Patriot Play

Lyons turned to face him. “No sweat, Chief. I blow hot too fast sometimes.”

“Way I hear it, you got more right than anyone to do just that.”

Incoming mail made itself heard on the laptop. Bolan opened the message.

Boat was on a charter from a marine rental company up the coast. It was paid for with plastic. I accessed the details. It was charged to a company in Philadelphia. South Star Investments. Operated by a guy called Arnold Petrie. Hope you are sitting down for next piece of info. It took me some time unraveling all the strings but I came up with a name that rang dim and distant bells. Ran it again until a name came through. Thin link, but the guy fronting the Philly company has a connection, albeit skinny, to the Eric Stahl Corporation. You owe me big-time, big guy.

IN THE MORNING, following breakfast, Bolan and Lyons checked out and drove to a final meet with Chief Harper.

“I was going to give you a call,” Harper said as they walked into the station house.

“Good or bad call?” Bolan asked.

“I figure it depends how you feel on the subject. I just spoke with my officer at County Hospital. Gantz died around 2:00 a.m.”

“Can’t say I’m heartbroken. Not after what the guy did.”

“I guess not,” Harper said. “Bad way to die though.” He glanced at Lyons. “No offense meant, Agent Benning.”

Lyons shrugged. “You sow what you reap,” he said, and that piece of philosophy got him a puzzled look from Bolan.

“I got the number you gave me,” Harper said. “If anything comes up I’ll pass it along. Likewise if anyone comes asking about Gantz. By the way, I’ve got the house sealed off if any other agencies show up. Like you told me, I’ll refer them to your contact.” Harper reached down and opened a drawer in his desk. “Almost forgot. One of my deputies found this in the pocket of one of Gantz’s jackets.” He held out a plastic bag containing a slim cell phone. “You must have interrupted his visitors before they made a full search of the house. Think it might be useful?”

“We’ll know that after I send it to our people.” Bolan held out his hand. “Missed it myself. Appreciate your help, Jason.”

“Any time, guys. Tyler Bay always likes to give visitors a welcome.” He grinned. “Your kind of visitors, I mean.”

“You sure as hell did that, Chief,” Lyons said.

“Take care,” Harper called as the two walked out of his office.

Watching them go, Harper shook his head. Some night, he thought, then realized he’d forgotten all about his date with Callie. He grabbed his hat and hotfooted it to the diner.

CHAPTER FIVE

Liam Seeger liked to believe he had been born a rebel, despite being born into a wealthy family. Since early childhood he had fought against authority, and as the years passed he’d developed this persona until it was like a second skin. He joined any group if it had a hint of being radical. In school, then university—those years had been his best—he battled the establishment wherever it existed, doing everything he could to embarrass it and his family. He had only been twenty-three when he became involved in a subversive movement that saw conspiracy in all aspects of government policy. He read articles, he watched documented evidence and he spoke to antiestablishment figures, steeping himself in the lore. His conversion to becoming a dedicated antiestablishment figure came during marches and rallies that denounced government policies and the fragmentation of America. Seeger saw this happening across the country. Dissatisfaction. Mistrust. The betrayal of the nation by a cynical and manipulative administration that ran rife through all levels of society.

His own struggle against the administration became personal when he was involved in a violent demonstration against America’s foreign policy. During the physical struggle against an overwhelming police presence, someone fired a gun and the police responded. Seeger was hit when a riot shotgun was discharged. He took part of the blast in his face and left shoulder and arm. The aftermath was that he lost his left eye from the injury and his arm became partially disabled from the wound. Worse he developed an antisocial attitude and became a recluse. He ran his battle against them from the basement of his house. The authorities closed ranks against his claim for personal injury, and his claim for compensation was thrown out of court. It was not for the money. It was the principal of the matter and to simply prove to Seeger that his theories were justified. The attitude of the establishment demonstrated to him that he had been correct all along. The result catalyzed his struggle against them, and he threw himself into aligning himself with groups working along the same lines. It brought him into contact with diverse members of the antiestablishment community. Seeger met them, heard their stories and threw himself fully into the struggle. He created the Brethren from a small, struggling militia group, using the not-inconsiderable money that had come to him after the early deaths of his parents. He gained more money when he sold off the family tool-and-die company and plowed it into building his reclusive home in the Colorado mountain country and establishing a permanent base for the Brethren in even more isolated Colorado high country.

