The Last Operation (The Remnants of War Series, Book 1) (32 page)

He was back on I95 Northbound before dawn. He drove as steadily as the previous day and reached the outskirts of Washington DC right after nightfall.

Daniels checked into a Marriott just inside the Virginia state line, four miles from the I95 Bridge over the Potomac into Washington. He'd reserved a room for a week and started his search the next day. He wore off-the- rack business suits and carried his papers in a small leather attaché case as he walked in the Chase banking center in DC and opened a business account under his corporate identity. Once the account was established, he had funds wired in from the Bermuda accounts.

Armed with his cash accounts and his engineering map of Washington DC and surrounding suburbs, he started visiting commercial real estate firms. It took him four days to find the right building and location. It had to meet certain criteria's as to the building itself, distance from the Potomac and layout of utilities from the engineering and infrastructures maps. He signed the lease and took possessions of the keys on the fifth day.

As the country struggled to shake off the recession that had plagued the economy for the last few months, there were a number of commercial buildings vacant in the DC area. The one Daniels chose was a warehouse six miles from the Potomac on the outskirts of the capital just outside the DC line, on the Maryland side a few miles South of the Woodrow Wilson Memorial bridge and I95.

The sign went up on the front of the building: Hogden & Derek. General Construction.

Local workmen came in and performed the required modifications to the building—not all the ones required of course.

Those could only be done by Daniels.

Inventory came in, was stacked and placed by temporary day-workers. Large sheets of asbestos and steel construction plates and a curious length of tracked steel shaped and bent to Daniels' specifications. The last thing the workers built were two triangular and parallel cinder-block walls that jutted eight feet from the warehouse wall that abutted the office.

Daniels himself spent the last three days doing the rest of the work, work that could not be trusted to anyone but himself even if he was able to find someone who could understand what was required.

If his life depended on it, and it did, Daniels would do it himself.

Once he was satisfied everything was set up correctly, he retraced his steps on I95. South—back toward Florida and the Everglades. He reached the edge of South Carolina on the first night and took a hotel room with Internet access. Using a laptop, he sent a coded message to a Bermuda number. The number went to a computer kept active 24 hours and maintained by a service. The computer received the message that triggered a program translated from codes Daniels had locked in the machine. The program forwarded a message that was picked up by Carlos via cell-phone/laptop.

As Daniels made his way back to the Everglades, phase two would begin, triggered by the instructions decoded by Carlos.

Chapter 48

Billy was dozing on the porch surrounding the wood plank structure that was the main building of Billy's Marina, when the ringing phone jarred him awake. Bobby-Ray was on the line with one simple word of instruction: Go—it's on!

It was too late to go that evening but the next morning, Billy took the 6:30AM United flight from Naples to Reagan International in Washington DC. He packed a small suitcase and a large line of credit. He posed as a Marina owner seeking to set up certain purchases for a well to do client. It took three days to find what he needed, arrange transport, delivery and storage. The afternoon of the fourth day, he boarded a flight back to Naples.

Easiest five thousand bucks he'd ever earned.

* * *

The night Bobby-Ray called with the go signal for Billy was the night Bobby-Ray himself left the Everglades. He couldn't leave like Billy had done, in plain sight. Although he was not being actively searched for like Daniels, Carlos and Kate. Bobby-Ray knew he was tagged as a possible associate of Richard Daniels. Twice already he'd caught surveillance as they trailed him to Fort Worth and inside Everglades City.

Late that night, one of the Seminoles brought Bobby-Ray through a back canal south of Everglades City. He was off at a deserted cement boat launch ramp and walked a hundred or so yards to a small wood frame house owned by his cousin.

Following the arrangements he'd made a few weeks ago at Daniels' instruction, he found the pickup truck and the keys in the attached garage. The truck was perfect. The right size for traveling and a cap for the bed that would house what he needed to carry. It was a few years old, but not too old and not too fancy either. A perfect workingman's truck, the duplicate of hundreds of thousands like it, used daily across America.

He headed North on US75 until he crossed into Georgia. After he passed Valdosta, he left US75 heading southwest and crossed into Alabama—into the hill country where his father's family had come from.

He drove on narrow roads, unpaved backcountry trails with clouds of dry red dust billowing behind him. Vegetation crowded the hills and managed to appear both lush and parched. When he passed the occasional house or country store with porches filled with goods, people stared with the unsmiling dry looks reserved for strangers that had not been born and raised in those parts. This was moonshine, bible-belt country, where poverty ran deep and the feuds violent as Corsican vendettas.

He continued until the road turned into a fork and chose the narrower path that led upward into the forested hills. The road narrowed and the woods grew thicker until small branches rubbed and screeched on the side of the pickup. The road suddenly opened into a clearing where it was blocked by a huge tree trunk that swiveled on a pivot. Two men stood by the log-barrier and Bobby-Ray could see two more on the side of the field. As Bobby-Ray got out of the pickup, the two men walked toward him. They each carried hunting rifles, loose and easy but cocked and locked. They wore starched jeans and camouflage shirts with dark green marine-style caps. Sewn on the upper left sleeve of the shirts was a Confederate flag with a bright green coiled snake in its center. The right upper sleeve bore a patch with the letters "J.B.A.M."

John Brown Alabama Militia.

Bobby-Ray stood easy, his arms down at his side and his hands open.

"Deke Billings around?" asked Bobby-Ray as the men got closer.

The first man spat something dark and slimy on the ground.

"Your name be Bobby-Ray?"

"Yeah."

"Then he's around. He expecting you," said the man.

