Three Heartbeats Away

Copyright © 2009 by Rob Peters

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ISBN: 978-1-4401-8227-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4401-8229-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4401-8228-0 (ebook)

iUniverse rev. date: 11/16/2009

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 1

9:00 am

The crowd had been gathering since dawn on this crystal clear Memorial Day at Lafayette Park. President Clayton Whitcomb was scheduled to make a brief and welcoming appearance to kick off the unofficial start of summer. He would reflect on the true meaning of this special day: never to forget our fallen heroes. Now halfway into his second term, President Whitcomb was loved by the majority of Americans, respected by both sides of the congressional aisle and all our allies. Of course, certain radicals needed him eliminated.

The Secret Service always seemed to be on overdrive when President Whitcomb made public appearances. The head of the division, John Randolph, just met with the president this morning with a strong request. He said, Mr. President, I suggest you move today’s gathering from the park to the White House lawn. We will accommodate all the spectators and we can make it look like we are moving the affair to a very special place.

The president replied, John, I can’t thank you enough for always keeping me safe, but I want the American people and others of all walks of life to feel that Lafayette Park is their park and they are as good and important as I am.

Mr. Randolph quickly rebutted, Mr. President, if you insist on the park, at least move the platform closer to the mansion. Also, the ceremony is way too close to the street.

John, stop worrying, I’m only going to be there for a few minutes and it’s too late to move things around. Everything is going to be just fine. And by the way, I understand you start your vacation tomorrow. So let’s get the show on the road so you can get out of here early today. I know you, Sharon, and the girls are going to love Bermuda.

As the Marine Marching Band started to play God Bless America, the president walked through the crowd of both young and old and made his way toward the podium. Lafayette Park was one of his favorite places. Planned as part of the pleasure grounds surrounding the executive mansion, this park was originally called President’s Park. He had been making this visit the same time every year on Memorial Day since taking office and hoped to one day rename the park, but this time calling it America’s Park.

He reached the microphone, waved, and smiled to all as they continued to applaud his arrival; their hospitable roar was thunderous. As the band concluded their piece, President Whitcomb got off only three words, My dear friends … He collapsed forward. A hush took the place of cheers, which were soon replaced with horror-struck screams.

The Secret Service immediately surrounded the stand and placed the president on the ground. Within seconds, emergency medical staff made their way to the blood-soaked leader of the free world. The doctors went through the motions of checking his vital signs, but with the grayish maroon brain matter covering the small platform, everyone knew their adored president had been assassinated.

The president’s chief of staff, Carl Cramden, shouted …

9:00 am

The view of the Gulf of Mexico, just off the coast of Sarasota, Florida, appeared to be a sheet of glass on this picture-perfect Memorial Day. Vice President Wendell Boyer was soon to board the SS Farewell for a planned sailing and fishing excursion. His friend Abdul Moritz owned the fifty-foot schooner and after their last two Memorial Days out on the ship, it was decided to make this an ongoing scheduled event. Let’s call it a guy’s day out, said Abdul after last year’s memorable cruise. However, in their case, it would consist of a five-man crew and an equal number of Secret Service agents.

Earlier, Abdul telephoned the vice president around 7:00 am begging his forgiveness for bowing out of the occasion because of a severe stomach virus. Please, Mr. Vice President, the crew has everything ready and my cousin Ockmed would be heartbroken if the trip was called off. Vice President Boyer didn’t want to break the date and welcomed the chance to see Ockmed again. He remembered Ockmed’s keen insight into the Republican philosophy and his great personality.

Ockmed Mondici was smiling from the deck as the vice president made his way onto the beautiful vessel. They greeted each other with a warm handshake and both were sorry Abdul was unable to host the outing. Ockmed joined them last year and coincidently he and the vice president had much in common; they both had a passion for politics, sailing, and fishing. In addition, they were avid sports fans with particular interests in the Tampa Bay Rays baseball team and the same city’s football team, the Buccaneers. He was touched by the young man’s love for our country and Islamic history.

The vice president, as with the commander-in-chief, had an 85-percent approval rating, but unfortunately everyone did not admire the vice president. Because he insisted the United States must have a permanent presence throughout the Middle East, many felt he must be removed.

