Finishing Some Unfinished Business

[jemhouston]

I did pick up on Section 31. FYI, in one Matt Helm novel, his normally unnamed agency was called Department of Public Safety. I'm not sure if that was their actual name since there was a coup about to start and Mac was trying to stop it.

I also picked up on Section 31. Let’s hope that they’re nowhere near as out of control as they are in Star Trek…

Just remember, Section 31 almost destroyed the Changelings, failing and being destroyed by them like Obsidian Order and Tal Shiar were. Perhaps the Obsidian Order lacked a good tailor.

[Wolfman]

I did pick up on Section 31. FYI, in one Matt Helm novel, his normally unnamed agency was called Department of Public Safety. I'm not sure if that was their actual name since there was a coup about to start and Mac was trying to stop it.

I also picked up on Section 31. Let’s hope that they’re nowhere near as out of control as they are in Star Trek…

Just remember, Section 31 almost destroyed the Changelings, failing and being destroyed by them like Obsidian Order and Tal Shiar were. Perhaps the Obsidian Order lacked a good tailor.

Garak, anybody?

[jemhouston]

I also picked up on Section 31. Let’s hope that they’re nowhere near as out of control as they are in Star Trek…

Just remember, Section 31 almost destroyed the Changelings, failing and being destroyed by them like Obsidian Order and Tal Shiar were. Perhaps the Obsidian Order lacked a good tailor.

Garak, anybody?

Plain and simple.

[Poohbah]

02 January 2023
Grand Teton Cabins
Driggs, ID

And so we're back to the beginning.

I was sitting on the floor, hands cuffed behind me.

Charlie White was waving his pistol all over the room and screaming, "YOU SONSOFBITCHES BETTER GET ME A DAMN AIRPLANE WITH LOTS OF GAS OR ELSE!"

A voice from outside the door said, "Sir, please remain calm, we'll get back to you."

Darkness was closing in; there was a Teton County Sheriff's Department cruiser outside. I could see the red and blue lights flickering when White checked the window.

White took a deep breath and smiled at me, which I didn't find reassuring. "So, General. High and mighty military career after one hell of a break in service, eh?"

I nodded.

"Cat got your tongue, General, sir?"

"No. I'm just being economical with my words."

"So, why'd you go back in?"

"I knew someone at Air Force Cyber, and she briefed me on how bad the cyber security footprint was. She recruited about a hundred people to get it fixed. A lot of them were like me, folks who'd gone into the field after the war."

White considered this, then nodded. "I'll give you one thing: you have never lacked for guts. Those two gongs are my ticket out of here. You just stay calm and you might just survive, General."

* * *

20AF Headquarters
Warren Air Force Base
Cheyenne, WY

Sophie hung up the phone and saw Laning standing at attention.

"Ma'am, if you want to relieve me for--"

"Enough. I won't hear of it. You did the right thing, this isn't on you."

Thomas Watson refused to fire a man who cost IBM $600,000 because he'd just spent $600,000 training him. I may have just spent the life of one of my best friends training her.

She went into her office, threw on long johns, ABUs, and a field jacket, and made some phone calls.

When she came back out, her aide-de-camp, Major Rebecca Furness II, had arrived with the staff car ready to go.

"Ma'am, your go bag is in the trunk, the Iridium phone is charged, and you have valid KEYMAT."

"Excellent."

They headed over to Cheyenne Airport to Sophie's personal hangar, and quickly preflighted her Cessna Citation Mustang.

"Major Furness, I can't ask you to go any further. I have to do this; you do not."

Furness looked Sophie in the eye and said, "General, we're losing precious time."

Sophie swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, then said, "Take the right seat, please."

* * *

"Cheyenne Tower, this is November One Niner Two Echo Fox, holding short at Runway 27."

"One Niner Two Echo Fox, Cheyenne Tower, you are cleared for takeoff."

"Cheyenne Tower, One Niner Two Echo Fox, cleared for takeoff."

Sophie pushed the throttles forward and released the brakes. The jet began rolling forward.

Hang on, Josh.

* * *

02 January 2023
Denver International Airport
Denver, CO

"Denver Tower, this is November Two Seven Four Three Juliet, requesting departure, Runway 26."

