Chapter 20
Posted: July 23, 2007 - 12:30:32 am


Mike wore the same suit that he had worn at the funeral of his wife and child. Putting it on had reminded him of that horrible day. The funeral for Dale wasn't quite the same circus. There were over fifty members of the Intelligence 100 present to give their respects to one of the founders of the group. For some reason, Mike was asked to give the eulogy.

Stepping to the front of the room, Mike looked at the faces in the room. There was an undercurrent of anger at the loss of one of their own. He understood the anger. This was a death that could have been avoided if the policy makers of Washington had been doing their jobs. They hadn't so the terrorists had come to America.

He stepped up to the podium and, after a five second pause, said, "It is a tradition that when a member of the CIA is killed in the line of duty that a star is carved into the CIA Memorial Wall and his name added to the Memorial Book. That wall and the book are now shrouded in the radioactive dust that took Dale's life.

"Dale Dawson was the kind of man who fought so that our traditions could remain. I intend to keep that tradition alive. I don't know how I'll do it, but the Memorial Book containing the names of fallen agents and the CIA Memorial Wall on which their stars are carved shall be removed from the Old Headquarters Building of the CIA and established in an honored place. His name shall be recorded and a star carved honoring his service. In fact, all the names of agents who fell in that attack will be added to the book and a star carved in their honor.

"Dale Dawson was a Marine. He was ever faithful. Semper Fi."

From around the room, a shout of OoRah was raised. Mike returned to his seat thinking that it had to be the shortest eulogy of modern times.

"It's hard to believe that the local fire chief stumbled across such a dangerous assortment of terrorists the day after getting briefed on the subject by a small section of Homeland Security. The local police really handled the situation well although it is rather surprising that they were all carrying cop killer ammunition," Jack Lancer said. He smiled at Mike.

Tim Collins said, "Yes. They managed to bring down almost fifty terrorists without any help from Homeland Security. The President is really pleased that local law enforcement is able to handle such a large threat."

Mike shook his head and said, "Six cops were killed and another thirty eight were wounded."

"Some of that was friendly fire," John Daniels said. It was also because a number of the policemen weren't wearing body armor when they charged into the situation. It was only with great difficulty that the SWAT teams had managed to regain control of the situation after the regular police had arrived.

Larry Dinkins said, "You handled that situation very well. I think that we can all rest easier knowing that the two missing rail guns have been found. Of course, if the President even suspected that we were involved he'd be firing people left and right."

"I know," Mike said. The President was so far behind in the polls that it looked like there wasn't even a need for an election. He was at the point where he was looking for a scapegoat on which to blame all of the recent failures of his policy.

"Your group succeeded in their mission in terms of finding the two missing rail guns. You still need to track down the factory where they were manufactured," John Daniels said.

"Did the guy that Sanjay and I dumped in the escape tunnel talk?"

Grinning, Jack asked, "Do you mean the guy you shot in the balls?"

"Yes," Mike answered.

"He sang like a castrati," John said with a grin while everyone else groaned. The wounded man had been carried off by another member of the Intelligence 100. It had taken a little convincing before the man realized that it was in his best interests to talk.

"What did we learn?" Mike asked. It was his hope that the man was more than just a low level follower.

"He told us that the rail guns were built in Nevada with parts brought in from Washington state and Illinois. He didn't know where the parts were actually made, but he did know that they were assembled in a warehouse north of Las Vegas," John said.

Mike was driving home from work one night when a police car pulled behind him and turned on his lights for him to pull over. Looking down at his speedometer, Mike saw that he had been driving ten miles an hour over the speed limit. Considering the speed of the other cars on the street, it was a ridiculous stop. He pulled over to the side of the road and pulled out his identification.

When the cop knocked on his window, Mike rolled down the window and looked up at the cop. The cop took one look at Mike and said, "It's you."

"What?" Mike asked.

"You're the one who shot that terrorist," the cop said.

At the reminder, Mike recognized the cop and smiled. Chuckling, he said, "No. The news reports that I saw said that you shot him."

The cop shook his head and said, "Mister, I saw you there. You stepped in front of that van and fired off four shots before jumping out of the way. I even told you that it was good shooting."

