The Reformers: A Matt Blake Novel (The Matt Blake legal thriller series Book 2) (21 page)

Chapter 45

 

 

I stretched out on the sofa in the living room of our apartment. I mentioned that Dee and I decided it was crazy for us to stay in the Witness Protection Program, although we readily agreed to have a couple of armed FBI guards in our building. It had been a month since my fall and concussion, and a seeming lifetime since the horrible porn video was emailed to Dee. I was feeling about 100 percent. But Dee, being Dee, couldn’t restrain herself from making sure I was mending properly. She sat on the edge of the couch and put an ice pack against the left side of my face, and another one on my bruised shoulder.

 

“Hey, honey,” I said, “I’m really feeling fine.”

 

“You still have a slight swelling on your forehead. I also notice that you’ve been favoring your right shoulder. Just a few more days of this and you’ll be 100 percent, although after we made love the other night, I’d say you’re 125 percent.”

 

“What the hell did I ever do without you?”

 

She lay down next to me and nuzzled her face against my neck.

 

“That feels a lot better than an ice pack,” I said.

 

***

 

The intercom rang. “Hello Diana, it’s Jerome from downstairs. I have a letter for Matt that was just delivered. I’ll bring it up.”

 

Jerome rang the bell and handed an envelope to Dee.

 

“Wait,” I yelled. I got up and went to the breakfront to get an instrument that Jack Logan had given me.

 

“What are you doing, Matt?”

 

“This is a biosensor device. Call me paranoid, but Jack Logan is rubbing off on me.”

 

I turned the device on, and after it booted, I waved it around the envelope. Clear—no biological contaminants, like Anthrax or something. I reached into the drawer and put on plastic gloves.

 

“What are the gloves for, Matt?”

 

“I may want to have that envelope dusted for prints and I don’t want to contaminate it.”

 

“This deputy FBI agent stuff is going to your head, honey.”

 

I opened the envelope, which was addressed to me. I read it aloud so we can both hear it.

 

“Dear Mr. Blake:

 

We are terribly sorry, and wish to apologize to you for a recent event. Yes, you were given sodium pentothal, and yes we interrogated you. But it was a terrible mistake to set you loose without making sure that the drug had worn off. As a result you fell and were injured. We apologize again. Our associate who was responsible for this mistake has been reprimanded and disciplined. It was never our intent to bring you harm, only to interrogate you about your knowledge of our organization. You gave us the information we looked for. You can rest assured that we shall bring no harm to you, or to your talented wife, Diana.

 

The second reason for this correspondence concerns your client Ali Yamani, whom we believe you call Al. Mr. Yamani and his two colleagues, Jake Almeth, and Mickey Sidduq are no longer in the FBI Witness Protection Program. They have been peacefully abducted. Do not worry. They are no longer in the country, but are safe and under our protection. Do not bother to look for them, but if you do, that’s perfectly understandable. If you find them, we think you will discover that they are quite content where they are.

 

Finally, and getting back to the original paragraph of this letter, you will find that the sum of $100,000 has been deposited to your bank account ending in 4888. This is to compensate you for your unfortunate injury, and again we are sorry. Do not bother to try to trace the source of the wired funds. We do suggest that you take a close look at the security surrounding your bank account. Our people found it quite easy to infiltrate, although we trust that you are pleased with the outcome.

 

Yours in Peace and Prosperity,

 

Your friends at NFL (
Not For Long
)”

 

***

I looked at Dee.

 

“So what do you think, Dee?”

 

“Dear God, Matt. These people almost sound polite. I cannot believe they apologized to you for your fall, not to mention the nice ‘settlement’ for your injury. I don’t know if I feel creepy or relieved. They’re obviously not out to get you—or me.”

 

“What about the status of our writing friends, Dee? The letter said they were abducted from the FBI safe house.”

 

“But Matt, how could somebody be abducted from a place that’s surrounded by armed FBI agents?”

 

“The answer is obvious, hon. One or more of the FBI agents was involved.”

 

“Matt, you’ve got to take this to the government, to somebody we can trust.”

“Besides you, Dee, I’m not sure who the hell I can trust. I think these people, besides being prolific killers, are turning political. They’re after hearts and minds. What better way to get on somebody’s good side than to apologize for a mistake and wire you $100,000? These people worry me, hon, no matter whose side they’re on. I told you what Imam Mike said. He thinks the NFL is just as bad as the jihadis, maybe worse. They’re after power, big power.”

 

“And I notice, Matt, that they signed the letter NFL—
Not For Long
. Something tells me that they’re turning in a new direction. They’re coming out from the shadows.”

 

“You’re right, Dee. A new direction, a scary direction.”

 

We would soon find out just how scary the NFL’s new direction would become.

 

Chapter 46

 

 

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, this is Shepard Smith reporting for Fox News. For our viewers who have just tuned in, I have some amazing and startling items to report.

