Martial Law (28 page)

“I have two more installation briefings to conduct, and then I will be returning to Fort Devens to assist you on behalf of Homeland Security.”
Fabulous
.

“That is very kind of you, Agent Pearson, but my accomplished staff is capable, and we have always followed the orders issued to us like good soldiers. I believe there are some facilities where a man of your talents can be more useful.”

Pearson took off his glasses and set them on a file folder he dropped on the conference table. He became antagonistic. “Colonel, I recall my April visit with you as if it was the other day. You have a way of using humor to make your points. Agent Nemechek made a similar assessment. I hope you understand this. My assignment to you by Homeland Security, which carries the full weight of the President behind it, is not an offer. It is an order, sir. I hope that you can respect that, and we can work together accordingly.”

Brad studied Pearson for a moment and then leaned back in his chair and laughed. His aides were unsure how to react.

“Well, Agent Pearson, welcome aboard. I have never refused an order, regardless of how asinine it is. It is my duty as a soldier. Now, can we get down to business and the substance of this briefing so you can be on your merry way?” Brad’s sarcasm garnered chuckles from his fellow soldiers.

“Yes, please,” replied Pearson. “There is much to discuss.”

The only thing to discuss is how to keep you the fuck out of my way
. “Well, let’s get to it, shall we?” asked Brad as he nodded to his aides.

“Okay,” started Pearson as he distributed briefing folders to everyone in the room. “We have actionable intelligence from Clear Air Force Base in Alaska that fishing trawlers are reporting an increase in Russian vessel activity near the Aleutian Islands. We have tracked Russian troop movement into their newly established Arctic military facilities. By our best estimate, they have deployed one hundred eighty thousand troops, two hundred and twenty aircraft, forty-nine ships, and two dozen submarines to the region. These new troop movements come in addition to the submarines that have been patrolling our Atlantic seaboard for months.”

“I am aware the Russians have established an Arctic Joint Strategic Command,” said Brad, who was more serious now. “Some reports claimed this was military posturing as part of Putin’s desire to show off his military might. Another theory is the Russians were protecting their valuable oil fields above the Arctic Circle. What do you think, Agent Pearson?”

“Well, I don’t know what Russia is thinking,” replied Pearson. “It’s likely they were just protecting their economic interests.”

“From whom? Who is threatening the Russian oil fields in the Arctic?”

“Uhm, I don’t know that anyone is,” replied Pearson. “Most likely he’s showing his capabilities as a deterrent.”

“Okay. What else do you have for us?”
This is a waste of time. He came here under the guise of an intel briefing. FPS and Homeland Security have other things on their mind
.

Pearson distributed another folder marked
FEMA Region I
. The country was divided into ten regions. Region I included Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut.

“Homeland Security will be directing you to secure the FEMA Regional Offices on High Street in Boston. You will assist in the protection of personnel and assets as the High Street facility plays a more expansive role in the recovery effort.”

“A couple of things, Agent Pearson,” began Brad. “When is this to take place?”

“By Wednesday at the latest,” replied Pearson. “What else?”

“Why am I receiving orders from Homeland Security and not USCENTCOM?”

Pearson stood and began to gather his briefcase. Apparently, the briefing was over. “Colonel, the President has issued a series of executive orders regarding the safety of our nation and the protection of its citizens. Reserve units such as yours will play an integral role in providing a uniformed response in these trying times. The President believes a unit such as yours will be ideally suited for this purpose.”

“What purpose is that, Agent Pearson?”

“I will be able to provide you greater detail about the new mission of the 25
^th
Marine Regiment when I return on Thursday afternoon.” Pearson began to walk out of the briefing room when he suddenly stopped.

“Oh, one more thing, Colonel,” said Pearson, turning slowly to address Brad. “The President, by executive order, has commuted the sentences of all federal inmates below the penitentiary classification. We are no longer able to house and feed them. Please advise the warden of the local federal prison camp to release all inmates in his custody.”

There were nearly a quarter of a million federal inmates in the Bureau of Prison’s system. With the stroke of a pen, the President just released ninety-six percent of them.

“Where will they go?” asked Brad.

