Full Blast

Khariza stood and watched Bertran return to the group, taking back his command. His raised voice drifted across the rocky landscape. The wind was increasing, tugging at the canvas of the tents where the group was housed when they were not training. It pulled at Khariza’s coat. The first cold drops of rain stung his face and he raised it to the sky. The clouds, heavy and dark, were moving in across the valley.

Razan Khariza saw them as a warning.

There was a storm coming and when it arrived they would all feel its destructive power.

CHAPTER ONE

New Mexico

General Chase Gardener took the thick tumbler of Jack Daniel’s whiskey and made his way across the polished wood floor of his spacious study. At the far end of the long room a panoramic window looked out across the ranch and the immense spread of the New Mexico landscape.

Beyond the rolling grass meadows and timbered slopes he could see the jagged march of the mountains clawing its way to meet the blue of a clear and empty sky.

No matter how many times Gardener looked on this view it made him tight in the throat. The sheer magnificence of the high country always took his breath away.

He sat in the massive leather armchair facing the window and sipped his drink.

Whenever he needed to think things out, to work them over in his mind, Gardener would come to this room, with its book-lined shelves, racks holding his collection of pistols and rifles, where the smell of polished wood and leather mingled with the aroma of the mellow whiskey he took.

Across the ranch yard, close to the creek that meandered across the property at this point, he could see the preserved cabin that the first Gardeners had built. They had sheltered under their wagon while they’d constructed the crude cabin, moving into it exactly one month to the day of their arrival. That had been back in the 1800s. Taking residence in the cabin had been their first move in establishing the Gardener dynasty. From that day on they had staked their claim to the great valley, spending the next years putting down roots, fighting and struggling against men and the elements. They had carved an empire out of the raw wilderness, winning and losing along the way, but they had emerged victorious. Wealthy and powerful. A force to be reckoned with.

Always ready to diversify, the Gardeners had moved with the times, changing course on many occasions, and they’d survived while many of their contemporaries had fallen at the wayside. They spread across the country, seeking new ventures. Always ready for a fresh challenge: cattle, mining, oil, manufacturing. In the mid-1930s Gardener Global was formed, a powerful parent company that reached out and took on America and eventually the world. Gardener Global now had affiliates in countries across the globe.

The Gardener clan had always been patriotic, faithful to the country, and their name had always been connected with the military in all its forms. They had served in every branch of the services, being present in every major conflict, and a great many lesser ones.

Chase Gardener, one of the surviving career soldiers, had a distinguished service record. Twice wounded, he carried every major military award there was. Over the years he had fought and won his battles, rising through the ranks by his own efforts. It had been no secret that his journey would have been made easier if he had ridden on the backs of former Gardener warriors. He had known that and because of it he had to prove he could do it on his own. He was respected because of that decision.

He made general early in his career through his determination and his innate military skills. No man under his command would have denied him any of his plaudits. He treated every soldier with respect, never expecting any of them to carry out an order he wouldn’t perform himself, and he was known as a commander who refused to even consider using his men for anything that smelled of sacrifice beyond normal expectations. His stubborn defiance in the face of higher authority had earned him a reputation as a tough son of a bitch. His men loved him. They would do anything he asked without hesitation, safe in the knowledge he wouldn’t betray them or send them to their deaths on a whim or a political ploy.

Which was why, now, he was struggling with his conscience, attempting to win himself over to the possibility that he was asking his men to follow him into a struggle that went against everything he had previously believed in.

He had committed himself and his small group of immediate people to a course of action capable of bringing them to their knees. They could all end up in prison.

Or at worst, dead.

And above both those things was the ultimate punishment, something Gardener tried to close from his thoughts.

They could all be branded traitors.

Traitors to the nation they had sworn to protect and defend—the United States of America.

He felt his anger rise when he thought about what he was about to do, anger at the manner in which he had been forced to this decision.

Because of ineptitude, blinkered vision and at times downright stupidity, America was being betrayed by the very people entrusted with its protection, the administrations that had allowed a gradual slide into the fractured society that America was now.

