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  Acton continued to stare out across the South Lawn. “It sounds like this Armstrong guy has no experience in government and has been brought on board simply to bolster Marion’s confidence. She trusts him. How can we change her opinion?”

  Acton turned to Yancey, who immediately came up with an idea. “Armstrong’s son. We undermine his credibility by exposing his son’s involvement in the North Korean matter.”

  “How do we get the information to her?” Acton asked.

  “Let me give it some thought, but my initial thought is the indirect approach using the Texas adjutant general as an unwilling pawn. I’ll brief our operative Pauline Hart and have her leak the information to her brother-in-law.”

  Acton interrupted with a suggestion. “Or I could take the more direct approach. I could use it as a tool to get into her good graces. We’ll expose the Armstrongs as part of our plan to woo Texas back into the union. It’s a little riskier that way, but it gets my foot in the door so I can mess with Marion’s head a little.”

  Yancey stood to leave. “Before we do anything, let me run the scenarios through my mind a couple of times. We’ll only get one shot at this without raising Marion’s antennae. She’s not stupid, but the timing is right because she’s overwhelmed.”

  “Two days, Billy. We need to move on this quickly.”

  Chapter 35

  January 27

  1st Cavalry Division

  Fort Hood, Texas

  After meeting with the leadership command of the TX-QRF headquartered at Fort Hood, Duncan joined Colonel Sanderson, the officer who originally met with Duncan at the ranch when he was recruited. Sanderson had continued to follow Duncan’s activities at Camp Lubbock and was impressed. When he received word from Austin that Duncan was given the opportunity to handpick his team to hunt down General Lee, Sanderson voiced his approval.

  “Commander, 1st Cavalry has a storied history,” Sanderson began as he led Duncan to a personnel building where a conference room containing a stack of files awaited. Sanderson had had his subordinates choose from hundreds of candidates to join Duncan’s newly formed unit. He was given the parameters by Duncan in advance—Delta Force training, combat experience, and, lastly, the ability to operate in stressful situations.

  Sanderson continued. “They’ve fought in World War II, the Korean War and Vietnam. Recently, it was 1st Cavalry that controlled Bagram Airfield and supported our forces during Operation Freedom Sentinel, which dealt heavy losses to the Taliban. These guys know how to fight.”

  “That’s what I need, Colonel,” said Duncan as they reached the personnel building. “Let me tell you more of what I’ve learned once we’re in the conference room. Then I’ll start picking out my team.”

  They entered the personnel center, and Duncan was introduced to several officers in the 1st Cavalry who were familiar with the soldiers who fit the specifications requirements. They were made available to Duncan if he had any questions or if he wanted to interview the candidates in person.

  The colonel closed the door behind them, and then he opened the conversation. “How reliable is your intel, Commander? I’ve heard about your interrogation of the two men captured at Camp Lubbock. I have to say there are some who, under other circumstances, might disagree with your tactics.”

  Duncan chuckled. “Maybe so. Usually those who criticize interrogation techniques are not the ones responsible for keeping their friends and neighbors safe from the enemy. I get results, Colonel, and I’ll follow the same methods if the situation arises.”

  The colonel leaned back and held up his hands. “No argument from me. Are you sure of the reliability of the intel?”

  “I have a second way to confirm General Lee’s plans. We’ve been monitoring his satellite two-way communications.”

  “What about the language barrier?” asked the colonel.

  “I have an expert North Korean interpreter. Our intel shows Lee plans on attacking a target near Baytown and also in the Beaumont-Port Arthur area.”

  “Refineries,” muttered Colonel Sanderson.

  “Yes, sir. If what we’re gathering is correct, refineries in these two towns will be hit within the next several days. While I’d love to lead a team of Apache choppers and armored vehicles in there, we’d only force them into hiding so they can regroup around another target.”

  “What do you propose?”

  “I want to embed my team within the security and operations personnel of each facility. We’ll equip them with advanced comms, night vision, and tactical weaponry.”

  “You want to allow the attack to commence?” asked the colonel.

  “Yes, sir,” replied Duncan with confidence. “I want to give them a false sense of security. Suck them in and catch them off guard. While our unit is eliminating the commandos who enter the facility, I’ll locate General Lee and personally bring his operation to a halt in Texas.”

  The colonel leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “What’s your anticipated rate of success?”

  “One hundred percent, sir.”

  “Spoken like a true operator.” Colonel Sanderson laughed. “You guys are supremely self-confident most of the time, often to the point of arrogance.”

  “It’s a survival mechanism, sir. As I play out an operation in my mind, every shot finds its mark and every member of the unit goes home to their family. There simply is no other way.”

  Sanderson added his thoughts. “Operators hate to lose. I’ve seen it. Losing is not an option. At anything. In any circumstance. Ever. A jog with a buddy ends up in a sprint to the finish for you guys.”

  “Yes, sir. We only know one speed, and that’s full throttle. There’s no such thing as a friendly game of anything. Likewise, on the battlefield, there are no rules that allow for a friendly firefight. Losing means death. Winning means we come home to our families.”

