Baker and Reese talked as old friends do, while the governor gave an abbreviated tour on the way to his second office, seventy feet underground. The original underground construction had been four floors and was completed in 1993. After September 2001, a previous governor had decided to add two additional underground floors, bringing the total subsurface floor space to nearly three times the above ground area. The underground facility was sprawling and unimaginable in size and scope. It was truly a sight that had to be seen to be appreciated, Reese thought to himself.
At the end of a long hall, the governor opened a door and led Reese into his “deep office” as he called it. The room was surprisingly warm and inviting, unlike the rest of the underground facility. The walls were rich with the history of the state. There were pictures of Texas Rangers from long ago, Wild West lawmen and landmarks of the old republic.
The governor retrieved a bottle of bourbon from the bottom desk drawer and poured two tumblers half-full of the rich, caramel-colored liquid. Baker brought the glass to his lips and relished the strong drink, but Reese did not reach for his; he knew he could not allow his senses to be numbed any more than they were.
“Reese, I’m glad you’re here; I thought you were dead. I’ve been trying to reach you for quite a while now.”
“I’ve been on assignment. I had no communication with the outside world beyond my handler. I’m here now; what was it that you needed?”
Governor Baker sighed, “Things have been tough here, tougher than most places. I’m sure you noticed that on your way through the city.”
“Yeah, Austin looks more like a warzone.”
“It’s the whole state. God help us, it’s been worse than you can imagine. We’re less than a hundred miles from the western front of a war zone. San Antonio is a border town now.”
“San Antonio? What about Brownsville, Laredo, El Paso?”
“All gone; they’re all gone, Reese. But I’m afraid that’s not even the worst of our problems.”
“What do you mean?”
“We have a company of men down around the south point, in what I guess you could call enemy territory now. These men are surrounded at all times and they’ve adapted incredibly. They started off as just regular men, they weren’t even really soldiers; but now they’re guerillas, waging a war of attrition against an army of animals maybe twenty times their size. They make me proud to be a Texan, but I’m afraid it might be a losing battle. The cartels aren’t all they’re up against, I think.” The governor’s voice trailed off. He traced the rim of his tumbler while he considered his next words.
“Reese,” the governor continued, “I don’t know how to say this any other way, so I’ll just say it. I think the Feds knowingly orchestrated an attack against these men on Texas soil. By luck or grace, they failed. That’s why I‘ve been trying to contact you. You run in some pretty powerful circles, so I wanted you to look into it for me.”
“This goes a lot farther than you think, Scott. That’s the reason I’m here. You know the terror attacks that they’re saying were committed by right-wing extremists?”
“Yeah, how ridiculous – wait, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying the same people that you think attacked your men on the border are probably the same people that I know committed the largest act of terror in the history of this nation, and they’re just getting started.”
“Just getting started?”
“Soon, I don’t know how soon, but soon. Maybe just a few days from now, I don’t know, there is going to be a nuclear device brought into Houston. I don’t know what the target is and I don’t know who the people are. I don’t even know how they’re bringing it into the city. That’s why I’m here, to warn you.”
“Are you sure?”
Reese retrieved a flash drive from his pocket and placed it on the governor’s desk.
“It’s all here – documents, audio of meetings, everything you need to know the truth.”
“Oh, my God. Reese, how do you stop something when you have no idea where to start? We’ll have to canvas the entire city. That’ll take hundreds, maybe thousands of people. I don’t know if it can be done.”
“We’ve got to try. I spent all night thinking this over as I drove here and I don’t have much. It seems pretty hopeless, but we have some options.”
“Let me hear what you’ve got.”
“First off, we lay all of our cards on the table; we show them what we’ve got. We announce a full evacuation of the city, we don’t have to say that it’s a nuclear threat, but we’ll have to give a reason. Maybe we just say it’s suspected terror activity and leave it at that. We are as overt as possible with our checkpoints and search teams. We want them to see our full force out on the streets. We want to scare them into believing they’ll be apprehended, so maybe they will back off or delay the plan. We have to buy ourselves some time to find these people.”
“Alright, that’s the plan,” Baker replied, “We move on it now; we don’t have any time to waste. I’ll meet with my staff immediately and then we’ll broadcast the evacuation order on Radio Lonestar. We’ll mobilize every man we can find: soldiers, police, firemen and willing citizens – from Odessa to Texarkana. I’ll have the first team ready within the hour.”
They stood up, headed out the door and down the hall. As they made their way to the elevator, Baker said, “Reese, I want you to sit in on the staff meeting and help with the logistics of this.”
“I’ll help with the logistics, but I’m doing it with the boots on the ground in Houston. You need somebody in the field that can execute the plan, so get me a mobile communications unit and every man you can muster, and pray.”
Chapter 24
Jake
Alabama
Geram slipped quietly through the thicket with the side-folding AKM. The shorter length of the folded weapon helped him avoid getting tangled up in the myriad of vines that hung from the trees. It was still an hour before dawn. He hoped the early morning approach would give him an advantage over any exhausted night watchmen.
As he made it to the edge of the tree line, he peered out at the clearing before him. Geram noted the house, the large metal building not far to the side and the fallow field beyond. From his vantage point, the place look deserted, but he had learned that looks could be deceiving.
He stayed within the tree line and slowly moved around the perimeter of the clearing. From a distance, if he could have been seen from a distance, he would have looked like some strange, tree folk moving through the forest. He had Spanish moss and small limbs woven through his vest and tied to his hat. His steps were carefully chosen and without any rhythm. He planned his movement so that he avoided snapping any errant branches on the ground. If it took him along a path that was twice as long as what it could have been, it mattered not to Geram. His goal was not to be swift in his approach, but to be alive.
The sun was just beginning its morning ritual as he finished traversing the perimeter. He had observed no signs of activity at the house or shed as he had made his way through the thickets. The windowless side of the country house that faced him was less than a hundred yards from him. He positioned himself strategically and crouched low as he prepared to burst forth from the woods to a windowless wall.
With a sudden flash, he sprang forward as fast as his muscles would allow. Each movement was fierce and strained. Geram pushed his body as hard as he could. He dashed from the woods and in between the fig trees in the clearing. He slid low as he reached the exterior wall and slapped the folding stock into its extended position. He struggled to control his breathing as he pressed his ear against the wall, listening for any sounds inside the home.
He peered around the corner at the front of the house – nothing. He slid along the wall to the back and transitioned around the corner. He moved in a purposeful and efficient manner as he crept underneath the window sills to the back stoop. He stayed low as he readied himself at the door. With a sudden movement, he slammed the door open and quickly moved through the interior of the home, his barrel sweeping from corner to corner of each room before proceeding to the next. The layout of the old house was seared into his memory.