Chapter 17
Posted: July 19, 2007 - 11:43:36 am


Mike regained consciousness to find that he was in a hospital bed. He had a splitting headache. For a full minute he was confused as to where he was until the memories flooded in on him. He wanted to climb out of the bed and destroy something, but he felt too weak. He cried out, "No!"

Heart breaking at the anguish in Mike's voice, his father stepped into view and said, "Hello, son."

"Colonel," Mike croaked. There was supposed to be a hello in there, but the word didn't make it out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry about Karen and Robert," Robert said. His chin quivered and eyes watered as he said it. He took a deep breath to control his emotions. After a few seconds, he said, "I know you did your best to save them."

"I kept looking for them, but I didn't find them until it was too late. I kept hoping that they weren't there, but I knew they were. I couldn't give up looking for them, but I couldn't walk past those others without helping them," Mike said with tears running down his face as memories of that horrible time in the mall returned full force.

"You saved a lot of people that day," Robert said with more than a little pride in how his son had handled himself.

"That day?" Mike asked feeling rather confused.

"That was two days ago," Robert said. Mike had been dehydrated and unconscious when they had brought him to the hospital. The hours spent inside the Hazmat Suit had nearly killed him. He should have only stayed in it for two hours.

"Oh," Mike said wondering how he had lost two days.

"They saved your hand," Robert said gesturing to Mike's bandaged left hand. It was too soon after the operation to put it in a cast.

"My hand?" Mike asked without bothering to look at it.

"You broke it again. I assume that occurred when you were carrying people out of the mall. They had to replace two of the bones in your left hand with surgical steel rods," Robert said. The alternative had been to remove the half of his hand.

Mike looked down at his left hand. Voice breaking, Mike asked, "What use is my hand without Karen or Robert? I can't use it to teach Robert how to ride a bike or catch a ball. I can't use it to caress my wife."

Robert looked down at Mike with a frown. In a soft voice, he said, "I'll tell you how you can use your hand, son. Those bastards killed your family. Sitting here feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to bring them back. You can't bring them back, but you can make sure that those bastards never have a chance to do something like that again. You need to get out of here and take care of business."

"You're right," Mike said feeling a hardening of his heart.

Seeing the expression that crossed Mike's face, Robert said, "Don't give in to your anger or hate. Don't allow this to make your heart hard or else you'll end up a bitter man."

Thinking it was an impossible task, Mike said, "I'll try not to give into my hate."

Robert looked at Mike for a minute seeing a war of emotions taking place beneath the fixed exterior. He said, "Son, I'm pretty sure that you believe that a real man doesn't cry. Let me tell you as a man who has led other men through horrendous circumstances one thing. That is bullshit. I've seen men cry like babies and I've never thought less of them for it. Some things demand it."

"Thanks, Dad," Mike said.

Mike was lying in the bed staring out the window thinking about how he was going to track down every part of the terrorist network and destroy it. The nurse came into the room carrying a magazine and handed it to him. She said, "You made the cover."

The cover of the magazine had a picture of Mike wearing the Hazmat suit holding the hands of two women. Even though the Hazmat suit hid his face, the emotions he was feeling at the time were obvious. The position of his body conveyed the anguish of a man who had lost everything of meaning to him. Mike glanced at the cover and asked, "Do they know it was me?"

"Only those of us who treated you know. The official story is that you were here in the hospital having your hand operated on at the time of the attack," the nurse answered. She had never seen such a large cover up in her entire life. It made her wonder who he was that so much effort to hide his involvement would be undertaken.

"Good. Throw it away," Mike said turning his head to look out the window.

From the first moment it was published, the picture had come to symbolize the price that Americans were paying in the war against terrorism. One of the things that made the picture have such an impact was that none of the faces were visible in it. Everyone who looked at the picture could see themselves in it. In time, it would join the list of the one hundred most influential photographs and would have the same level of recognition that had been achieved by the photograph of raising the flag on Iwo Jima. The nurse glanced down at the picture and asked, "Why?"

"I don't like the idea of anyone profiting off my misery," Mike said in a tightly controlled voice.

The nurse picked up the magazine and said, "I understand."

"Thank you," Mike said. The dark mood that had settled inside Mike was reflected outdoors. The gray and overcast sky outside was threatening to rain.

Wearing his hospital clothes and a robe, Mike made his way down to room ten. It was a few minutes before seven when he arrived. The door was open and he made his way into the room. He took a seat and waited with his thoughts turned inwards.

