Command Plan

By C Smith

When Sam Hawk was forced into retirement due to injuries
sustained in the line of duty for the Chicago vice squad, he
thought his days of danger were over. He had planned on just
laying back relaxing and writing his memoirs, but fate had
plans for him.
By happen stance an old friend drafts him back into service,
and before he knows it, hes back up to his eyeballs in the
Chicago gangland. He discovers that theres a powerful
political faction thats trying to take over the U. S.
Government. He stumbles onto some information that
endangers him and his soon to be love connection, librarian
Helen McAllister.
As he delves into this, his investigation leads him all the way
to the white house.
Against all odds, he teams up with Helen and tries to take a
stand against the totalitarian socialistic regime. Can they pull
it off, or will they suffer for trying?
Command Plan, is a fictional account, that shows us just how
slippery the slope is that leads to a dictatorial socialistic
government. It discloses how frail our freedom is and how
easy we make it for our enemies to conquer us from within.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 19, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491804834

C Smith

Colin Smith is a veteran news correspondent and currently lives in Cyprus, now quiescent but one of the many late-twentieth-century trouble spots on which Colin reported as roving correspondent for The Observer. He is the author of Fire in the Night, a biography of Orde Charles Wingate which he co-wrote with John Bierman.

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© 2013 by C. Smith. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse   09/10/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4918-0482-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-0483-4 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

A Note From The Author

Thanks

Statue Of Freedom

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

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

A Note From The Author

The author wants to make it clear that, although there probably is corruption in the Chicago Police Department, just like in every major city’s police department, he has no specific knowledge there of.

This book is totally fictitious. All persons, places, businesses and organizations included in the story is totally imaginary, and any similarity to actual persons, alive or dead, is coincidental and unintentional. Although many places mentioned, do exist, they have been changed to serve the needs of the story.

Thanks

This book is dedicated to all my friends, acquaintances and family members whose encouragement keeps me writing. Without their support, these pages would still be blank.

Thanks to all, and a special thanks goes out to my beloved wife, Mary Ann, who has patiently read and re-read page after page of my manuscripts that sometimes needed to be re-written multiple times.

Thank you Sherry, my daughter, and thank you Daye, my stepdaughter, whose computer tips have made my life as an author more pleasant.

Thanks to Benny Womack for his expertise.

Statue Of Freedom

High atop the Capitol in Washington D.C., is a nineteen and a half foot bronze statue that weighs 15,000 pounds. It’s official name is the Statue of Freedom, but is affectionately referred to simply as Freedom. It’s a symbol for what this country stands for, and It serves as a constant reminder that the United States of America is the land of the free.

Freedom is often thought to be a statue of an American Indian because of the feathered head dress she wears, but she’s actually a lady warrior wearing a military styled helmet and holding a sheathed sword in her right hand and a laurel wreath and a United States shield in her left hand. She stands atop a cast-iron globe encircled with the inscription: E Pluribus Unum, which means, One from many. It’s a phrase that’s on the official Seal of the United States, and was considered to be the national motto, until 1956 when the United States Congress passed an act adopting In God We Trust as the official motto. The helmet she wears is decorated with stars and an eagle’s head and is crowned by a crest of feathers.

In 1854, Thomas Crawford, a renowned American sculptor, was commissioned to design a statue to adorn the summit of the capitol building. He executed the plaster model for the statue in his studio in Rome, Italy, where he had taken up residency in 1835. In 1857, at the age of 43 Crawford succumbed to cancer before the plaster model left his studio. Once the model reached Washington D.C., Clark Mills a noted American sculptor, famous for his creation of the statue of Andrew Jackson in New Orleans, cast the statue in five main sections in his Washington D. C. foundry.

Ironically, one of his assistants who was accredited with performing the major part of the assembly, was Philip Reid, a slave, that worked at the facility. On December the 2,1863, the final section, the head and shoulders, was hoisted into place by slaves.

Command Plan, is a fictional account, that shows us just how slippery the slope is that leads to a dictatorial socialistic government. It discloses how frail our freedom is, and how easy we make it for our enemies to conquer us from within and undermine our democratic values. Shockingly, our government could be just one election, one bad decision by a congressional leader or one stolen election from disaster.