We have received word from numerous sources about a massive series of drone strikes against Islamic State training facilities in various countries in the Middle East. When I say massive, I mean just that. According to our sources, there have been attacks on no fewer than 15 extremist training facilities in Yemen, Iraq, Afghanistan, and even one in Saudi Arabia. Approximately 300 Predator drone aircraft were used, although we can’t confirm the exact number yet. We are told that dozens of senior ISIS officials are among the dead. Although there have been civilian casualties, apparently there were no more than a half-dozen killed or injured.

 

But among the extremist trainees and their superiors, the numbers are shocking. We have heard that in all 15 of the attacks, no fewer than 11,500 have been killed. We have no reliable count on those injured.

 

Drone strikes on militant targets are nothing new for American armed forces and covert operations. It began in the last administration, and President Reynolds has shown no intention of lightening up the pressure. But 11,500 is a staggering number. We go now to the Pentagon, where our associate Felix Cambry is standing by. What do you have for us, Felix?”

 

“Shepard, this news is amazing. Never before have we heard of such a large number of simultaneous strikes or such a high number of casualties. But apparently the government is choosing to stay tight-lipped about this, at least for the short term. I just interviewed General Donald McTigue, Deputy Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and he flat out denied any American involvement in the strikes. He declined to be interviewed on air for this broadcast, claiming that the matter is still under investigation.We’re tracking this developing story closely and will let you know of any new developments. Over to you, Shepard.”

 

“There you have it, folks. A massive drone attack on 15 terrorist training facilities in four different countries. And the government isn’t talking. This is a story that won’t go away, and I think it will dominate our reports for weeks to come.

 

In a related story—at least it seems to be related—weapons thefts from our nation’s arsenal continue unabated. We have received a report from our sources that another huge cache of weapons has been stolen from military facilities across the country, including—and get this folks—no fewer than 1,000 Predator drone aircraft. At over $4 million bucks a piece, we’re looking at a heist of close to a half a billion dollars in Predator drones alone. Also missing are thousands of assault rifles, countless handguns, grenade launchers, and grenades. I contacted an inside source of ours at the Pentagon, who asked to remain anonymous, to ask if he had any idea who may be responsible for the thefts.  His response, and I’m cleaning up this comment for our viewing audience—‘We have no
effing
idea.’

 

We’ll be bringing you updates to this unfolding story as it emerges.

 

In other news…”

 

***

 

President Reynolds clicked off the TV. Joining him in the Cabinet Room was CIA Director Bill Carlini, FBI Director Sarah Watson, and Admiral Leo Bascomb, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and George McDonald, Secretary of Defense. At Sarah Watson’s suggestion, Rick Bellamy, Director of Homeland Security was on board too, as was Jack Logan, head of the FBI Counterterrorism Task Force.

 

“Okay, folks, I’m not going to scream, shout, pound my fists, or use foul language. I have one question that I’m going to address to you as a group—What the fuck is going on here? Sorry about the foul language, oh fuck it. Anybody want to go first?”

 

Rick Bellamy, head of Homeland Security, raised his hand.

 

“Sir, we have no direct evidence, and I mean absolutely no direct evidence, of who conducted the weapons thefts or who ordered the drone strikes.”

 

Bellamy looked at Sarah Watson and Bill Carlini. They both nodded their heads.

 

“At this point,” said Bellamy, “all we can do is analyze the facts and make educated guesses. And the unavoidable educated guess is that there is inside help, at the Pentagon, at the CIA, and at the FBI. And when I say
inside help
, I’m not talking about one or two moles, I’m talking about a large number of people who are facilitating this crap.”

 

The President looked at FBI Director Watson. “Sarah, your thoughts on what Rick just said?”

 

“I agree with Rick Bellamy, Mr. President. Somebody, or some group, is inside the deepest layers of our government. I’m sure you’ve heard about the three young men who were framed for those mall bombings. They were kidnapped a couple of days ago from a safe house in our Witness Protection Program. I can’t believe it—kidnapped from the WPP.”

 

“I ditto what Sarah just said, Mr. President,” said CIA Director Carlini.

 

George McDonald, Secretary of Defense, nodded his head in agreement. The president turned to Admiral Leo Bascomb, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

 

“Leo, as the top military person in the room, what say you?”

 

Bascomb, a Navy combat veteran and also experienced with countless inside political scuffles, knew how to take heat. The security of the nation’s arsenal came under his direct overview.

 

“Sir, since we first discovered the weapons thefts a few weeks ago, I’ve turned loose the NCIS, the National Security Agency, and countless other investigative organizations. Thus far, we haven’t discovered a clue—not one clue. I completely agree with what the others have said. This is an inside operation, a huge inside operation.”

 

“Can somebody tell me about this NFL acronym I’ve been hearing bits and pieces about?” the President said.

 

Rick Bellamy raised his hand.

 

“Yes, sir. In the past few weeks we’ve been hearing a lot about a secretive outfit called NFL, or
Not For Long
. From what we’ve learned from some of our moles and other trusted sources, this organization is large and getting larger. Matt Blake that lawyer from Chicago, along with his wife, have given us some great leads. NFL is wealthy beyond belief, and it uses its wealth to drive toward its goal—the defeat of radical Islam. That’s what the
Not For Long
moniker is all about. It means that the sway of the forces of radical Islam is
Not For Long
.”

