It was a new world of Post, Post, and Post Cold War; the world had changed. Third World Nations were developing future super economies, maybe even the best. The wealthy families in support of Communism were tired of terrorism as a way of manipulating the countries; it was not working. They went back to politics like before the rise of the modern day Communist in the twentieth century.
Politics with technology beyond belief were to be unleashed on the United States, to establish a fear of a covert world government.
John Pate was reactivated.
There was a full-page advertisement on the colorful nationwide newspaper; it ran for seven days. John saw it and quickly set an appointment with the assigned editor to receive an investigative reporting assignment with a conjured magazine for the protection of the American President.
As a freelance journalist John was able to enter the world of the wealthiest Americans to the poorest even in the most secretive of secret societies.
He rented a cabin at a Big M resort near Cassville to spend a leisurely life hunting deer with a crossbow and fishing for trout at Roaring River when in season. The only meticulous habit was reading the newspaper with a circulation in all fifty states. There was a reason.
After reading the newspaper that morning he headed for the big city of Springfield east on Highway 60 driving his used 1978 baby blue Mustang. Southwest Missouri was known for used automobile dealerships. If you were handy with a toll box, you could travel the entire country, except for the Hawaiian Islands, with a $300 used automobile and fix it along the way.
A rental business property in the strip on Sunshine Street was on the address of the full-page advertisement. John walked in and the man sitting in the store handed John a Manila envelope. Inside was an assignment for a freelance writer with $25,000 cash for spending money, a stack of 25 in $1,000 American dollar bills.
It was his responsibility to break it down into smaller bills to spend accordingly.
John drove back to the cabin near Table Rock Lake to pack not knowing the business building that he had received the package from changed back to the original humdrum insurance office. At the resort cabin he removed a plastic zip lock bag; inside was his handgun named “Babe”. It was at the bottom of the toilet tank.
A 45 caliber semi-automatic pistol M15 general officers was given to John by his mother, Catherine, when the body of General George Pate and his possessions were delivered to Farmington, Michigan for a secret burial. A gold plate inset in the left grip was inscribed with the officer's name. The original owner of the pistol was George Pate, the father of John.
General Pate called the pistol “Babe” to constantly remember always leaving his wife Catherine every time a soldier had to serve the country. George was assassinated after the Cold War during the transition of the former Soviet Union into Independent States. The general’s suggestion of invading East Germany to Siberia when the Berlin War crumbled was not put into action because it was overruled by the Western European Allies.
George was issued “Babe” as a personal weapon. He carried the pistol everywhere he went and he never lost it.
After the secretive funeral in Farmington, Michigan; Catherine gave “Babe” to John and the mother told the son a story. John the son joined the Army Rangers, Army Intelligence division.
The next morning John awakened early. By 6:00 A.M. he was ready to leave the rented cabin; he placed the hunting gear and fishing tackles in the trunk of the “Baby Blue” and he shoved “Babe” underneath the driver seat and he drove for I-44 the interstate highway and he traveled west headed for Oklahoma City.
The only detour was to buy a breakfast sandwich, potato hash browns, and a large iced tea with no ice at a drive-through fast-food restaurant.
After devouring breakfast with “Baby Blue” on cruise control set on the speed limit, he had his left hand on the stirring wheel and he read the documents inside the package. It was photo copies of a magazine article of a scientist claiming the weather calamities of the world, many were manmade. The scientist was not identified, just a picture in black and white.
John had an interview with the scientist at a hotel near the Oklahoma City airport. Hunger was not the only reason for eating breakfast. He needed to get exact change to pay the toll at the turnpikes in the State of Oklahoma.
Missouri had free usage of the four-lane interstate highway on I-44; while in Oklahoma travelers could only use the highway after paying a fee.
John read the articles inside the Manila envelope. The article he needed to read was: “The modern tornado - is it natural or man-made?
He continued traveling I-44; but before reaching the official boundary between Oklahoma and Missouri (passed Joplin, Missouri) a highway patrol flashed his headlight lights to tell John to pull over to the roadside of the highway.
The patrol officer told John to get out of the automobile.
“Woah, how tall are you?” John asked.
“Six-foot-five,” said the patrol officer. “Please walk towards the patrol car, sir.”
John turned his head; he said. “I bet you played basketball in high school.”
“Nobody has ever asked me that since I joined the patrol because I am white. They usually asked if I played football,” said the patrol officer.
“I should have guest after seeing your massive chest,” said John. “It was what I saw most in college as a quarterback, when defensive tackles or a middle linebacker was tired of lying on top of me.”