"Four Three Juliet, stand by, you are number two behind the Frontier 737 on taxiway Romeo 4."

"Copy number 2 for takeoff."

A woman's voice. "Go around the other aircraft."

The pilot looked up at the woman he knew as Vesta.

She was wearing a white snowsuit, and her hair was dyed white as well.

"Ma'am, we do that, assuming we don't cause a ground collision, we're going to have Air National Guard F-16s out of Buckley on our asses before we can climb to altitude."

"I'll handle the weekend warriors, get us airborne now-now-now!"

[Matt Wiser]

Wheels are in motion, and soon lots of folks with guns are going to show up. My guess is Mr. White (the soon to be late and unlamented) has a date coming with a sniper.

[jemhouston]

When Titians clash, up next.

[Poohbah]

02 January 2023
Driggs, ID

The hotel had been evacuated. Roberta sipped coffee outside the sheriff's line.

She could feel Helen's silent support.

A petite woman in winter gear came up next to her. Somehow, Roberta knew who it was without even looking at her.

"Is this the end for Josh?"

Brigid said, "I don't know, Roberta. All I know is that you are alone and afraid, so here I am. I can do no less."

Roberta nodded, finding comfort in her one-time lover's Irish lilt and her quiet statement of her faith. "Thank you, Brigid. At least I'm not alone any more."

They clasped gloved hands.

* * *

Vesta smiled as she checked the ADS-B display. Her G-V was faster than General Lodge's Citation Mustang, and she'd beat her to Driggs, then close the airport down.

We will meet again, at last, Sophie--but on my terms. The circle is now complete. When I left you I was but the learner, but now I am the master.

* * *

I was still sitting on the floor.

I was remembering my antiterrorism training. Build rapport with your captor.

"Hey, is it okay if I sit on the couch? It's a tad more comfy."

White gestured with the pistol. "Suit yourself. But slowly, please."

I stood up slowly, and he nodded, impressed. "You're closing in on 60 and you can still get up without using your hands? Not bad at all."

"Clean living and the love of a good woman."

I walked slowly to the sofa and sat down.

"That was your wife in the hallway?"

"Yes."

"She's a looker, I'll give you that. How long you been married?"

"Just celebrated our 30th."

"I see. Well, don't do anything stupid, and she won't be a grieving widow."

"Hey, I'm a pushover."

White snorted. "Yeah, right. I saw the video of what you did to that guy with his own damn sword. You're anything but a pushover. If you can figure out how to get the drop on me, I'm a goner. I get that you're trying to build rapport. I probably understand that better than you ever will. So let's dispense with the bullshit. I have a plan, and I'm executing it."

White's phone buzzed, and he pulled it out. It was a cheap burner phone. He spoke briefly in Spanish, then hung up.

"Hope you like Caracas, ol' buddy."

I said nothing.

* * *

Strategic Air Command Headquarters
March Air Force Base
Moreno Valley, CA

General Michael Drake, CINCSAC, watched the B-1 Lancer thunder down the runway in the gathering dusk.

Drake sighed. I hope to hell this actually works.

[jemhouston]

Vesta will have her a* handed to her shortly by Sophie. After which Roberta will go to work on it.

[Wolfman]

Will this be the impetus for us to finally deal with the lunatic in Caracas once and for all?

[Johnnie Lyle]

Vesta will have her a* handed to her shortly by Sophie. After which Roberta will go to work on it.

She already has.

[Matt Wiser]

Will this be the impetus for us to finally deal with the lunatic in Caracas once and for all?

Maybe. Maduro's never been known for sanity, though he's never made any threatened military moves against either the Panama Canal or the Dutch Islands-unlike Chavez.

[Poohbah]

02 January 2023
Driggs-Reed Memorial Airport
Driggs, ID

Vesta climbed out of the G-V and directed half of her team to the control tower.

"Turn off all of the navigation aids immediately!"

* * *

"Driggs Tower, this is November One Niner Two Echo Fox, requesting full stop."

"November One Niner Two Echo Fox, this is Driggs Tower. The airport is closed for national security reasons. Do not attempt to land. Recommend divert to Jackson."

Furness said, "I just lost the ILS and the runway lights."

Sophie smiled and let the numbers dance. "I've got this."