The first one to arrive was Tim Collins from the FBI. He entered the room and did a double take at finding Mike seated at the table. Surprised to see him there, he said, "I heard that you were a patient here. How did you manage to get permission to attend?"

"I didn't ask for permission," Mike answered shrugging his shoulders.

"That works," Tim said with a short chuckle.

A minute later, Jack Lancer walked into the room and said, "I see that you made it. I was afraid that you wouldn't be able to get away."

"I wouldn't miss this meeting for the world," Mike said.

John Daniels and Larry Dinkins of the DIA (Defense Intelligence Agency) and NDIC (National Drug Intelligence Center) respectively entered the room together. While John closed the door, Larry said, "Mike Bowman. It's a pleasure to meet you. That was one hell of a job you did the other day. You killed the terrorist, rescued one of the responders, and carried twenty-three people out of the mall. Sixteen of the people are still alive because of you."

Shrugging his shoulders, Mike discounted all of the things he had done. There was one thing that he hadn't done at the mall. Voice cracking, he said, "The people I went there to rescue didn't make it."

"Are you sure that you're up to this?" Jack asked worried that Mike was too emotional.

"I'm sure," Mike answered as the other men took seats around the table.

Jack looked around the table for a second and then said, "The first order of business is numbers. We're down to eighty-two members in the Intelligence 100. The CIA has only fifteen members left from an original of twenty-three and that is after we added Sanjay. The FBI has only fifteen members left and we've already added two."

Tim said, "The terrorists are killing us faster than we are killing them."

"So what do we do to increase our numbers?" Jack asked.

"Nothing," Mike said. He looked from one man to the next trying to judge their reaction.

Tim sat back with a frown. He had expected Mike to sit quietly for the first few meetings rather than jump in and start arguing points. He asked, "Why do you say that?"

"The charter of this organization was to provide unbiased intelligence analyses while getting rid of the foreign agents who are negatively impacting national policy. The first part of that problem has been solved. The second part of our mission can't be achieved until the President is out of office," Mike answered.

Larry coughed. When he finished coughing, he said, "Mike is right. Sometimes I forget that fact and start to believe that we are here to end terrorism."

"What do you suggest?" Tim asked worried about Larry's cough.

"I think that for the next two years we need to direct agents to collect as much information as we can about the foreign agents and the terrorists. A bunch of the bullshit that has been keeping our people from doing their jobs is gone. It has been replaced by a different bunch of bullshit, but this President isn't going to remain in office for more than one term. Once he's gone, perhaps the next President will be willing to do what needs to be done," Mike answered.

"Are you sure that he won't last more than one term?"

"I won't ever accept that the American voter is dumb enough to keep him in office," Mike said.

"They were for the previous President."

The news was filled with stories about the attack at the mall. Even though suicide bombers had been killing Americans on an almost daily basis, this attack was major news. The fact that it involved a poison made it big news, but they weren't releasing the name of the poison or how it had been delivered. There was a lot of speculation about the poison. The most common candidate was Sarin gas, but there were no details about how it had been delivered.

The one story that amused Mike was the policeman who was being credited with having killed the terrorist driving the van. It was the same guy who had complimented him on his shooting. The poor guy looked positively miserable trying to answer questions about his actions. Every time he said that he hadn't done it, the reporter countered with eyewitness accounts that put the policeman in the role of shooter.

The interview with the policeman was followed by the President holding a press conference at Camp David. As usual, the man was talking about how a moderate response to the attack by a few mentally unstable individuals was necessary and that law enforcement was investigating the matter. Mike listened incredulously as the President outlined his plan for dealing with the terrorists. He snorted and said, "Dealing with them? I'd call that plan more of a capitulation to them."

Disgusted, he switched off the news just as the nurse entered the room. She waited for him to calm down a little before she said, "You have a visitor."

"Who is it?" Mike asked dreading the answer. He was not looking forward to having to face the Admiral and tell him that he had been unable to save his daughter.

"Representative Anthony Archer," the nurse answered.

"What does he want?" Mike asked with a sharp edge to his voice. He knew of the Representative because he was one of the few members of congress who was a vocal opponent of the current Presidential policies. He really wanted to refuse the visit. He'd definitely refuse the visit if the man wanted to use his misery to improve his political position.

"His late wife was the woman whose hand you were holding in the picture."

"Oh," Mike said swallowing heavily. He didn't know how to face the man or what to say to him. There weren't any last words for him to relay. Turning his head so that he was looking at the nurse, he said, "Send him in."

