Corps Justice Boxed Set: Books 1-3: Back to War, Council of Patriots, Prime Asset (51 page)

Over lunch, she’d told them the entire
story. In short, she’d fallen in with the wrong crowd and allowed
them to manipulate her. She was embarrassed but owned up to her
shortcomings.

“Most of all I’m sad that I worried you
guys,” she’d told her parents.

The weekend was perfect. They’d cancelled
everything and spent time as a family. That had been eleven months
ago. Then she’d apparently gotten a job with a Hollywood PR firm.
Traveling extensively, contact had been rare, minus the occasional
quick text hello. They’d wondered about the lack of correspondence,
but just figured she’d been busy.

Hank Waller put his face in his hands. “How
could this have happened?” he asked to no one in particular.

Cal didn’t know what to say. Once again, he
was in completely unfamiliar territory.

“Is there anything else I can do, sir?”

Waller looked up, the misery plain in his
watery eyes. And yet, a spark of anger seethed. “You find whoever
did this to my little girl, Cal, and I’ll help you destroy
them.”

+++

2:33am

Cal and Daniel left the President with his
quietly sobbing wife.

“You think they’ll be okay?” Daniel asked.
He hadn’t said a word in Waller’s posh suite.

Stokes knew Waller was a strong man. You
can’t be President without having an extra gear. Still, the man was
human. He wondered how it would affect Waller’s performance at the
convention.

“I’ll think they’ll pull through.”

“I’ll pray for them.”

Cal nodded. He appreciated having Daniel’s
calming influence around. In response, Cal also said a silent
prayer for the Wallers.

+++

3:07am

They finally made it back to the Bellagio
after fighting through the drunken crowds. Everyone was headed to
the closest food joint before heading in for the night.

“Thanks for coming, Daniel. I’ll wake you up
in a few hours.”

Briggs patted Cal on the back and headed off
to get what sleep he could.

Cal took one last look out the large
panoramic window. The lights of The Strip shone brightly in the
dark desert. He hoped the morning would be uneventful.

The Marine set his alarm and fell back onto
the over-sized couch. One of the benefits of his time in the Marine
Corps was the ability to sleep anywhere, anytime. Cal was asleep in
less than two minutes.

Chapter 37

Las Vegas,
Nevada

5:02am, September 19th

The First Sergeant had just called Capt.
Andrew’s room to wake him. Andy kicked his legs off the bed and
walked to the bathroom. The details of the day’s performance were
already aligning themselves in his brain. It would be a very busy
day.

+++

5:42am

Cal’s alarm went off just as he slipped into
one of his recurring dreams. He’d just found out that his parents
had died and he was running to the Marine recruiting office.
Problem was, in his dream, he just kept running and running. He
never got close to his final destination.

He shook his head and looked up to see
Daniel sitting across from him, apparently ready to go.

“How long have you been up?”

“Since five-thirty. I’m showered and ready
to go.”

This guy was good. He’d have to remember
that. “Alright, give me a minute to rinse off. You mind making me a
cup of coffee?”

“No problem.”

Cal trudged off to the spacious bathroom and
turned the shower to cold. He needed to shock his system. Today
would be a long day and Cal needed a clear head. He held his breath
and stepped into the frigid downpour.

+++

5:49am

“Are your men in position?” Kazuo Nakamura
asked his compatriot.

“Yes, Nakamura-san. They are prepared to die
a warrior’s death,” the man barked earnestly to his master.

“Hopefully, it will not come to that. We
will need many men when we take back the empire. Have you made
arrangements for myself and my son?”

The man relayed the plan. Nakamura was
satisfied. They would have a front row seat to the coming
carnage.

He examined the Nambu pistol in his hand one
last time. It was a gift from his father. Somehow, he’d been able
to keep it hidden from the authorities. He’d told young Kazuo that
the pistol had served him well in the Great War. Many enemies had
lost their lives to the simple weapon. Nakamura’s eyes flared as he
imagined using it against his enemies. Yes, today would be a day to
remember.

