Viper Team Seven (The Viper Team Seven Series Book 1) (9 page)

“You okay, man?”
Ramos questioned. “You don’t look so good. Was it that traumatic?”

“Oh I’m sorry,”
Parks replied in a hoarse voice. “That’s just rather disgusting.”

“Yeah I guess it
would be. But hey, it’s over and done with. Forget about it. Your Coke is over
there,” he announced as he pointed to the right side of the tailgate. “Can I
have mine back?”

Parks leaned
against his truck and shook his head. “You’re jokin’ right?”

The mover didn’t
say anything but he didn’t look like he had been joking.

“That’s nasty
and...disgusting,” Parks stated, feeling he couldn’t find words to describe
what he felt. “I gotta go to my hotel room and use a whole bottle of
Listerine
to try and get rid of this putrid taste I have in my mouth. I’ll see you in a
few minutes.”

“Yeah sure,”
Ramos accepted. “Take your time.”

Parks got in his
truck and took off for the hotel. He could hardly believe what had just
happened. He was thoroughly disgusted with what had passed through his mouth
and was very anxious to clean it out with mouthwash. He wondered if he could ever
get over the thought that he had drunk someone else’s soda.

Sunday, March 16
^th
– 1700 hours

Washington D.C.

Parks watched
the empty moving truck pull away from the storage unit and he waved as it
passed by him. Everything was unloaded and neatly stored, and would stay that
way until he could find a dwelling place. He had contacted a realtor a few
hours ago who had said that she just might have what he was looking for. Parks
didn’t ask any questions because before he could, the lady had set up an appointment
to show him the house at 1730. Vague directions to the house were given, so
even though it wasn’t very far, he decided to start looking for it early just
in case he got lost.

He locked the
door to his storage unit and jumped in his truck. Screeching out onto the main
highway, he took a few turns and then began looking at the street names to try
and find the right one. At last he did, and turning onto it he then started to
search for the house number. The middle house on the street matched both the
address and description given.

Parks pulled
into the house’s driveway and took a quick look around while still in his truck.
It was a beautiful house from what he could see on the outside. It seemed to
have been built a hundred years ago, but it didn’t look nearly that old. The
lawn out in front was already turning green, the driveway and walkway leading
to the house were lined with rose bushes that hadn’t yet bloomed, and as Parks
looked more intensely, he could see the backyard. It looked big and beautiful,
just like the front.

As he was
looking, a yellow car came up from behind and also pulled into the driveway.
Parks guessed it to be the realtor so he went out to meet her.

“Hello Mr.
Parks,” she greeted as she adjusted the glasses on her face. “How are you?”

Parks pocketed
his keys and responded, “I’m well. How are you, ma’am?”

“My name, as you
probably remember, is Juliet Bernard. There’s no need for the ‘ma’am’ stuff.”

“Yes ma’am,”
Parks said, hoping she wouldn’t mind his disobedient action. “But I’d rather
call you ma’am, if it’s all right with you.”

The lady
shrugged her shoulders and pushed her glasses further up her nose. “Let’s get
to business, Mr. Parks. Um…what do you know about the place?”

Parks looked at
the realtor sideways. “Nothing really. The only thing I know about this place
is that it’s for sale and I’m standing in the driveway. Other than that I’m
clueless.”

“All right,”
Juliet declared enthusiastically. “Thanks for the tidbit of info. Now, would
you like to go inside?”

Parks was teetering
on the side of thinking that this lady was mentally unstable. She was weird and
he was getting a bad feeling just being in her presence.

“Well that’s
kinda the reason I came by,” he told her slowly. “You know, I thought you were
the one who recommended that I see the inside.”

Juliet didn’t
respond. She walked to the entrance and freed the key from the lockbox before
she opened the front door and allowed Parks to step in first. It was
magnificent inside. There was a spacious living room on the first floor, linked
to a massive kitchen, which in turn was connected to a spacious dining room.
Every room had been carefully and skillfully designed.

Juliet led Parks
around to the den, which had a large, rock-plated fireplace, and an
entertainment studio which was in perfect condition. Next came the bathroom on
the main floor. It was a large room, with two sinks, a separate shower and
bathtub, and a secluded little area where the toilet resided. Parks couldn’t
help but be impressed, but he became concerned over the cost of the house,
which as of yet was a mystery. For some reason this whacked-out realtor wanted
him to see the entire house before giving him the dollar figure.

On the second
story, there was a cozy loft, outfitted with an abundance of oak shelves and cabinets
which obviously had held the previous owner’s TV. Juliet then showed Parks the
master suite, which consisted of a monstrous bathroom – even bigger and better
than the main level one – a fireplace, yet another entertainment setup, and a spacious
walk-in closet. Everything was large, and from what Parks could tell, well-kept
and in excellent condition. 

