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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.”
Seeger appeared amused at Ribak’s comment. “As usual, Deacon, you are a master of understatement. Only you could class four million dollars’ worth of diamonds as a lot of money. But as you say, it is a possibility that both you and Zac have a valid point.”
“You want it checked out, sir?”
“It needs checking out, Deacon. Only this time just send a small force. No more than two or three. Let them do some discreet gathering of information. Find out if Gantz is alive or dead. Where he is. And we had better check out Mr. Petrie in Philadelphia, too. In case he was involved.”
“I’ll get straight on it, sir.”
Ribak took his leave from the meeting. Lorens waited until the door had closed before he turned to Seeger. The Brethren leader lifted a hand briefly.
“Deacon was man enough to accept the failure of his operation, Zac. I cannot, in all truth, censure him for that. And he is our best man when it comes to military know-how. Let’s move on, shall we?”
Lorens understood he was being instructed to back away from the subject. He dismissed what he had been about to say.
Seeger nodded. He turned to the rest of the group. “A failure, gentlemen, but one we can learn from. As Deacon has admitted, he was caught unprepared being confronted by an unknown force. If this force was part of the group aiding Gantz in his theft of our diamonds, then we have the answer. However, the possibility it was some government agency means we should ask ourselves how and why. Had Gantz tipped them off himself in the hope of escaping our wrath? Or was it an unfortunate coming together of opposing sides by a simple twist of fate? We know this government has its insidious tentacles spread far and wide. It intrudes into every aspect of American life. They monitor the communications networks. Bug phones and have spy cameras everywhere. Maybe they had prior knowledge of our intent. We will check every possibility. Foremost we must learn a valuable lesson. Not to take anything for granted. Trust no one we do not know. Consider every stranger a potential enemy. If we allow ourselves to become too confident we invite betrayal, and as we all understand, this administration feeds on betrayal. Turning American against American. They do it with such deceit that the masses have no idea how they are being manipulated.”
Lowell Rogerson, commander of the northeastern Brethren unit said, “The bombings showed how lax the authorities are. It’s thrown them into total confusion. But it will make them more vigilant. They’re going to be watching out for us next time. Perhaps this incident with Gantz proves they are becoming more alert.”
“A good point, Lowell. We do need to be sharper. On your other point, though. You feel they’ll be watching out for us? Their blind spot is the fact that they have no idea where, when or how we strike. If we keep changing our targets, I don’t see how they can anticipate.”
ERIC STAHL GLANCED UP. “Well, is he still a believer?”
General William Carson smiled. It made him look like a hungry wolf ready for the kill. “Eric, that one-eyed idiot is ready to march up Pennsylvania Avenue right this minute. Believe me, son, Seeger is close to pissing his pants with the pure joy he’s experiencing, according to Ribak.”
“He’s saving America. Allow him his moment.”
“He’d be advised to make the most of it.” The general filled his tumbler with more of Stahl’s malt. “Oh, you don’t mind?”
“You can take the whole bottle, Bill. Now let me ask you something. Is this really going to work? Dropping the whole of the blame for the atrocities on the Brethren? You can’t see any backfire coming our way?”
Carson had already taken up his seat again. He swallowed a mouthful of his drink. “Not going queasy on me, Eric?”
“Not at all. Just my cautious side rearing its head.”
“We have that arrogant prick just where we want him. Let him and those weekend soldiers run around making all the noise they want. Come the day, with the whole country up in arms and screaming blue murder because the President is wavering, that’s when we make our move. With the President having lost support, the public demanding his resignation, he’ll be on his own. If he tries to bring in the military, we stall him. Let his own statutes create delays to prevent him getting his assistance. We use your communications setup to blanket the country with the news he’s ready to quit. Force him to resign. Then I get the military to move. We take control. Have the streets full of armed troops. Planes overhead and we also send in cleanup companies to blast hell out of the Brethren’s compounds. Every damned one of them. No quarter. We put them down like the rabid dogs they are. When it’s over we produce the evidence that links them to the bombings. Once they’re dead and gone, who is there to point the finger?”
“I can think of one.”
“Not that one-man band running around poking sticks into wasp nests? Eric, he’s doing us favors. Think about it. Who is he going after? The Brethren. Every strike he makes it’s more likely to draw attention to them. Not us, because we’re not even in the picture at the moment.”
“Assume he makes a connection. Starts to move on us?”
“Then we employ our usual tactics and call in our people. Let them deal with him. Pulls the heat off us so we can move ahead. Trust me, this is what I do for a living. Jesus, Eric, nigh on thirty years. I think I have it worked out by now.”