She used the GPS and dead reckoning, pointing the plane using the same air sense she'd learned as a free-fall parachutist.

* * *

"She's not waving off!"

Vesta smiled. Keep going, Sophie. Just a little more . . .

* * *

Sophie whacked the landing gear lever. Furness was calling altitude and airspeed.

And then she saw a slightly darker rectangle and sideslipped a touch left, lining up with Runway 22.

* * *

The plane touched down and raced down the runway past Vesta's plane and the Zebra team.

The team leader said, "Damn, she's good."

* * *

Furness was staring at her boss. "First time I've ever seen anyone drift a plane onto the taxiway, ma'am."

Sophie pulled up to the FBO, stop-cocked the engines, climbed out of the seat, opened the hatch, then grabbed both her go-bag and a duffle from the baggage locker by the hatch.

She raced down the steps to find a startled man from the FBO.

She reached into her bag, grabbed two small bundles, and tossed them to the man. "Tie it down, gas it up, and make sure the tires are good. If they aren't, change them out. Keep the change."

She raced off to Hertz Rent-a-Car.

The man looked at the bundles in his hand. They were neatly banded stacks of $100 bills.

"Yes, ma'am."

Five minutes later she and Furness were rolling out of Hertz in an SUV.

Vesta and the Zebra team followed in a pair of SUVs ten minutes later. Vesta worked the phone.

* * *

15,000 feet over Driggs, ID
02 January 2023

The B-1B had gone from an 800-knot dash across America at 40,000 feet to 150 knots and 15,000 feet, flaps deployed, wings swept forward.

"And three, two, one . . . bomb bay doors open!"

* * *

Inside the bomb bay, six men hung onto a weighted net. When the doors opened, they fell out of the plane and assumed the "box man" position. Once the team was in position, they let go of the net and tracked on the Grad Teton Cabins Hotel.

The SAC Commander-in-Chief's In-Extremis Force (CIEF) was deploying for its first combat mission.

* * *

Sophie rolled up to see six men in winter camouflage setting up.

"Outstanding work, gentlemen!"

The Iridium phone rang. Sophie picked up the receiver, inserted a crypto key, and waited for the sync tone.

"20th Air Force Actual speaking."

"General Lodge, this is SAC Actual. I just got a call from 1600. You're to stand down and hand this off to the Department of Public Safety when they arrive."

"General Drake, I must protest. The operative they assigned to this mission is known to me, I had the misfortune of being her flight commander in 1997. We shitcanned her for a reason, sir. She is mentally unstable. She is far too rigid a thinker to handle a hostage rescue, she has multiple psychopathologic traits, and her team is not qualified for the mission."

"1600 didn't see it that way."

Sophie carefully considered her next words.

Sometimes, you gotta know when to torch your whole career.

"Sir, understand this: if General Mantell is injured or killed, I will resign my commission, and I will take this whole mess to the public--all of it. I will not give a damn if this ends up burning down the intel community, SAC, the Air Force, DoD, or the entire goddamned executive branch. Oh, I'll obey the orders of the President, sir--but maybe you need to get him on the Gold Phone and impress on him that those might be the last orders he will ever be in a position to give me. Sir."

[jemhouston]

And we know she will.

The Firm need to better job on the psych screening for new employees.

[Poohbah]

02 January 2023
Driggs, ID

Vesta remembered when she'd been Cassandra Jensen.

She'd been born and raised in San Francisco, living a fairly idyllic life even through the loss of her father to cancer when she was seven; the family fortune had been more than enough to keep their apartment in Pacific Heights.

That had come to a crashing end at 12 years old when the People's Autonomous Coalition had staged their uprising. Her mother had told her she was going to scout for a route out, hidden her in the crawlspace above their apartment with food, water, and blankets, and told her to wait until the Army or the Marines arrived, or she got back.

Her mother had never returned. Four days later, the Marines had arrived, and she'd crawled out of her hiding place.

A week after that, she'd been led to a tent in Golden Gate Park to identify the remains of her mother, who'd been found dead in the Rape House.

She'd graduated the University of Chicago at age 18, then proceeded to ace the Special Tactics Officer course at Maxwell and get assigned to the 125th Special Tactics Squadron in Klamath, Oregon, while she took her master's in political science at Stanford and worked at the Kratos Foundation's west coast offices.