The man who entered the hospital room did not look like a Washington power broker. He looked like a sad man on the verge of tears. Approaching Mike in a shuffle, he stopped two paces away from the bed. In a soft voice, he said, "I'm Anthony Archer, but I would prefer it if you would call me Tony."

"I'm Michael Bowman. You can call me Mike."

"Mike, I won't take up much of your time. I wanted to thank you for comforting my wife during her last moments," Tony said. His voice caught when he said the word, 'wife.'

"I'm sorry I couldn't save her," Mike said.

"There wasn't a chance that you or anyone could have saved her once the terrorists had released the Sarin in the mall. The same is true for your wife and son. There was nothing you could have done to save them," Tony said. There was a hint of anger in his voice that became blatant once he said the word 'terrorists.'

Although it wasn't the first time that Sarin had been mentioned as the toxin, Mike was quiet for a minute thinking about what Tony had said. It didn't make sense to him. Sarin had been used inside four separate Japanese subway trains and had only killed eight people. It was true that another thousand had required treatment and were suffering continued health problems from the exposure to it. The problem was that the subway trains were a much more enclosed environment than a huge shopping mall. Shaking his head, he asked, "How did they manage to get the entire mall with Sarin?"

"The terrorists rented an empty store. They set up a device to create a very fine fog that contained Sarin. Hundreds of people walked through it without even realizing they were getting poisoned," Tony answered.

"Oh," Mike said. He wasn't even going to ask how terrorists could manage to rent space in a mall and work undisturbed long enough to put their plan into action. The answer was obvious. They were Arabs and you couldn't question Arabs without getting sued. He asked, "Where did they get the Sarin?"

"One of the Japanese members of Aum developed the Sarin in a lab in Iowa," Tony answered revealing information that had been given to a handful of congressmen.

"Ah, the Cult of Doom," Mike said recognizing the name of the Japanese terrorist group. Shaking his head, he said, "There were hints that those groups were working together. We're really screwed now."

"That may be, but not for very much longer. I'm running for President," Tony said.

Mike raised an eyebrow and waited to hear how the man planned to use him in his campaign. When Tony didn't say anything, Mike said, "I wish you luck."

"No you don't," Tony said in a flat factual manner.

"Why do you say that?" Mike asked rather surprised by the accuracy of Tony's response.

"You figure that I'm going to ask you to campaign for me," Tony said. He moved over to the chair and took a seat.

"Aren't you?" Mike asked.

"No," Tony answered with a tired smile. He had entertained the possibility until he had learned a little more about Mike from some well connected individuals. The fact that the press hadn't gotten Mike's name had been the first clue that there was something significant about the man. It was obvious that the man had a guardian angel or two watching over his career.

Tony said, "I talked to your father-in-law. The Admiral convinced me that asking you to do that would be a major mistake. You are getting terrorists off the streets. That's more important than me getting elected. Even if I lose, the day is going to come when someone is going to get serious about protecting this country. We need you to be there when that happens."

"Thanks, I guess," Mike said wondering what the Admiral really had to say about him.

"Besides, I don't think that I need your help."

"Why do you say that?" Mike asked. To tell the truth, he was surprised at how well the man had done his homework.

"Because I'm going to tell it like it is. I'm not going to play that Political Correctness game. I'm not going to play politician. I'm going to tell people the truth. I'm going to call that damned religion exactly what it is. Islam represents a clear and present danger to the security of this country," Tony answered.

"You're not going to be able to make the practice of Islam illegal. That's a violation of the First Amendment," Mike said. He wished that ending the terrorism would be as simple as outlawing Islam and locking up anyone caught practicing it.

"That's right, I can't do that. I don't have to make the practice of Islam illegal. All I have to do is make it easier for our law enforcement people to investigate the bastards. I'm going to make sure that terrorists can't use a charge of profiling as a shield. I'm going to strip them naked," Tony answered.

"The liberals are going to eat you alive," Mike said. He could imagine how the press would react to a campaign based on that premise. Of course, it did promise Tony lots of airtime on the news.

"You're wrong. They are going to try to eat me alive, but they aren't going to succeed. I am going to tell the American people that the practice of fundamentalist Islam represents a threat to them. It won't be my wife who is killed the next time one of those assholes decides that he wants to die while killing Americans. Those bastards already got my wife. Next time, it will be their wife, their children, their mother, or their father," Tony said with real fire in his voice. The tired man was gone only to be replaced by a man with a mission.

"Right," Mike said.

Tony looked at the expression on Mike's face and said, "The American people already know that. Let the liberals talk their bullshit. People will be switching their televisions over to the Wolf News Channel faster than you can say Anthony Archer. The American people will want to hear my message without assholes telling them that they need to lose a bunch of family members to Muslim terrorists because we're bad people."