Stahl didn’t doubt that for a second. The career of General William “Bull” Carson was second to none. The man had joined the Army a year under the enlistment age and had seen combat before a year passed. Even at that young age he had proved his worth. His career went from strength to strength. His reputation for taking orders, coupled with a no-compromise attitude when in combat earned him quick promotion. He rose through the ranks as easily as some men breathed and thrived on challenges. Men under his command would walk through fire and brimstone for their commander. His tough stance in battle earned him the unofficial title Bull Carson. He accepted the name with pride, and it served him well as he pushed and fought his way to the top. Carson treated his men fairly, but expected the best from them, and to see him bawling out an offender for some misdemeanor was never forgotten. Once the reprimand was done with, it was over. Bull Carson never held a grudge. He would hand out his verbal punishment in the morning, and he would be seen sharing a drink with the man the very same night.
Eric Stahl had known Carson for more than ten years. He respected the man’s military judgment, and found that Carson had similar feelings about the state of the nation. Carson was secretly incensed the way America was going. He despised the slide into too many wars. Too many interventions abroad while the U.S.A. was struggling at home. He viewed the current administration as weak, opting for the quick fix instead of tackling problems over the long term and settling them once and for all. He sensed the U.S. Military machine as being betrayed. Given too much to handle with not enough resources. Sending young Americans to die in dusty streets thousands of miles from home, often never quite sure just what they were fighting for. And when the despots of those countries were caught and put on trial he had to watch them playing their sick games in the courtroom. Demanding this and that, refusing to acknowledge the courts and throwing tantrums. Vast sums of money and hours of wasted time were expended on these people. The courts backed down and let the ranting prisoners claim their human rights had been violated. Their human rights. These complaints coming from men who had no problems with human rights when they slaughtered men, women and children of their own countries. There would have been no human rights concerns if Carson had his way. The tyrants would get swift justice if he had his way; a merciful 9 mm bullet in the back of the skull and the matter would be settled.
Carson had not earned his high rank by bucking the system. He knew the right time to stay silent and when to raise his voice. He also knew that his beloved America needed help within its borders. The hell with the rest. Let them squabble and fight, kill each other over some damned religious incident. His concern was the U.S.A. It needed a leader with a hard line, who would not bow to the namby-pamby decrees of the PC brigade, a President who would toughen the line and say enough. Clamp down on excesses and channel money and time into the ills of the nation. The trouble was the mass of Americans only had the two main political parties to choose from and at the end of the day they were interchangeable. Politics had become a brightly colored, yelling, screaming circus at election time. It was big-time entertainment, with millions of dollars cast to the wind. Candidates toed the party line, made promises that were little more than verbal placebos and once the raucous din settled down everything returned to what it had been before.
Carson watched and quietly fumed, and in his own mind understood the way to change things was by direct action. His association with the then Senator Eric Stahl made him aware he wasn’t the only man with a vision for the country. Drastic, yes. Needful, yes. Carson had seen Stahl’s attempt, and failure, over the Zero affair. It had been a wild, and in Carson’s eyes, brave attempt to set things right. Stahl had lost his senatorial status, while Carson had watched from the wings. He knew one thing. Eric Stahl would not let his desires drift away. Carson and Stahl had worked together over the years, the general dealing with many of the weapons contracts that went Stahl’s way. He saw no reason why that should end.
Stahl Industries produced fine ordnance for the military complex. The two men had shared many weekends together at their country retreats and the practice continued. During long evenings, over dinner and drinks later, they had discussed their feelings concerning the fate of America. Piece by piece, like a jigsaw of the mind, the overall picture revealed itself to the pair. With quiet determination they drew their plans, each coming up with a new angle, a different slant, until the battle plan was complete. Complex and requiring deep planning, the scheme was bold, had parts that needed strong nerves and stomachs, but would, if successful, present them with their one and only opportunity to succeed.
Carson sat on his own on a number of occasions, long after Stahl had retired, going over the plan. He asked himself questions that veered toward his personal loyalties to country and President, first accusing himself of a traitorous act, then countering with the justification. The suggestion he might be turning away from America and becoming nothing less than a terrorist himself gave him long, sleepless nights. In the end his conscience cleared itself of that accusation. He was not turning away from America, he was making a sacrifice so that America could be strong again in body and mind. He understood that to achieve that, there would be a need for sacrificial action. Drastic as it was, it had to be seen as a wake-up call, incidents that would make the American public suffer; incidents that would frighten and put them in a panic because the government would not be able to stop them.