The vice president’s head of security, Philip O’Connor, was against a routine of any kind. Mr. Vice President, this is the third consecutive year you are sailing and fishing on Mr. Moritz’s boat on the same day and the same time. Please don’t go out at all but if you must, please make it later in the day.

Philip, your men have thoroughly checked out the ship both inside and out, twice. Everything will be just fine. I plan to catch enough fish to feed the entire Secret Service for a month.

As planned, the vice president’s motorcade was quick to arrive at the harbor with little fanfare, therefore allowing him to embark rather quickly. The schooner’s powerful engine was always used at the start of any trip to pull away from the dock with ease and within several seconds, they were about one-hundred yards from the pier. By that time, the small crowd that gathered to offer a last-minute wave started to break up. As Sarasota’s local police started to leave the wharf, the unexpected happened. As an enormous blast occurred, a massive ball of fire instantaneously engulfed the fifty-foot ship. The two remaining police officers on the waterfront couldn’t believe their eyes but alertly called their superiors and all were patched immediately to the Secret Service in Washington, D.C. The seconds of silence were deafening to those on the line.

John Randolph bellowed …

9:00 am

The humidity was low, the early morning sun was shining, and Kevin Preston was getting ready for his morning run. When President Whitcomb took office, the Republicans also regained control of both houses of Congress. Six years ago, Kevin Preston was unanimously voted in as the Speaker of the House. He was a seven-term congressman who actively sat on ten committees. Speaker Preston had this bipartisan magnetism that allowed him to draw support from even the most liberal-minded Democrats.

His workday began at 6:00 am in his townhouse with local, world, and business news appearing on screens in front of his desk. As the TV networks broadcast the news, he was busy reading the coverage from various Web sites. He joked to his wife by saying, The only thing better than the news is more news.

After getting his fill of the day’s issues, he fired off in rapid succession several e-mails to various congressional committee heads. He paid particular attention to the e-mails he received from his constituents and, of course, he replied to each and every one of them from his DC office. His staff, co-workers, and friends were amazed at his uncanny ability to read and respond to everything that was presented to him.

Being active in sports throughout his life, he was especially partial to running. He told the president one day, I never won any medals in high school or college but I find this special solitude during my morning runs. It’s like time is standing still while being energized at the same time. He didn’t time himself but his jaunt usually took about an hour. Being a bit compulsive, he stretched for five minutes, made sure the mobile phone was securely clipped to his running shorts, and started his run by leaving his residence every day at exactly 9:00 am.

Heading in the same direction as he did every day, Speaker Preston saw his neighbor and said, Good morning, Mildred, I hope you and Sonny enjoy this beautiful day.

We will, Kevin, and you looked great as always on TV last night. He smiled and recalled yesterday’s interview with Bob Goodman on the National Cable Network. As always, he acted in a professional manner and never rubbed it in when he or his party proved to be correct. The topic was drilling for oil. Six years ago, bills were passed to allow oil exploration not just on federal land but also off both coastlines and in Anwar. Prior to the start, the critics said it would take a decade to produce even a drop of oil. Conversely, crude made its way to the refineries in a year and a half from some sites and now we were pumping five million barrels a day. Middle East dependency was a thought of the past and the United States was also starting its second new nuclear power plant.

The Speaker of the House saw a familiar and welcoming sight in the distance. It was a very fit Middle Eastern-looking female running with an infant stroller. He saw her every day and expected they both would smile and exchange their usual good mornings as they passed each other.

His phone chimed with the identifiable ring ascribed to the Secret Service. He picked up after the second note and answered with the programmed words when this call came through, What’s up?

He recognized John Randolph’s voice hollering, I know you are running but who and what’s around you?

He knew he was forbidden to joke any time the Secret Service called but said, The street looks the same and the familiar jogging mother with her baby is about twenty yards ahead and approaching fast.

Get out of there now, no questions, run the other way!

She is right next to me smiling … The blast was heard three miles away.

