Not Without Pain and Darkness: Book Three of Code Red: Zebras Have Red Stripes

By Mary Beth Knopik

Minnesota needs super heroes: Introducing Social Forces Agent Mrs. Christopher J Logan.  Mrs. Logan takes care of the business that you don't want to get involved in.  Single handedly she takes on the challenges of Minneapolis based international terrorism groups, Al Qaeda, Al Shabaab and ISIS.   The Code Red:  Zebras Have Red Stripes series are exciting novels which follows the life of Mrs. Christopher J Logan. Recently widowed she inherited the problems trying to dissolve her husband's complex business arrangements all the while working as a Special US Forces Operative.  Mrs. Logan finds herself in vicarious situations all in the effort to fight terrorism.  Upon receiving her assignments, law enforcement gave it to her straight.  Her life is constantly in danger as she uncovers international terrorist activity. It will take an act of Congress to provide around-the-clock protection to keep her safe from the unthinkable.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hillcrest Media Group
• Release date: Dec 31, 1899
• ISBN: 9780996072052

Book preview

safety.

1

The Helena National Forest Mountains met the sky and were tinged with white snow that caressed the, wisps of clouds that gently blew across the Pioneer Valley of Montana on that cool summer morning. Like Lewis and Clark, I meandered along the Grasshopper Creek surrounded by giant cedar trees, riding my friend Star, a large golden-tan Dun Mustang stallion

Ahead, the peninsula cut a forge across the creek, and a stand of trees and bushes partially blocked the view. As we slowly picked our way in the shallow water, the forest remained still and quiet. Star’s head hung low, and my feet dangled at his side as I rode bareback. Oh, how often I had dreamt of these days from my Minneapolis home.

……

I’m an undercover Special Forces operative and hold the highest government clearance, Yankee White. The federal agencies have me listed somewhere between the Bureau of Lost, and hoping I’ll never end up in the Division of Found. I work out of Minneapolis, at a front co-owned and operated with my husband, called Logan International Enterprise

I report to the heads of the Pentagon, CIA, and FBI and directly to the President of the United States. Under many administrations, I’ve received the highest level of protection. I’m listed as most wanted under international terrorist groups for my involvement in redirecting their assets from a Swiss banking operation. In addition, my unit had successfully intercepted several high-ranking Al-Qaeda operatives who were planning an attack using a dirty bomb.

For me being a simple person, with no agenda, or plans for government office, I’m under surveillance around the clock. My husband, Christopher J. Logan serves in the infamous Black Operative clandestine CIA unit. He masterminded a plan to fund covert operations, using his infinite wisdom. He also capitalized on the dot.com boom of the early 2000s.

Our marriage is constantly interrupted. We love each other, and pray that someday we’ll be able to have a real life, yet we both know that’ll never happen. We treasure the times that we have together.

The Logan International Enterprise Corporate Headquarters are located in Minneapolis, and the organization has offices located on every continent, and in several US cities. The complex layers of assets are managed via the Pentagon and Four Star General Anthony Pelkowski.

Under Tony’s guidance he directly funds Langley-CIA and Quantico-FBI for covert operations around the world. Not only does he manage the country’s assets, but he also considers me his personal asset. If he had it his way I would be his wife. He’s my rock, and I love him with all my heart.

Meanwhile, John Fleury is my protector and point man. If for some reason, Chris and Tony can’t protect me, then John is ordered to step in at any cost. Under all three of the men, my directive consists of three simple unbreakable rules: Do what I’m told, no crying or whining, and everything that is done by all of us is consensual.

John was the foster brother of my second husband. Paul, who was killed while serving on active duty. His mission was to recover key scientists from North Korea. John is Latin and not the least abashed to conceal his passion. Had it been a different time in the evolution of the missions, John would have had no problem devouring me and claiming me for his own. He’s a lethal, hot, tall, dark, and handsome Latin lover knowing no bounds.

……

Splashing across the shallow rapid-moving creek, Star’s head rose to quick attention as the sun flickered on the water’s rippled surface. I felt the tenseness rise across his wide sides. His ears were sharp and astute to a high level consciousness. We stopped, his legs rigid. Slowly his head moved to catch the sounds and smells that sent the warning.

……

Tony had requested that I never carry a weapon while under his watch. Although I was an invited guest to his ranch this month, I wondered just how practical it was to be in the wilderness without a gun. At any point while out riding Star, I could encounter a pack of wolves or worse a distressed mother bear with cubs. I rank superior in marksmanship.