"The official story is that I wasn't there," Mike said.

As far as the cop knew, there was only one person at the incident whose identity was a secret. A light went off in the cop's head and he stared at Mike. In a soft voice, he said, "You're the guy in the photograph, aren't you?"

"The official story is that I wasn't there," Mike answered with a frown. He detested that photograph.

The cop said, "Put away your ID. I don't want to know who you are."

"Thanks," Mike said putting away his wallet.

The cop looked away for a second and then looked back at Mike. In a voice tight with emotion, he said, "I feel guilty about having been given credit for killing that terrorist. I tried to deny it, but no body listened. The guys who identified me won't look me in the eye. They know that it was your kill, not mine."

Hating to be reminded of that day, Mike said, "They needed a hero and you were chosen to play that role. Don't feel guilty about that. You played the role well and I thank you for that. The President feels that Homeland Security is the cause of all the terrorism. We aren't supposed to interfere in local matters. I wasn't supposed to be there. We are supposed to sit back in our offices and give warnings rather than be involved."

"That sucks," the policeman said.

Mike laughed at a phrase that had become all too common amongst those who were charged with protecting the American people against those who wanted to harm them. He asked, "Who are you voting for?"

"Anthony Archer," the cop answered with a grin. He added the campaign slogan, "He's taking aim at terrorism."

"Maybe when there's a new President, you and I can sit down for a drink," Mike said.

"I'd appreciate that," the cop said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. As he handed it to Mike, he said, "If you ever need anything, give me a call."

Mike took the card and put it into his pocket. He said, "Thanks. Don't feel guilty about being labeled a hero for my actions. You saved my ass and I appreciate it."

Feeling a lot better, the cop said, "Thanks. Anyway, the reason I pulled you over was to let you know that you had a bad tail light."

"Oh, I didn't know that," Mike said. He wondered if he had knocked off a wire when he had handing out the ammunition the previous week. He said, "Let me check the trunk."

"Sure," the cop said. He walked to the back of the car while Mike popped the trunk open from inside the car.

Mike hadn't reached the back of the car when he noticed the cop backing away. He looked in the back and realized that he was still hauling a case of cop killer bullets. He also noticed one of the wires hanging down. He plugged it in and the rear light came on. Looking up at the cop, he said, "That fixed it."

"You were the one who provided all of the ammunition at the gunfight last week," the cop said wondering who this guy really was.

"The official story is that I wasn't there," Mike said with a straight face.

The cop gave a nervous laugh and said, "I'm out of here. You take care of yourself."

Mike returned to the driver's seat of his car as the cop pulled away. He reached into his pocket and glanced at the card the policeman had given him. He burst out laughing at the irony of the situation. Watching the cop car disappear down the road, he said, "You have a good day, Officer Mike Bowman."

In the months since she had started as his housekeeper, Kim Sung had given him three massages. Mike couldn't believe how good the massage felt. She really knew how to work out all of the muscular tension in his body. The climax at the end was rather amazing as well despite the business-like manner in which she approached it. He decided that her attitude about the whole thing was a cultural matter.

At the end of the massage today, Kim Sung deviated from her normal command for him to shower and get ready for dinner. She stayed in place for a minute and then asked, "Do you want a younger woman to be your housekeeper?"

Surprised by the question, Mike answered, "No. Why do you ask?"

"I am old woman and not good to look at. We want you to be very happy," Kim Sung said. She was concerned that Mike had not asked for additional favors or even requested more frequent massages. The man she had served in the past had been much more demanding of her.

"You are perfectly fine," Mike answered without having to wonder who it was that wanted him happy. He had gotten used to her quiet manner and how she moved through the house without drawing attention to herself. She made breakfasts and dinners; cleaned the house; and washed his clothes. Even when there were problems, she approached them with a calm manner that he found comforting.

"A younger woman could warm your bed," Kim Sung said looking down at the floor.

"I do not want a woman in my bed," Mike said sharply.

Kim Sung nodded her head. In a very soft voice, she said, "I understand."

"Thank you," Mike said.

Kim Sung studied Mike wondering what else she could do to make his life more pleasant. She would talk to Teva that weekend when Mike went over for dinner. Nodding her head, she said, "Take a shower and then come out for dinner."

