The Streets of Arlington

Source

Jason Howard moved cautiously down the hallway, the guy on the floor was dead, or soon would be. Howard thought for a moment, then moved up and shot the man in the head.

The shot made Secretary of State Jedidiah Proctor jump back, but not before the spatter of blood, bone, and tissue soiled his trousers. Something the Secretary didn't need, he'd soiled himself already.

"What the hell, Holmes?" he barked at his security chief.

The man turned on Proctor, "My name is Howard, you f**king asshole. Now get back in that room and stay away from the window. You might want to think about changing your pants too."

Proctor sputtered but the security man was already moving down the stairs.

As Howard moved into the downstairs entryway, he paused in the shadows, Proctor's house, a rental, was the only one in the neighborhood without power. Though this late at night, who could tell? But the nearby streetlights were on, and he could see nothing ... No, there was someone outside. He heard a voice speak in a low tone.

"Whiskey."

Howard breathed a soft sigh of relief, then answered, "Sour."

"Everything okay, boss?"

"Yeah, dead guy inside, the Secretary is okay. You and Bertram?"

"Yeah, we're good, we nailed a fellow in gray hightailing it down the street like the devil himself was after him."

"Nailed?"

In the low light Howard noticed the wolf-like grin on Hector Driscoll's face, "Two in the chest, one in the head."

"That's it? Two guys?" Howard muttered.

"One guy might not be enough, three would be noisy, but I would be surprised if there weren't another pair nearby, waiting for their buddies to return. Which ain't gonna happen."

Howard saw something down the street, a vehicle, moving with no lights. He hissed at Driscoll, "Cover."

The van stopped, both men saw a shadow step out onto the street from the sidewalk. The night lit up briefly, two flashes lit up the two men sitting in the front seat of the vehicle. Two soft pops echoed down the street.

"That's gotta be, Chuck, the dude pays attention." Driscoll chuckled.

Howard shook his head, "Stay here, the Secretary's upstairs, I'll go see what Bertram has landed."

"Who's there?" Proctor asked in a trembling voice.

"The cavalry, Mr. Secretary. They sent four guys after you, I guess you are important." Driscoll smiled as he knelt next to the dead man. He patted the body down, but as he expected, no papers, no ID of any kind. Then, he leaned over as he pulled out a small Maglite and pointed it at the corpse.

Wasn't much left of the guy's head, but Driscoll could see teeth, he leaned in closer. "Yup, f**king Russian."

Proctor gasped, "Russian, how do you know?"

"No place else on the planet with that kind of dentistry. Guy's got steel teeth."

Proctor looked, then turned away and vomited.

Driscoll chuckled, "Asshole."

"Back up is on the way, boss." Chuck Bertram looked around. No one seemed to be even slightly interested in what was going on out in the street.

Bertram pushed the corpse in the driver's seat off onto the dead man on the passenger side. The driver had stalled the car when Bertram's 10 mm slug had gone through his left temple, then deflected down into his neck. The silenced weapon he was using had low power rounds, effective up close but wouldn't go in one side then out the other.

He started the car and moved slowly backward until he saw his own vehicle, a large delivery van. He parked behind it. He noted that Howard had followed him down the street, checking his surroundings as if his life depended on it, which it might.

Howard heard a step behind him, he dropped to one knee and brought his weapon up.

"Hey boss, don't shoot, it's Driscoll."

Howard saw that it was his number two man and the Secretary was with him, looking very cowed and very small. "And this asshole wants to take over the government?" Howard mused to himself.

He turned back toward the company's van, Bertram and his number two, Avram Stein, were already putting the men Bertram had killed into the back of the big van.

Stein stepped out onto the street, "We're ready to go, chief. Clean up crew is ten mikes out."

"Alright, Mr. Secretary, get in the front with Mr. Driscoll here. We've got to get you someplace safe." Howard then held up his hand as his phone buzzed.

"Howard."

"This is Nakagawa, do you have Proctor?"

"Yes Sir. We also have four bags of dirty laundry."

"I see. Take Proctor and the laundry up to Site B. We should be there within the hour."

"Roger that, Sir. See you then."