The President would be seen in a weak position, the leader of the most powerful nation on Earth having to stand by while the nation cowered beneath the shadow of some unknown threat laying waste to sections of the country. As the incidents increased, the less in control the Washington administration would appear. It would go on until Stahl and Carson decided the right moment had come. Their moment. Then, Stahl would use his substantial radio and television links to put to the people that enough was enough. The President was failing and it was time for a new leader, one who would not flinch from the harsh realities. At the same time military forces acting under orders from General Carson would make their planned strikes at the Brethren. It would be an overwhelming surgical strike against the militia group, destroying their compounds and routing their forces. In the aftermath conclusive evidence that the Brethren had been responsible for the attacks on the nation, painting them as heartless radicals intent on uncalled-for death and destruction, and the current administration had allowed it to happen through ineptitude and a reluctance to make a strong defense.
In his reflective moments Carson had admitted, only to himself, that it was a reckless and dangerous action he and Stahl were contemplating. So much could go wrong. But he reminded himself that through his military career he had witnessed, and had been involved in, similar wild actions. Some thought up by others, many of his own. But war required decisive and off-the-wall decisions. The very nature of war begged for operations that had to come from moments of sheer audacity, simply because the moment required just that. In combat situations, with the tide flowing in opposite directions to what had been planned, instant decisions had to be made. And many of those instant solutions worked, changing the status quo. Veritable losses had been changed to resounding victories by quick thinking.
In the end Carson made his decision. However chancy the moment, it had to be taken. The need of the nation outweighed the fate of those trying to make a difference. It was as simple as that. The facets that went to make up the fabric of the action, unpalatable as they were, had to be faced. General William “Bull” Carson was prepared to shoulder that responsibility. He would live with the burden and face the consequences, and God, in his own way.
“Your man Ribak. He’ll keep us updated on what the Brethren is doing?”
“Don’t you worry about Deacon. He might be a hard-assed, insolent son of a bitch, but he’ll do whatever I want. I recruited him because he’s just the right man for the job. Seeger believes Ribak’s one of God’s chosen soldiers, come down off the fuckin’ mountain to train his rednecks how to fight. They’re just a bunch of loonies. Give me a single squad of my trained boys and we’d wipe that sorry-assed bunch of yokels off the face of the earth without raising a sweat.”
“I’m confident you could,” Stahl said. “My real concern is this man taking on the Brethren. I’m sorry to bring the matter up again, Bill. I’m starting to have a familiar feel about him.”
“No need for apologies. Better to be concerned than to just ignore any kind of threat. From what you’re saying, is there a chance you might know who he is?”
“I may be wrong. If I am, I’ll apologize in advance, but if I’m right we could have more on our hands than we thought a few minutes ago.”
STAHL HAD ALWAYS been known as a hard-liner. The epithet neither embarrassed or fazed him. His views on the way America was going were well-known and had been printed in newspapers and magazines for years. Stahl, the industrialist, commanded his massive armament industry with unlimited zeal. He was a powerful man, still so even after he had been forced to step down from his senatorial position following the Zero fiasco. Because the administration was required to keep Zero out of the public and global eye as much as was humanly possible, Stahl’s involvement in the failed attempt to gain control had been kept under wraps. Eric Stahl, always one to grasp any opportunity, plea bargained and promised to remain silent if he was freed from any kind of prosecution. The concession was that he stood down from public office. Stahl was disappointed. He had enjoyed the privileges the position granted him, but he reasoned that at least he was maintaining control of his vast business empire, and that would still give him the opportunity to carry on with his personal agenda—that being the toppling of the U.S. government. He reasoned that he could still do that without the need to be in office during its inception. When the time came Eric Stahl would assume the mantle of commander in chief and take charge of the country.
There was no doubt in Stahl’s mind he was the man for the job. His vision of a superior America, powerful and able to quell any threat, was no mad scheme. He understood the discontent that ran throughout the nation. Past administrations, through weak leaders and feeble policies, had plunged the country into a state of malaise. No one dared stand up and point the finger. Even after the terrible events of 9/11 America was still in the grip of terrorism. Attempts to crush the opposition had resulted in the disastrous war against Iraq. That still lumbered on, with more U.S. troops, equipment and money being poured into the country. Stahl had watched and listened, and to his dismay he saw very little that promised it would be over soon. More American lives would be wasted under the guise of cleansing Iraq and establishing democracy. Afghanistan was still very much in the headlines, with the supposedly defeated Taliban once more raising its brutal head, while at home bad government policy was doing nothing to ease the condition of the country.