 

“Rick, and anybody else who wants to chime in,” said President Reynolds, “is it your opinion that this NFL outfit is responsible for the gigantic recent drone attacks as well as the theft of weapons?”

 

“Not only that, sir,” Bellamy said, “but I have a list of attacks over the past few weeks that I think may be related to this NFL.”

 

“So are you telling me that some group of people has set up a shadow government,” said President Reynolds, “or at least the military role of government, and are on a vigilante romp of their own?”

 

Carlini raised his hand.

 

“I think Rick Bellamy is dead on center, Mr. President. Nothing else can explain what we’ve been seeing in the past few weeks. A group, a very powerful group, has decided to replace a central role of government—keeping the peace.”

 

“Bill,” said the president, “are you saying that a private group is actually substituting itself for the federal government?”

 

“Exactly, sir. And they’re doing things that most of us dream about in the dark recesses of our minds. I hope I’m never quoted on that.”

 

“Explain the ‘dark recesses’ of your mind, Bill. And no I won’t ever quote you on what you say.”

 

“Well, Mr. President, this NFL outfit plays by its own rules, not ours. Actually, it doesn’t seem to have any rules, including rules like the United States Constitution. They play rough in a way that we can’t, at least not legally.”

 

***

 

“Folks,” said President Reynolds, “I want you to help me focus on something. I want you to help me focus on the late Anwar al-Awlaki. Anybody care to enlighten us on this man?”

 

“He was the militant al-Qaeda leader,” Jack Logan said, “sometimes known as the Osama bin Laden of the Internet. He was a big-time recruiter of people to radical Islam. Your predecessor in office ordered a drone strike and killed the man in 2011.”

 

“Can anybody else tell me some more about Awlaki?”

 

“He was an American citizen,” said Sarah Watson.

 

“Okay, so let’s narrow this down,” the President said. “My predecessor, President Obama, ordered a targeted hit on this American citizen, and was successful in taking the guy out. As you all well know, I had my differences with President Obama, but not on this issue. Since I’ve taken office, I’ve ordered five similar targeted attacks on people like Awlaki, and three of them were American citizens. I thought nothing of it, and everybody in this room backed me up on my actions. All of which brings me to a hypothetical question—well, maybe it’s not hypothetical—What the fuck is the difference between what my predecessor or I did and what these NFL people are doing? I’m open for answers.”

 

“Well, for one thing,” said Sarah Watson, “You represent the American people, you’re the executive branch of the government.”

 

“Thank you, Sarah for your lawyerly analysis, but I’m going to throw that question out again—What’s the difference between my actions and the NFL?”

 

“Nothing,” said Bill Carlini, “except they do a lot more of it. It’s really a matter of numbers. They do things on a large scale.”

 

“Thank you, Bill for hitting the nail on the head. That’s right. Obama ordered targeted hits, and I’ve ordered targeted hits. The only distinction is that the NFL isn’t part of the government. But from a moral point of view, our actions are identical. What can I tell you folks? I get paid to live with some strange ambiguities.”

 

Everyone in the room, except for Reynolds, stared at the surface of the table.

 

“Okay, let’s wrap up this meeting, people. It appears that this strange organization is inside, inside
OUR
side. We’ve got to find a way to infiltrate
their
side. Until we do, I’m going to be getting my security briefings from cable television. Okay, everybody, thank you for your time and knowledge. We’ll be gathering again soon. Bill, could I have a word with you?”

***

 

Everyone left the room except for CIA Director Bill Carlini.

 

“Bill, you and I go back a long time, longer than anyone in this room. There’s nobody who I trust more than you. This chat is between you and me, understood?”

 

“Yes, of course, Mr. President.”

 

“In all my years of planning and running for this job, I never expected this. I’m faced with a weird bunch of mavericks who do things that we’d
like
to do, as well as a lot of things that we actually do. But we live in a nation of law, and we’re sworn to uphold that law. And the law says that only the chief executive can order targeted hits on people, except on the battlefield.”

 

“You’ve identified the main point, Mr. President. I don’t know if I’d
like
to do the things they do, but I recognize that they have an advantage over us. They are doing things that
we can’t do
—at least not legally, and it seems to be working. Al-Qaeda, ISIS, and all of the other radical killing machines are being stomped by these guys. Radical Islam is on the run, and it’s not because of us—it’s because of the NFL.”

 

President Reynolds lowered his voice.

 

“Bill, if you were me, would you let these bastards do their thing, and let us reap the benefits?”

 

“You’re asking me something that’s way above my pay grade, sir, but you do raise the obvious question. Why not just ignore them? Sure, you will give public announcements denouncing their acts to shut up the press, but let the journalists figure out how to stop them, because we sure as hell don’t seem to be able to. I don’t envy your job, Mr. President.”

 

Reynolds stood up and walked over to the window. He put his hands on his hips, and then raised them and held the back of his neck. He turned and walked back to his seat opposite Carlini. He took off his glasses and rested his head on his arms, which were folded in front of him on the table. Reynolds raised his head and looked at Carlini.

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