I stopped breathing to listen for a sign of what Star might have imagined. Slowly I lowered my head to Star’s neck while gently caressing his front left shoulder, and holding the reins tightly in my right hand. Silently, we waited. There was total silence in the depth of the forest. Several black birds circled in the distance. Star cautiously took several steps forward and then stopped.

The sandy peninsula rose from the creek to a knoll, which was surrounded by a small meadow of light green grass. The elevation obstructed a clear view of the landscape, so I stretched to see.

Sliding off the back of Star I held the reins tightly in my hand. I led Star as we ascended the sandy shoreline littered with large stones. The thin high mountain air, combined, with the banging of my heart, caused small beads of sweat to form around the base of my neck. Carefully I remounted and cautiously moved inland.

Instinctively I grabbed the gold necklace with the Number 4 medallion. All I had to do was break the clasp and an instant GPS signal would be transmitted to the Titan Satellite System. The necklace was my panic button.

Within the valley, a highly dedicated Special Forces management team manned a top-secret tracking station. Help is just minute’s away, echoed inside my head as the tremors started.

Suffering from PTSD, I carefully weighed the reality of the situation. I would never call a code unless I was willing to fully own my own behavior. Some secret agents stationed around the globe have decades of duty experience and have never called an immediate response.

I have at least six call notches in my career folder. Each call was debriefed and listed under the national security guidelines as necessary and Protocol Level 1. I prayed today was a case of frazzled nerves.

I reached the top of the low incline about fifty feet away and saw, large boulders placed in a tight circle. From my vantage point, I couldn’t see over the top of the pale yellow stones.

Star reared and tugged at the reins. If he felt danger, I would air on the cautious side. I dismounted. Stroking his forehead and rubbing the star crest between his eyes, I released his bridle. Mind melded, eye-to-eye, I gave him permission to leave.

Star remained at my side.

The manmade circle of stones held a circumference of a hundred feet. Two large smooth side-by-side telephone poles extending fifty feet or more above the ground were centered with a rope attached to the top of each pole.

Hanging down, centered between the poles was what appeared to be a large leather bag. I assumed that it was a camp that held supplies for a hunting group. Hunters usually hung food supplies so wild animals, especially bears, were kept at bay.

Instantly without warning Star reared and kicked the dusty ground, throwing stones and grass in all directions. Then he made a fast retreat for the woods.

Unable to assemble the necessary information correctly, an acute symptom of my PTSD, I stood frozen. I slowly drew closer to the rocks. They were waist high and I struggled to climb over the top. My focus was on the circle and surrounding meadow, not what waited in the inner sanctum.

What appeared to be a buckskin bag for awaiting hunters, looking for supplies, contained a toggled, brown, blood-crusted image of a naked man. His hands and wrists were drawn in the center of his back. His ankles were bound to his wrists and he had been left to dangle face down twenty feet off the ground.

Blonde hair covered his bloody face. His eyes had been removed, and his frozen chin was pressed against his chest and was caked in dry brown blood. He dangled and gently rocked as the soft wind blew across the valley.

No signs to indicated that he had been dead for a great period of time. Bloating and decomposition hadn’t settled in. His skin color was still a bluish-gray. I had been raised in South Minneapolis, and my parents were morticians, so death was no stranger to me.

My brain started to digest the scene before me. With Star gone, I was all alone and possibly in great danger. Tears filled my eyes. I desperately weighed my options. When will it ever end? I asked myself. I retreated to the clearing on the peninsula and pointed to the sky. Yanking the clasp that held the necklace I pulled and broke the chain.

I then announced in a clear unmistakable tone, "Code Red: Zebras Have Red Stripes!" I then fell to the ground, covered my eyes and cried uncontrollably.

I felt such shame. I had once again brought notoriety to the team that was secretly to protect me. This event would upset the balance of secrecy that was to surround this military base. All I could do was cover my face, and pray for Tony’s forgiveness.

……

Sir, we have received a code red from Mrs. Logan, the sergeant echoed, as three cell phone messages vibrated over the table in the situation room located deep in the base’s infrastructure.

Redirect Titan for an image, please, Four Star General Tony Pelkowski commanded, smooth and without alarm.

He knew that a code wouldn’t be called unless it was a final option. He knew better than any human being that it would be the last option, and that I was in real danger.

Do you think she just fell off the damn horse? grizzled the duty sergeant hoping to convey the sarcastic tone in his voice to indicate his dislike for having a female civilian on base.

Zoom out, Tony barked. I see why she called the code. She is in danger.