Staying below the radar had been Stahl’s wisest move. Walking away from a prison sentence had allowed him time to regroup his thoughts, step away from direct involvement with the Third Party, despite it having been more his creation than any of the other members. He made it clear he was doing it so there would be no slur on the party, and they could maintain their campaigns in good conscience. Once he had severed his links he was able to let the dust settle and concentrate on his business empire. Washington had much on its mind, and an ex-senator soon lost out to other more pressing matters at home and abroad. Stahl still had powerful friends, mainly in the military-industrial complex, and a number of those still favored his vision of a harder-edged, defiant America. Stahl decided that taking his time and rethinking strategy was an advisable concept.
The emergence of the Brethren had been a gift for Eric Stahl. He had heard about the isolationist, antigovernment group. He dug into the history of the organization, learned everything he could about the people and their policies, and after assimilating the facts, realized that here was a group he could assist in their aims and at the same time strengthen his own position.
The first and most important thing to establish was his need to remain anonymous. Stahl had reasoned from his investigation into the Brethren that its manifesto encouraged the use of extreme violence as a means of exposing Washington’s weakness when it came to protecting its citizens and its organizations. Stahl had no problem with that kind of methodology. Shock tactics were needed to make the American public aware. If a few civilians had to be injured or die, to hammer home the need for a stronger administration, so be it. But it also called for a careful orchestration of the program. So until the country was backed against the wall Stahl decided he would remain in the shadows, ready to step in at the critical moment.
He recruited a go-between, Harry Brent, someone who could bridge the gap between benefactor and recipient. His in-depth investigation of the Brethren showed that their main obstacle was obtaining enough funding so they could run their program of violence. As with any complex plan, money was a deciding factor. The Brethren needed money. Stahl would help them get it. From the start he realized he could not do this openly. He would have to organize a means by which the organization could receive its much-needed funding without his name being known.
His scheme involved using illicit diamonds purchased directly from a source in West Africa. A subsidiary of Stahl Industries had been approached in the past by agents of rogue African groups looking for hard cash. The concept was simple: illicitly mined diamonds of both industrial and high quality were offered at a low cash price. These could be resold on the European and American markets for a much higher yield. The African sellers had no way of getting to these markets because of their status, so they were happy enough to take a percentage of what the diamonds were worth. Through his contacts Stahl’s intermediary was able to set up meetings with a chosen seller and arrange for regular purchases. As an added incentive, Stahl brought in an arms dealer, Jack Regan, who would offer to supply ordnance to the rogue groups for their internecine struggles over tribal territories at subsidized prices. Stahl’s involvement was as a benefactor who wanted to help the Brethren, providing he remained anonymous.
It worked. For a few months. The Brethren benefited from the large cash amounts the illicit diamonds brought in. It enabled them to bring forward their planned demonstrations of the government’s inability to protect the nation and its people. Through his go-between, Stahl learned about the Brethren’s command structure, the people within the group and how it worked. Stahl read about and watched on television the results of the group’s indiscriminate strikes. He was also able to witness the dismay, the anger and the frustration of America’s people. Faced with these savage acts they turned to local and national representatives, demanding something be done. Which only encouraged the Brethren to commit more destructive acts, emphasizing how ineffectual the administration had become. America was under siege within its own borders, and no one seemed to be able to even point their finger at who was behind the strikes, let alone stop them.
Police units were deployed as show of force. There were localized riots against these units, purely from frustration by members of the public who had no other way of showing their emotions. Racial attacks increased as rumors spread that the strikes were the responsibility of extremist terrorist groups within the U.S. These attacks were repelled by the police, and it soon developed into American against American. The Brethren found its membership increasing as individuals responded to the call, as did many other militia groups.
Much of the rumormongering was initiated by the Brethren itself, though the group was careful to only issue statements espousing its shock at the cruel strikes. There was never any suggestion the Brethren was involved, only that its members were repulsed by such attacks against America. But its spokesperson reminded the public it had been warning of such violence. The propaganda was cleverly worded, designed to discredit the government and to raise the Brethren’s credibility as a group to be listened to.
Eric Stahl devoured the reports with relish. He was finding his shadowy participation with the Brethren to be paying off handsomely. His covert activity was bringing his day closer. That time was not due yet. Not until the voice of America demanded a change. When the great mass of the people became overwhelming, then he would put into motion the second strategy.
CHAPTER SIX
Clear of Tyler Bay, Bolan headed for the interstate and picked up speed once he was on the highway. He estimated a four-to five-hour drive, depending on conditions.
“Apart from the disturbance last night, that was a nice town,” Lyons observed.