+++

5:56am

Capt. Andrews looked at himself in the
mirror. Even though it could be a royal pain sometimes, he still
loved his dress blues. It made him feel like a Marine. As an
afterthought, he walked into the bedroom and grabbed the shopping
bag Cal’s friend Daniel had brought. He’d given it to Andy just
before leaving.

“Don’t let Cal know, sir, but I thought you
might need these.”

Andy had looked into the bag, and found a
Sig Sauer 9mm pistol, along with two replacement magazines full of
ammunition. He silently thanked the sniper for his forethought.

Taking the weapon from the bag, he placed it
uncomfortably in his back waistband. There wasn’t much room inside
the form-fitting uniform, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going in
naked. Andy deposited one magazine into each of his front
pockets.

After looking at himself in the mirror one
last time to make sure his weapons weren’t obviously visible, he
made his way out to the waiting vans.

Chapter 38

Las Vegas,
Nevada

6:15am, September 19th

The Marines filed into the convention
center, carrying their rifles at port arms. Andy wished they’d been
able to bring ammunition for the damn things. He still had a really
bad feeling about their upcoming performance. It felt like they
were walking into an ambush.

He chatted with the two
Secret Service agents at the main entrance, waiting for Cal to
arrive. Two minutes later, Stokes walked up dressed in black
t-shirt, sport coat, and designer jeans.
So that’s Cal’s new uniform
, Andy
thought. Cal had offered his good friend a position at SSI, but
Capt. Andrews wasn’t ready to leave the Corps. He came from a
military family. His father and grandfather both retired from the
military. Andy figured he would probably stay in for one more tour
and then get out. After all, he did have bright prospects as a
civilian. SSI was a good place for a warrior to end up.

“Hey, Andy!” Cal called cheerfully, Daniel
walking smoothly beside.

Andy handed Cal and Daniel their visitor
passes as the Secret Service agents did a quick frisking of both
men. “Easy, boys. Your mama know you do that at work?” Cal
asked.

The large agent chuckled as he finished
frisking Cal with a hard smack on the ass. “Have fun, jarhead.”

“Army?” Cal asked the muscular man, rubbing
his rear.

“SEAL.”

“You know what they say, sailor…?”

“What’s that, knuckle-dragger?” the agent
asked with a grin.

“What happens in the Navy, stays in the
Navy,” Cal commented innocently.

The agent’s partner laughed and ushered the
two Marines into the convention center after taking their cell
phones for safekeeping.

Cal and Daniel looked around in amazement.
The place was huge. It took them a full five minutes of brisk
walking to get to the main event area. They didn’t run into anyone
else. The convention would kick off a little after 5pm with doors
opening at 3pm. It looked like everything was ready and waiting for
the impending visitors.

They finally reached the staging area where
the Marines were waiting. Cal let them get ready as he and Daniel
first examined the trailers and then walked to the entryway leading
into the arena. The exhibition space was about the size of a
football field. The Silent Drill Team would have plenty of room to
maneuver, even with the huge trailer. Cal could make out the short
row of chairs on the opposite end of the field where the President
would be sitting. He hadn’t arrived yet.

Capt. Andrews walked over. “They said you
guys can grab a seat on this side of the arena.” He pointed right
over his head where seating was arranged stadium style.

“Sounds good. What time does the show
start?” Cal asked.

“We load into the trailer at quarter ‘til
seven. They close us in and wheel us into the arena five minutes
later. Why don’t you guys head up to your seats and I’ll see you
after the show?”

Andy headed back to his Marines who were
carefully being inspected by their squad leaders. They wouldn’t be
caught dead with even a speck of lint on their uniforms, even if it
was practice.

Cal and Daniel took the set of stairs up to
the landing where two folding chairs were clearly marked with
“Jarhead #1” and “Jarhead #2” written on pieces of white paper.