  “Commander Armstrong, with confidence comes courage. Courage is the first trait of a warrior. I have no doubt you’ll succeed, and I’ll give you whatever it takes to help.”

  Duncan smiled and reached for the file folders. “Let me find some fellow warriors.”

  Chapter 36

  January 28

  The Armstrong Ranch

  Borden County, Texas

  Duncan and his father took a casual ride around the ranch early that morning to observe the security measures established by Espy and the rest of Duncan’s former unit from Camp Lubbock. They watched in amazement as soldiers from the 36th Engineer Group from Fort Bliss erected housing units for the security detachment assigned to Armstrong Ranch. Their expert teams of engineers and construction personnel were able to begin building two twelve-hundred-square-foot buildings in the first day of their deployment to the ranch.

  “Pretty dang impressive,” said Major as he pulled his horse to a stop to admire the roofers nailing on the dimensional shingles.

  Duncan nodded and relaxed in his saddle. “They’ll be dried-in by the end of the day, and tomorrow another group will arrive to wire and plumb the buildings. On day three, interior finishes will be installed, and on day four, a furniture truck will arrive to supply beds, tables, sofas, etcetera.”

  “Maybe I can have them throw an extra set on the truck for Miss Lucy?”

  Duncan laughed. “One step ahead of you, Dad. I’ve already made the request.”

  “Thank you, son. Your mom’s putting her best face on each day, but deep down, she’s struggling with what happened in our home. The fresh paint, cleaned floors, and the window installation by your brothers helped a lot. New furniture should do the trick.”

  “And the passage of time,” interjected Duncan.

  “That too.”

  They continued their ride back toward the ranch house, where the two helicopters came into view. Major pointed toward them. “A strange sight, don’t you think?”

  “True, but a welcome one also. Your chopper is made for speed and comfort. Mine is made for speed and killing. They’re both versions of the Sikorsky SH-60,
but vastly different in their purpose.”

  Major was introspective during their ride. He finally spoke about what was on his mind. “Son, we’re doing the right thing by getting involved. The timing is horrible considering what our family has been through. Yet God put these challenges before us to nudge us in the direction that may have been our calling.”

  “Hey, you don’t have to convince me. I think we are absolutely doing the right thing. I can’t think of anything more important right now than driving this enemy out of Texas. And I can’t think of a better man for the job of reuniting Texans behind a common goal than you. Dad, you’re not a politician. You’re one of us. One of them. People will listen to you, and from what I’ve heard at Fort Hood, your help has arrived just in time.”

  Major had a puzzled look on his face. “What have you heard, and why haven’t you mentioned anything to me before now?”

  “Dad, I’ve been waiting to be alone with you. Listen, parts of Texas are in real trouble. Other than the occasional skirmish with refugees on the eastern border, the Panhandle and North Texas are fairly under control. The story is much different in other parts of the country.”

  Major pulled his horse to a stop once again as they got closer to the house. Several military personnel were taking orders from Espy. “For example?”

  “El Paso is a war zone. There is no other way to describe it. Border breaches are commonplace. Many times, the breakdowns are assisted by gang members who’ve been residing in El Paso for years.”

  “I’ve heard. It’s the first priority for me. What else?”

  “Sunnyside, located south of Houston off Texas 288, has become a war zone. Violence has spilled over into Southeast Houston toward Houston-Hobby airport. Colonel Sanderson tells me his troops won’t go into the area south of the Interstate 610 loop without heavy artillery.”

  “Just the one area?”

  “No. The other hotspot is Houston’s Third Ward. It’s an historic area near downtown where both the University of Houston and Texas Southern is located. The problem is that heavily armed gangs have spread throughout the neighborhoods, killing at will and establishing territories as they loot homes and businesses. Like Sunnyside, the Texas Guard refuses to enter the Third Ward because they’re not prepared to engage in guerilla warfare with the locals.”

  Major shook his head and sighed. “This is totally opposite of what we saw in Austin. It seemed calmer after the grid collapsed than before.”

  “Dad, the commanders, in somewhat muted terms, blamed the president for that. She placed a significant emphasis on DFW and Austin for crowd control. El Paso was already a lost cause in her mind. Houston’s northern suburbs, like The Woodlands, got protection. The rest of the city had to rely upon local law enforcement, who quickly threw their hands up in frustration.”

  “Okay, thanks for the heads-up,” Major said as he urged his horse forward toward the house. “Before we meet with Espy, let me ask you about something.”

  “Sure.”

  “Are you totally confident in his ability to protect our family? You and I are going to be away a lot in the coming days and weeks. We’re putting a lot of stock in this young man.”

  Duncan’s response was quick and unequivocal. “Dad, I trust him with all of our lives. He’s practically family in my mind, and his loyalty will always be to our best interests.”

  “Okay, that’s all I need to hear. I will absolutely trust your judgment. Now, next question. Is he sweet on my daughter?”