Mr. Randolph heard an explosion and the line quickly went dead. Mother of God help us. He pressed a three-digit code on his mobile phone, which was an emergency call to eighty-six-year-old Republican Senator Herman Sunderland of California. He was the president pro tempore of the Senate who was next in line to become president of the United States should the vice president and Speaker of the House be unable to assume power. As the Secret Service head listened to his connected call to the senator just ring and ring, he whispered to himself, Please, Senator, I hope you have your phone turned on and your hearing aid turned up. Could this really be happening?

Chapter 2

This place, this view, I can’t believe we’re here for eight days, said Cindy Johnson to her fiancé from their balcony at the Aruba Contemporary Hotel. Derek, come here and look at the two dolphins.

I’d rather look at you in that incredible bikini, said Derek Chase as he came strolling out of their bathroom draped in a towel and rubbed up against Cindy.

Hey, DC ordered you to take at least a week of R & R after almost dying and being laid up in the hospital. Making love twice this morning was incredible but I’m not sure if that’s what they meant by R & R.

Derek pinned her in the corner of the balcony and whispered in her ear, What DC doesn’t know won’t hurt them.

Cindy looked into Derek’s dark eyes. She loved this man. She loved him so much that sometimes it hurt. Like now. Cindy brushed her fingers lightly over the three-inch scar that ran down the left side of Derek’s face. She could have lost him.

The scar was deep and slightly puckered at the edges. He received it a few years ago in Iraq fighting Taliban extremists but never told Cindy the details.

All of his missions were unforgettable but this one for Derek made him an even better soldier. He was separated from his ranger unit and was ambushed by five militants. He shot four in the forehead within a few seconds but the surviving terrorist attacking him from behind tried to slit his throat. In a split second, Derek moved away, flipping his attacker over his shoulder while snapping his neck in the same fluid motion. Regrettably, the extremist managed to inflict a severe gash to Derek’s lower face. When his tour ended and he returned to the States, a plastic surgeon friend offered to restore his magazine cover looks pro bono but Derek refused. He wanted to see the scar every day to be reminded how close he came to having his carotid artery severed and for him to always remain focused.

Cindy playfully pushed him away by delicately hitting his chest with her fists. She was still not sure what parts of his body were not abused during his torture. She said, I wish you would stop being so modest like nothing happened after what those monsters did. I know you can’t and won’t tell me anything but there is just so much a human being can withstand, even if you look like a chiseled piece of granite. I’m a broker selling real estate in Chevy Chase, Maryland. The most abuse I get is people wanting me to cut my commissions. For the moment, they held each other as the warm, hypnotic tropical breeze circled their bodies.

Derek couldn’t believe at the tender age of twenty-eight he was tying the knot the next month. Having always been scared of the M word, he knew how lucky he was to love and be loved by the most beautiful, intelligent, and supportive woman he had ever met. He had known Cindy for three years and never believed in that soul mate cliché until now. He felt complete just knowing she was there. They were truly best friends and shared everything with each other except for one thing: his job. He wished he could tell her about his missions, but aside from being sworn to secrecy, he would never put her in harm’s way. He just said, I work at the CIA, which keeps the bad guys in check.

After graduating Georgetown University, Derek Chase enlisted in the United States Army. He had all the makings to become an officer; however, he always said, Maybe someday but not right now. He sailed through basic and special forces training with the highest physical and proficiency scores that anyone at the Seventy-fifth Ranger Regiment based at Fort Benning, Georgia, had ever seen. Derek was destined to be an army ranger.

He fit the ranger profile to a tee. All army ranger regiments were composed of rapid deployable light infantry forces, all with highly specialized skills that enabled them to perform a diversity of conventional and special operational missions.

They were used in recovery of personnel and equipment and, of course, the rangers were known for precision air, land, and sea assaults. Each ranger battalion was expected to deploy anywhere in the world within eighteen hours notice.

Derek’s strength, agility, and leadership qualities put him in a class by himself. Everyone looked up to him from the start and always felt he had their backs no matter how dangerous the situation. His marksmanship skills made him stand out above the rest. When Derek was firing at the range, his fellow soldiers seemed to pause just to watch perfection in the making. Regardless of whether the weapon was a rifle or pistol, he never missed his target. It wasn’t just hitting the object; it was the tight grouping and often the overlaying of all his shots that grabbed everyone’s attention. Most, if not all, of the time, his hits were above the shoulders.

