Operating Within the Shadows

By J. A. Markey

Mick Cutler is a self-reliant young man recently separated from his special forces background and a past of fast-paced and dangerous clandestine activities he wishes to forget. Soon to be married, he now lives his dream enjoying a quiet small-town life, offering his sailboat and its captain for tourist cruises or fishing charters. His fiance, Kate, disappears leaving no trace and few clues. Mick begins a frantic search teaming with two strangers. Their travels lead from one shore to the other, upon secret military bases, into rural mountain seclusion, and peaceful coastal resorts to our divergent government operating within the shadows. If you enjoy a book filled with fast-paced action-adventure or a surprising mystery thriller, you will enjoy Operating Within the Shadows!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 31, 2009
• ISBN: 9781462802524

Book preview

Operating Within

The Shadows

J. A. Markey

Copyright © 2009 by J. A. Markey.

Original Cover Photo Courtesy of Sara E. Moses

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

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Contents

Chapter 1

A Forbidding Fog

Chapter 2

Rescue at Sea

Chapter 3

Without a Trace

Chapter 4

The Senator’s Aide

Chapter 5

The Compound

Chapter 6

Mick’s Seduction

Chapter 7

Invasion of the Compound

Chapter 8

Searching for the Prisoners

Chapter 9

The Campus

Chapter 10

The Isolation Ward

Chapter 11

Locating Mary

Chapter 12

The President’s Men

Chapter 13

Visit to the White House

Chapter 14

Cleaning Up the Loose Ends

Chapter 15

Truth, Justice, and

Pursuit of Happiness

Chapter 1

A Forbidding Fog

Michael Cutler is exiting through the front door of the small very remote and usually bustling neighborhood pub known as the Hearthside. Bob, the owner, along with many residents of this small New England community congregate here, enjoying most evenings socializing within its friendly and relaxing ambiance.

Tonight, business is unusually slow. It is raining profusely and has, almost continuously, throughout the day into what is now a wretched evening. Constant rain alone would not be so annoying if it were not combined with the gusty winds blowing in no set direction. This night is almost unbearably miserable to anyone bold enough to journey outside. Large droplets of soaking rain pelt with vigorous force against everything outdoors. It is difficult to see anything clearly, and all clothing becomes entirely saturated within a matter of moments.

Michael, Mick as most close friends call him, lifts his arm only slightly at the elbow and directs a short masculine half wave toward Bob, who is replacing a burned-out lightbulb near the door. Bob smiles and returns the same short ritualistic half wave that for years they have shared when they meet and when Mick parts on each visit. Bob then adds in a loud cheerful and friendly voice, Good night! Drive carefully.

Mick then climbs into his twenty years old four-wheel drive pickup truck for the journey home. Rope, wooden pulleys, and other tackle of the type seen on sailboats littered the rear bed of his truck. Near the truck’s front end, in the right fender, is a small dent, barely noticeable from the rust-eaten holes that surround it. Mick often repairs its engine or other essential mechanical parts. Repair would be made to the fender if only the vehicle’s age was not a pragmatic economical factor. Turning the key in the ignition switch, the engine starts immediately as if it were new. As usual, Mick mutters affectionately as though he is surprised, Atta-girl.

Much rattling is heard from within the old truck as Mick heads west toward the highway leading to his home on Lapitico Road. He listens to the radio. The music is suddenly interrupted by a news bulletin.

Tonight’s storm coverage is brought to you courtesy of Dewer’s Marina located on Dewer Road just off the main highway in Center Harbor. Severe flooding has occurred in Westerly and all surrounding towns. The O’Grady Bridge on West Alton Road is closed due to an unsafe condition caused by the battering waves. If you must travel in that direction tonight, please seek an alternative route. If it is at all possible, you should stay home. Many of the roads along the coast have flooding conditions. Your vehicle’s engine will stall if you attempt to venture through the flooded areas. We will keep you updated on storm conditions as they are received. The music then returns.