  Duncan gulped and thought about his answer. “Dad, I’m not gonna lie. He’s already talked to me about dating Palmer, or courting, or whatever that looks like in times like these. I’ve given him my approval with the caveat that (a) he’ll have his hands full with her, and (b) one misstep and there’ll be a line full of Armstrongs to deal with.”

  “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  Chapter 37

  January 29

  The Mansion

  Austin, Texas

  After an hour-long meeting with key members of her cabinet, President Burnett asked Adjutant General Deur to join her in her office. Deur indicated he had some important information to relay to her from the Deputy Director of Clandestine Services, Pauline Hart. After she made a quick phone call, the two settled in by the fire to discuss what Deur had learned.

  “Madam President, you asked me to be involved in the vetting process of your vice president candidates and, with the minimal resources I have available, provide you the best possible background report on each of them.”

  “Yes, Kregg. The information was more than sufficient, and as I announced yesterday, a decision has been made.”

  Deur cleared his throat and continued. “Yes, ma’am. Something has come to my attention overnight from my sister-in-law, Pauline. She contacted me in an unofficial capacity, so it didn’t raise the eyebrows of anyone else within my department.”

  “Sounds ominous, Kregg. What is this about?”

  “She came to me unofficially because the information was obtained through clandestine channels she’s maintained in Washington. Revealing her sources to me, or to you, Madam President, would not only expose her source, but it would quite possibly ruin any hope of gaining intelligence in the future.”

  “Fine, Kregg. What has she found out?”

  Deur fidgeted nervously in his seat. “It’s about the vice president–designate’s son, Duncan Armstrong. Apparently, um, he was a CIA operative in southeast Asia. He went rogue while he was there. His handlers lost track of his whereabouts, and he cut off all contact with his family during the time frame in question.”

  President Burnett intently listened to her adjutant general’s explanation of what Duncan was being accused of. The story he told matched what the young man had explained to her just the day before. Finding it odd that the information was coming through a leak out of Washington, she didn’t let on that she knew about the details. Then Deur added one additional detail that caught her off guard.

  “Madam President, Pauline’s source also indicated that it was Duncan Armstrong who used his sniper abilities to kill Vice President Gregg.”

  “Why would he do that?” asked the president.

  “Apparently it had to do with some vendetta he had against Gregg, which arose during the time he was the Secretary of Defense. Pauline didn’t provide any additional details.”

  As President Burnett contemplated this last wrinkle, her secretary lightly knocked on the door and stuck her head into the office. “Madam President, I am so sorry for the intrusion. There’s a phone call for you from President Harman’s chief of staff—Mr. Acton. He says its important.”

  The president rose and made her way behind her desk. She decided to dismiss Deur for the time being until she took this call and then contemplated the information he’d given her. After Deur left, she began speaking with Acton.

  The two covered several mundane subjects regarding the United Nations relief supplies and proposed agreements regarding trade over the coming months. President Burnett was uneasy about the conversation. Acton was not his usual smug, condescending self. He was professional and at times complimentary. The turnaround was too abrupt.

  Then something else dawned on her. The topics of conversation were not necessarily urgent, as he’d led her secretary to believe. It was as if he was softening her up for a request or accommodation. With her defenses fully engaged, she waited to see what Acton was up to.

  “Madam President,” said Acton, a term he’d rarely used in their prior conversations unless he wanted something, “President Harman and I agree that it is not up to us to meddle in the affairs of any other nation, especially yours, under these unusual circumstances. That said, I would be remiss if I didn’t pass along some information to you.”

  Here we go.

  “What is it?” asked President Burnett.

  “We’ve heard through international media reports that you’ve chosen a replacement for Vice President Gregg. There is something you
may not have considered regarding your choice.”

  “Is there something about Major Armstrong that you need to tell me?” she asked.

  “No. Rather, it’s about his son. We have an extensive file on him at the Pentagon that I’d like to share with you. I can send it down by courier, if you’d like.”

  Careful, Marion. Do not trust these people.

  “Well, I didn’t ask his son to be my veep.”

  “That’s true, but under the circumstances, I think you should look at the dossier created by our intelligence community.”

  “Charles, I’d like to see the file, but could you please bottom-line this for me?”

  “I will, Madam President. Our analysts verily believe that Duncan Armstrong, who recently went rogue on a mission, had a vendetta against Monty Gregg and may have possibly pulled the trigger that killed him.”

  President Burnett fell back in her chair and became silent.

  After half a minute, Acton began speaking again. “Madam President, are you still there?”

  “Yes, Charles. I am. I don’t know what to say, but would you please deliver the dossier to me as soon as possible?”

  “I will, Madam President. I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

  No, you’re not.

  “Thank you, Charles. I’ll look into this further,” she said as she disconnected the call.

  The president walked over to her beverage cart and found a Dr. Pepper. As she popped the top, she decided against a glass and took a big gulp of the Texas staple. After allowing herself a slight burp, she stared out at the cityscape of Austin.

  “How many foxes do I have in my henhouse anyway?”

  PART THREE

  Chapter 38

  January 30

  The Mansion

  Austin, Texas