“You played football in college,” said the patrol officer. “I was not fast enough to make a college team.”
“My father made me play as a baseball pitcher and as a quarterback and I played some basketball,” said John, while standing next to the side backdoor of the patrol vehicle. “Women usually asked why I did not move to New York City to become a runway model.”
“I have the same problem,” said the patrol officer.
John said. “We can reminisce more about our youth, but I would rather you told me what is going on.”
“Sir, I was ordered to put you in the backseat,” said the patrol officer. “Could you kindly assume the position and place your palm hands on the roof of the vehicle. I have to check if you are carrying firearms.”
The patrol motor vehicle had side windows tinted. John opened the side door and he quickly stood to attention like a well-trained military soldier.
John said. “Mr. President, it is good to see you sir.” He stood in a salute formation for almost fifteen seconds.
Calvin Woodrow was recently elected and he wanted to talk to John personally without the world finding out.
“John, get in,” said President Woodrow. “One of the perks of being a former governor of Missouri, I get to visit my home state as often as I like.”
President Woodrow continued. “When I was Attorney General, I was not expecting to be elected president someday. I thought your services ended when I left office. I recruited you to help me protect the president. The F.B.I. is limited as well as the Secret Service in matters of field work. You can do things organizations cannot do, by yourself. Now, I am the president. I will assume you have accepted to continue my work since you accepted the package.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” said John.
“As of now I am the only one who knows of your existence and involvement in the protection of the president. You are on your own. No one else must know of your existence and function until deemed necessary, but you must be able to carry out the needed task at hand,” said President Woodrow. “We will operate in the same manner, and you are to read the same publications everyday if you can. Your cover as a freelance journalist will allow you to move about in almost anywhere including government facilities; as long as you find a way to let my staff, know what you need. My staff does not know who you are or what you do for me, but they have their orders and you will have yours.”
Calvin Woodrow was the attorney general back when John came back to the States after hunting down the Communist generals that killed John’s father during a time of peace. The generals were wanted by the new government and the ruling class welcomed John wanting to hunt down their enemies, dead or alive. The three wanted men plotted to continue Communism and they were committing genocide in areas still unsettled.
Because of his successful mission, he was known as the White Tiger in all of Russia because helped in unifying a crumbling empire from destroying itself.
The attorney general was to enforce the law and he was to defend the country within the law and he was to protect the country as well as the people from foreign evils to domestic criminals and he was to show leadership in fighting crime and he was to apply punishment for the guilty and he was to be fair and he was to be impartial.
It was the threats of assassination that concerned Calvin Woodrow when he learned his job required more understanding than catching criminals breaking the law. He had to protect his president to prevent a lawless land.
Back then after confirmation as attorney general Calvin Woodrow became privileged to international intelligence report of the real events in the world. The Cold War was over and Eastern Europe was being carved up like a Christmas turkey, as the government of new countries wanted to be independent from Mother Russia but yet connected to have any future of a stable economy.
The changeover to new ideals was slow and economically painful for the people wanting a new life in a new world. The new governments and even the parent or bread maker expected to still feed the neighboring countries; but even Russia could not afford to fund prisons housing a population from the political prisoners to the most hardened serial killers had to be released into society.
Many were Americans, military trained, to destroy the enemy from within.
With the Berlin Wall a mere keepsake in pieces for collectors, the west especially the United States was a new frontier for the demented and the most brilliant criminals hidden away in prisons of former Communist Eastern Block countries. The Cold War ending was a new beginning for the criminal minds of Eastern Europe who were looking for a new home. The fifty states were like the promise land for the hardened criminals of the former Communist World in Eastern Europe.
The downsizing of military bases around the world brought back men and women and young children that had already accepted Communism as a future anywhere in the world were forced to go back to the only super economy expecting them to work for a living instead of “free”, and many did not have the training and the education to compete. It was a spontaneous generation happening of a new breed of criminals already trained to destroy a super power.
Calvin Woodrow saw this vision of the future and he needed a way to counter it. He knew the established “status quo” could not handle the massive influx of new and future criminals because the country won the Cold War.
As the attorney general his solution for law and order in America was one man capable of protecting the president because without a leader to command the country it was headed for anarchy and revolution.
John Pate was hired to protect the president.
“Your records are closed of what you did in Eastern Europe as well as what you did for me and the president when I was attorney general, by executive order,” said President Woodrow. “I do not know what we are up against this time or even if it is the same people. All I know is my life is being threatened and we cannot find out who they are. No one is claiming responsibilities. I need to find them John, for me, before it is too late.”
“Mr. President, what do you know?” John asked.