Sir, what the hell is that? the duty sergeant asked.

"Initiate a recovery. I want her out now! Full alert DRT!" Tony boomed.

Located on the north ridge of the surveillance operations, the team of six responders took the quadrants, marking the GPS signal. The duty officer quickly calculated his equipment to provide auxiliary artillery backup.

Under the desert camouflage, the ground-to-air missiles went to arm duty status. The 50 mm rifles were placed on their tripods, poised to send rounds up to a distance of three miles with complete accuracy.

This is not a drill, echoed in the headset.

……

Code red DRT, echoed within the bowels of the subterranean secret base.

The MH-60G Pave Hawk helicopter’s six-team specialists and two crew captains, rushed for assembly. Ground crew had practiced the drill hundreds of times. Rappel lines secured within the belly of this mighty giant were ready for a fast evacuation.

Guidance systems glowed red for a fast takeoff over the mountain range. The six-man team dressed in full black fatigues with Kevlar vests, armed with AK-47 machine guns strapped to their chests, topped with helmets, and equipped with state-of-the-art communications, assembled on the outer platforms that were specially designed for a fast evac deployment.

Three abreast they hung over the edge on the outside wall of the chopper; each man listened carefully to the information that was being transmitted. GPS was funneled into the system. ETA was within five minutes.

The gunnery sergeant announced the activation of weapons. All team members went to full live fire alert.

Two UH-60 Blackhawk support helicopters filled with flat screen monitors, and communication hardware assembled their crew for takeoff immediately after the Big Bird launched.

Aboard were two physician-trained quality medics who were prepared to triage any critical assistance necessary. The fully armed gunnery was poised, and ready for action to protect Mama Bird from a ground assault.

Circling the ridge, Mama Bird positioned for the final decent. The two Blackhawks were positioned above at a decisive angle to lend direct fire to the scene. Given the green light command, the Pave Hawk dove to the creek bed, stopping fifty feet above the surface. The six-team specialists instantly rappelled to the ground.

The propellers created savage winds that threw sand and dirt everywhere, blinding me. Placing my flannel shirt over my face, I stumbled back. Slipping on a sharp rock, I fell into the shallow ice-cold waters of Pioneer Creek.

Blood filled the water’s surface. I had a deep gouge in my right heel, and I hit my head on the rock bottom of the stream. Glancing off the rocks, I headed face first, down in the chilly rapidly moving water.

As I choked, freezing water filled my lungs. Two arms grabbed my shoulders, forcing me into an upright position. Instantly a harness was placed through my legs and secured around my chest.

Pave Hawk received the green light. The wench released, the ascension made and I was hoisted to the sky. I tried to explain that I needed to stay.

I was yanked inside the chopper, and sprawled across the Kevlar-coated bulletproof floor. The medics transmitting my vitals: blood pressure 195 over 135, body temperature 92, 93, 94, pupils non reactive, I was in shock. I felt my heart slowly banging inside my chest. Tremors started.

I whispered for Chris, Tony and John to save me.

……

Situation room to full alert, echoed within the complex.

Titan Satellite System was beaming photos from thirty nautical miles in space. The clarity of the shots was complete and left little to the imagination to the people who were witnessing the live coverage.

Give it to me, gentlemen, Tony wanting an analysis.

Sir, male, Caucasian, possible twenty-five to thirty, five-eight to five-ten, blonde, body temperature 70 degrees Fahrenheit/20 Celsius, facial recognition isn’t possible from overhead, handcuffs are military, standard slip knot.

After a long pause, the duty officer of the day, his voice tight and filled with professionalism said, Sir, our duty roster indicates all present and accounted for.

I need to find Lieutenant Colonel Andrew Harrison, Tony ordered quietly.

Permission to go green, Sir. echoed from the remaining Blackhawk.

Sir, there’s no way to land. We’ll need to recon. I’ll initiate the drop to the ground south of the peninsula. I’ll transmit direct to the situation room, encrypted, a voice said over the speaker in the situation room.

Commander, carry on, I’m going to see Mrs. Logan. This is going to take sometime to organize the data. Contact me to set up a debrief, said Tony.

With that said, Tony headed to the tarmac to await the Pave Hawk to descend on the base.

……

Soldier, listen to me carefully. Code red, I need to debrief with the general. Do not administer drugs, I said.

It took me at least ten tries to get my message across to the attending medic. My teeth were clicking so hard that, I sounded like a percussion instrument for a mariachi band.

Soldier, I just fell into some really cold water, and I have a small cut on my foot. Just listen to me. I need to debrief, it’s a matter of national security.