As far as Seeger was concerned, the country was becoming a shadow of its former self. Pride in America was receding. So much was happening. America was waging a struggle with itself; the greed for money against the struggling lower classes. Against a powerful and increasingly repressive federal authority that had abandoned the nation to further its own global-militaristic agenda. Instead of looking after Americans the government machine reached out to dominate the world with its military actions and its need for oil. It silenced its critics. Smothered protest and manipulated the media. Liam Seeger, by the time he was in his forties, had become a man the antiestablishment groups listened to. From his residence in Colorado, standing in splendid isolation, Seeger was the head of an amalgamation of groups that now came included beneath the Brethren umbrella. Formed as the Praetorian Guard of militia groups, the Brethren showed the way for other groups to follow. He had recruited well, choosing only people who held not only his beliefs, but with the same passion. Using his natural skills at oratory and organization, Seeger made the Brethren a group to be envied. His persuasive skills kept donations flowing in. The creed of the group was assertive action, not the sterile bleating that came from other militia groups. Seeger had formed the Brethren to actually do something positive to destabilize the government.

In the early days the Brethren carried out low-key operations against federal targets. They were small and more of an irritant at first. But then the Brethren’s strike teams hit out at larger targets. They stole equipment and arms. Seeger sought and recruited men with professional skills that would become vital when his long-term operation became ready to launch. It was big, ambitious enough to create the situation that would lead to a massive rejection of federal authority, and if it went to plan, oust the government by showing it was helpless when it came to protecting the American public.

The deeper he went into his intentions the harder Seeger worked to bring it to fruition. He saw a desperate need to hit out at the establishment, to split it wide open and to make it look ineffective in front of the American public. He was aware that what he was planning would become nonnegotiable. Once the operation actually got under way there would be no turning back. It would be a one-way street. Full commitment would be expected from everyone involved. He received this assurance from his people, and that solid confirmation gave him the confidence to move ahead.

The plan took many months to conceive and move forward. There were people to put in place, covers to establish. He had to recruit specialists who would help to create the tools the Brethren needed to go ahead with the planned strikes.

A bonus came in the form of an anonymous benefactor who gave his support through an intermediary named Harry Brent. From what Brent explained, the benefactor hated the government with a passion. He would do what he could to aid the Brethren. He had contacts that would help bolster the group’s continuing need for finance. This was demonstrated by the first of a number of donations of diamonds from a source in West Africa. Brent explained that the diamonds had been obtained cheaply because the source was dealing illegally. Through Brent’s continuing brokerage the diamonds were sold for a considerably higher sum. The infusion of such a large amount of cash realized Seeger’s dream of his planned attacks to be able to come sooner rather than later.

The attacks, which would result in death and injury on U.S. streets, did nothing to quell Seeger’s intentions. The sacrifice of a few to benefit the many was not a new concept. It had happened before and would again. The dead could rest in the knowledge they had helped to wrench the future of a nation from the hands of a repressive and heartless government.

Through Brent, Seeger’s benefactor had been taken off guard when he first heard of Seeger’s plan. He came around to accepting it very quickly though when Seeger expanded its potential. The benefactor had agreed that he would stay in partnership with Seeger, but remain a sleeping partner until he saw the outcome. He would provide assistance that would help to draw in more financial assistance and personnel through covert organizations and deals. Seeger had no objections. Money was still needed to fund the Brethren and its schemes. On top of the supply of illicit diamonds from a West African, there were weapons. Brent had his own man named Jack Regan, who gave the Brethren a solid source for guns and allied equipment.

The months passed, details were worked out and people put in position. The manufacture and distribution of the bombs took place in secrecy, so that the attacks could be coordinated to the minute.

The day came for the first strikes. The bombs were delivered and did exactly what they had been designed for. Shock and outrage followed. There was panic. Again, as intended. The second and third strikes followed, increasing public unrest as the administration in Washington, fed by its agencies, was in the dark as to who and why. The outcome was a total success as far as Seeger was concerned and in his isolated compound in the Colorado mountains, they celebrated this initial assault of their war against the federal government.

Seeger’s satisfaction, however, was shortly to be interrupted by news of a betrayer in their midst. One of their own had initiated his own campaign. The reason was the most bitter pill to swallow—sheer greed.

Jerome Gantz, the bomb maker. The man who had concocted the compound, manufactured and placed the detonating devices, had turned against them. He had engineered the theft of four million dollars’ worth of the African diamonds, and though his scheme had been uncovered, the diamonds had not been recovered. The money the diamonds would have brought represented a significant contribution to the continuing campaign. Gantz may have been the best at manufacturing the explosive devices Seeger wanted. Unfortunately for him his skills as a thief left a lot to be desired and his complicity in the double-cross was exposed by one of Seeger’s security people. A team had been sent to Gantz’s Tyler Point home to get the information of the diamonds’ whereabouts. The mission had failed due to armed interference and Seeger’s military commander had returned empty-handed. Because of the seriousness of the events Seeger had called a council of war at his Colorado home.