Bill Aspinall looked over at Secretary Nakagawa and began to wonder what the man's game was. Whose side was he really on?

"Sir?" Aspinall was uncomfortable with the question he was about to ask, but he asked it anyway.

"You expected the Russians to fail, right?"

Secretary Nakagawa looked out his window for a moment, then turned to Aspinall, "Yeah Bill, I did. SecDef hired the best men he thought he could get, the dumb bastard had the best men on the planet already working for him."

"Sir?"

"While SecDef was playing footsie with the Russians, we had SEALs in place to keep Proctor in our control. I had hoped the Russians would try to take him, I didn't expect them to try and kill him. Which showed me that the SecDef is out for power, not to support and defend the Constitution of the United States."

"Navy SEALS? What you couldn't find enough PJs?" Aspinall scoffed.

Nakagawa chuckled, "You guys handle yourselves well, but you're angels of rescue, the SEALs? Man, they're the angels of death."

"What's the game, Sir?"

"It's no game, Bill. There are at least five factions, that I know of, trying to overthrow the government and institute martial law. The fools in Congress think they've accomplished that in Maryland and Virginia."

"But they have done that."

"No Bill, all they've done is federalize the Guard units in those two states. Both governors are defying any and all orders out of Washington, in fact any orders originating from a Federal authority."

"So, the SecDef?"

"Yup, the dumb bastard is sitting up there at Raven Rock thinking he's got the active duty military and the Guard units at his disposal."

"You said five factions, Sir. Congress? The SecDef?"

"Not all of the Congress, there are about forty-seven Senators and Representatives who think they can force the country to disarm completely with these ambushes and murders we've been hearing about."

Aspinall chuckled.

Nakagawa looked at him, then chuckled himself, "Heh, the forty-seven ronin, you know your Japanese history."

"More like the forty-seven traitors, Sir."

"Indeed."

"The other factions?"

"A cabal of politician flag officers in the Pentagon is another, there's also a pretty serious militia unit in Virginia who are fomenting trouble for their own ends."

Aspinall thought for a moment, "Secessionists?"

"Exactly. The fifth faction is in the FBI and the CIA, traitors who want power at any cost."

Aspinall nodded, "Where do you fit, Sir. Which faction?"

"I don't consider those loyal to the Constitution and the duly elected government of the United States to be a faction. We're the good guys, Bill."

"Ah, I see." though in truth Bill Aspinall didn't really see it at all. Duly elected? Who believed that fantasy any more?

Some weeks are harder than others. For instance...

Well, Campers, it's been another "fun", "exciting", "suspenseful" week at Rancho Juvat.  I hope, by now, y'all can detect a bit of sarcasm in my online "voice".  

Let's just say that it's a VERY good thing that both Mrs J and I are retired military and therefore have a very good version of medical insurance. The numbers at the top of the bill are shocking to say the least, fortunately the "You Pay" section is significantly lower. 

Best 20 years we ever invested.

But, it ain't over til it's over.

Mrs. J's colonoscopy mentioned in last week's post went off without a hitch.  However, during debriefing, the oncologist said there might be some cancer cells still active and he would have to do surgery to remove them as well as any deceased cells in the area.

Well, that's taken a bit of air out from under my wings.

We'll meet with him tomorrow to find out more details.

Just to add to the "Fun", a couple of weeks ago one of the dogs (we have 5, 3 inherited when my Sister passed and 2 we've had for forever) got a little rambunctious and scratched Mrs. J's leg.  One of the drawbacks to Chemo/Radiation Cancer treatment is it severely weakens the immune system.  Today (Sunday) as we were getting ready for Church, she asked for help in replacing a bandage.  Now, she had had a mole removed a month or two ago and unfortunately the stitches broke leaving a hole.  I've been treating that for quite a while and it's starting to look much better.

2 weeks ago

This Morning

In any case, those were not the bandages she wanted replaced.  Nope,  She pulled up the leg of her PJ bottom and there's this huge bright red rash.  