“I only have a name, J.J. Neoleo,” said President Woodrow. “The entire intelligence network at my disposal cannot tell me anything about the man or of his organization.”
John asked. “Why do you want me to go to Oklahoma City, Mr. President?”
“The scientist in the article is the only lead we have. I do not even know if it is related to the threats on my life. He is expecting to be contacted by someone. He chose the hotel,” said President Woodrow. “I will be speaking in Tulsa this afternoon. It should have been included in the package. If you can, try to make my speech. I would want you there, around 3:00 P.M.”
President Woodrow continued. “Like last time if you need anything, money, information, or security clearance just write an article with our built-in code and send it to the magazine by E-mail, and I will be notified.”
John said nothing in response.
“Before I let you go, there are two things I have wanted to ask you. The first is how you got inside Eastern Europe during their transition period. The other was during your last assignment; we were told you were thrown out of a corporate jet. How did you survive it? It was not mentioned in your article,” said President Woodrow.
John said. “The British helped me to the end of safe airspace and I had to use a jet pack to get to where I needed to go. The area was still in control of the racketeering generals that murdered my father. The British felt they owed it to me because they were the ones against my father’s suggestion of marching the western forces all the way to Siberia after the Russian people demolished the wall. The Soviet troops had no will to fight. They had been starved to the point of exhaustion.”
John continued. “After I was forced out of the corporate jet, I had no parachute so I tried to slow down my fall as best as I could. I saw the Pacific Ocean off the coast of California so I positioned my flight towards the ocean waters. When I was low enough, I maneuvered my body like diving off the clip in Acapulco, hoping I dove in waters deep enough to accommodate my descent. I swam to the coast; I saw it from above on the way down.”
“I regret to say I never met your father, but I known General George Pate was a good man. His son is well-trained,” said President Woodrow. “Good luck on your next assignment, I really appreciate it; I need to get back before they start looking for me.”
After paying the toll at the turnpike to use the highway in Oklahoma, John started reminiscing about the general. His father taught him to sky dive as boys his age were learning to ride a bicycle. Sky diving was more fun without a parachute as a child using the silo simulator.
He missed his father especially the days of traveling the country to hunt deer with a miniature pistol crossbow so John could learn to kill to survive shooting with one hand. The deer was not displayed for bragging rights; it was eaten and the extra was made into sausages or dried-preserved for stew meats.
Fishing in manmade rivers was a training ground to fight artificial enemies with certainty as well as the unexpected. The constant flow of water was intentional even during drought seasons. It was easier to catch a trout when you knew man had stocked it, but you still had to catch the trout.
He regretted leaving the jetpack General Pate handmade. John might need it again. It was a one of a kind prototype. He totally demolished the simulated astronaut's jet-powered backpack when he had no choice but to abandon it in Eastern Europe. It served its purpose. He was able to fly into enemy land totally unnoticed.
John arrived at the hotel near the airport in Oklahoma City. There was not a scheduled time for the interview. He was to go straight to the hotel room to meet with the scientist. When he reached his destination, the room was wall to wall law enforcement agents. The body was sitting in a chair with two bullet holes in the forehead, strategically located above each eye.
John showed his “press pass” credential clipped to his front sports coat pocket and he was allowed to enter the room to watch the forensic officers sweeping for evidence. He stood simply observing.
John asked the captain. “What is his name?”
“I do not know yet. He did not have a wallet and the entire room was emptied of his belongings, unless he came here without any suitcases or identification,” said the captain. “Who are you? I thought I knew everybody in our local newspapers.”
“I am John Pate. I am a freelance journalist,” said John.
“Why are you here?” The captain asked.
John said. “An editor sent me to this room to interview the person waiting for me. I was not told a name. I was to meet with a scientist from Eastern European working on manmade weather calamities.”
“Manmade, you mean someone can make it rain in the desert, that sort of thing?” The captain asked.
“I do not know. I just got here. I was not able to talk to him,” said John. “The bullets penetration look like the murderer used a silencer.”
“How would you know that?” The captain asked.
“I have covered several murder scenes in my career,” said John. “But I have never seen someone shot in the forehead strategically above the eyes or ever heard of anyone executed in such a manner.”
“It must mean something,” said the captain. “The assassin did not want us knowing his identity. All his fingerprints have been washed out with acid including the palms.”
“My guess would be, wherever he worked had a both-hands palm reader identification to enter secured locations,” said John.
“We might be dealing with international conspiracy of some sort,” said the captain.
John said. “I am starting to believe it. The assassin is from overseas, probably from the same place this guy worked at. It was to keep secrets a secret.”
