock couldn’t see behind Dan’s black sunglasses, but he detected more than a little of the intra-service rivalry in the man’s tone. Hock and his team had worked with the SEALs on more than one occasion. While a couple of them were cocky pricks, most of them were good dudes. One of the senior chiefs had even given him a free pair of boots. They were a lot better than the crap the Corps issued you.
Before he could come up with a response, Dan shifted and grabbed the binoculars resting on a small wooden platform.
“What is it?” asked Hock, straining to see what had gotten Dan’s attention.
“Holy shit. Take a look.”
Dan handed the binoculars to Hock, who did a quick scan of the area. Nothing. He turned back to Dan. “I don’t see—”
The rest of his words came out in a gurgle, the pressure of the blade piercing the surprised Marine’s throat, reaching for his spine.
Dan watched him with uncaring eyes as he casually pushed the two foot blade farther until Hock was pinned against the sandbag wall. The thrashing didn’t last long. Dan waited. He looked at his watch and then pulled out a cell phone and typed in a quick text.
He pulled off his bloody gloves and tucked them under the dead Marine. Next he took out a remote charge and set it against the mounted fifty cal machine gun.
Two minutes later, he passed through the makeshift OP gate and promised to be back before sunset. Five minutes after that, the first rounds landed, 80mm mortars. That lasted ten minutes as the Marines tried in vain to hail higher headquarters on the radio. Dan had taken care of that, too. When the enemy force appeared in front of Lcpl Hock’s post, someone tried to man the machine gun, but it was quickly silenced by the push of a button. Four Marines died in that explosion alone.
It took another twenty minutes for the one hundred Pakistani fighters to overwhelm the ten remaining Marines. Dan had to give it to the dead bastards. They’d lasted ten minutes longer than he’d predicted.
He pulled out his cell phone and sent off another message. After the text went through, Dan uncovered the motorcycle he’d stashed in a shallow cave days before. The engine started instantly. The sun was dipping over the horizon. Perfect time to leave.
It was time to disappear for a while. His had been the first shot fired. His brothers would take care of the rest. He sped off into the dusk without another thought about the dead Marines whose bodies were now being picked over by the dirty Pakistanis.
+++
Over the next three hours, two Marine companies, one in Iraq and one in Afghanistan, and five teams embedded with local troops from Ghana to Indonesia, perished as if they’d been plucked from the earth. There were no calls on the radio, no warnings of an imminent threat. With overwhelming force the killing happened, as if the very assets once under Marine control had suddenly turned on their masters. Bombs crashed and artillery exploded, leaving Marine blood spilled and soaking into the soil. It wouldn’t be until the next morning that their remains were found and the fingers started pointing.
Chapter 20
Washington, D.C.
8:37am, December 9
th
Congressman Tom Steiner was having the time of his life. The early wake up call was a small price to pay for the roller coaster he was captaining at the moment. The first interview had gone live just after 6:30am. His newly hired publicist had scheduled the easiest first. The questions were softballs lobbed in between friendly banter. The NPR host was a known liberal with a penchant for criticizing the military in his weekly
Wall Street Journal
column.
It was a good warmup for Steiner, who’d had few occasions to sit on the world stage in previous years. His feisty publicist was with him every step of the way, hounding stylists like a drill sergeant. She gave him a rating of four out of ten on his first go-around.
“You looked nervous, unsure of yourself. If you want to hit this thing out of the park you need to grow a pair, Congressman.”
He was only shocked for a moment by her straight forward style. Steiner reminded himself that she was a pro. She’d revived the careers of half a dozen washed up Hollywood actors and her fair share of politicians. He knew of two in particular who’d revived their political aspirations because of the publicist’s Nazi-like precision. She wasn’t cheap, but she was worth it.
By the third interview at
The Morning Show
, she rated him at a seven and a half out of ten.
He was now sitting across from two hosts at CNN, who were questioning him about his Marine Corps study. Steiner felt like his fourth interview was going swimmingly. He could get used to the routine of it.
“Congressman, tell us how you intend to sell your proposal to the American people. You must know that veterans are already up in arms about this.”
Steiner nodded with a grave smile. “This has nothing to do with the contributions of the Marines. This is a simply being fiscally responsible. The last time I checked, it was the American people who demanded we politicians fix the economy, balance the budget and weed out the waste. I heard them loud and clear when a month ago the American people overwhelmingly voted for a Republican held Senate and House. Some of my good friends lost posts they’d held for close to two decades. Well, I’m taking the mandate very seriously. So when I was approached about this problem, we took a serious look at it. Remember, this is not personal. This is business. Americans have said that they want the government to run more efficiently, to learn the lesson of corporations like General Electric, Apple and Starbucks. I’m in complete agreement. Just like these corporations, we need to make cuts, get leaner, and come up with better, more efficient ways of doing business. If people have a problem with targeting the Marine Corps, I’m sorry, but as I’ve already said, they have identified themselves as the most easily replaced service in—”
There was a commotion behind the cameras and then both hosts pressed fingers to their earpieces. The male host kept his composure, but the woman’s face blanched.
“Like I was saying…” Steiner tried to continue, imagining what his publicist would want him to do.
The male host put up a hand. What were they doing? The cameras were still rolling. Steiner shifted in his seat and placed his hands in his lap.
Finally, the male host spoke, his voice thin and emotionless. “I’m sorry, Congressman. We’ve just received word that multiple Marine units serving overseas have been attacked. There are numerous casualties. Our producers are working to get more information. We’re going to cut to a commercial and be back in a minute.”
The LIVE sign went out and everyone scattered, leaving Steiner by himself. His publicist was by his side in seconds.
“What happened?” he asked.