 

So, I did my best with the ointments we had on hand, went to Church (Yeah, Beans, I did a lot of begging the Big Guy for help) then immediately followed that up with a trip to one of the "I don't think I need the hospital or an ER, just need someone to take a look and tell us what to do" facilities in town.  Turns out the NP had been in Little J's Boy Scout troop and I'd been one of the adult leaders.  He was very helpful and the chatting about old times while he was doing his treatment brought my BP down a few points.  

No, Beans, Mrs J didn't start laughing about some of my foibles as a scout leader he had told her until we got in the car and went home.

In any case, he recommended some OTC stuff to treat it for now, made sure that if any of the symptoms he described appeared we were to head to the ER most hastily. He also told us we needed to see our regular doctor as soon as possible.

Went over to our winemaker friends winery last Saturday.  It was a Birthday.  As you are aware, he passed away last July from colon cancer (see a connection? I'm somewhat sensitive to that version of the disease).  His wife managed to find a  buyer for the winery and it closed this last week.  They had their final bottling under their management recently and produced this wine.

Rest in peace, Gary.

Can't think of a better way to be remembered.  They sold out the first day it was released.  I managed to snag two bottles.  We'll see when they get consumed.

But...As I said, it's been a pretty crappy few weeks.  Faith that things will get better, is taking some hits, but I've still got faith in the Big Guy upstairs.  Never give up, Never surrender!

Now, not wanting to become known as Dougie Downer on Sarge's blog, there is a bit of good news in the near  future.  By the time this post actually hits the internet, Little J should be en route from HK to Austin.  Won't arrive until tomorrow PM, but on his way.  

 

Miss B and the Gang are looking forward to Little J's arrival.

He'll be here for a couple of weeks, then He and his family will travel to Jolly Old England for his next assignment.  While Mrs J and I will miss them, but without a doubt being together as a family is the best option for all three of them.  Thank You, Lord!

So, one of the thing's I learned in flying Fighters is it's hard to keep your airspeed & energy level up when you're always turning to keep out of your opponent's gun sight.  This last couple of months feels like that right now.  Think I'm going to go and join Mrs. J in taking a nap.

Peace out y'all. 

The Good Guys Catch a Break ...

Source

Lieutenant Colonel Juan Ramirez heard the tap on his door, "Come on in, Jeff."

He sat up and turned on the lamp next to the bed. He rubbed his face, couldn't be too important or Hildesheim wouldn't have tapped gently, so no one has died. But it was important enough to warrant waking him up at, he glanced at the clock, four-thirty in the morning.

"Cap'n Jackson called, might be something, might not be. There was a crash to the east of here, one dead, one injured and transported to the hospital here in Cumberland. The crash survivor kept muttering something about contacting 'the bureau.' Our trooper ignored it at first then realized that with everything going on lately, what if he meant the FBI?"

"What's Jackson think?"

"The trooper who called it in, an experienced guy named Wallace, is a man Jackson says is one of his best. Wallace is going to go to the hospital and get a picture of the guy, he'll send it to us over his cellphone."

"What tweaked Wallace's suspicions?"

"The crash victim has three sets of ID, one of 'em Federal ..."

Ramirez sat up straight, "FBI?"

"Bingo!"

"Bring the car ..."

"It's waiting out front, Sir."

Johansen was drifting in and out of consciousness, the pain along his left side was very intense, they'd given him something for it, but it was slow in taking effect. He looked down at his left foot, he couldn't see it, but he sure as hell felt it.

He looked up as a State Trooper came into the room, holding up a cellphone as if he was going to ...

The bright flash hurt his eyes, then it struck him, the cop had taken his picture, but why? Then he nearly vomited as he realized, they had to have searched him and the rental car. The three sets of ID he carried could be explained away, possibly. Maybe they would contact the Bureau, they'd cover for him, he hoped.

Johansen looked up again, this time it was a team of medical people.

"Sir, we're going to prep you for surgery. The injuries to your hip and upper torso are painful, but not as bad as we initially thought. But your leg ..."

"What about my leg?" Johansen turned as he felt the IV go into his right arm.

"We'll try and save it. Now count backwards from a 100."

Before Johansen could panic, he was out.