“How can I get a hold of you if I need to ask you more questions?” The captain asked.
“I do not have a telephone or a business card to give you,” said John.
The captain looked at the White House “press pass” credential to quickly store it in memory. He said. “Stay in touch. We might find out what his name is. I am in the telephone book directory here in Oklahoma City. Just ask for the captain.”
Because John did not spend prolonged time in Oklahoma City, he could make President Woodrow’s speech in Tulsa. He travel east back to Tulsa for the opening of a giant warehouse store. The owner helped elect President Woodrow in most of the Midwest states. Before entering an exit for Tulsa, John decided to stop at a truck stop restaurant and put unleaded gasoline in the used Ford Mustang. The restaurant was adjacent to the filling station.
At the restaurant a waitress approached the table. She said. “Hi handsome, what can I get you. I am not on the menu but available.”
John smiled and he grabbed the menu on side of the table and he said. “I will have your number two double hamburger with cheese, vanilla milkshake, and an order of French fries.”
John was in deep thought about what information the scientist had on manmade weather calamities. The area he was in was known for tornados and it was the month of March, the beginning of tornado season. In the past Oklahoma had been ravaged by different kinds of tornados.
The only way someone could create a manmade tornado is to know the knowledge from Wind Tunnel experiments used to simulate flight with fighter jets. How a pilot would handle being vacuumed into a tornado during war time is needed for actual combat knowledge, unless someone was capable of simulating a tornado or of creating a life-size twister for actual realistic tests.
There was a top secret air force base in Oklahoma.
The waitress brought John’s order and she placed it on the table and she said. “Are you sure I cannot get you anything else? You know, like my phone number.”
“Thank you, but I do not have a phone,” said John and he smiled.
While John was eating his number two double cheeseburger (mustard with no ketchup and no mayonnaise) he noticed two men dressed in federal agent standard issue business suits in a table near the front door. John’s dark blue blazer sports coat with grey dress pants did not make him appear to be a government man, what more with white button down collar oxford style dress shirt with a long bright solid silk red tie.
It was less expensive to wear and he could alter the dress pants with khaki, white, and even black with no one usually noticing the same British blue sports coat. There was a reason; he wanted to blend in near the president like a country club rich kid nobody notices, allowed to enter private gatherings. John could go to any department store in America that sold men’s clothing and buy a new outfit off the rack.
After munching through the meal John went to the men’s restroom to wash up before heading to the gathering where the president was to address his loyal supporters in the Great State of Oklahoma. He freshened up quickly so the two men would not come looking for him while John was still in the restroom.
As John came out, the waitress saw him and she said. “Hey, good looking, you want my phone number anyway; borrow a friend’s cell phone.”
“Is there a back door I can use?” John asked.
“Yes, but you have to go through the kitchen,” said the waitress.
“Thank you,” said John. “My princess in London would never forgive me. You are cute.”
“He is dating the princess of England,” said the waitress, to the owner of the establishment.
While the two men were sipping on their cup of coffee, they were getting impatient. One noticed John had not returned to his table and he went to the men’s restroom to see if John was still relieving himself. He came out and he told the other man. “He is gone.”
The other man said. “It is impossible. He needed to walked passed us to leave the restaurant. We would have seen him.”
The two men stood outside by the front door because they noticed the baby blue mustang was still in the parking lot and there was nobody in the automobile. A police car with Oklahoma City logos pulled up in front of the two men.
“Did you lose our visitor?” The captain asked.
“Yeah, he went somewhere,” said one of the men. “I do not know where.”
“The license plate to the mustang is registered to a John Pate from the State of Michigan. He really is a freelance journalist,” said the captain.
John was ducked down in the mustang watching the two men. When he noticed the police car from Oklahoma City, he stepped out of the automobile and he walked towards the front entrance of the truck stop restaurant.
“Captain, are you having me followed?” John asked.
“Yes, we usually do not get reporters showing up in Oklahoma City with a White House ‘press pass’. I was curious why you are here,” said the captain.
“The president is getting ready to speak here in Tulsa. I am on my way there right now,” said John.
“I forgot about the president being here in Oklahoma,” said the captain.
John said. “Did you find out the name of the scientist?”
“No, we had no fingerprints to go by. We are doing a face recognition identification search with the F.B.I. and Interpol since you told me the guy might be from Eastern Europe. Interpol said they would get back to me, if they had anything. The search of the scientist identification brought the F.B.I. to my office and those two are from the Tulsa branch,” said the captain.
“I have to cover the president’s speech. I will give you a call later on to check if you have anything you can tell me. I better go,” said John
The captain drove back to Oklahoma City. The two men went back to their office in Tulsa. John went in search of the warehouse store near the highway.