She sat down next to him. “It looks like hundreds of Marines have been killed.”
Steiner’s face went gray. “How? What happened?”
The publicist shook her head. “I have some of my people looking into it. For now we play it cool, offer your condolences.”
“My, God. How could this happen?”
As it turned out, they didn’t even continue the interview. He was ushered out in a hurry as the CNN producers reshuffled their lineup to focus on the breaking news.
Steiner was in complete shock. The loss of lives was awful, but his fifteen seconds seemed to be up. He sat in the dressing room watching the news streams. Pictures and video were coming in from foreign news services. So many bodies. Total destruction. His blood ran cold imagining what this could mean for his chances. Probably lost now. Swallowed by the horrific images being broadcast across oceans.
The dressing room slammed open and his publicist rushed into the room, her ever-present cell phone glued to her ear. “Right, thanks.” She ended the call.
“Who was that?” Steiner asked.
“Do you trust me?” she asked, ignoring his question.
“I…uh…”
Her eyes bore into his. He wanted to back away, but he would have tipped his chair over.
“Do you trust me, Congressman?”
“Why? What’s—”
She slapped him hard, his head turning to the side. He went to defend himself, but instead of repeating her assault, she said, “Listen. This is crunch time. I just got a bit of news that’ll put you in primetime by this evening. It involves a lot of risk, but I think, if you listen to me, we can do it.”
“What did you, I mean, what do we know?”
“It seems that the Marines were caught completely off guard. They didn’t so much as defend themselves.”
“But how is that possible considering—”
“Will you shut up and listen to me? This plays right into our hands. You’ve been saying that the Marine chain of command is ill-prepared to fight, taking unnecessary risks, leading young Americans to their death. This is the drum we need to beat right now. While the rest of America is mourning, we need to find the culprit. I’ve confirmed with two sources that this is legit.”
“I don’t know. This could really—”
“Yeah. You’ll look like an asshole, like a thief desecrating the grave of American heroes. But don’t you think their families deserve to know why they died? Don’t you want to see those responsible brought to justice?”
Steiner never would have made that connection. Maybe she was right. After all, he’d already thrown in all his chips. Now that he thought about it, if they played their cards right, he could come out of this thing as a hero. The man who brought down the Marine Corps that led their Marines to slaughter.
Yes
.
He sat up straighter and shook off the stinging reminder of her slap.
“Okay. I’ll do it.”
Thirty minutes later, he’d returned to NPR. Same host, different topic. His publicist said the anchor had salivated over the story. They’d shored up the story on the way over, choosing to keep the details vague, citing anonymous sources and developing dialogues as excuses for not delving deeper.
By the time he returned to the same chair he’d sat in hours earlier, Congressman Tom Steiner was a changed man. Gone was the indecision. In its place was a man who’d found his mission, his ticket to stardom.
The cameraman gave them a thumbs up and the red light came on.
“Congressman Steiner, thank you for joining us again on such short notice.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
“We don’t have much time, so we’ll cut right to the chase. Do you have information concerning the deadly attacks on Marine units where over three hundred casualties have already been confirmed?”
“I do, but let me first offer my sincere condolences to the families of the fallen.”
The host nodded and bowed his head as if saying a silent prayer. After a quiet moment, his intense gaze returned to Steiner. “Congressman, what is the information you’d like to relay to the American people in the wake of this morning’s attacks?”
Steiner closed his eyes and then opened them slowly. “It’s my unfortunate duty to inform the American people that what I’ve warned about in prior testimony has come to pass.”
“And what is that, Congressman?” The host leaned closer.
“The attacks, that could well be the deadliest single blow against combat troops since Vietnam, might have been prevented.”
“Can you elaborate?”
They’d practiced the exchange before going on air. Steiner noticed how his host looked genuinely surprised despite already knowing what was coming. He’d have to talk to his new publicist about taking some acting classes if he was going to be on-air more often. It wouldn’t do to look like an amateur.
“I can’t go into specific details, considering the fluid situation on the ground, but I can say that the risks taken by Marine commanders, obsolete equipment in the hands of those poor enlisted Marines, and the complete disregard for the safety of their men by the chain of command led to these horrible atrocities.”
Again the practiced shock on the face of the news anchor.
“But the Marines are the—”
“I know what you’re going to say, Steve, but we were wrong. We’ve been given a crappy bill of goods. Those commanders were entrusted with the lives of their Marines and they failed.” Steiner swiveled his chair and spoke directly to the camera, his finger pointing for effect. “For the lives of the American boys who died this morning, I will make it my personal mission to see that the entire Marine chain of command is prosecuted for its negligence, and that the Marine Corps be dismantled piece by piece.”
Chapter 21
Sandals Grand Riviera
Ocho Rios, Jamaica
10:11am, December 9
th
Glen Whitworth toasted himself for maybe the twentieth time. He’d been flipping from one TV channel to the next and three laptops lay arrayed across the dining room table, each streaming another feed.
The first couple hours were solemn affairs across mainstream media. And then Congressman Tom Steiner jumped off the top rope and slammed down with the game-changer. It sent shockwaves first across the Internet and then seeped into news crisis centers. Americans were calling for someone’s head, but they didn’t know whom. Terrorists? The White House? The Marine Corps?
Oh, the pundits blabbered back and forth. Some sided with Steiner while others staunchly defended Marine leadership. There had yet to be word from the White House or the Marine Commandant. Whitworth wished he could be a fly on the wall as the president and the top Marine general tried to get a grasp of the situation.
Fog of war ain’t got shit on me!
Whitworth wanted to scream to the world.
Unlike
Iron Man’s
Tony Stark and his fictional post captivity epiphany, Whitworth knew his place in the world. He built killing machines and sold them to the highest bidder.