Cathy brought Mike a cup of coffee without being asked. She had learned over time that Mike would keep glancing in the direction of the coffee maker before getting up to pour a cup. Accepting the cup from her, Mike said, "Thank you, Cathy."

"You're welcome," she answered. She liked Mike and the fact that the more tense things got there, the more polite he became. Glancing at the satellite feed, she could see that the strike force was about to attack an old factory building in Illinois. A line of fifty police cars were racing down the road towards their target.

"Jesus," Mike exclaimed at the sudden activity at the factory. The lead police car had turned into a ball of flame as an explosive device blew up. Additional explosions took out another handful of cars.

"This is a fucking disaster," Charlie said staring the scene. Armed men boiled out of the factory building. They were headed towards the dozen or so cars that had run off the road in an attempt to avoid additional explosions.

Horrified by what they were seeing, the analysts watched as the strike force was cut down by a fully equipped army of terrorists. Even the police helicopter had been shot down with a shoulder launched missile. Mike picked up the phone and dialed a number. When the call connected, he said, "Governor, this is Mike Bowman from Homeland Security. Call off the operation on the factory outside of Seattle right now."

"They're ready to move in. Why should I call it off?" asked the Governor worried at about the request. He knew who Mike Bowman was since the man and his team had provided most of the intelligence about the factory they were about to raid.

"The strike force on the factory in Illinois is in the process of being massacred," Mike answered.

"How bad is it?" the Governor asked finding it hard to breath.

"I'd estimate that at least fifty state troopers have been killed. They even shot down the police helicopter. The fighting is still going on," Mike answered unable to remove his eyes from the satellite feed. State troopers, recognizing that they didn't stand a chance, were retreating in a disorganized manner.

"Okay," the Governor said. His words were followed by the click of the phone being put on hold as the Governor reacted to the news. Time was of the essence and polite chitchat would only eat up precious seconds.

Mike watched as re-enforcements started pouring into the area of the factory. Unfortunately, they were not on the side of law enforcement. Awed at what he was seeing, Jim said, "There must be a thousand of them there."

Mike hung up the phone and dialed another number. When the party at the other end of the line answered, he said, "This is Mike Archer from Homeland Security. You need to mobilize the National Guard. You're going to need tanks and air support."

"I'm already on it," answered the Governor.

Mike could hear shouting in the background. It was obvious that he was on the speakerphone in the emergency operations center. Putting a hand over the handset, Mike looked at Joe and said, "Send out word that all of our locations are to go on red alert. Those bastards are likely to attack us."

Surprised by that assessment, Joe nodded his head while reaching for the phone. In a low growl, he said, "It is time to send in the Marines."

The battle had lasted more than an hour. The sudden appearance of a military helicopter fully loaded for a fight had quickly turned the engagement around. The fifty caliber machine guns made short work of the men on the field. The rockets took out the fixed emplacements. When two more helicopters made their appearance, the resistance collapsed very quickly. Unfortunately, there were not enough people in the area to prevent a mass exodus of terrorists from the site of the battle.

By the time it was over nearly a hundred terrorists had been killed and another four hundred of them had been wounded. Unfortunately, more than five hundred had gotten away. Mike had watched a car leave that he knew carried the leaders and was frustrated that they didn't have the resources to track it down.

The fatalities on the part of law enforcement had been over forty officers killed. Most of those fatalities had occurred early in the engagement. The State Troopers and local cops that had been near the end of the convoy headed towards the factory had managed to back out before the attackers got in range. There had been a lot of lead fired in the direction of law enforcement.

Mike stared at the carnage left behind that was being broadcast by the news stations once the fighting had ended. He had tried to warn the Governors that there would be stiff resistance, but they didn't believe his assessment of the situation. Despite the warnings by Mike that they were going after fighters, the police were unable to believe that it wouldn't end up in stand off situation like what had happened when Federal Agents had tried to serve a warrant on the Branch Davidians.