“That’s not your problem,” replied Pearson. “Just tell them to go.”

Chapter 53

Monday, September 5, 2016

5:26 p.m.

Triple Q Ranch, Prescott Peninsula

Quabbin Reservoir, Massachusetts

Brad’s Humvee pulled up to the entry gate to Prescott Peninsula. He instructed his driver to wait a moment, and he hopped out to address his men. CWO Shore greeted him.

“Good evening, sir!” said Shore as he saluted his colonel. Brad snapped a salute in return. “I’ll have the gate opened for you.”

“Thank you, Shore,” said Brad. “Have you had any incidents?” Brad walked up and down the entry gate and surveyed the surroundings.

“Our first one occurred this morning, sir,” replied Shore, following closely behind. “Two men dressed in hunting gear rode up to the gate on four-wheelers. They made small talk but did ask some questions. We responded as ordered, sir.”

“You told them you were private contractors protecting the families?”

“Yes, sir. They didn’t seem to question our statements, sir.”

“Okay, good. Carry on, Shore.” Brad headed back towards his Humvee.

“Sir, there is one more thing about the two men. They inquired about the helicopter. They apparently noticed the chopper’s arrival last night as well as its lack of departure. Just an FYI, sir.”

Brad nodded and got into the truck. Morgan’s arrival by helicopter caused unneeded exposure to 1PP. When the power was off, any noise was exaggerated. The noise from the rotors probably reverberated from one side of the reservoir to the other. Brad hoped that wouldn’t come back to bite them in the ass.

As Brad’s convoy entered the clearing at 1PP, he was greeted by everyone, including Mr. Morgan. Brad had limited contact with John Morgan in the past. His uncle, Samuel Bradlee, played an active role in keeping Brad in charge of the 25
^th
Marines. It was his uncle’s close relationship with Mr. Morgan that helped Brad rise to battalion commander status at the fairly young age of forty.

Brad hopped out and greeted Mr. Morgan first. “Hello, sir, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Yes, Colonel, it is my pleasure as well,” said Morgan. “My friend, Samuel, has always spoken highly of you. I am very impressed with the security you have provided for this facility. Your men are top notch.”

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. In fact, I have another dozen men joining the team tonight.”

“Excellent,” said Morgan. Brad waved to the rest of the Loyal Nine and Sabs. He addressed his men, who gathered around. “Corporal, have the men refuel that chopper and then secure the fuel tanker in a suitable location in the woods, but not too close to any structure.”

“Hi, Brad,” greeted Donald. The men shook hands. “I like the fuel truck. But we no longer have our pilot.”

“We do now.” Brad smiled. “I brought more men in with me, and two of them are checked out on the old Sikorsky HRS Chickasaws. They tell me flying the Chickasaw is like driving a John Deere compared to the S76, which is like a Mercedes. But they all have collective levers, cyclic sticks, and anti-torque pedals. It’s like riding a bicycle.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Donald. “You never know if we might need this thing at some point.”

“I agree. When I learned of the chopper’s landing, my initial reaction was not positive. Then I thought of the usefulness the Sikorsky could have to us. So I brought the tanker with me to refuel this bird. We’ll conveniently forget the fuel truck when we leave in the morning.”

“Come in, Brad,” said J.J. as he put his arm around Brad’s shoulders. The two men had become better acquainted during the build-out of Prescott Peninsula. They seemed to enjoy exchanging war stories. “We’ll buy you a drink.”

“Pour away, my friend. Listen up, everybody, there’s lots to discuss,” started Brad. “Before we get started, how are Sarge and Julia coming along?”

Susan spoke up because she had continued to maintain communications with Julia. “Everything is on schedule. Sarge was picking up Mr. Morgan’s associates, and they should all be at 100 Beacon by tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest. I believe Mr. and Mrs. Endicott were the only ones not accounted for.”

“What?” asked Morgan.

“I’m sorry, sir, I thought you knew. As of my last communication with Julia, Sarge has not been able to contact the Endicotts. If he is unsuccessful by tomorrow morning, he plans on going to their residence.”

“Keep me informed,” said Morgan.

“Yes, sir,” replied Susan. The group made their way into the large living area, where the Quinn girls were coloring.