Freedom Statue

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COMMAND PLAN

BY

C.SMITH

Evil leads where fools can tread

if you follow you may end up dead

Two mortals defend us armed with hope

against a crisis of world wide scope

It’s hidden somewhere within the plan

the loss of freedom for every man

We build walls to protect our hearts

and cautiously make rules when love starts

Two lovers control their emotions

then find a safe haven across the oceans

Chapter 1

The L’train

Chicago, Illinois

September 14, 2010

3:22 p.m.

THE WIND IS swirling unmercifully, as Sam awaits the southbound commuter train at the Franklin Street stop. He’s thankful for the the crowd today that’s shielding him from the ice cold wind. When he left home this morning he wore a light coat. It was adequate at the time, but this afternoon as he returns home, a cold front has swept in off Lake Michigan and Chicago is now imitating the Arctic.

He hears the familiar sound of the L’train approaching, and he feels the elevated platform begin to shake and quiver beneath his feet and then he sees the L’train approaching. The thought flashes through Sam’s mind that it should be called the E’ train instead of the L’train because it denotes that the train is elevated, not levitated. The meanings for words and the sounds of words has become more important to Sam, as he struggles now to write a book.

He’s prepared for the train to be crowded as it always is this close to the rush hour, and he clutches his laptop to his chest to save it from being crushed as he moves up a little to be sure he can get on. He holds fast to his position as everyone elbows for advantage. The L’train screeches to a stop, and the doors fold back and Sam leans forward, and is shoved aboard the train by the commuters. He grabs a pole and braces for the train’s lurch forward. Sam listens to the clicks and the clacks and absorbs the jerks as the train rolls swiftly ahead. It’s an awkward scene as total strangers are all smashed uncomfortably up a against each other. There’s no room for modesty as he realizes that a chubby lady, he’s never seen before, has her bosom pressing firmly into his back.

In-spite of all the body heat, Sam still has to fight to control the miserable cold shivers, and promises himself that he will definitely move somewhere in the deep south when he finishes writing his book. Shortly, Sam glances over to see an old friend, Taylor Crawford, who’s pushing through the crowd towards him and edges up beside him. Sam, he whispers in his ear, get back off at the next stop! Take this and call the number on it as soon as you can. I’ll explain later. Get off now! With the confusion of it all and being jostled by the crowd, Sam is left speechless as he feels something drop into his coat pocket. Taylor turns and disappears into the crowd towards the back of the train car.

Taylor’s words Get off now! are still ringing in Sam’s ears as he stumbles back off the train at the Lincoln Street stop, and looks around sizing up everyone that exits with him. A natural reflex from his years of experience in police work. The icy wind is penetrating his light coat, and he can tell that the velocity of the wind is twice as strong on the raised platform as it is at the ground level.

When he reaches the ground level he feels the object in his pocket, it’s a small, flat, hard object. He’s afraid to pull it out, and he’s confused about the instructions that Taylor gave him. Obviously he had handed something off to him, that he didn’t want to be caught with. He knows that his friend is not playing games, since he’s an FBI agent, and Sam fears that it’s a life or death message he was delivering. He could see it in Taylor’s eyes. Sam can’t imagine what this is all about. Sam hasn’t seen Taylor in a couple of years, but at one time they were real close friends, and they had worked closely many times. Taylor Crawford is one of the nicest guys you could ever meet, and he always insists that you call him Taylor. He had been in the news just a few days ago, having been fired from the FBI after nearly twenty year’s service.

Sam remembers that when he read the newspaper account, he knew the charges were trumped up. He knows Taylor well enough to know that Taylor wasn’t capable of doing the things that he was being accused of. He could tell that there was more to it than what the media was telling… .

Sam takes a quick look down into his pocket to see what the object looks like. It’s a black flat piece of plastic about two inches long and a half an inch wide with some kind of a little silver metal plug looking device protruding from one end. It has a strip of masking tape on one side with a telephone number on it. He assumes it has something to do with computers, but he’s never seen anything quite like it.

Sam steps into the closest telephone booth and calls the number that’s scribbled on the masking tape. He thinks it’s best not to use his cell phone to make the call, and he’s guessing it must be Taylor’s number. No answer, no recording, nothing. He tries again and the results are the same… . He’s not sure what to make of this, but he has the feeling that it’s something very important. He’s only three blocks from the Chicago Downtown Library where he spends a lot of his time since he retired from the CPD, the Chicago Police Department. With his ambitions now to be an author, he’s been doing research there just about everyday. He recently bought a laptop and spends most of his time working on the book. Drawing from his eight year’s experience on the vice squad, he feels that he has enough information stored in his head for a good book. The book will reveal the corruption he witnessed in the CPD… .

