Sleeper Cell: Made in America Book One

By MARK ALAN

Designed to be the ultimate weapon by a shadow government, a clandestine group of Marine commandos have been implanted with nano-technology. The Nano-bots were injected into the warriors using a laced flu vaccination.

Hospital Corpsman, Senior Chief “Doc” Sullivan, discovered these implant as the men of his unit began killing world leaders. It’s now a race to derail and stop those responsible for the impending doom that awaits the civilized nations of the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: MARK ALAN
• Release date: May 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311569158

Book preview

Sleeper Cell – Made in America

Book One

Copyright 2014

Published by Mark Alan

Sleeper Cell – Made in America Book 1, is a fictional work. While some of the locations in this book describe actual locations, this is to lend an authentic theme. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover Art by: Straight 8 Photography

Professionally Edited by Red to Black

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Content

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Glossary

About The Author

Cast of Characters

I, Richard Cooper, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter.

So help me God…

Chapter 1

Fusion Resort

Playa del Carmen

Quintana Roo, México

2200 Hours Local

Sullivan reached into his right front pocket and slipped out his stainless steel SOG: with a quick flick of his thumb, the blade snapped into the locked position with a resounding clank. He grabbed Cooper from around the back of the neck with his left hand, pushing on the bulge under his skin and herding the lump up and to the left with his middle finger. Sullivan was having a difficult time getting a firm grip on Cooper’s sweaty skin; wet and dirty, it was turning bright red from being pulled and twisted tight in his wringing grip.

Hold him down! It's on the run and boring deeper into his neck, shouted Sullivan, fighting to get a better grip and angle.

What's in my neck? Cooper demanded, thrashing and turning in an effort to get off the bed. The weight of Sullivan across his chest and two others across his legs made it impossible for him to escape and difficult for him to take a full breath. Sullivan eased the tip of his knife into Cooper’s neck, creating a slit next to the small bulge and halting the retreat of a scrambling six legged metal parasite.

I've almost got it, shouted Sullivan, squeezing hard on the back of Cooper’s neck, forcing the blade deeper and trapping the crawler under a pinch of skin. With a quick turn of the knife, Sullivan forced his blade against the scrambling, six-legged nano-bot, crippling and hewing it into two pieces. Separation from its power supply disabled the high-tech intruder, shorting out the battery against the blade of the knife and causing a trace of white smoke to seep out of the incision. The distinct smell of burning flesh followed as it began to swirl around the room. Slowly, Sullivan released Cooper's neck and eased his weight off his chest, breathing deep with relief, watching Cooper’s countenance change almost immediately. Sullivan slid the blade back into the incision and flicked out the two halves of the nano-bot from Cooper’s neck, sending them tumbling to the floor. He pushed off of Cooper and stood up. Looking down at the broken bot, he ground the heel of his boot into the tick, pulverizing it where it lay.

The searing heat of the crushed battery nearly cauterized the interior of the incision, leaving just a small trickle of blood dripping from the wound. Cooper’s eyes rolled back into his head, his thoughts scattered and confused, then tried to draw in a full breath while he scanned the room to clear some of the fog from his mind. The distraction of the strong odor of sweat and burnt flesh still hung heavy in the room, permeating his nostrils. His vision was fuzzy and he was not entirely clear about what had just happened. Looking down at the foot of the bed, it was becoming obvious who had just cut him.

Senior Chief Sully, I haven’t seen you since Afghanistan in ‘08, said Cooper, laying his head back down on the flat, sweat-stained pillow. He was still reeling, exhausted from the tussle, and could feel the slight breeze of the ceiling fan as it buffeted the humid Méxican air around the room. Sweat droplets were building and dripping down his forehead and the sides of his face.

Still trying to catch his breath, Cooper wheezed, How did you find me?

Major, they know where you are – you weren’t hard to find, answered Sullivan.

Who are they? Cooper asked.

And by the way, you owe me twenty bucks, interrupted Sullivan.

For what could I possibly owe you twenty bucks? Cooper demanded incredulously.