But the realtor
was not done with her showing. Not yet anyway. She trotted down the staircase
and headed for the far east side of the house and revealed two bedrooms. She
explained that one had been used as an office, and the other as a guest room.

After several
more minutes of showing the garage and backyard, and answering questions,
Juliet finally admitted that Parks had seen all there was to see.

“That’s
everything, Mr. Parks. What do you think?” she questioned.

“Well it’s all
fine and dandy but there’s one big concern I have,” he told her. “What do the
owners want for it?”

“Seven hundred.”

“Thousand or
million?” Parks joked in frustration. He had lightly looked at D.C. house
prices on the internet when he was at Lejeune, and he had found that they were
very expensive, some reaching into the several-million-dollar range.

“Thousand of
course,” the realtor replied bluntly. “However, I’m sure they’d consider
renting the place.”

“What are the
owners asking per month?”

“The steal-deal
price of only three thousand a month – two thousand nine hundred to be exact.”

Parks winced.
That was an awful lot of money even for a house as nice as this one.

“They also mentioned
a rent-purchase contract too, which might interest you,” the lady threw out.

“I’ll think
about it,” he promised. “Thanks anyway though.”

“It’s a nice
house, you can’t deny that.”

Parks headed for
his truck and reached in his pocket for his keys. “I never said it wasn’t,
ma’am. I just said I’d have to think about it.”

Juliet nodded
her head up and down furiously in approval.

“If that’s all,
I’d better get going,” Parks declared.

“Wait one
second, Mr. Parks,” she commanded. “Do you mind if I ask you what line of work
you are in?”

“Sure. I’m a
United States Marine. An officer – a major. I’ve been in the Corps for ten
years and I just got stationed here at D.C. I don’t know what I’ll be doing yet
but I do know that I’ll need a house, and with the price people are asking, I
guess I’d better try to rent something.”

The lady’s face
was expressionless as she handed him her business card. “I only ask because few
people have been able to qualify for a loan to buy this house. Seven people
have tried and failed. Very few have enough money to make such a large
purchase.”

Parks didn’t
feel like sharing his bank account’s size so he politely ended the conversation
and headed back for the hotel. He still had to get out his uniform and iron it
for work tomorrow. He was already beginning to get butterflies about the whole
ordeal.

Monday, March 17
^th
– 0830 hours

The Oval Office

The Secret
Service agent near the door leading to the Oval Office mumbled into his
wrist-mounted microphone as he approached Parks. Parks had been sitting on a
hard wooden chair just outside the Oval Office since 0700 that morning. He had
arrived at the White House at 0600 and it had taken over an hour to get his
White House badge, parking permit, his finger prints taken, retina scanned, and
all the other necessary procedures so he could gain access. He then had briefly
met with the National Security Advisor who had seated him in this chair and
went into the Oval Office to meet with the President. He would send for Parks
when it was time. Parks had been waiting outside the office for someone to give
him the green light to go in and see the President for an hour and a half now.
His nerves had his stomach in knots and he hadn’t eaten anything all day in
anticipation of this very moment. He had never thought in all his life he’d see
the President of the United States face-to-face, especially in the White House.
It was a true honor.

Parks had become
bored with staring at the wall that was across from his chair. He’d been
looking at it for too long. He wished things could have moved more quickly but
obviously the President was a busy man. He hoped the time had come now and that
the agent was coming to tell him the President was ready to see him.

“The President
will see you now, Major,” the man said, motioning with his head to the closed
door leading to the President’s personal office.

Parks thanked
the man and took a few deep breaths.

He was dressed in
his green Service Alphas, and his chest was full of ribbons which he’d won
throughout the years. His uniform was freshly ironed and Parks could almost cut
himself on the creases in his pants. The standard Marine black shoes were
polished and shiny, and his hair was freshly cut almost to the skin. He was
ready. Slowly he pushed the door open and boldly stepped in.

“Major Keith Parks
reporting as ordered, sir,” he announced, as he stood at ruler-straight
attention.

The man behind
the desk slowly and deliberately looked up from the stack of papers he was
reading through. He and Parks were the only ones in the room, and for the first
time, Parks saw the President in real life, but only out of the corner of his
eye, for he was looking straight ahead, not at the President.

Winnfield set
down the papers and looked directly at Parks. “Major Parks, I’ve been looking
over your military records, aided by the National Security Advisor, over the
last few minutes, and if you’ll allow me to go over them with you, I’d be
grateful.”

Parks couldn’t
believe the President was asking his permission. The President could do what he
wanted; he didn’t have to get Parks’ approval.