He’ll carry the little device to one of the librarians, Mrs. McAllister. She has practically taught him how to use his computer, and he knows she will know what this thing is and what to do with it… .

Chapter 2

The FBI Agents

Chicago, Illinois

September 14, 2010

4:04 p.m.

ABOUT HALFWAY TO the library he becomes aware that he’s being followed. Two men in dark suits have been 25 to 30 feet behind him all the way. Every time he stops he sees from the corner of his eye that they slow up too. He’ll pretend that they’re not there and just carry on.

Could they be FBI? Could they be the mob? Whatever the little object is, it’s obvious that somebody wants it. Maybe he should just confront them and give it to them. He quickly decides that’s not an option, since Taylor didn’t want them to have it, and that’s good enough reason for him to hang on to it. Maybe he can find Taylor later and give it back to him, but he knows he has to get rid of it for now . . . .

The library should be a good place to hide it, with it’s hundreds of rows of books and huge marble columns that support the very high decorative vaulted ceiling… .

Sam ducks into the library thankful to be out of the weather. He makes his way over to Mrs. McAllister’s desk, only to find out that she left early today.

The two stalkers appear in the entrance of the library and start towards him. Sam ignores them and strolls nonchalantly to the fiction section limping as he favors his bad leg. It’s the reason that he was forced into early retirement. He ducks in behind a row of books and quickly searches for a book that he’s heard of. He spots one, A Farewell To Arms by Earnest Hemingway. He looks to be sure they can’t see him, then he parks his computer on a shelf and peels the little strip of tape, with the telephone number on it, off of the device, and sticks it to the instep, on the bottom of his shoe. He pulls the book and places the little gizmo between the pages and shoves it back into place. Then he grabs his laptop and moves swiftly to another isle and then across to the non-fiction section.

He takes a book at random and emerges from the rows of books and slowly walks over to the checkout desk. The young librarian looks up at him as if she’s trying to keep from laughing, as she stamps the expiration date onto the book. Sam puts it under his arm with the laptop and tries to act like he doesn’t even know that they’re watching him from across the lobby. Easy for Sam to do, since he’s spent his whole career pretending to be someone he wasn’t, as an undercover officer for the CPD Vice Squad… .

When he starts to exit the library, they stop him and flash FBI IDs in his face and they mumble their names, agents Koche and Rosenfeld. They ask him to step outside so they can ask him a few questions. Sam’s first thought is, neither one of them appear to be of bureau calibre. Sam knows that FBI agents usually introduce themselves as special agent so and so. These two aren’t special anything. One of the agents is tall and gangly with a bad scar across one cheek. All Sam can think about is Ichabod Crane. The other one is shorter and huskier reminding him of Lou Costello, and in-spite of his baby face he speaks with a commanding voice.

He steps up to Sam. Could we see your identification, sir?

Sam hands them his drivers license and asks, what’s this all about?

We have reason to believe that Taylor Crawford, a rogue ex-FBI agent, passed something to you. We have him under surveillance he’s been engaging in illegal activities.

Now Sam’s even more skeptical about them being FBI agents. It just doesn’t add up, and he knows what they’re saying about Taylor and illegal activities is a flat out lie. What do you mean something? Sam responds.

We’re not sure what it was, but we have witnesses that say they saw him pass something to you on the L’train.

All he did was say hi to me. Is it illegal now to speak to a friend on the L’train? He’s a good friend of mine from way back.

Sir, I repeat, we have witnesses that saw him give you something. Sam’s thinking, they just don’t know how much they’re pissing him off. If they were in a more private place these two varmints would be laying on the ground right now, instead he says, would you like to search me? —

Sam leads them back into the library and over to the men’s restroom and says, have at it, looking at both of them with daggers in his eyes, and he has to restrain himself from kicking their ass. The agents take the book he’s holding and search through it. When they hand it back to him, Sam notices the title, for the first time: EVERYTHING WOMEN SHOULD KNOW ABOUT MEN. They both give him a strange look when they see it. Then they open his laptop and look through it. They search all his pockets and pat him down.

What are you looking for? Sam asked, as they leave the restroom, and return to the library exit.

The husky one ignores his question and asks, Mr. Hawk, is the address on your drivers license correct?