To the unititiated, Kratos was a think tank along the lines of RAND or Brookings, based in Evanston, Illinois, specializing in international affairs.

To the elite, it was the keys to the kingdom. Kratos fellows were in the senior management of most of the civilian intelligence agencies of the United States, and the current Director of Central Intelligence had received the very first fellowship Kratos had awarded.

And then she'd met Captain Sophie Lodge.

* * *

Roberta felt Brigid stiffen.

"What's wrong?"

Brigid gestured to the two SUVs arriving. "There's a seriously disturbed woman in the lead vehicle. The sort of woman the Sisterhood devoutly hopes to keep our knowledge away from."

Roberta nodded. She watched a woman climb out of the SUV with white hair and wearing a white snowsuit.

"Keeps herself in shape," Roberta said.

"Ah, but to what end, Roberta? She doesn't take any pleasure in living."

* * *

As a teenager, Cassandra Jensen had discovered sex--specifically, she discovered that (a) men were utterly unattractive, (b) she was attracted to women, and (c) she utterly detested the very notion of being a lesbian (thanks to the Rape House).

She'd developed rituals to deal with what she privately called her "sexual misorientation." Fasting and other forms of self-denial, along with very mild doses of antidepressants, had kept her passably sane.

Until Operation NOVEMBER SONATA.

The operation had been simple enough: A Mexican Army special operations unit had set up shop near Risner AFB, and the 125th was being called in to track them down and stop them.

She was leading the second element in Charlie Flight under Captain Sophie Lodge, a woman who'd proven disconcertingly attractive. She'd had to up her dosage slightly, and become a bit more . . . extreme . . . in her self-mortification.

Which may have had some unfortunate side effects.

They'd bushwhacked into the mountains west of Risner, cutting trail on the bad guys. Eventually, they reached a tiny village, and they'd been shocked to see what the Mexican unit had done.

The Mexican special forces had always been considered a morally questionable bunch at best; many had been recruited from drug cartel sicarios.

Some made the sicarios look downright reputable.

These guys were apparently card-carrying members of the People's Santerist Liberation Front. Voodoo-Marxists who believed in communal ownership of the spirit world.

There'd apparently been a wedding underway when the Santerists arrived. Everyone in the church (ad thus, the village) was dead; the bride was missing. The bodies were still warm.

They caught up to the Santerists while the latter were feasting on their sacrifice's liver, taking them by surprise.

She'd very calmly executed the entire group despite the protests of her team sergeant, followed by stripping topless and scourging herself.

If only I'd been less distracted by a woman--a married woman, no less--we could've caught them sooner.

The ensuing investigation had brought everything out. She'd pissed hot for anti-depressants that she hadn't been prescribed; the eyewitness accounts had been more than damning by themselves; her psych evaluation had led the doctor to put her in a straitjacket; and only a concerted effort by various Kratos Foundation sponsors and everyone's desire to avoid looking like they might be even slightly sympathetic to the Santerists had kept the lid on.

She'd avoided a court-martial, and had been put on the Air Force's Temporary Disability Retirement List while she got therapy (which had given her full doses of anti-depressants that she'd carefully managed to stretch out).

She'd been picked up by The Firm, and had made steady progress through the ranks. Her ability to do anything that she could logically justify had made her a natural for the Zebra Teams, which operated under much looser rules of engagement than the military.

* * *

She smiled at Sophie. "General Lodge! You're looking well."

Sophie said, "Cassandra, it's not too late to back out."

"Not going to happen. Compassion and command is a fool's game, Sophie, you should know that by now. You thought I was a monster, and yet you tried to get me medical and psychiatric help. If I was a monster, you should've shot me dead right there."

"You fuck this up, Cassandra, and I'll do far worse. I'll keep Josh's wife from shooting you--which will be no mean feat--and then I'll drag you out of the shadows and put you on display in the zoo. No, strike that. I'll turn you and your entire agency into a carnival freak show."

* * *

Mantell's phone buzzed. White picked up, swiped the screen, and said, "Yeah?"

Pause.

"Who is this?"

Another pause.

"All righty, Your Generalship. I'll put it on speaker."

White hit the speaker icon.

"General Mantell?"