Winnfield picked
up the stack of papers on his desk, rested back in his chair, and told Parks to
relax. Parks went to “parade rest” with utmost precision.

The President
began, “Major Keith Parks: graduate from the University of Washington, two
hundred and fifty-second in the class of five hundred and twelve; commissioned
a second lieutenant fall of 2004; assigned to Camp Pendleton, California, and
became the commander of a platoon of Marines in the 1st ANGLICO. After a year
on the base you were deployed to Iraq for six months while attached to I Marine
Expeditionary Force. At the end of the two years at Camp Pendleton, you were
promoted to first lieutenant, and transferred to the 4th MEB’s Anti-Terrorism Battalion
at Camp Lejeune, and again, you were a platoon commander. You were shipped
overseas with the entire battalion for nine months to Iraq, where you won the Silver Star for an act of bravery while engaged in armed conflict with
terrorists.” The President cleared his throat and continued. “At the end of
your three-year assignment with the 4th MEB you were promoted to a captain and
moved to Fort Bliss, in El Paso.” Winnfield shuffled the papers and proceeded.
“After working at JTF-North’s J3 for two years, you were once again moved to
Lejeune with the Anti-Terrorism Battalion, and served as the executive officer
of Bravo Company.”

Parks cut in.
“Uh, negative sir.” Those were the first words he’d spoken to the President
besides introducing himself and he hoped he’d done the right thing.

The President
looked up at him. “What was that?”

Parks repeated
himself. “Negative, Mr. President, sir. That’s
Commanding
Officer of
Bravo Company.”

“Oh, very
impressive.” Winnfield looked back to the papers. “So, you were sent overseas
again, to Afghanistan this time, on a mission to take out terror cells. While
you were there, you led an attack against a very strategic terrorist training
camp. You led your company strategically and effectively, and during the
operation you performed several heroic acts, above and beyond the call of duty.
However, among those acts of heroism, you were shot in the left shoulder. Months
later, your battalion was taken back to the States, you were awarded the Medal
of Honor, and you also received a Purple Heart.” The President looked up again.
“That’s three very high awards you have earned. And they were all in the line
of counterterrorism.”

President
Winnfield laid the papers down on the desk in front of him. He leaned far back
in his office chair and folded his hands on his chest. “Is there any question
in your mind as to why I chose you for this job?”

Parks didn’t answer;
he just stared straight ahead and kept standing stalk still.

“Well there’s
none in mine,” the President assured. “Now, Major Parks, do you know the nature
of this assignment? Obviously not, your PCS orders didn’t explain a thing, so
the job is mine.” Winnfield appeared to be totally relaxed and sure of himself.
“Normally – for your personal information – the National Security Advisor would
have done what I just did and what I’m about to do. But this whole ordeal is
mine, and I intend to oversee it to its entirety. To get down to business,
Major, this is a top secret assignment. The information you’ll receive is never
ever to leave this room.” The President was dead serious. “Are you aware of the
terrorist attacks performed two months ago?”

“Slightly, Mr.
President, sir.”

“Who isn’t? As
you know, these terrorists came in undetected, and the outcome of that night
was horrific. That goes to show what terrorists can and will do when they have
a free rein. Not that we gave them a free rein, but we just didn’t catch them
in time. That, my friend, will never, never, happen again.” The President
leaned his elbows on his desk and didn’t take his eyes off Parks even for a
second. “That is why you’re here. That is why you didn’t get stationed to some
Marine base. To explain matters, parts of my National Security Council and I
have met and decided that a new counterterrorism team needed to be formed. We
have been contemplating such an action for a long time but the recent attacks
have just pushed us to immediate action. Anyway, you will be in the new team
I’m forming.”

Parks felt like
he’d been hit in the stomach. He didn’t know how to react or what to say so he
didn’t do either and kept on listening.

Winnfield went
on. “You and your team will specialize in taking out terrorists before they take
us out. Your team will be national security/counterterrorism, lightning-quick,
mouse-like quiet, 24/7, special operation experts.”

The President
stopped for a brief second so Parks took advantage of it.

“Forgive me for
interrupting, sir,” Parks excused himself, “but you are referring to this team
as
my
team. Is that meaning that I’m just part of it or...” Parks let
the President finish his thought.

“No, no, you
haven’t heard have you? Of course, no one’s told you. You are going to be the
team leader. You will be the go-to person. You will be the responsible person
for whatever happens. You will be this country’s lead protector.”

A shocked Parks
listened on. “To get on with my explanation, this team will consist of seven
members,” Winnfield said. “Three agents from the CIA and three agents from the
FBI. They are the best agents in the business, believe me. National Security
Advisor Tom Smith will get you acquainted with them in a moment, but I still
need to give you an outline of your job.”