The jackass was too stuck in his own world to give a rat’s ass as to what I was trying to convey. Meanwhile, the Pave Hawk circled the base. In less than fifteen minutes start to finish, the team had completed the recovery with only one mishap, myself.

The gurney awaited the landing. Tony the perfect PR man, Four-Star General, and head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, looked to the sky. His hands were flexed at his waist and his jaw tight.

He had absolutely no problems running the entire United States Armed Forces. Yet today, he couldn’t even ensure the personal safety of the woman that he loved and called his wife. One never to lose his composure, he held his hands in a fist. He angrily kicked the gravel next to the landing pad and waited.

After the medic had started the IV, attached cardio pads to my chest, and strung leads to the portable heart monitor, he knelt beside me and took constant readings. While I struggled for breath and tried hard to focus, he sent messages over his headset to the awaiting ground team.

In my mind, all I wanted to do was go to the lodge and jump in the hot tub. The medic repeatedly told me, Mrs. Logan, settle down. Try and control your breathing. Please, just stop talking. I know you’re nervous. We have everything under control. We’ll have you back at the base in two minutes. Just settle down.

It was the longest flight in my history. It may have been less than five minutes, but no one understood. I needed to convey the important message to Tony.

We finally landed and Tony ran up to me.

Tony, for God’s sake, please, just listen to me, I pleaded.

Hiccupping, coughing, and gasping for breath, I clung to his shirt. Finally I took control and screamed to make him understand me.

"Call former General Sam Note, now! That is one of his kids. Do you understand me? Tony, it’s one of his kids," I yelled.

Tony bent over the gurney wide-eyed and speechless. Pushing the medic aside, Tony looked deep into my eyes. The world came to a stop. After at least five minutes of trying, I had finally convinced someone to listen to me.

Sitting me up and holding me in his arms, Tony smoothed my wet hair from my face.

Darling, are you sure? What are you basing this information from and how did you come to this conclusion? he softly whispered in my ear.

Tony, the body was staged. Jason Tate was one of the students I interviewed at the University of Energy Sciences Institute, Pocatello, Idaho, and he was involved with the use of ELF technology, illegally used in the casinos. His group of friends wanted to crack the security codes for gaming machines, I said to refresh his memory.

He was killed off sight. There was no blood on the ground. No body parts, eyes, or genitals, were located under the body. No animals left tracks, I continued.

I fell into the stream. I tried to follow the four sets of ATV tracks. I think there were three more, coming into the meadow from the northwest. They crossed the creek left going east to the southeast. I’m worried that the three choppers blew evidence away, I said finally relieved knowing that Tony understood me.

"Darling, I’ll look into this and get back to you. I want you to follow Rule No.1 and do exactly as you’re told. I promise no drugs. I’ll personally warm you up later. That is a promise, Tony said.

He kissed my forehead and signaled for the ground crew to take care of me.

2

The Montana base ranch study contained floor-to-ceiling stacked shelves filled with history books. The bay window overlooked the mountain range. A rustic wooden desk with a large map of the original Lewis and Clark expedition was covered with clear glass. The desktop always remained neat, and no unattended files were left on the desktop for security reasons.

To the left the large black CIA Special Operations encrypted phone with a three- inch red sphere only flashed a warning when the national security division went to full alert.

I needed to make the call to Logan International Enterprise Corporate Headquarters located on the Nicollet Mall of downtown Minneapolis. I waited to be directed to Dave. Hesitating to choose my words carefully, I bowed my head and closed my eyes.

Level 1 Protocol, Dave, please.

I didn’t want to go to redirect not knowing the status of my husband, Chris or my Protector John. If I was at the Montana ranch, it surely meant that they weren’t available.

Hey, Babe, you doing okay? Dave came back almost immediately.

I knew he was expecting my call.

……

Dave, director of communications for Logan, a former Navy Seal was fluent in many languages with special services in the Middle East and Asian Triangle. His responsibility was to coordinate transmissions from agents in the field to the CIA, FBI and Pentagon.

He served overseas with Chris and was eager to remain within the covert operations. Single and private, he was a love interest to Donna Schuler from the Logan Phoenix Office.

The communication network for the international business was housed in Logan International Enterprise, Minneapolis’s twenty-story high-rise. The lower level contained several five-star restaurants, which also served as a mess. The mess supplied the third–floor dining room that seated one hundred.

The twenty-four hour support personnel were housed within the complex. The lecture room, dormitory, Protocol 1 housing apartments, situation room and the communication center, firing range, offices and the penthouse were contained within the high-rise.