They had moved Rossi to the interrogation room, the man looked and smelled like shit. He hadn't slept much, they kept the lights on in his cell, and made sure that it was noisy outside, but the guy had actually managed to drift off a couple of times.

"Guy's ex-Navy right?"

Burt Anderson nodded, "Spent a lot of time aboard ship in the Persian Gulf. Probably used to getting sleep when and if he could."

"Thanks Burt. Colonel, you want to start this?" Jackson handed the photo that Wallace had sent them to Ramirez.

Ramirez nodded, "You guys wait outside for the moment."

Jackson nodded then turned to Anderson, "I'm expecting a fax with more information from DC. Bring it to me as soon as it comes in."

"Roger that, Cap'n."

Then Jackson went to the observation room to watch the show.

Rossi was groggy as hell, they had him chained to the table, he felt like a criminal. Then he realized, technically, he was a criminal now. He felt a pang of shame, he'd once been a Senior Chief Petty Officer in the world's greatest Navy. Now here he was, chained to a desk like some common street thug.

The door opened and the little State Police colonel walked in, sliding a piece of paper across the table at him. He glanced at it, trying to remain casual, but when he saw who the picture was of, his face betrayed him.

Morgan dead, now they've got Johansen in custody. Jesus, from the picture the troopers must have really worked the guy over. He looked up when the colonel spoke.

"Well?"

Ramirez had seen the look on Rossi's face, he knew they had something now.

"His name is Ephraim Johansen, he claims to be seconded to Homeland from the CIA, but he's got ID showing he's FBI as well. He's the guy who set up the ambush of those Park Police last month. He also killed the guys who manned the machine gun."

"Jesus, Senior Chief, stop talking, don't you want a lawyer or something?"

Being called by his old rank shook Rossi to his core, Ramirez thought it looked like someone had just gut-punched the man.

"Look, Sir, I'm in over my head, I know that now. I betrayed my oath, I betrayed my shipmates, and damn it, I betrayed my own core beliefs. I don't want a damned lawyer. I want to cooperate, see if we can't stop this shit before it's too late."

Ramirez shook his head, this guy was no common criminal, he'd known guys like this during his own stint in the Corps, a thousand years ago. He made a decision, he nodded at Jackson behind the two way mirror. They had their opening into what was going on. But how much did Rossi really know?

"I'll be back." Ramirez said to Rossi, "You hungry?"

"Yes Sir, you guys got coffee?"

"Black, right?"

Rossi gave him a look, a look he'd seen many times from senior non-commissioned officers.

"I'll see what I can do."

Ramirez came out of interrogation, looked at Jackson and said, "I think the guy is a patriot, of all things."

Jackson raised an eyebrow, "I've got a dead trooper, the Feds have over twenty dead agents and you say this asshole is a patriot? I know he's pretending to cooperate, probably to save his own ass, but a patriot?"

Ramirez nodded, "I know Leroy, I know. But you didn't see the guy's face, he acted like he has betrayed everything he ever believed in, for money. I think that's what bugs him the most, he didn't get involved with this because of his beliefs, though part of that applies, he jumped in for money."

"So what do we do now?"

"Get some people on the guy in the hospital, no one gets near him, he talks to no one. Second, get a stenographer and a video camera in there. Get him some coffee, black, and a sandwich or something. My gut tells me we're onto something, something huge."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, yet. But this guy had Federal credentials, so did the dead perp, so does the guy in the hospital and ..."

"My guy at the Bureau denies all knowledge of any of these three guys. He thinks they're CIA." Jackson told his boss.

"CIA? Damn, how high does this shit go?" Ramirez exclaimed.

Then, in a calmer tone, he continued, "We'll find out soon just how high this goes, baby this Rossi guy, I want to know everything he does. I need to make a phone call or three."

"Okay, Johnnie, we're on it."

All Things Must Pass ...

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It was our little slice of heaven for a little less than a week.

Sea and Sky.

Surf and Sun.

Nature at it's finest.

Fun with the grandkids.

But like the man said, all things must pass ...

Back to work on Monday as we wind down to retirement.

Sigh ...

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Sarge, on the shore of Chesapeake Bay
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Be seeing you ...