I had to pay off the bartender to slip a mickey into your drink so we could get you back here and save your sorry ass.

Where is Sam? Cooper asked with panic in his voice, looking across the dimly lit room and not seeing her anywhere. Cooper eased up on to his right elbow, attempting to be wide-eyed and alert but still groggy from the effects of laced drink.

He focused his attention on the nightstand on the other side of the bed. Staring at the bright red LED numbers, he thought for a moment, retracing his memories of the day. Just an hour ago they were on the beach together, celebrating a new chapter in their lives together; Cooper having just proposed marriage….

***************

"Dos más por favor! That's the only Spanish a gringo should ever need to know," said Cooper, cracking himself up with his profound insight. The soft white color of the opaque moon danced between the gently swaying palm trees at the trendy beach resort. He settled into the low-slung beach chair, pushing his toes deeper into the cool, soft, powdered-sugar sand. He turned and looked deep into Samantha's smoky brown eyes, and saw the reflection of the gyrating flames from the tiki-torches that lined the border of the Fusions beach bar. Samantha was gazing toward Cozumel and focusing on the lights of the island; they were mesmerizing, shimmering off the calm ocean. Leaning back in her chair, she could feel the heavy beat of the Caribbean reggae in her chest; it pounded and reverberated from the old and weathered speakers that sat on the deck next to the disc jockey. Between the rich tapestry of ambiance and the bartender’s generous pours, Cooper was more than relaxed, and finally lowered his guard.

He really wanted to just think about the sand, the fluffy Caribbean sand, and that would have been a blessing. Instead, his thoughts drifted back to the suck... the dark and dirty, get in your every crack and crevice, wasteland sand, found only at destination locations like Afghanistan, Iraq, Sudan, Egypt, Libya, and still other places that you would be hard pressed to find on a map. In his previous line of work the deployments were fast and furious, and always outside the wire; not many seven-month pumps like the regulars, most deployments lasted just long enough to complete the mission and bug out to the next assignment, or off for more training.

Samantha looked over and admired Cooper's strong lines, and could sense something beyond her was occupying his mind. She reached over and stroked his unshaven cheek with the back of her fingers. What's wrong baby? You seem a little distant.

I just feel completely naked right now, he replied, with a bit of trepidation, knowing that her soft southern accent almost always put him at ease. It had been like that since the day he met her. She was a student at USC and he was on a three-month TAD in San Diego; temporary duty he requested after the loss of his wife and unborn child. He thought of Samantha as an angel that was sent to him from Heaven, getting him through the most difficult time in his life. She had been his anchor, sticking with him during his many deployments with no questions and no demands.

Naked, she said, with confusion and wonderment. It never ceases to amaze me with what goes on between your ears, she thought to herself.

Yeah, naked, I’m like a fish out of water. I’ve spent way too much time at Camp Living Room, Cooper muttered under his breath, slowly shaking his head back and forth, changing his attitude from relaxed to sullen.

Most of his life he had carried a long gun or a sidearm in one form or another; both, more often than not. It was very difficult for him to put aside the feeling of safety and security, and go unarmed in a foreign country.

Only the bad guys get to have guns in México, he sighed as he slowly drifted in and out; aware of his surroundings and what was happening, but unable to do anything about it as the spiked rum and coke took effect. He knew that someone was approaching and that Samantha was talking, but he was unable to stay on point and focused.

***************

Rubbing his forehead and closed eyes vigorously up and down several times, Cooper anxiously recalled. Sam was just with me!

Relax, Major, said Sullivan. She’s safe; we have her down below, being read in.

Stop calling me Major! I put that life behind me long ago, Cooper insisted. He was still unsure what was going on and had more questions than answers.

Not calling him Major was never going to happen for Sullivan – he had far too much respect for the mustang that had worked his way up through the enlisted ranks when he got to the fleet, then got his education and his commission. He was battle tested, squared away brass: Major Richard Cooper was the real deal in Sullivan’s eyes. Sullivan knew that this was his calling; the Marine Corps was where Cooper belonged. He knew it at the very core of his soul and he wasn’t going to let him forget it. Once in, never out.