In combat, the enemy’s torso was the likely mark because of its disproportionate size to the rest of one’s body. That wasn’t the case when Derek was quickly aiming at a stationary figure or a combatant on the battlefield. His closest friend, Tony Lopez, nicknamed him Head Shot, which ended after the first time it was uttered in Derek’s presence. His extraordinary hand-eye coordination gave him the ability to easily place a bullet between his adversary’s eyes as it was for hitting their chest.

Now only twenty-five, Derek moved up the noncommissioned officer ranks in record time. He was a sergeant first class with three tours of duty in the Middle East. Derek felt this was his career; however, Washington had other plans. The CIA wanted him.

Derek’s half brother, Kevin Preston, just completed his first year as the Speaker of the House of Representatives and had been following Derek’s illustrious military career. He first approached President Clayton Whitcomb with the idea of forming a secretive black operatives unit within the CIA, which would only handle extreme and sensitive missions. The unit’s existence would be known to only a select few. Without hesitation, the president embraced the suggestion and asked, Who is going to head it up?

My half brother, and since we have different last names no one will know we are related unless we tell them, was his answer.

The select few included Vice President Wendell Boyer, Secretary of Defense Alfonse Smith, Homeland Secretary Marjorie Washington, and CIA Director Fritz Cummings. When asked, they all supported the plan and felt the timing could not have been better. Al-Qaeda’s chatter was starting to get louder and louder every day.

The Speaker called Derek and after exchanging pleasantries said, The president asked me to call you to set up a meeting for just the three of us. Derek rarely questioned his older brother and this time the request was coming from the Oval Office. We would like to see you tomorrow at 1100 hours, and the president’s helicopter will be at Fort Benning’s pad at 0900.

I’ll be there, was his reply.

Kevin Preston was more than a brother to Derek. Their mother remarried after Kevin’s father died of cancer when he was fifteen. The day Derek was born, a drunk driver killed his father in a head-on collision. It happened as he was leaving the hospital parking lot when just minutes before he saw his newborn son for the first time asleep in his mother’s arms. Kevin became the older male figure in the household and mentored Derek as they grew up together.

During the meeting, Derek challenged the proposition, as his mind was always two steps ahead of the president and Speaker. This came as no surprise to Mr. Preston who knew shortly into the meeting his brother would take the assignment. Aside from the nature of the questions he asked, how would a member of the United States military say no to the president of the United States?

Derek’s only request was to pick the new team himself. He said, Mr. President, I feel our unit should consist of one other field operative and one IT person.

It sounds as though you know who you want.

Yes, Mr. President, the only two people that can handle the task are Staff Sergeant Tony Lopez who is also a ranger and his wife Meung who works at the Pentagon.

Fine with me. How’s that sound to you, Kevin? If you agree, get a buy-in from the other four. I don’t think they will object.

Let’s do it. I’ll conference them when we finish and if everyone’s on board, I’ll ask Secretary Smith to arrange the transfers in two weeks. By the way, what are we going to call this new unit?

The president looked over toward Derek and said, What do you want to call yourselves?

Without hesitation, the words Terrorist Elimination Unit, or TEU for short came out of his mouth.

The president and the Speaker both smiled and said at the same time, Perfect.

Derek and Tony entered the U.S. Army Rangers’ world at the same time and gravitated immediately to each other. Bravo Company, Third Battalion, became their new home. They both had the same passion for the military and love for their country.

Derek was amazed at Tony’s swiftness and strength, which were demonstrated during hand-to-hand training exercises. He held a fifth-degree black belt in the Korean martial art style of Tae Kwon Do. Studying this art at an early age helped Tony mold the discipline and confidence he now possessed.

If that wasn’t enough, Tony’s linguistic skill was the gift that put him in his own league. He was fluent in six Middle Eastern languages, not to mention Spanish and English. These attributes had proven to be invaluable in today’s war on terrorism.