Yes, sir.

You may hear from us again.

I can hardly wait.

With that, they turn and the tall one speaks into a communication device, and Sam watches as they move to the curb and jump into a big black SUV and are chauffeured swiftly away. Sam moves over closer to the curb to see if he can see their tag number, but a taxi obstructs his view. He places a call to his friend, Sergeant Sarah Hanson, a clerk in the Chicago Vice Squad office, to see if the two guys are really FBI agents. Drawing from his memory he gets her to check in her computer for agents named Koche and Rosenfeld. After checking, she assures him that there’s no FBI agent by those names listed in her data base of agents. Just as he thought . . . .

Sam returns to the library to work on his book, but after a couple of hours he finds that he can’t concentrate well enough to be productive, so he heads for home… .

Chapter 3

The Farm

Northern Indiana

1975

SAMUEL JAMES HAWK was born on a farm in northern Indiana and his parents re-located to the Windy City when he was a teenager. His early years on the farm taught him what hard work was, as he helped his parents and his older brother and sister to scrape out a living as sharecroppers on a small tract of land. It was a fruitless endeavor on land that was infertile.

He learned that plowing is hard work and he learned that mules really are stubborn. The idea of getting up before the sun comes up and working before he went to school, still haunts him today. He vowed that when he grew up he would not be a farmer. When his parents eventually gave up on that way of life and moved to Chicago, his life turned in a completely different direction.

Shortly after he moved to Chicago, Sam decided that his calling in life was in law enforcement. As he looked around the city all he saw was corruption from every street corner to every back alley. Sam appointed himself as the enforcer for his neighborhood’s kids. There wasn’t a kid his age that could out fight him, out run him or outwork him. He challenged every kid in his neighborhood to toe the mark and to stay out of trouble. He single handily kept the drugs and gangs out of his neighborhood and the gangs didn’t mess with Sam Hawk. When he graduated from high school no one was surprised when he became a cop. He quickly worked his way into the jobs that he had always wanted, the undercover jobs.

He was forced into retirement about a year and a half ago by several gunshot wounds that left him with a severe limp, and a weakened left arm, although Sam’s confident, that once he’s rehabbed, there’s not a man in the vice squad who could hold their own with him.

Sam’s brother and sister have moved out of Chicago after both of their parents passed away the same year, in 2007. Now Sam’s the last of the Hawk’s in Chicago. His sister married an attorney and moved to Portland Oregon, and hasn’t spoken to Sam since their mother died. She didn’t approve of the arrangements he made for her funeral.

His brother is a devout bachelor that runs a bar in San Diego or Los angeles. Sam can’t keep up with him. He calls Sam about once a month from a different location and tries to talk him into moving to California.

Sam’s been divorced for six years now and his ex wife recently remarried an accountant and moved to St. Petersburg, Florida with her husband. Sam has always been thankful that there were no little Hawks… .

On the way back to the L’train Sam begins to try to make sense of all this. What has Taylor gotten himself into, and why does he have to be caught up in it? Sam had changed his cell phone number awhile back in hopes that he could distance himself from all the crap that goes on in Chicago, but it seems that it hasn’t worked… .

Chapter 4

Homer Johnson

The L’train

Chicago, Illinois

September 14, 2010

6: 33 p.m.

THE FRANKLIN STREET L’train stop is not half as crowded when Sam gets back on it for the second time, two hours later, and there’s plenty of seats available. He takes a seat, and checking to be sure no one notices, he pulls the little strip of tape, with the telephone number on it, from the bottom of his shoe. He dials it up with his cell phone… . Still no answer. He begins to think that Taylor wrote it down wrong. He looks at it real close to see if he’s mistaking one number for another. After three tries he loads the number into his cell phone, and discards the tape. He’ll have to call it again later… .

Sam looks to the back of the train car and notices a suspicious looking character that can’t seem to keep his eyes off of him. Sam’s experience in the vice squad, tells him that this guy may be up to no good. He’ll definitely have to start carrying his 45 automatic again. Right now he feels naked without it. When he retired he thought he was through dealing with this sort of thing, but now he finds himself feeling like he’s back on the vice squad. He was definitely in the wrong place at the wrong time when Taylor Crawford approached him on the L’train earlier… .

As the train rattles along Sam comes to the realization that he’ll never be able to escape being involved in the murky undertow of this crime riddled city until he moves away. Over the years he has developed hundreds of connections that can come back to haunt him at a moments notice… .