What the hell did you just cut out of my neck, AND how did it get there? AND you just cut me open with your pocket knife you son-of-a-bitch! How about you throw a few stitches my way? Cooper demanded.

He reached up and moved his index finger lightly across the area that was burning, trying to get a sense of the cut and see how much blood he was losing.

Simmer down Major, barked Sullivan. One thing at a time, and quit your sniveling. Rub some dirt in it, you'll be fine.

The tone was familiar and reassuring, one that he had heard from Senior Chief Sullivan countless times during their many deployments. Sullivan was more jarhead than squid when he came over to the green side as a seasoned First Class Petty Officer, and seemed to be a perfect fit for the team Corpsman. Tough as nails didn’t even start to describe Doc Sully: He was made of Gorilla Tape and Paracord, and there had never seemed to be anything or anyone that Doc couldn’t patch back together. The truth was that Cooper had always felt confident and at ease in difficult situations with the Doc at his back. Having him in the room now was calming, despite not knowing what had brought them down to Playa.

The dim lamp in the corner of the room cast a silhouette of the other two men standing at his side. Cooper’s eyes strained to see past Sullivan, squinting to readjust his focus and trying to identify the vague human shapes.

Who else did you bring to the party? Cooper asked.

Green and Neff, answered Sullivan. Meeks and Mitchell are down below. Cruz and Jackson are standing watch on the boat.

Cooper was taken aback that his former unit brothers were here looking for him, in México. He had intentionally cut contact with all fourteen men and had written off that chapter of his life, turning the page. He had to move on from that time of his life, feeling that most of his missions were successful, but the unending wickedness in the world had taken its toll.

Most bad guys would slit your throat if they thought they could make a dime, or even just for amusement. No amount of overwhelming violence or devastating force could ever change them. For every bad guy whose ticket to hell he punched, two more would pop up. He had felt he was pushing string uphill. Deep down, he had known all along that the survival of most people around the globe depended on a dictator’s boot on their neck. That was how it had been for thousands of years and that was how it would remain for another thousand. Outside of a few places on earth, civility never caught on – dog eat dog and do unto others before they do unto you.

It’s really good to see you guys again, said Cooper, realizing just how big a part of his life he had left behind. Some of his repressed emotions came flooding back to the forefront of his memories, reliving the hows and whys he had left his brothers and why he had chosen not to re-enlist after being promoted from Captain to Major.

What brings you ladies this far south? Nothing sounded good at the chow hall? They do have some great tacos down here, said Cooper.

You did, Sir; don’t you watch the news? Green asked, more of a statement than a question.

Good to see you too, LT, said Cooper.

World leaders have been getting wacked all week, exclaimed Neff. Cooper knew right away what the ramifications would be, having had many a front row seat to the collapse of Podunk governments and countries; – truth be told, on more than one mission he had helped get that ball rolling. He preferred to pull the strings and not the trigger when it came to civilians. With their governments in turmoil, they would riot in the streets; militaries would move in to secure the cities, locking down the populace and enacting martial law. There would be food, water, and fuel shortages, and financial collapse. A grim scenario for the world and an even a worse scenario for the innocent.

Cooper shrugged. It sucks to be them, but I don’t see what that has to do with me.

Neff brought his hands up and rubbed small circles over his temples, bringing a little circulation back to his face, then took another breath and helped the dot connecting along. It has everything to do with you. Why do you think you had an implant in your neck and why do you think you’re in México?

Well, I am on vacation, but those are both great questions. Now here is one for you – where is Sam? Cooper demanded, knowing full well that she would not have the patience for this type of exercise. She could be a real bitch-on-wheels when she had to be, and Cooper was quite sure that whoever was stuck with her had their hands full right now.

With a clenched fist and an extended thumb, Neff pointed toward the door.

Sir, could you please go below and check on our guest, and make sure she knows the Major is okay, I need to have a few words with the skipper, knowing Green really didn’t want to be in the room for what was coming next.