“Those Secret Service guys sure are funny,”
Cal noted wryly.

From their seats, they could observe the
entire field. It would give them a perfect view. He pointed to the
highest point at the opposite end of the arena. They could see the
two Zimmers and Trent filing into their row. Cal waved but couldn’t
catch Trent’s eye.

The only thing not in view was the staging
area. Little did they know that that was where they should have
been looking.

+++

6:27

Trent took the lead as he escorted the
Senator and Congressman to their seats. Senator Zimmer had elected
to keep his security detail outside. He’d reasoned that the Secret
Service would already have the area sufficiently canvassed and
secured.

Out of habit, MSgt Trent glanced all around
the huge space. He saw Cal and Daniel at the far end of the hall.
He waved and Cal motioned back.

Continuing his scan, he looked at the new
VIP boxes. He didn’t see anyone prepping. Strange. Just as he moved
his gaze past the last window, he caught a flicker of movement in
the skybox closest to the President. Probably just a cleaning crew,
he thought as the figure disappeared again. The Senator was right;
the Secret Service should have this place buttoned up tight.

Trent finished his inspection and looked
back at the center of the arena. He looked forward to seeing
Marines in dress blues again.

+++

6:29am

“Get back, you fool,” whispered Nakamura
harshly to his son. They were comfortably situated in recliners at
the back of the skybox closest to the President.

“He didn’t see me, Father,” complained Ishi.
He was getting tired of his father’s paranoia. He’d be glad when
this day was over.

“That black man looked back this way…”

“But he’s staring at the ground floor again,
Father. Let’s just sit back and watch the show.”

Kazuo Nakamura was too close to
accomplishing his long-planned mission to relax. His contacts
within the ownership of the convention center had paid off. Rather
than having a lot of crew prepping the morning of the event, they’d
pushed hard to get all the prep work done the day before the event.
Nakamura’s compatriot who controlled the event coordinator, Janet
Riley, had ‘requested’ that she get the crew out by midnight in
order for them to “get rest before the big event.” It was a simple
request and had seemed reasonable. Riley had complied
willingly.

The lack of workers had allowed the Japanese
imperialists to stage their people earlier that morning. The
absence of building personnel would also mean fewer witnesses.

Better that the American
people hear the news on this morning’s telecast
, thought Kazuo Nakamura. His people would be gone before the
authorities had any inkling of the event. Yes, he had planned it
perfectly.

+++

6:40am

“All right, ladies, everyone in the
trailer,” barked the First Sergeant. They methodically walked up
the ramp and into the expanded trailer. There was interior
lighting, but it was still like walking into a coffin.

Capt. Andrews and the 1stSgt were the last
to enter. Andy threw the small Asian crewmember outside the door a
thumbs-up and held down the control until the ramp was closed. They
were now safely ensconced in the large trailer…or so they
thought.

+++

6:43am

The crewman looked around to
make sure no one else was around. He was alone. Quickly he typed
into his cell phone:
LOAD
.

Ten seconds later, a platoon of seemingly
identical Marines entered the staging area from a back entrance.
They wore the same uniforms and carried the same M-1 Garand rifles.
The only difference was the slightly increased weight of four of
the weapons due to the live ammunition inside.

They marched quickly into the backup trailer
just as the loud music started booming in the arena. As the ramp
door closed, a man in a Marine Captain’s uniform turned to the
crewmember and snapped a quick salute. The crewmember returned the
salute and pulled out a small remote control. He flipped the safety
switch and pressed the red button. His duties accomplished, he
slipped out a rear exit and drove to the private airfield outside
of Las Vegas.

+++

6:45am

Capt. Andrews was giving the Marines last
minute instructions when the booming of the convention theme song
shook the trailer. “All right, Marines. That music means we have
one minute. Right about now, the President is having a seat in the
arena. I know some of you guys would love to give the President a
hug, but please resist the temptation.”