Black Flagged Apex

Chapter 33





4:05 PM

White House Situation Room

Washington, D.C.



The president slammed his fists down on the conference room table in a rare expression of anger. This was a good sign as far as Frederick Shelby was concerned. The administration might finally take the gloves off and kick some True America ass. Domestic terror network he had to remind himself. Whatever. As soon as the connection was solidified, he planned to issue arrest warrants for every single member of True America he could identify.

He just needed to keep his enthusiasm in check during this meeting. He couldn't read the president on this one. He knew that politics dominated his decision to deemphasize the connection to True America, but he wasn't sure if this was just a temporary political move while the "fires were hot." He didn't dare ask the president or any of his closest allies. If they caught wind of what he planned, they might shut him down before he could start rounding up this band of traitors. Shelby was no stranger to the political arena, but he wasn't about to let politics endanger America. Too much of that had taken place during his tenure as FBI director.

"I want this compound taken down immediately. General Gordon, how soon can your forces hit them?" the president asked.

"Maybe we should slow down and wait for Justice to—" started Kathleen Walker, his senior legal counsel, but the president interrupted.

"No. No more waiting around for the next attack. I'm done reacting here. We take the offensive and shut this group down permanently. I don't need a warrant to attack enemies of the United States. General?"

"Mr. President, surveillance teams have been in position around the compound since midmorning, and all of the compound's remote security sensors have been disabled. We've made a few last minute adjustments to the plan based on their intelligence, but I feel comfortable launching a raid tonight. I still need to infiltrate two Delta troops. I can drop them at 9:30 PM, when it is sufficiently dark enough to cover their descent. They'd be in position within a few hours. Barring any unforeseen difficulties, I can support a midnight time-on-target. All other assets are on immediate standby."

"Can we go without the Delta troops?"

"Negative, Mr. President. Surveillance puts enemy compound strength at over one hundred personnel and—"

"Good God. That's a huge number, General," the president interrupted.

"And to make matters worse, Director Shelby has informed me that True America is known to possess heavy-caliber machine guns and possibly a functional 60mm mortar. We can't discount the possibility of Soviet-era surface-to-air missile capability either. Delta operators will set up light machine gun positions on all sides of the compound to suppress any of these weapons. They will also provide direct action teams that will be the first to breach the wire and provide direct fire against the barracks buildings. SEALs arriving by helicopter for the main takedown won't have an easy time, but at least they won't come under direct fire from .50-caliber machine guns. We have a few other surprises planned for the compound."

Shelby found it curious that nobody stepped in to correct General Gordon's use of the term "True America."

"Can we use armed drones during the attack?" asked Robert Copley, CIA director.

"We had a discussion about this earlier, Robert, and decided against deploying the drones in U.S. airspace. Even for surveillance. We feel that this is a slippery slope," the national security advisor answered.

Copley did his best to conceal a look that expressed Shelby's first thought. They had no problem using Tier One Special Forces operators on U.S. soil, but a Predator armed drone was somehow out of the question. Politics.

"I want to minimize collateral damage to the compound infrastructure. We need to preserve as much evidence as possible for the FBI. How close can we bring the FBI mobile task force to the compound before the raid? I want them on-scene immediately. The attempt at Fort Meade couldn't be an isolated event."

"Undercover Delta operators infiltrated the surrounding towns and suspect an active network of informants. I don't recommend any ground vehicle activity in the area prior to the attack. I'd keep them on Interstate 79 and time their arrival at the Route 15 exit for midnight. A convoy of government vehicles traveling through some of the towns along Route 15 might raise the alarm. It'll take them about an hour, maybe less, to arrive at the compound from that location. I have a two-vehicle Delta team that can escort them. They might need the help, since the road from Route 15 to the compound looks dicey," General Gordon said.

"Can we put them in support helicopters and land them directly at the compound?" Shelby asked.

"Sure, if you can get them over to Dover Air Force Base by 2200 hours," the general replied.

"I can have them at Dover by 1900," Shelby said.

"Then I can arrange to have them dropped at the site once my people have declared it clear of hazards."

"Excellent. I'll be in my office down here for a few hours. Frederick, will you join me?" the president asked.

Shit. Maybe he had looked too eager when the president slammed his fists onto the table. Shelby really hoped he wasn't that easy to read. He followed the president and Jacob Remy into the president's private office. Once seated, the office windows obscured at the press of a button. He was finally on the inside after all of his years of service. He just hoped he hadn't been brought in here for an ass chewing. The president didn't waste any time getting down to business.

"How far along has Sharpe come to connecting the attacks to True America?"

Shelby started to think carefully about his choice of words, but decided to trust his gut instinct and forget politics.

"We know this is True America, but to be completely honest, we don't have a solid case yet. I was hoping that one of the men killed near Fort Meade would be wearing a True America T-shirt, but no such luck. They've covered their tracks pretty well up to this point. I'm hoping that the compound raid will break this wide open."

"What if it doesn't?" Jacob Remy asked.

"What do you mean?"

"What if we go in there, and at the end of the day, we don't gather any more evidence connecting this to True America?"

"We'll make the connection," Shelby said. "Their plot is too complicated to cover up completely. We have our best interrogators working on the three terrorists captured in Brooklyn. The compound raid will break the back of their organization. We'll roll up the entire group with the evidence uncovered in this raid. You heard the general's surveillance report: over a hundred terrorists on-site. We're going to catch them right in the middle of planning their next phase of attacks. The timing couldn't be better."

"I share your optimism, Frederick. Unfortunately, Jacob is skeptical. He thinks this is a conspiracy involving all True America leadership, and they've planned this for years to coincide with the upcoming election."

"I'd be lying if I told you the thought hadn't crossed my mind."

"Make sure Sharpe's task force gets everything it needs to make this connection, and stand by to dismantle True America when the connection is made. We may have to wait until the timing is right, but we'll take them down. As far as I'm concerned, True America is the most dangerous terrorist organization that has ever walked on U.S. soil, and I intend to remove that threat."

"I'll make sure Sharpe has every resource at his disposal, and I'll make sure to consult with you about the possibility of a wider response to the evidence uncovered at the compound."

Message received.

"Perfect. Until then, I want Sharpe to focus all of his efforts on safeguarding America."

"Understood, Mr. President."

"Thank you, Frederick. I'll see you later tonight."

With those words, Frederick Shelby was dismissed after a not-so-subtle warning to suppress any connections his task force made between the current terrorist plot and True America. He left the office with a glimmer of hope. Despite the warning, he sensed that the two men wanted nothing more than to crush True America. They just wanted to control the timing for political reasons. Shelby could live with that, as long as it didn't interfere with Sharpe's investigation. He was far from being a political pawn, but he'd learned long ago that positions of great power in Washington, D.C., always required you to sell a small portion of your soul to stay in the game. Powerbrokers ran afoul when they sold too much of their soul to the wrong person, ending up beholden to the Beltway devils. Forced to leverage the rest of their soul in a desperate, yet futile bid to keep a seat at one of the big tables. Shelby planned to be at the table until the day he died, with his soul mostly intact.