Aye, aye, Green confirmed the request, as he headed out the door and down the stairs to the next landing.

Why are you really here, Doc? Cooper pushed.

U.S.C. Title 10 section 12301… B.

In English.

Recall...

Recall? You’ve got the wrong guy. I’m out. How did I get dragged into something like this? Cooper asked, with his head down, shaking it back and forth, trying not to buy what Sullivan was selling.

The needs of the Corps far outweigh any notions of resigning your commission. Once in, never out. You are subject to recall for as long as the powers that be deem it necessary and somehow, your jacket ended up on a Yeoman’s desk and signed all the way up the chain! You should see the look on your face right now… priceless! Do you want a copy? I brought an extra, asked Neff, hardly containing his laughter. Seriously; you look like you woke up on the wrong side of the couch!

Cooper closed his eyes and slowly shook his head back and forth, going over the limited options in his head. You are a real piece of… work, Senior, a real piece of work.

Cooper reached over and pulled a Kleenex from the box on the nightstand, holding it to his now stinging neck. What did you cut out of me?

How much do you know about nano technology? Sullivan asked, already aware Cooper studied engineering and science in college. Cooper sat back against the headboard of the bed, wiped the sweat off his brow with a clean corner of the bloody tissue, and contemplated the implant and his old nano curriculum.

The ceiling fan thumped and pushed hot air against his skin, continuing unabated while he tried to focus on Sullivan’s question. He was painfully aware of nano technology, having spent more than one night cramming for finals. Cooper exhaled a deep, heavy sigh, trying to put the puzzle together in his mind. He could still feel the effects of his loaded Bacardi, but felt he had composed his thoughts enough to join the conversation in earnest.

Do we know who put it there? Cooper asked, resigning himself to knowing he was in the middle of something he didn’t want to be part of. And do we know what it does?

The first question is easy, answered Sullivan. Not really. The DOD has to be involved at some level: these implants were in each man in the unit. Or, someone is on the inside. Possibly we were injected with a laced vaccination, who knows. Now, what does it do? Sullivan began, What doesn’t it do would be a better question.

Sullivan grabbed a pad and pen from the nightstand and sketched out a diagram of the nano-bot parasite, sharing everything that he had discovered about this unfamiliar technology with his boss.

Sullivan continued to draw out the separate components. I call them Ticks, he said, circling and labeling the radio-frequency identification chip, global positioning system tracker, power supply, and electrodes that interfaced with human neural pathways that possibly manipulate human DNA. Cooper looked at Sullivan’s drawing and thought about the endless possibilities for weaponizing something that small, closing his eyes and shaking his head no.

We have found that the Tick, once implanted in a host, crawls its way under the skin of the neck and makes itself at home at the base of the scull, where it creates neural connections in the cerebral cortex. It influences all basic thought and function at the whim of, well, at the whim of, I don’t have a clue, added Sullivan. Once activated, the host feels no pain or fear. I’m not sure yet if it has a program it’s working off of, or if it sends and receives commands remotely.

Cooper spun the drawing around for a better look. Just how much influence are we talking about, Doc?

Enough to push someone to assassinate heads of State, answered Sullivan, watching Cooper’s face as he realized in its entirety the full scope and depth of what was playing out across the world.

So, you don’t think it’s a coincidence that I am here in the Yucatán, do you? You do know I won this trip on a radio call-in show, said Cooper, lowering his head again and shaking it in utter disgust. The feeling of being played washed over him like a rogue wave hits you on the beach when you have your back turned. Being a civilian had made him soft. He had let his guard down, causing him to completely miss critical details, his head no longer in the game. Who could have pulled off such an elaborate scheme and what was their goal, Cooper wondered.

He had believed that lady luck had finally smiled down on him, winning an all-expenses-paid trip for ten days of uninterrupted bliss with his soon-to-be wife. He was turning the corner on a decade of bad medicine, and had really needed a getaway like this to reassess where he came from and where he was going. He needed to try and move forward from a life he was good at; to a life he didn’t know. Being a shooter had strained his emotions to the breaking point; he could never escape the death and destruction that had followed him like a constant companion, for what seemed like an eternity. Trying to get out of the killing business was a pipe dream.