“You will have
an office near your team members’ in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building. All day every day, you and your team will train and sift through intelligence reports
– emails forwarded to you from the CIA’s operations center – on the terrorists
that are posing a threat to our national security. By reading all the intel summaries,
you will have a better understanding of who you’ll be dealing with. Now, the Director
of National Intelligence, along with the Directors of the CIA, FBI, and Secret
Service, will brief you on the major threats that are drawn to our attention. You
will be notified by an intelligence watch officer on duty when a terrorist or
other form of threat has entered the U.S. Without delay you will report to me,
and the Directors will brief you on the threat. Then you will be sent to take
out that threat immediately. You will be on call night and day, for the enemy
never rests a minute.” Winnfield was now standing and pacing as he continued.
“Lastly, I must tell you that the purpose of this team is to ensure nothing
like what happened on the 16
^th
of January ever happens again in the
history of this country. I have chosen seven of the best counterterrorism
fighters known to man for this team, and I expect good results. I will allow
nothing less. Do you have any questions?”

Parks had a few,
but he didn’t know if the President or National Security Advisor was going to
answer them. “Mr. President, sir, will the National Security Advisor fill me in
on the details of this assignment?”

“You bet.
Everything will be covered in detail.”

Winnfield walked
up to the statue-still Parks and extended his hand. Parks went to attention and
then he shook it.

In a caring voice the President said, “God bless you boy. You’ll need
it.”

*          *          *

National
Security Advisor Tom Smith escorted Parks around the White House, and
introduced him to key people he’d have to confer with later on, like Vice
President Stan Anders, FBI Director Franklin Watkins, CIA Director Mike Cummins,
Secret Service Director Nathaniel Roxon, and Director of National Intelligence
Josh Travis.

After the
official introductions had been made, the National Security Advisor took Parks
to his personal “National Security Advisor” office, gave him a seat, and
offered to answer any questions he might have.

“I’ll take you
to the Eisenhower Executive Office Building – we call it the EEOB – and introduce
you to your team in a minute. But first I’d like to answer any questions you
have,” Smith explained.

“I have a few,
sir,” Parks told him. “First, who will I be working for directly? Second, will
my team have any part in gathering the intelligence on the terrorists, or will
the intelligence agencies do that for us? And lastly for now, sir, will I be
required to conceal carry a firearm?”

Smith jumped on
the last question first. “I think it is wise that you conceal carry a firearm.
To do that, you don’t even need a permit. Your job suggests that you should have
a personal sidearm, and you are already authorized to carry one.”

“To answer your
first concern,” Smith went on, “you will be working for the President and the
Marine Corps, just as always. However, you will report to me, and everything
you do will be directed by me. I am your secondary boss. To put it on military
terms, the President’s like the battalion commander and I am like the company
commander. My connection is more detailed and one-on-one with you. I will assess
supplies, transportation, communication, and so on. The Directors of the FBI,
CIA, National Intelligence, and Secret Service are merely information providers
to your team, they have no authority whatsoever. Now, my job is to brief the
President on matters concerning your team, and be the conduit for orders. Is
that clear?”

“Yes sir,” Parks
answered, taking mental notes.

“The last
question I have to answer is the trickiest, I’m afraid. But allow me to put it
to you this way. This team of yours is not counterintelligence. It is a
counterterrorism team. The counterintelligence specialists at the various
agencies are the main intelligence gatherers, but, you will be briefed by their
watch officers via email on any and every threat. The CIA is in charge of foreign
intelligence, while the FBI heads up domestic intelligence. However, for
simplicity’s sake, and since we need both foreign and domestic intelligence for
your team, we’ve created a small joint-agency task force at CIA Headquarters.
That way the CIA’s foreign intel and the FBI’s domestic intel reports can flow
together and be sent to your desk from a single source. When an actual
terrorist comes in and you receive word about it, you will report to the President,
and the Directors will give you an in-depth, face-to-face briefing on the
terrorist threat. Of course, the President will oversee that whole briefing.”
Smith drank from a bottle of water that was resting nearby on his desk.
“However, on a small scale, you and your team will have a knowledge of counterintelligence.
That way you can better understand the reports that come in from Langley – oh, that’s where the CIA is headquartered if you didn’t know that already. So
basically, you read the intelligence reports to be kept up-to-date on things,
and when a terrorist is found, you’ll report to the Situation Room, and the Directors
will brief you.”

The National
Security Advisor told Parks to follow him, and together, they walked across the
White House parking lot to the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, which was adjacent to the West Wing of the White House. Smith informed Parks that he
would see that he would be reserved a parking space close by, and he’d get
right on that when he returned to the White House.