I said, "Good evening, ma'am."

"Look, we're getting a plane here. It took some doing. There's a bunch of guys in the Air Force cyber community who are still saying 'sour grapes' over your promotion, and they were waving the 'we don't negotiate with terrorists' flag like it's a rare Magic: The Gathering card."

Sour grapes.

It was lore that, under certain circumstances, more than one WARPAC captive with sensitive information had been on the receiving end of a sour-grapes mission--that the National Command Authority had deliberately opted to kill the captive to keep secrets.

"Understood, ma'am."

I relaxed into the shizen no kame stance as best I could, given that I was cuffed.

White hung up.

"Well, General--"

He took a half step, a grin appearing on his face.

I said nothing.

Boot to the head.

[jemhouston]

$1000 on Poohbah

[Wolfman]

$1000 on Poohbah

No bet! Why bet on a sure thing?

[Poohbah]

02 January 2023
Grand Teton Cabins
Driggs, ID

I kicked ol' Charlie right in the noggin, full speed, no fornications given.

I smiled and said, "You are lucky, Ed Gruberman. Few novices experience so much of Ti Kwan Leep so quickly."

Good news: Charlie was unconscious. Better news: it didn't look like I'd broken his neck. But I was pretty sure he had a concussion.

I heard a shotgun rack outside the door.

Sometimes, my tactical decision-making seems to be like when I'm speed-solving a Rubik's Cube. Spin this, twist that, and suddenly the faces just kind of line up on their own, baby.

I jumped over the coffee table and sat back down on the couch.

There were two bangs outside, and someone kicked the door in. In came the flashbang, and I watched as the team charged in.

The only shooting that happened was a negligent discharge by the guy with the breaching gun when he ran into the team leader--who'd stopped dead in his tracks. Fortunately, the shotgun was pointed at the microwave in the kitchen.

I stood up. "What the hell is this, amateur night? I could've done that better after slamming a bottle of East Rincon Pinot Noir. All right, someone undo my cuffs, please."

The team exchanged confused looks.

I rolled my eyes. "You idiots do a hostage rescue, and you don't brings handcuffs or keys? Charlie there has a set of keys in his pocket. Come on, MOVE, people!"

In a couple of minutes, the sheriff of Grand Teton entered the room, just as the Zebra team got Charlie in cuffs. He knelt down next to Charlie--and then took the cuffs off, flipped them over, and put them on correctly, with the keyholes away from Charlie's hands. He hoisted Charlie--who was still unconscious--onto his shoulder, said "Idiots!" to the assault team, and hustled out.

Sophie charged in, followed by a woman with white hair and wearing a white snowsuit.

"Josh, you all right?"

"Unharmed, mostly through the grace of God. I'd hate to be the team leader if they worked for you, Boss-Ma'am, that was embarrassingly awful."

The white-haired woman said, "They're my team, they're damn good at what they do."

I went off. "Oh, they routinely screw up barricaded suspect assaults? You owe the hotel a new microwave, it's God's own luck that your breacher didn't hit the number two guy in the chalk!"

I vented my spleen for a good seven minutes, going over every one of the manifold things they'd screwed up. I'd barely avoided getting killed either by accident or on purpose, I was hangry, and I generally feeling out of sorts.

I hadn't been sure what to expect.

I hadn't expected the woman to crumple into a fetal position on the floor, sobbing.

I looked at Sophie, who had a stunned--and terrified--expression on her face.

"Sophie, what the hell is going on?"

Another voice--a familiar Irish lilt--came from the ruined doorway.

"She's badly broken, Josh, and she never healed."

"Brigid?"

"You know her, Josh?"

"Long story. That said . . . I'd trust her assessment." I gestured to the woman. "We need to get her out of here--quietly."

* * *

Outside, I saw Brigid give Roberta a quick peck on the cheek, then turn and walk around a corner.

Cassandra Jensen, codename Vesta, was on a gurney with an IV drip and a pretty stiff tranquilizer dose.

The sheriff's deputies had caught the man on the other end of the earlier phone conversation.

Turns out he had FBI credentials. Real ones, even. The Firm was undoubtedly going to dance a collective jig because their operative's failure was going to be masked by the scandal of the Bureau doing a particularly stupid bit of entrapment.