“Uncle Brad!” shouted the girls in unison. They ran to give him a hug. Brad was a career military man who rarely had time for a date, much less a wife and kids. He chose to live vicariously through the Quinns. He was immediately handed a crayon drawing by the youngest Quinn.

“Look. I drew a picture of Mr. Morgan’s helo-chopper,” said Rebecca.

“I drew one too,” chimed in Penny. “We don’t have to go to school for a while, so Mommy said we have to practice our artwork every day. This is our first
no-more-school
school project.”

“Well, you two have done a fine job, don’t you think, sir?” said Brad as he handed Rebecca’s drawing to Mr. Morgan.

“You sure have,” he said as he rubbed the child on the head and handed her back the drawing.

“Girls,” started Sabs, “why don’t we go into the kitchen and see what Private Wilson has on tonight’s menu. Maybe she has some mac and cheese!”

“Yeah! Our favorite!” exclaimed the girls. Sabs led them out of the room so the adults could spend some time getting up to speed.

J.J. grabbed a bottle of Glengoyne from the cabinet and poured glasses for everyone.

“Toast,” said Donald. Each of the group clinked glasses except Susan, who didn’t partake of alcohol.

“Tell us what you’ve learned, Brad,” said Donald.

Donald relayed the briefing with Agent Pearson, and everyone agreed the President was taking unprecedented control over the military. He was apparently looking to centralize power over both military and law enforcement functions. Mr. Morgan was the first to raise the issue of Agent Pearson’s role and the role of FPS in general.

“What do you make of Homeland Security’s involvement?” asked Morgan.

“I believe Homeland Security has been looking for an opportunity like this one for a long time—and I mean years,” replied Brad. “When Jade Helm was first announced by the Pentagon, I thought it would be a continuation of regular military training exercises in the past. But Jade Helm went further. By taking place across seven states, the most conservative of which were labeled hostile, Jade Helm expanded the size and scope of previous exercises. Many, myself included, saw this as a way to condition Americans to accept a military presence on our streets.”

“I looked at Jade Helm as a prelude to martial law,” said Susan. “This would not be the first time a major false-flag operation was undertaken while training exercises were being conducted. In ’95, a few hours before the Oklahoma City bombing of the federal building, an ATF bomb squad was seen holding an anti-terror drill there. Later, it came out that despite the FBI- and ATF-maintained offices in the building, none of their personnel were injured in the blast.”

“Isn’t that a little conspiratorial, Mrs. Quinn?” asked Morgan.

“However it is labeled, the facts speak for themselves. Here’s another example. As the hijacked airliners were headed toward the Pentagon and the World Trade Centers on 9/11, NORAD interceptor jets designated for just such an attack were hundreds of miles away, preoccupied with their training exercise.”

“I recall something similar in London in’05,” added J.J. “At the time of the London subway bombings, a training exercise was taking place by a private contractor on another train concurrently with the placement of the actual bombs by Pakistanis.”

“These false-flag events aren’t uncommon and have been used throughout history to gain an advantage politically and militarily,” said Brad. “It’s impossible to tell whether this is a false-flag event. My biggest concern at this point is the potential use of our military as law enforcement agents on U.S. soil.”

“Isn’t that prohibited by the Constitution?” asked Susan.

“Not exactly,” replied Brad. “The Posse Comitatus Act was passed to prevent our military personnel from being used in traditional law enforcement functions on American soil. In fact, our Congress has repeatedly upheld the law, including following Hurricane Katrina. New Orleans was so out of control that Congress considered a law permitting an exception to the Act in cases of significant natural disasters. Although it was passed, it was repealed shortly after that.”

“Assuming Jade Helm was a dress rehearsal for the imposition of martial law in America, the timing is certainly suspect, don’t you think?” Susan asked rhetorically. “I mean, we’re in the middle of the largest military exercise on the streets of America since the Civil War, and a cyber attack takes down our power grid. Pretty coincidental.”

“The circumstances do seem odd,” said Abbie finally. Brad noticed that she was quiet, but assumed it was due to the loss of Drew Jackson. Morgan shot her a glance.
What’s that all about
?