Pungo

My favorite bird.

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We made it out to the Military Aviation Museum on Thursday, a very good day. Warbirds, BBQ, ice cream, and we squeezed in some beach time near the end of the day.

The Spitfire in the photo (avec votre Humble Scribe) has an interesting history. She flew 100 combat missions in WWII, transferred to Italian service, eventually she went to the Israelis. You can read about her here.

My other favorite bird.

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Beautiful PBY, the tarp is to keep the bird shit off, seriously..

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As we parked the car and got out, this beauty flew over.

She landed, took off again, then landed once more.

She sounded wonderful.

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Polikarpov Po-2.

"Flew" against one of these in Il-2 Sturmovik, I was in

an Me-109. Damned things are hard to shoot down. Very slow, very maneuverable.

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The Hurricane, the workhorse of the Battle of Britain.

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Was very pleased to see this addition to the Museum's collection.

The De Havilland Mosquito, aka "The Wooden Wonder."

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Another view of the Mossie.

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Can't pass up a photo of "Wild Cargo."

Beautiful example of a B-25.

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Fokker Dr I, as flown by Werner Voss.

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It was tough touring the WWI hangar, they have too many aircraft! (A problem everyone should have!) But unlike olden times, you can't wander around on your own. Seems some members of the idiot public have actually damaged aircraft in the past. Morons, they ruin things for everyone.

Didn't get to the "German" hangar as traveling with young'uns (one is almost four, his kid brother turned one back in January), can be tough, they get cranky after a bit, especially in the Virginia heat. So we left early.

Had some excellent BBQ at Pungo Boys BBQ, I highly recommend damned near everything. (We tried a lot of different things, brisket, pulled pork, sausage, baked beans, and potato salad. Try the mango mustard, really, it's incredible.)

Great day trip, the museum is about sixty miles from where we're staying. We stopped at the little town of Cape Charles on the way back to our place. Had ice cream, which was okay. (Tuttle picked a place that wasn't busy. Now we know why.) I had a milk shake which was fine, it's hard to mess one of those up, they did not.

Headed down to the beach when we got back, working on my sunburn I am. (I'm actually being really careful, though Wednesday morning I found a couple of spots I missed with the sun block, yes, they burn. I also seemed to have run afoul of some aquatic stinging thing. Might even be poison ivy from the woods, though I've stayed out of those. Not a jellyfish, but it's red and it itches. Calamine lotion works just fine. Oh well, sometimes you gotta pay for a good time.)

Sarge, out.

Life's a Beach

Sunset was incredible.
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How can you complain when the sky is clear, the water is refreshing, and the view stretches to forever?

Short answer?

You can't!

Tuttle and the shore party examining the breakwater.
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Cormorants chilling.
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The Missus Herself supervising the preparation of the beach defenses.
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The Nuke declares a break for all hands.
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Uh ... What is that triangular shape?
Note that that was well offshore.
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What are those dots to the south-southwest?.
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Ah, ships at anchor.
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No beach pics tomorrow, we're off to Pungo.

Plane pr0n is in the forecast!

'Sup?

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So I had a mind to do some writing while on vacation, I mean I'd have the time, right?

Um, look at these pictures and tell me what you think I should be doing?

The view from the front porch.
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The front porch.
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The path to the beach.
Family members making the trek to the water.
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Almost at the beach.
The downed tree is rather poignant, I thought.
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The beach in sight!
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The beach.
It's private, we've got it all to ourselves.
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Looking north from the beach.
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The view from the bedroom.
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The pines.
I spend a lot of time listening to the wind blowing through those pines..
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The approaches to the house on the water.
It's quite a steep hill coming up to the driveway.
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This is inside the house, I suspect some wandering Greeks left it.
The grandsons think it's cool, as do I.
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So you might well suspect that there won't be a whole lot of blogging going on this week. There's just too much to do here. Yes, lying on the beach and frolicking in the water is something "to do." I 'spect I'll be busy with that all week.

Sorry, but the Muse demanded I take a vacation, I just can't keep up with her lately.

Permanent vacation?

Why not?

Ciao!