"What about the liberal judges?" Mike asked knowing that they could rewrite law even more effectively than legislators.

"I'm a lawyer and I've read the Geneva Convention. It protects innocent by-standers and provides rights for regular armies and militias as long as they are wearing a uniform. An asshole wearing civilian clothes does not get the protections provided by the Geneva Convention," Tony said.

"The French are going to like that," Mike said sarcastically. He could just imagine the international outcry that statement would create.

"Fuck the French. I'm not risking one American life so that the French won't criticize America. Fuck them. They don't need an excuse to talk bad about us. It is their national past time," Tony said crossing his arms.

"You've got my vote. I imagine that you'll only get two votes when all is said and done, but I wish you luck," Mike said.

The funeral was a circus. It wasn't the families involved that turned it into a circus. The press was present in full force. They were covering the funeral because of the high level military people and politicians who were attending.

Adding to the riot was a weird Christian group shouting that it was the victims' fault that they died. This was not the first time they had done this and Mike suspected that it wouldn't be their last. This group had taken to appearing at the funerals of national tragedy to parade around with signs blaming the victims.

Immune to the outrageous activities going on around him, Mike stared blankly at the pair of caskets as they were lowered into the ground. He felt as though there were two of him -- one was staring at the caskets and another was floating above watching him stare at the caskets. He was barely aware of the coworkers, neighbors, and other relatives in attendance.

Mike reached up and touched the side of his face finding that it was numb. The only part of his body that had any feeling in it was his left hand. It throbbed in time with the beating of his broken heart.

While the Priest went through the graveside service, Mike kept thinking that he would never hold Karen in his arms again. He wouldn't be able to teach Robert how to throw a ball, ride a bike, or take him camping. It wasn't just his family that had been killed, but his dreams for the future. For the second time of his life, Muslims had robbed him of his dreams for the future.

Standing at attention to the left of Mike was his father. Robert's jaw clenched and unclenched as he considered the stupidity that had led to that situation. He kept staring at the two coffins thinking that just a little common sense on the part of judges and politicians could have prevented it from happening.

Standing beside Robert was Mike's mother, Louise. She was in tears unable to believe that her daughter-in-law and grandson were dead. She kept thinking back to the last time she had babysat Robert. The time had flown by too quickly. The little boy had been such a dear little thing. Now he was gone.

To Mike's left, Admiral Vincent Dougherty was busy holding up his wife. She was inconsolable at the loss of her daughter and grandson. She was supposed to have gone to the mall with them, but had been unable to make it there. Despite the fact that it was irrational, she couldn't keep from feeling guilty that she was still alive while they were dead.

Vincent felt sorry for Mike. It was obvious to him that Mike felt responsible for what had happened to Karen. He knew better than to blame Mike for Karen's death. Karen had gone to the mall for the first time in three months. It was just bad luck that she had chosen that day.

The terrorists were to blame for Karen's death. Despite his assurances to Mike that he wasn't to blame, it was obvious that young man blamed himself for her death. He needed to have a long talk with Mike to set his mind at peace. The problem was that between his wife and Mike, his wife needed his attention more. He was afraid that she was going to kill herself.

The service had been over for almost half a minute before any of the five realized it. Mike turned to his in-laws and said, "I'm so sorry, Admiral. There's nothing I can say to convey how bad I feel at having failed to save Karen. You trusted me with her and I failed you in that trust."

"You didn't fail me or my trust in you. It wasn't your fault," Vincent said in a voice heavy with grief.

"I should be there with them," Sally said in a distant voice while staring at the grave site.

Recognizing that Sally was in trouble, Mike said, "Admiral, don't worry about me. Sally needs you."

"We'll talk," Vincent said before turning to his wife. He led Sally away from the gravesite and to the limousine.

Mike and his parents headed to their limousine. As they went there, the protesters started shouting at them. When the protesters said that little Robert deserved to die, Mike leaned over to his father and said, "I'd just love to see what they shout when they become victims."

The Colonel understood exactly what Mike meant. He wondered how they would feel if he stuck a knife up their ass while telling them that they deserved it. He looked over in the direction of the protesters and said, "One day they'll get theirs."

Louise glared in the direction of the protesters. Disgusted by the glee the protesters were taking in their misery, she said, "They say they are Christians, but there is nothing Christian about them."

"How can people be so cruel?"

Robert frowned and said, "I do not like what has become of this world."
Lazlo Zalezac
Chapter 18