Cooper and Sullivan both snapped their heads around as they heard two raps on the door before it swung wide open, slamming against the doorstop. Samantha and the team filed through, led by Staff Sergeant Meeks sporting a fat lip. Samantha looked across the room, her eyes adjusting to the changing light, and spotted Cooper sitting in the center of their hotel room bed. She broke for him, pushing past Meeks and Green.

Rico baby, are you okay? She asked, having been brought up to speed as to why the team was here and what their mission was. She closely examined his neck and pulled his head tightly to her chest. Cooper could feel her heart beating a mile a minute against his face.

Cooper turned and looked at Sullivan, hoping for a reassuring response. I’m fine, I think?

What happened to you? You look like a struck match. Neff asked Meeks, eyeing him up and down.

No comment, replied Meeks, quite indignant, a crimson splotch decorating his mouth, standing with his arms crossed, hoping that he wouldn’t have to divulge any additional or possibly embarrassing details about his assignment trying to keep Samantha in check.

So, Master Gunns, why do you think I, or should I say we, are here in México? Cooper asked, pulling away from Samantha’s nurturing hug and sitting up, eager to fill in the rest of the gaps. It was odd for Cooper to be at such a disadvantage with these men; as the ranking officer and Unit Commander of this Marine Corps Special Operations team, he was privy to all available intelligence from the start of their assignments. He was the one who doled out information on a need-to-know basis, deciding who got what intel. Cooper was a master at compartmentalizing and strategizing, that was what made him so good at his job.

The G20 has called an emergency summit to be held just sixty klicks north of here at the Cancún Convention Center starting tomorrow morning, explained Neff. The press is reporting that they will be laying out a framework for security on a global scale. My contacts at the Pentagon say the chatter is about a One. Freakin’. World. Government. The US, Russia, and now China are all on board; the rest of the governments will tag along pretending that they have a choice.

How credible is this threat? Cooper asked.

Davis was killed trying to assassinate the President of China; Baker, Dorn, Williams, and a boot-camp by the name of Helle are still unaccounted for, said Neff, explaining the extent of the breach. Are you starting to get the picture that I’m painting? Great Britain, Russia, France, Japan; all assassinated. Two attempts on our President before they took him out and his entire detail.

Sullivan stepped forward and pulled down the collar on his shirt, exposing a half-inch cut on the side of his neck that had started to scab over, followed by each man in turn showing Cooper their own cuts, revealing the extent of the compromise to their unit security.

They got to each and every one of us. I found mine shaving two weeks ago, said Sullivan. I went to sick bay to have it looked at. When it started moving around during the biopsy, ONE Captain Thomas Riley about wigged out and tried to lock down the entire hospital! While he was making some calls, I had another Corpsman fish it out for me and I slipped out the back. In the next forty-eight hours we had three go AWOL and Johnson and Nelson were both found dead, possibly another benefit of the Tick. A quick personnel inspection found that the entire team had been infected. It seems that we have been set up as pawns in somebody’s game.

Green piped up, A personal killing strike force, in my estimation.

Who else knows that you’re here, and how widespread is this infestation? Cooper asked.

Don’t know how deep, other than our unit. All of our Ticks were cut out and destroyed except one; I have a ‘fishing buddy’ at the agency that I trust who is running a few tests right now. I should be getting a report back about the who, what, why, and where any day now. We were clean before we moved and procured the private transportation to get here. We have been under the radar for the last 96 hours, said Sullivan.

Neff tossed Cooper a black-over-green XDM .45 with a Crimson laser, all tucked neatly into an inside-the-waistband holster.

Strap up Major, this will have to do till we get back to the boat at El Cid, said Neff. We have enough firepower on board to take out the Méxican Navy if we have to.

México has a Navy?

They gotta call it something.

Cooper pulled the pistol out of its holster, eyeing it over in a