Mike felt a little guilty about how things had turned out. The problem was that Mike hadn't imagined that there would be that many terrorists there and that they would be so heavily armed. It was a stupid mistake on his part that he had underestimated the enemy. Shaking his head, he said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I want to know exactly what happened there. I want every shred of data that can be pulled out of that factory. I want every house within five miles of that factory searched and every computer confiscated."

Mike was quiet for a moment and recalled the Federal Prosecutor that had been sent from Denver to provide them with legal advice. He hadn't seen the man since he had arrived in town. He said, "Talk to that Prosecutor from Denver that they sent us so that we aren't breaking the law. It is time that he earns his keep."

Sanjay greeted Mike and Kim Sung at the front door. He led Mike into the living room while Kim Sung had made her way into the kitchen. Without asking, Sanjay prepared two fingers of Scotch and, after dropping three ice cubes into it, handed him the glass. The pair of men settled into chairs and raised their glasses in a toast. After taking a sip of the Scotch, Sanjay said, "It will be a long time before we have good weather for fishing. It is only the end of October and I am already tired of this cold and wet weather."

"I know what you mean," Mike said.

"Do you think that you will be able to resume fishing with your hand as it is?" Sanjay asked.

"Two of my fingers do not work, but I believe that I can still reel them in with the fingers that do work," Mike answered looking at his hand. The physical therapy had allowed the fingers to move, but not under the control of his muscles. Most of the time, they were curled uselessly against the palm of his hand.

"That is good," Sanjay said looking forward to long hours spent fishing and talking.

The sounds of activity from the kitchen made a soothing background noise. Listening to it, Mike said, "It sounds like they are cooking up a storm."

"Ah, we have Thai food tonight. Teva's mother is visiting. She is staying here for six months," Sanjay said.

"Six months?" Mike asked wondering how Sanjay would manage to live with his mother-in-law for that amount of time.

"She will be here for the last month of Teva's pregnancy and to take care of the baby for five months. It is a great help," Sanjay said.

"I imagine that it is," Mike said. The reminder that Teva was pregnant brought down his mood a little.

Sanjay, seeing the sad downturn of Mike's eyes, decided that it was time to change the subject. He said, "I think I am glad that you and I didn't go to Illinois to check on that factory."

"That was a disaster," Mike said with a snort of disgust. The press was having a field day with the events that had occurred there. Members of the press were angry that an armed military helicopter had been employed to put down the fight rather than leaving it to law enforcement. The big problem was that a few of the individuals killed were American citizens and the idea that the National Guard should indiscriminately kill citizens was an outrage.

Laughing, Sanjay said, "You can describe it better than that."

"Okay, it was a cluster fuck," Mike said.

In the kitchen, three women were involved in a very intense discussion. The discussion concerned making Mike a happy man. Teva said, "He has saved Sanjay's life twice. We are doubly indebted to him."

Teva's mother, Noi, asked, "What does he want?"

"I do not know. He does not talk to me," Kim Sung answered looking down at the floor. Mike was always polite, but kept to himself around the house. He didn't engage in idle conversation. Shaking her head, she said, "He does not ask me to do things."

"Why not?" Noi asked looking at the woman.

"I am old woman," Kim Sung said believing that was the problem. It was not without good reason for her to believe that. Twenty-two years earlier she had been thrown out of a Bangkok whorehouse because she was too old to attract customers. Noi had found her crying in the street after being beaten nearly to death by a client. For some reason that Kim never understood, Noi had taken pity on her and brought her home. After nursing Kim back to health, Noi had established her in the position of housekeeper for her father. The old man had been nice. When he had passed away, Kim had expected to be turned out to the street. Instead, Noi had continued to pay her and had set her up in a small house where she could live undisturbed. She owed the family so much. Ashamed, Kim said, "I have offered, but he turns me down. I am too ugly."

"That is not the problem. He still misses his wife," Teva said, "He is the kind of man whose heart takes a long time to heal."

Nodding her head in agreement with her daughter, Noi said, "Create a special place for him to relax and heal."

"Yes, ma'am," Kim Sung answered. She looked up at Teva and said, "The house is not very big. It will have to be in the garden."

Teva smiled and said, "That will be perfect."

"I will take care of that. Excuse me, I must make some calls," Noi said leaving the room.
Lazlo Zalezac
Chapter 21