PATIENT-X, JASON RONIN [portable ebook reader TXT] 📗

down the street; nothing seemed out of the ordinary, cars parked in their accustomed places, old Mr Johnson two doors up was mowing his lawn, a city maintenance van was parked at the intersection and a couple of people walking their dogs chatting about whatever made their lives engaging. It was an ordinary street, in an extraordinary city. Nothing seemed out of place to Shaun, and he allowed himself to relax a little. He realized he was jumping at his own imagination, nobody could have known about the meeting.

He retrieved his door keys and entered his house. Running upstairs, he entered his bedroom and took down the picture above his bed revealing his safe. Opening it and removing the envelope, he sat on the bed and stared at it for a few seconds. Shaun carefully opened it to see it contained a single note.

Shaun,

I am dead and it now falls to you to do the right thing, on the reverse of this note were details of a P.O box in New York, there are files deposited within, read them, and try to stop the rot.

Michael Harding.

He turned the note over and saw the details written there. An address in Manhattan and a PO Box number was the only information written.

Shane rubbed his chin as he read the letter again, his mind whirling as he wondered what he was getting into. Nevertheless, Michael had been right, he was obstinate, and he sensed the mother of all stories was waiting for him that would make Watergate look like nonsense.

He quickly packed an overnight bag and headed down the stairs, a shadow appeared across the double window of the front door. He froze half way down. He froze because the silhouette of a silenced pistol melded with the shadowy figures arm. It had been a long time since Shane had been in any kind of combat situation but you never forgot the training; that lasts forever. His mind slipped into the OODA loop, observe, orient, decide, and act; military strategist and USAF Colonel John Boyd created the system, which you can apply to all kinds of combat operations.

As quiet, as he could be he moved down the stairs and positioned himself to the right side of the door, so whoever it was would not see him upon it opening. The shadow had told him the figure was about six foot tall and well built. Whatever course of action Shaun performed would have to be fast and conclusive for he had no way of knowing if the figure was alone. His heart beat loudly as he put down his overnight bag and took an umbrella from the stand that was next to the door. His Mouth is dry and he recognized the signs of adrenaline flooding his system preparing him for whatever lay ahead.

The door handle moved and his body wanted to tense up, but he forced himself to relax: needing a sense of looseness to his body. The door opened slowly, the pistol appeared; a Glock 19 adapted to fit a suppressor. It probed the air like the antenna of some alien insect.

Time seemed to slow down. Shane moved with a speed that betrayed his size. Whipping the umbrella down to the outstretched arm, he knocked the gun out of the intruder’s hand. He slammed the door shut then grabbed the arm, which he trapped between the door and its frame, at the wrist and wrenched it back. There was a loud crack as the arm snapped at the elbow, and a scream came from the other side of the door. He opened the door and pulled the man onto a pile driving punch that connected between his eyes dropping him senseless to the floor.

He turned and picked up the Glock as a man, dressed in city maintenance uniform, same as the man he had floored, appeared in the kitchen doorway down the hall. The man fired, and Shane dived to the side into the living room coming to rest by the TV. He quickly jumped to his feet and did what the gun man would not expect him to do, he dived back out into the hall way and fired at the approaching man, hitting him in the chest, firing again as he landed, the bullet this time hitting his attacker in the face as he was falling.

Shane quickly got to his feet; gun at the ready, no one else appeared. He slammed the front door and fell back against it, breathing deeply and feeling sick with the smell of cordite and the site of the carnage he had caused. He had to remind himself that it had been them or him, they, whoever they are, had the temerity to enter his house weapons drawn so they deserved all they got. His heart was slowing now, and he felt a little dizzy. He looked down at the unconscious man on the floor and realised they had come from the maintenance van parked up the road which led one to conclude his house was under surveillance leading to the further conclusion his meeting had been known by a person or persons unknown. The man before him could hold the answer although you could bet your dollars they had to be professionals and would not give up information easily but Shane realised he did not have time for a long interrogation. Bending he searched the man’s pockets retrieving additional magazines for the gun but nothing else. He did the same with the second man and found three more plus a belt holster, which he took and attached to his own belt securing the Glock, hiding it under his jacket.