……

Dave, this was simple. I fell into some cold water and I have a small cut on my heel. I sounded smooth as ice even while breathing, because I had rehearsed several times while trying to gather the courage to call.

Right, Babe, Dave replied quickly to me.

Dave, I want to record a message to Chris and John. They obviously would’ve taken this call directly if available, I requested.

Awe, Babe, don’t do this to us. Just keep the faith. We have you covered. Please don’t do this, Dave pleaded.

Dave, commence recording now, I commanded.

"Chris and John, this was a nonmilitary event today. It was a staged event. It was personal in nature and directed solely to my attention. The message is clear.

I must go in person to the Kwatee Shoni Council, and explain the actions that have reflected on their Great Nation," I said.

I’m going to Pocatello to meet with officials of the Bannock Tribal Council at Fort Defense regarding the money lost at the casinos, I said firmly.

I’ll need a meeting with Sam Note. I also request that at all cost, I repeat at all cost, that Lieutenant Colonel Andrew Harrison be withheld from this assignment, I demanded.

Babe, this is going to take sometime. Dave was scrambling for options.

Dave, I’m further requesting that I go in blind. I won’t wear the tracking, GPS necklace or bracelet. I want this a clean slate, no holds bar.

You can have Chris and John text or email me before eight o’clock tonight. Please confer with Donna, this is her division, and let me know the status.

What does Tony and the team request? Dave asked. He was stalling and waiting for a response directly from the general himself on the other line. Chris was also on the conference call.

"Tony was informed immediately upon my recovery. I see no reason to delay this assignment while he debriefs the information with Sam Note’s team.

This incident has clearly penetrated the security of the base and two sovereign nations."

Let me make it perfectly clear, I added. I need to get to the bottom of this situation and that means right now.

Babe, we’re ahead of you on this. Code reds status, confirmed. Please initiate Protocol Level 1. Your directive is forth coming. Remember the rules. Initiate Rule One, now, Dave gave the directive. The call ended, leaving me with a pit in my stomach.

……

I covered my face with my hands, trying hard to block the tears. The Novocain was wearing off and my heel hurt. I needed to eat, drink liquids and take some painkillers. Further delay and my blood sugar would drop rendering me totally useless.

I knew that Tony and Sam Note had taken a group of kids into protective custody at Quantico and Langley. They had been recruited from the University of Energy Science Institute in Pocatello after their involvement in a science project called ELF.

The kids had managed to turn a simple program into a major money-marketing scheme to disable casino mechanical gaming machines for their profit. Using the latest top-secret low frequency technology, and advanced math skills, they had milked the top- end payoffs from the machines.

Jason Tate, the murder victim, had masterminded the operation.

Slowly I stood and headed for the kitchen. Looking in the refrigerator I spotted a large pitcher filled with orange juice. The last time I had consumed orange juice at the ranch, it was laced with a sedative.

Once a fool, twice a fool, ran through my head. I grabbed the milk and started to make a sandwich with my back to the deck.

……

My internal music box felt his presence and started humming deep within my loins. The quiet stirring of emotions began to play just like it had when we parted company on a mission in Phoenix.

We had broken protocol. For one magnificent night, completely without surveillance and out of communication, and like a fairytale, we had made love in a high-rise building that was staged for a Winter Wonderland Expo. The set was complete with an enchanted white snow and frost-forest theme filled with twinkle lights.

With the mission completed, we debriefed atop a mountain ridge under a full moon. That night I knew I owned the entire valley. I had combined the resources of Tony’s secret base with the inherited and promised Kwatee Shoni land. It was left to Lieutenant Colonel Andrew Harrison, by passage from his late mother. Andrew and I had become one soul that night.

Andrew would remain in the clandestine unit. He would forever shadow me and could step in if called upon. In quiet times, I often closed my eyes and returned to that night, a living fantasy with no regrets.

I knew that he knew.

There was no need to turn and face him. Our souls were one.

I needed to eat, drink my milk and take the painkiller. I refused to turn and face him. My posture slumped and my head lowered. The large lump in my throat made swallowing hard. I was determined not to stop.

He watched my every move. He was patient and knew it was my timetable. I finished the sandwich, gulped the milk down, and chased the pills.

Steady, I turned to face him. Our eyes met, and the tears started to roll down my cheeks. The dam had been broken. I was shattered. I slowly walked to the deck. He held Star’s bridle in his hand.

I walked to him and placed my arms around his waist