Then his mind begins to compose new scenarios for his book. This exercise now consumes nearly all of his thinking. Every waking moment, ideas flash through his brain and even when he’s asleep he dreams about things to include in his book. Eerily he has flashbacks to missions that he thought he had forgotten all about years ago. He thinks he has completed roughly two hundred pages and he can see that the events of the day may make their way into his book.

This second, his mind is dabbling with ways to incorporate them into his book. The organization of it all has nearly overwhelmed him, and Mrs. McAllister, at the library, has become his sounding board and editor. She’s become invaluable assisting him with the book, since he doesn’t even know how to structure a paragraph or a sentence correctly.

When Sam exits the train, he sees the suspicious character exit at the other end of the train car and stands watching to see which direction Sam proceeds. At a glance Sam finds something familiar about the little black man that’s now staring at him. He’s wearing a new looking suit that’s too big for him. Sam has dealt with many of these guys over the years and he thinks he may know him. Sam tries to get a better look at him as he moves across the platform towards the steps, but the full beard and long hair makes it difficult for him to recognize him. It’s obvious he doesn’t care that Sam knows he’s following him. In fact he approaches Sam, and with a nervous shaky voice he says, you don’t remember me do you Mr. Sam?

Sam takes a closer look.

I’m Homer, Homer Johnson Mr. Sam, don’t you remember me?

Of course Homer, how are you doing! Sam said and shakes his hand vigorously. I didn’t recognize you with your disguise.

Oh, you mean the beard, Homer said, stroking his chin, I’ve had it for awhile now. Mr. Sam, I need to tell you something. Can we go somewheres private?

Sam senses that Homer is very uptight as he keeps checking all points of the compass. Sure, come with me to my place, it’s only a couple of blocks up the street, and it’s too cold out here.

As they start towards Sam’s apartment, Homer keeps looking back over his shoulder and Sam can see the fear in his eyes. Sam’s careful to hold the library book face towards his laptop so Homer can’t see it, but he’s not sure if he can even read… . Sam leads Homer into his apartment building and up to the third level, apartment 3C. Come on in Homer, I’ll fix us something to eat, you want a beer?

Mr. Sam, ya know I’s not gonna turn ya down on a meal and a beer.

Sam gets him a beer and pulls a couple of pork chops out of the freezer and throws them in a frying pan, douses a little salt and pepper on them, covers them and lets them simmer. Sam has been batching for six years now, and he’s become a pretty good cook. His apartment sadly features a sectional sofa covered in broad geometric patterns that clash with the gaudy floral drapes. An egregious decorating flaw that’s never crossed Sam’s mind. All remnants he purchased at the Goodwill Store after his ex-wife made off with all the furniture… . Now he can’t imagine what’s bothering Homer or what he wants to say.

Homer has been an informant for Sam for years and it’s amazing that he’s still alive. The information that he’s furnished the vice squad has helped them to put a lot of criminals behind bars. He actually makes a living from the bribe money from the FBI and CPD.

Sam thinks of Homer as a brave friend, because he has risked his life many times to help bring gangsters to justice, especially for him and the vice squad. Sam starts to stir up some veggies to go with the chops and finally asks Homer, what’s going on?

Homer’s standing over by the window peaking out through the drapes and drinking his beer. He says, Mr. Sam, I’ve got myself in a kinda fix, I’m afraid there’s some bad guys looking for me.

What did you do Homer?

Nothing really, I just got in the wrong place, ya know. I just got on the L’train at Madison and Mr. Taylor, ya know, Mr. Taylor Crawford, comes up to me and grabs my arm and leads me to the other end of the car. He commences to whisper in my ear, ‘Homer, you find Sam Hawk and tell him to call me.’ He told me to stays on the L’train till I saw you, and right after that Mr. Taylor got off the train and two men got off right behind him. I looks out the window to see them grab him and lead him down the steps. I’s been riding the L’train all day looking for you.

What did the two men look like?

Mr. Sam, I’s not sure I didn’t pay any attention to them till I sees them follow Mr. Taylor off the train, ya know. All I knows is one of them was a lot taller than the other.

Yeah, Sam said in deep thought.

Mr. Sam, I’m afraid they’ll come after me. They saw Mr. Taylor talking to me.

What makes you think that.

"He’s dead Mr. Sam,