Born in Brooklyn, New York, Tony learned Spanish from his parents while growing up. Receiving academic scholarships throughout his life, he started as an English major at the University of Pennsylvania, and before his second semester his advisors strongly urged him to add Middle Eastern studies as a dual major. His ability to master multiple foreign languages (and dialects) was truly a gift. Before Tony graduated summa cum laude, he spoke and comprehended: Arabic, Persian (also known as Farsi or Dari, which are the dialects of Iran and Afghanistan, respectively), Kurdish, Hebrew, Pashto, and Urdu. These languages were used in the majority of the Middle Eastern countries as well as in Northern and Eastern Africa. His gifted linguistic skill would not go unnoticed.

Tony married Meung Chang, now Meung Lopez, in their fourth year at Penn. Meung was a computer science major, and in just four years her genius earned her a doctorate. Her computer knowledge could be matched by only a select few throughout the world. Meung’s intensity couldn’t be measured when she was multitasking over the keyboard, which was tied to a labyrinth network of self-built computers.

Several Fortune 500 companies gave her six-figure employment proposals to start fresh out of college; however, the Pentagon approached her and made her an attractive offer that she gladly accepted. Being a newlywed and Tony just entering the military, she was happy to work for the government. Deep inside, Meung felt honored.

When the Terrorist Elimination Unit was formed, Meung became its eyes and ears in cyberspace.

Tony and Meung were house hunting in Chevy Chase, Maryland, and after several frustrating months of viewing houses that were marketed as For Sale by Owner, they decided to use a broker. Cindy Johnson was recommended and after just one meeting, she took them to a house that met their wishes. They purchased it after two visits.

The three of them became friends, and after hearing about Derek this and Derek that for months, Cindy said, You know I’m so wrapped up in this job, I don’t have time to breathe sometimes, not to mention go out on a date. But, all right, let’s all go out.

There was just one problem—Derek kept ignoring Tony when he brought up Cindy. Derek, I’m giving you a heads-up: Meung is going to call you about the four of us going out Friday night. She said that since I can’t convince you, she knows you won’t turn her down. Really, Derek, Cindy is not only gorgeous, she’s smart, can hold a conversation, and did I mention she’s gorgeous? Oh and by the way, she’s gorgeous.

All right, tell Meung don’t bother calling, you win. If she’s half as fascinating as you say she is, she’s too good for me. But in any event, it should be fun. You guys pick the time and place.

This matchmaking all came about at the same time their TEU was in its infancy stage. Derek knew Meung and Tony couldn’t have been more right on the money about Cindy. After a couple of double dates, they soon became an item. As they grew closer to each other, Cindy knew Derek and Tony were being called upon more and more. She also noticed Meung working extra hours. Knowing the CIA issues were highly sensitive, she had no idea the three of them made up a black operatives unit in its entirety.

Once the president or any of the other select five felt there was an urgent need to consider using the TEU, and not the normal military or CIA channels, a special meeting took place at the Oval Office. In just over twenty months, the TEU was called upon five times. Once they received their assignments, the three-member team used the same five techniques regardless of the task. They would meet, strategize, implement, follow through, and close.

The denominators were consistent: Derek and Tony were in the field, and Meung was at the base, somewhere on the grounds of the Pentagon, acting as their instantaneous GPS, information technology guardian angel, and help coordinator.

Their missions were totally successful, and coincidently all five assignments involved kidnappings of dignitaries. The first four undertakings, albeit perilous, left Derek and Tony virtually unharmed. The situations took them to the bowels of Syria, Russia, Iraq, and Venezuela. The victims in each case were high-ranking officials in the oil industries, and monetary demands were always set. Of course, if there was any hint of military or undercover interference, the victims’ deaths were not only promised, but they would also be displayed on several rogue public television airwaves. This was the case in each of the kidnappings.

Unfortunately, democratic countries faced these dilemmas far too often and usually the demands were quickly met. First and foremost the corporate giants did not want to jeopardize their employees’ safety, but for some, negative publicity must be avoided at all cost. Since the long-term stakes were too high, they just foot the bill by beefing up private security to mitigate these pitfalls and prevent them from happening again.

The United States and their allies’ traditional means of handling kidnapping, namely the FBI, as well as their counterparts throughout the world, could not and would not match the techniques the TEU perfected. Their methods were more than simply locating the kidnapped victims and extracting them. The TEU approach started with Meung determining where the subject was being held captive within a fifty-mile radius. She would then narrow the location to