Gardener had a list in his head that detailed all those things that had been allowed to escape notice. Small things in the beginning, but over time they had expanded until they now presented actual dangers. In many cases dangers that were too established to wipe out. At home and abroad, America was losing its way. Some would have argued that the nation was big and powerful enough to turn its back on the rest of the world and to look after itself, to reestablish that situation of many years ago when isolationism had been the watchword. The two world wars had ended that forever. The 1914-18 conflict had opened the doors. The Second World War had became the flood and afterward it was no longer a world where America could step back and ignore the rest of humankind. Too many things had happened, too many ties had been forged through adversity and dependency. Politics apart, there was an ongoing connection between the U.S.A. and the rest of the world. Gardener had no problems with that in principle.

His concern was with the way America was conducting its affairs. Too much leeway was being given. The guilty weren’t chastised enough. The hammer wasn’t falling on the hostile regimes basking in America’s misfortunes. Not just sitting back and benefiting from those misfortunes, they were helping to orchestrate them. Gardener’s own intelligence network had incontrovertible proof that Middle Eastern states were doing everything they could to prolong the disaster that was post-war Iraq. Too many American soldiers were still dying there. The tottering government was failing to get to grips with the internal corruption and the undercurrent of violence that was forever gnawing away at the fabric of everyday life. Gardener had to agree with Iraqis who were still saying life had been better under Hussein if only from the point that his iron control had kept the country stable. There were no insurgents running around the country blowing things up or assassinating at will. No car bombs. No suicide killers. And all the while there were those individuals from the old regime gathering their forces and preparing to cause more unrest, waiting for their moment when they might attempt some uprising that would push the Americans and their allies out of Iraq and return it to its former masters.

In Gardener’s eyes, the American administration was floundering. It was too complacent, still believing that the interminable conferences and the government they were having to support in every degree would become strong and able to rule.

What was needed was a hard line. The time for pussyfooting around the edges had been and gone. It was time for action—in the extreme. It needed someone who saw the truth with unblinkered vision. A man who had the military experience to do it as it needed to be done.

Someone like General Chase Gardener.

He put himself in the spotlight without embarrassment. Not with vainglorious intentions, but with a sound background in the need for strong military insight and tactics. His record spoke for him. He was a man who loved his country, who prided himself on dedicating his life to maintaining the American way. With all its faults, it was the best damn country in the world, and he wasn’t going to let the weak and vapid Washington administration sell it down the river. Too much had been sacrificed to allow America to fall by the wayside.

Gardener’s brief introspection was interrupted by someone knocking on his study door.

“Yes?”

Behind him the door opened.

“Mr. McAdam, General.”

Gardener sighed. He had been waiting for this meeting for the past couple of days. Ever since he had returned from Turkey two days earlier.

Turkey, 2 Days Earlier

“TIME TO MOVE, Khalli,” Chase Gardener said.

The man seated at the window nodded slowly, pushing up out of the chair. Tall, lean, with a handsome face and a neat, trimmed beard, he smiled at Gardener.

“I’ll miss our times together,” he said. “On the other hand I probably won’t have all that much too spare for daydreaming.”

“If this goes as we planned, you won’t have time to do anything except what you’re gong back for.”

Khalli al-Basur smiled. He picked up his coat.

“Chase, you have offered me more than any man could hope for. My exile has been too long. This is what I have wanted but could never do with Hussein in command—a chance to return to Iraq and make my wish for a united country come true.”

“We all want that, Khalli. Iraq has been through a long, bad time. Now we need to bring her back into the light.”

“And accommodate ourselves at the same time?”

“No crime there. Iraq has something the world needs.”

“Don’t you mean, what the U.S.A. wants? And Gardener Global especially?”

“I stand corrected. We understand each other, my friend. No pretending this is going to be easy. First priority for both of us is making the transition to full power. If we pull that off, the rest should fall into place.”

“Then we need good luck for both of us.”

Gardener considered the word for a moment.

“If luck is the word, it’s something we make for ourselves. To be honest, I’ve never really depended on something as fragile as expecting fate to pass me a winning hand. Luck didn’t make me what I am. That came from knowing what I wanted and going for it. Same applies here. We both know what we want. It’s up to us to take it in both hands and beat it into submission.”

Gardener turned as someone tapped on the door.