He nodded for Bobby-Ray to follow as he stepped into a footpath leading off into the woods. They'd barely walked five minutes when they came across a dirt clearing surrounded by several low buildings constructed under trees with roofs covered by vegetation. Bobby-Ray guessed any search aircraft would have a real tough time finding the John Brown Alabama Militia command post from the air.

"Hey Deke," yelled the first man into the open doorway. "Sumbody heer to see you."

A man came out of the doorway and stood for a moment on the rough planks of the structure's porch. He was tall and lanky with the brown-wrinkled skin of someone who spent too much time working under blazing afternoon suns. His mouth opened in a wide smile showing the dark remains of several stubby teeth.

"Well Godamm, Bobby-Ray. Ah ain't seen yo in a shit's spell since you n' mah boy took off to kill you some Ay-rabs with them Special Forces a while back. How y'all been, son?"

"Fine Deke," replied Bobby-Ray, "jus fine'n dandy'n happy you could help me with them materials I need."

"Glad to be of help son. Course ah gots to charge you, cain't be helped."

"I understand," said Bobby-Ray. "Happy to pay like we discussed. Good to know I can get materials from sources I can trust."

"Trust us you can, boy," said Deke. "Hey, y'all need help? I can send some of mah boys with you. Could come in mighty handy."

Bobby-Ray grinned as he tried to imagine the look on Daniels' face if he showed up trailing two tobacco-spitting, armed hillbilly militias.

"Preciate the offer Deke, but I got to do this one alone."

"Suit yourself son," replied Deke as he walked toward some objects covered by a tarpaulin. He pulled back the oilcloth revealing two twenty five gallon drums with Hazardous Materials marking and something in a three foot plastic box marked "Property of Tuscaloosa Fire Department." He unscrewed the top of one of the barrels, stuck two fingers inside and brought them under Bobby-Ray's nose.

"This heer what y'all's lookin for?"

"I expect," said Bobby-Ray as he immediately recognized the unique substance.

As Deke ordered the drums and the box lashed in the closed cap of Bobby-Ray's pickup truck, another man covered the Hazadous Material sign with a larger sign proclaiming the contents to be floor cleaner from the SouthWest Janitorial Supplies Company.

Bobby-Ray took some rolled up banknotes out of his pocket and counted out seven five hundred dollar bills. Deke took the bills and placed them in his pocket without counting them. He reached over and took a small cup from a shelf and poured a few ounces of clear liquid from a plastic water bottle. He took a swig and offered the rest to Bobby-Ray with a dark gap-toothed smile.

"Here son, have yo some shine, guaronteed to take the edge off everythin'"

Bobby-Ray shook his head and replied.

"I'm obliged Deke, don't wanna be inhospitable or nothing, but I can't start down that road with what I gotta do in the next few days."

With his cargo lashed down and secured in the closed space of the pickup rear cap, Bobby-Ray headed east, progressing though a variety of widening roads until he caught a four lane state highway that intersected with I95.

He had one more stop, an additional item on his shopping list. He found it in North Carolina in a mall of outlet stores, at a place called Andy and Able's World of Bicycles. He paid cash and stowed it in the pickup bed, just behind the other items.

He ate and slept in the truck, continuing until he crossed the Virginia state line and entered Washington DC. He followed Daniels' E-mailed directions and arrived at the warehouse late in the afternoon. Bobby Ray used the combination from the E-mail to open the electronic lock that Daniels had installed. He had a Hogden & Derek card that identified him as an employee.

He backed the pickup into the delivery dock and carefully unloaded the cargo. For the next two days, he would live in the warehouse as he completed the final installations and checked and rechecked the wirings and circuits. When he was satisfied with the preparations, he went to the last items.

As Bobby-Ray scouted the grounds surrounding the warehouse, he thought that Daniels couldn't have come up with a better spot.

The warehouse stood on two acres of woodland intersected by a highway several miles away. It was part of a sprawling industrial park that contained small manufacturing enterprises, offices and warehouses. Each structure was hidden from view by the woods that enveloped it. Located at the very edge of the Capital and six miles from the northern banks of the Potomac, it had been designed as gracefully spaced buildings within a natural surrounding instead of the classic industrial-park look.

Bobby-Ray used a portable SATNAV system to find the exact spot he wanted from the Washington DC civil engineering infrastructure map. He located it on the edge of the electric company trail right-of-way that housed utility poles carrying miles of wires stretching over the horizon.

The service cap sat on top of a concrete tube rising a scant four inches above the surface of the woods. It wasn't part of the sewer system proper. No sewage ever went down those pipes. It was part of a vast drainage system that collected storm water throughout the sprawling capital by means of sumps and drains and emptied at various locations into the Potomac.

Bobby Ray pried open the cap with the small crowbar he carried and rolled it out of the way. The service pipe was about four feet in diameter with metal rungs built into the concrete to allow entry for utilities service crews.

He made two trips into the system, placing the equipment at the right strategic spots and resealing the access cover afterwards.

He returned to the warehouse and slept overnight, rising early next morning and doing a series of final checks on the circuitry and mechanisms. When he was satisfied with the results, he connected the laptop and sent Richard Daniels a short E-mail. He left the warehouse and locked it behind him. From now on he would visit the warehouse daily, checking the circuits each time. He drove the short distance over the I95 Bridge and back over the Virginia state line. He turned off I95 and followed the road that led him to the marina on the Potomac where Billy had transacted his part of the operation. He'd stay at the Marina until Carlos arrived. That arrival was scheduled for the next day. Everything stood ready. Now it was up to Daniels. He would carry the final phase of the operation.