A groan directed his attention back to the unconscious man, he bent down next to him, and the man’s face was ashen from the pain he obviously felt. Shane could tell by the build, the military- style haircuts, and the way they had held their weapons, they were not civilians.

He grabbed the man’s ankles and dragged him into the living room then went to get some pliers and electrical tape; he figured he had a little time to ask a few questions.

The situation room deep under the west wing of the Whitehouse is a five thousand square foot conference room, and intelligence management centre. For the use of the president and his advisors, to monitor crises at home and abroad, runs it. The rooms are equipped with secure, advanced communication equipment for the President to maintain command and control of US forces both at home and abroad. President John F Kennedy was credited with the creation of this room after the disastrous Bay of Pigs invasion; he argued that he needed information in real time and a space for video and secure conferencing. The watch teams that track all the information that was received here is all apolitical taken from the various alphabet agencies and military, their responsibility to work for the President whomever he or she may be and for the good of the country. The Situation room is not just one room, but also a suite of rooms. Comprising the main conference room, with its flat screen monitors, oak table and leather chairs, the watch centre, where all communication with the outside world was maintained, this room is manned twenty four hours a day, also a video conferencing room and a couple of smaller conference rooms as well as offices for administration staff and Secret Service.

Dwight had called an emergency meeting of the N.S.C to discuss the recent attacks on the country and the assassination of the President. They had all assembled in the main conference room, and seated round the solid Oak table by the time Dwight arrived, with his acting Vice President Marcus Rivera and his Counsel Randall Massengale. The room was a buzz of conversation that eased off as Dwight sat down at the head of the table; he allowed himself a brief moment of pleasure that the chair was now his. He greeted each one of the nine people sat around the table by name before activating all security devices in the room from the console built into the table before him. Seated before him, apart from Marcus and Randall there was Secretary of State Collette Bolman, Secretary of Defence Carleton Pace, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Admiral Harland Randall, Intelligence Advisor Clinton Luther, N.S.A. advisor Clinton Desmarais and his deputy Elwood Krieger also present was Bruce Lombardi the newly appointed Secretary for Homeland Security.

“Do we have any word on who was responsible for the attacks on our country and also any news on who killed our President?” he addressed the assembled people.

Clinton opened a file before him and read out the information before him,

“No one has claimed responsibility as yet, but our intelligence is that all the major and minor Islamic organisations have formed an alliance and seem to be upping their game” all the others listened intently as he carried on, “The UK was hit an hour after us, as was France, Spain, Germany and Russia”

“Do we have any casualty numbers? “ Collette asked.

“Very high for all countries, the attacks ranged from suicide bombs to I.e.ds’ to actual shootings, we had no previous intelligence or warnings nor did our counterparts “he said, “Info we have now is extremely disturbing, this alliance has got hold of several dirty bombs and are planning to set them off around the world including on our soil”

The looks of shock and horror passed round the table quicker than you could snap your fingers. Each knew what a dirt bomb could do; a dirty bomb is a theoretical radiological weapon that combines radioactive material with conventional explosives. The purpose of the weapon is to contaminate the area around the explosion with radioactive material, thus the distinction "dirty.”

“As for Jason cutter it seems he has vanished off the face of the earth but we will find him, his photo is in every newspaper and on every TV, so it cannot be long till he surfaces” Clinton informed the table.

“Thanks for that,” Dwight said, “Ladies and gentlemen we are in dark waters, and once again our freedoms are being threatened from outside and within our borders, and we need extreme measures to combat this threat,” he looked around the table and took in each face, some nodded in agreement while others remained stony faced.

“The measures we had in place since 9/11 obviously no longer work” he said, “Our enemies are cunning and resourceful, so we need to up our game to show the world we can defeat our nemesis”

There was a knock at the door, the watch supervisor entered and handed Dwight a sheet of paper before leaving. He read the sheet then spoke solemnly, “We just got word HRH Queen Elizabeth has been killed while walking her dogs in the grounds of Buckingham palace, somehow the killer bypassed all the palaces security and lay in wait before shooting her,” he held his fist to his mouth, “he then turned the gun on himself”.

The shock around the table was like a salient presence in the room, they all started to talk at once until Dwight held up his hand to silence them.

“ Enough of this crap, we are going to take some serious action” he turned to the secretary of state,” After we have finished here set up a meet with