A chain of big box stores through out the Midwest created retail jobs for depressed areas several years before the election. President Woodrow’s opponent hammered that the retail industry was only creating low income jobs, but the president defended the big business retailers. The president campaigned on big box stores were locations to sell small manufactured items, made in America. Small manufacturing companies are tomorrow’s big corporations capable of paying high paying jobs with benefits.
John entered the parking lot of the warehouse store; the president had not arrived. John decided to check his engine at the express lube service. He did not want to leave “Babe” underneath the driver’s seat so he slipped the pistol in his lower back held up by his dress pants with a belt. He could not walk around inside so he stood outside looking at the exterior of building.
After fifteen minutes “Baby Blue”, the 1978 used Ford Mustang, was finished from the 18-point lube service as promised even with tire rotation. The place was empty except employees. John needed to change another one thousand dollars and a major retailer would have the cash, as a truck stop restaurant may not.
“Air Force One”, referring to an aircraft transporting the president, had landed in Tulsa International. Several black sports utility vehicle suburban models were in the procession that brought the president to the grand opening of the new big box store. The president was accompanied by senators, governors, and congressmen from the Midwest states; the crowd packed the single warehouse building with onlookers outside.
The president arrived at the store and he entered the building in the assigned secured entrance way, but there was tight security checking for handguns, even registered firearms. John knew he could not bring “Babe” his father’s general officer’s pistol inside the store so he placed “Babe” back underneath the driver seat.
Even though John was working for the president, to maintain his covert identity as a secret agent, he did not want to draw attention trying to explain why he had a handgun and he tried to enter a secured building with the president about to speak so “Babe” was left behind as John entered the same access door where the president and his entourage had entered.
John showed his White House “press pass” to the security detail checking at the doorway and the name John Pate was in the palm personal digital assistant handheld device the agent was holding. With a tap of a finger John’s pictured appeared with the designation “freelance journalist”. John walked inside. He decided to make a quick reconnaissance of the area where the president had to stay before the speech.
There was a makeshift stage with a white backdrop screen behind the podium where speakers were to stand. The backdrop was used to show home movies of the president and family relaxing in the White House lawn.
John decided to mingle with the crowd privileged to get close enough to walk up onto the stage area. He noticed the security detail had divided sections of where the onlookers could stay. He looked up at the ceiling; he looked up at the aluminum wall shelves as high as the roof of five-story buildings where a sniper could hide on top of boxes with stored home desktop computers.
The security detail of the president was making their final walk through of the building before the speech. Men with binoculars were scrutinizing the ceiling and the wall shelves. High above hidden from onlookers, John noticed a sniper unit to counter any attempt to shoot the president from long range. With the security at hand, John knew the only way to make any attempt of an assassination would be from close range.
A man approached John; the man said. “I have been watching you from over there. I noticed you looked up. You probably saw those snipers also.”
John did not say anything, but he noticed the man had a foreign accent. It was not British, but it sounded European almost German.
The man said. “My name is Hackett. What do they call you?”
“John Pate,” said John.
“It is on your identification; you are a journalist. I am a medical doctor, a surgeon by trade,” said Hackett.
“Do you have a medical practice here in Tulsa?” John asked.
“No, actually I am here to see the president. I am from Switzerland; at least I received my formal schooling in Davos. I travel mostly these days,” said Hackett. “I have seen you before. Where have I seen you? You look so familiar.”
“I have snow skied in Davos, perhaps it was in a ski resort. I have been on covers of fashion magazines. I have written travel articles of Switzerland,” said John.
“No, it is something else. It will appear to me. I never forget a face,” said Hackett.
“Do you know the president?” John asked.
“I have never met the man before. I know wealthy families here in Tulsa; they are personal friends of the president,” said Hackett. “I was invited to hear him speak and perhaps have a private meeting with him afterwards. The owner of this building is from Swiss immigrants.”
“I did not know; he helped President Woodrow win the presidency last November,” said John.
“Yes, we supported his adversary. We have been watching the elected president’s progress since the election. You know, to see if he is walking in the same path of the future,” said Hackett. “I better get back to my host. They will wonder where I have gone to. Would you care to sit with us?”
“No thank you, I prefer to stand and stretch my legs and walk around until the president is ready to address the crowd.”
Hackett walked back to the front row of seats in front of the podium. After he sat down, he continued to stare at John; he tried to remember the face.
John decided to walk around the secured area near the temporary stage to avoid being in sight distance from scrutinizing eyes.
__________
To be continued in CHAPTER TWO …