* * *

Later that evening, after Roberta and I had had some dinner (burgers from O'Rourke's) and moved into a new room, I stepped outside after the cops had left.

I watched the moon in the clear sky.

I wondered if my son Michael would end up commanding a permanent base there.

"All's well that ends well, Josh."

I turned and saw Brigid. She had green eyes that seemed to possess an inner glow, reflecting the gentle smile on her face."

"Thank you for being there for Roberta."

"I could do no less, Josh."

"What's going to happen to Cassandra?"

Brigid sighed. "Josh, you know the joke about how many psychiatrists it takes to change a light bulb, right?"

I nodded. "Only one--but the light bulb has to want to change."

"Exactly. Josh, whether or not you know it . . . you did something profoundly good there. You got her out of there without causing a bigger scene. You left her some dignity. Maybe that will help her. The biggest thing she needs going forward is some love and acceptance--something she never got after San Francisco." Brigid paused, then said, "I don't know. Those three words are the beginning of wisdom."

I quoted Francis Bacon. "If a man will begin with certainties, he shall end in doubts; but if he will be content to begin with doubts, he shall end in certainties."

Brigid smiled, and I swear she giggled a little.

"Josh . . . just continue being Roberta's husband, lover, and friend. Everything else is secondary."

"I can do no less, Brigid."

She said, "Bend down a little, please."

I did, and she stood on tiptoe and gave me a kiss on the cheek. She whispered, "Take care, Josh."

She turned, and I watched her walk into the night.

* * *

January 3rd, 2023
The White House
Washington, DC

"The President will see you."

Sophie Lodge stood up from the chair, adjusted her Combo One a final time, and marched into the Oval Office.

She stepped to point precisely six inches from center of the Resolute Desk, saluted, and said, "Mister President, General Lodge reports!"

The President nodded, then gestured to a chair.

Sophie sat at attention, and the President said, "This isn't an ass-chewing. At ease."

Sophie relaxed fractionally.

The President said, "I heard you told General Drake you'd accept any consequences he deemed necessary."

"That's correct, sir."

"I see."

The President sat back slightly in his chair. "Would you have done it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why?"

"Because loyalty starts one-on-one, sir. I've known General Mantell since junior high school."

The President nodded. "You know, here inside the Beltway, it's really easy to forget the simple truths like that."

Sophie said nothing.

"General, you are, of course, familiar with Mr. John Armstrong, who happens to work here?"

"If memory serves, sir, he is your Special Assistant for National Security Affairs."

"Indeed. Well, he told me that he's planning to take a teaching and research position at Duke University this coming fall. So, I will be in need of a successor. John is a fine gentleman, one who practices those simple virtues it's so easy to forget here. Things like personal loyalty up, down, and sideways, telling the truth not just when I want to hear it, but most especially when I need to hear it and won't like it, holding confidences, listening to as many different points of view as possible, et cetera. Now, you will have been at 20th Air Force for two years by that point, and will likely be ready for a new challenge. Would you be willing to become my new National Security Advisor?"

Sophie thought about it for a long moment.

Finally, she said, "Sir, I would be honored to accept."

* * *

03 January 2023
Grand Teton Cabins
Driggs, ID

I was snuggled up next to my wife under the covers. She seemed . . . tense.

"What's wrong?"

"He might walk on the kidnapping charges."

"He ain't walking on the rest. And whichever Fed approved that needs to be his cellie."

"Yeah." She smiled. "All's well that ends well." She reached up and turned out the light.

Damn straight.

We drifted off to sleep.

The End

[Johnnie Lyle]

Vesta’s Life: For Want of a Vibrator.

[Matt Wiser]

Well, now... Kelly Ray now has a pretty clean road to becoming Sheriff of Bannock County-assuming that knothead retired ISP Captain doesn't wise up and decide to stay out.

Sophie has a new job, and she should serve President Scott well. But 20th AF needs a new Commander.

[Poohbah]

Well, now... Kelly Ray now has a pretty clean road to becoming Sheriff of Bannock County-assuming that knothead retired ISP Captain doesn't wise up and decide to stay out.

Sophie has a new job, and she should serve President Scott well. But 20th AF needs a new Commander.

Well, it's not until fall.