The meeting had been convened hastily, following the Tyler Point incident. By the time the attendees were gathered, it was midday. They waited in the well-appointed lounge of Seeger’s home. From the lounge windows lay a wide panorama of timbered land and distant mountains. It was lush country, quiet and unspoiled.

Food and drink had been prepared and laid out on a large table for everyone to help themselves. With the mood that hung over the gathering more drink than food was taken.

Deacon Ribak, who had been in charge of the aborted mission on Tyler Point, was the least affected. His attitude was considered almost cavalier by some of the gathering, but Ribak himself saw it in a less disastrous light. He was seated in one of the deep leather armchairs, a drink in one hand and a chicken leg in the other, watching the hushed conversation with amusement.

The door finally opened and Zac Lorens came into the room just ahead of Seeger. As always, Lorens was immaculately dressed in a suit and neatly knotted tie, his thick hair neatly brushed back from his high brow. Being second in command, as well as lawyer to Liam Seeger, was a position Lorens prized highly and he was never slow in reminding others of his position. The first thing he did was fix his stony glare on the seated Ribak. It was admonishment for daring to sit in the presence of Seeger. It was lost on Ribak. He sat defiantly, refusing to be intimidated.

Liam Seeger strolled into the room, glancing at the assembly, and his imperial air almost demanded a fanfare. He was dressed in casual clothing. As with everything he wore, his clothes fit his lean frame perfectly. A black patch covered his empty eye socket, and the hand of his crippled arm rested in his jacket pocket. He scanned the room, pausing briefly on Ribak, then sat.

“We all know why we’re here,” Lorens said, taking the lead. His words and his scathing look pinpointed Ribak. “The disastrous screwup at Tyler Bay.”

Ribak placed his chicken leg on the plate beside him on a side table and emptied his glass of wine. He used a paper napkin to wipe his lips and hands before looking in Lorens’s direction and feigning surprise. “You talking to me, Lorens?”

He changed tack instantly. “Nice glass of wine, Mr. Seeger. Just the right temperature.”

Lorens’s face had become flushed with rage. “You know damn well I’m talking to you, Ribak, and you will address me in the correct manner.”

“Lorens, this isn’t the Army and you sure aren’t an officer. Now I came because Mr. Seeger asked me. Any problems I’ll answer to him.”

Lorens took a step forward until Seeger’s outstretched hand halted him. “Zac, go and get yourself a drink. The rest of you, take a seat.”

Seeger allowed the moment to pass before he addressed Ribak. “Actually, Deacon, I do feel an explanation is in order.”

“Yes, sir, I agree. The operation was running smooth. We waited until dark. Shore party went into Gantz’s house and followed procedure. Beringer was in charge. He radioed that they had Gantz and the interrogation was under way. At that point Gantz was holding out. He refused to give Beringer the information, and they couldn’t find what they were looking for in the house. Next thing I heard was automatic fire. Hell of a lot. I got a message from Beringer that they had been hit by unknowns and they’d taken casualties. Whoever it was came storming out the rear of the house and took down the beach team. We opened up with the .50-cal. It didn’t go our way. So I called the assault off and we got the hell out of there. Nothing else we could do, sir.”

“So you ran,” Lorens said, unable to hold back.

“You ever been under fire, Lorens? I doubt it. Little pink-skinned lady-boy like you would dump in your pants if one of Mr. Seeger’s saddle ponies farted behind you. Now my assault backfired on me and I lost half my team, but don’t you ever accuse me of running, or I swear I will rip your fucking throat out here and now.” Ribak had leaned forward in his chair. He caught himself and sat upright again. “I apologize for my outburst, Mr. Seeger. Shouldn’t have let myself get upset.”

“No problem, Deacon,” Seeger said. “What is more important is, do you have any idea who the intruders were? Could they have been a government agency? FBI? Homeland Security? Anything like that?”

Ribak admitted he had no idea. “They came at us out of the fog, weapons up and firing. No warning. No announcement. FBI will normally throw a challenge first. These people just hit us hard and fast. I can’t give you an answer, sir.”

“Perhaps they represented the group Gantz was negotiating with?” Lorens suggested, neatly bringing himself back into the conversation. “We can’t ignore that possibility. Gantz must have known that what he’d done was liable to bring retribution if we found out. We did find out, and maybe Gantz had a team around to offer protection.”

“Could be, Mr. Seeger,” Ribak said. “Could be a coincidence, but they damn well showed up fast when we went to work on Gantz. He was in to us for a lot of money. He’d want backup.”