Almost every night, Mick travels home across the O’Grady Bridge. This evening, he reverses his direction to take the only other way home, a long and winding, very remote, and poorly maintained country road that leads toward his contemporary-styled waterfront home overlooking Alton Bay. This road, an old and rarely used logging trail through the mountains, is eight to ten miles long—exceptionally narrow for two-way traffic, bordered on both sides by thick New England forest. No houses, no streetlights, no telephone poles, nor any power wires line its edge. The rugged terrain lining the road has encouraged little development.

His headlights give little illumination to the wet, thoroughly rain-soaked pavement and no illumination whatsoever into the forest beyond its edge. This road is completely deserted except for Mick’s truck. The only sounds heard are from the radio, the roar of the engine as the truck struggles to climb the many steep hills, and the sound of the windshield wipers as the rain is brushed away. Only faint music can be heard accompanied by annoying static. Continuing slowly upon the road, the increasing and overpowering static apparently caused by the rain, muffles all other sounds. Mick tries to tune out the noise. He makes an attempt at several different stations, all to no avail. In frustration, he strains to hear the faint music while tuning the radio the best he can to the loudest and most clear station.

When almost halfway home, he notices what appears, only a few hundred feet into the woods, an extremely radiant light emitting through the trees. The light appears where exists a partially overgrown old dirt road used only as an access to a small dam. This dam, impeding the flow of a small stream, creates a man-made pond intended to provide power for an old mill that was never fully constructed. Of the mill itself, little more than a foundation and partial walls exist. The mill owner died before it was finished, and his family left the work abandoned. Any lights here are very unusual. Other than during hunting season, few people use the abandoned road—never at night due to its poor condition.

Since it is not hunting season, Mick assumes the light belongs to lost campers setting up for the night. He continues beyond the road with nothing more than a glance. Suddenly, the light extinguishes, the static on the radio stops at the same instant, and now the music becomes clear. Mick speaks aloud in a low monotone-voice words, only he alone can hear, I’ll have to fix those damn radio wires in the morning.

Arriving at the shoreline and then maneuvering a sharp turn to the left, he once again sees the familiar houses that line both sides of the road every few hundred feet. Beyond the houses on the right is Alton Bay, obscured this evening by a heavy fog. Following the road another quarter mile, Mick approaches his residence. He presses the button of his automatic garage door opener and then drives into the garage of his large two-story home. His dilapidated truck looks out of place within the setting of this modern structure.

Opening the hall door leading into his family room, he turns on the recessed accent lights located above the fireplace. They emit a dim red glow within the room as they reflect off the pastel walls. The light reveals a beautiful and romantically furnished home with large windows and beautiful golden oak woodwork. He then lays his jacket carefully across a chair to dry as he removes matches from the pocket. Striking one, he lights the neatly piled logs inside the fireplace. Moving to his wet bar, he pours a glass of clear liquor from its bottle and places both the bottle and the glass upon the bar. Slowly sitting upon one of the padded leather bar stools, he leans back, and then picks up a remote control for a television that sits in the corner. As the picture appears on the screen, he hears the nightly eleven o’clock, news relating today’s events along with the rain beating upon the roof and skylights of the cathedral ceiling. Mick begins to relax to the soothing sounds of logs crackling within the fireplace as they begin to burn quickly, removing the slight chill customary of a wet evening.

Suddenly, the television is interrupted by static interference, and neither the picture nor the sound can be seen or heard clearly. Changing channels is futile. Mick turns off the television and walks to the patio doors overlooking the bay. Although the waves can be heard, neither the water nor the lights upon the distant shore can be seen through the heavy rains and the thick fog. The patio lights emit a weird yellowish glow upon the fog that engulfs them.

Rrrrrriing! The telephone interrupts Mick’s thoughts with a startling noise interrupting the rhythmical sound of the rain and the waves outside. It is Kate.

Hello Mick, I hope I didn’t wake you.

Mick stares at a photo on the table of an exceptionally beautiful woman, shapely, young, and smiling with glamorous hair flowing over her shoulders. Responding, he lovingly says, No, I’m not sleeping yet. Was just thinking of how much I miss you.

Kate responds in a soft sensuous and seductive voice, Honey, I miss you too in more ways than you can imagine.

This excites Mick. Continuing, her voice becomes fretful, I wish they would wrap up this meeting soon. Paul says it may possibly be another week.

Mick, frustrated, replies fretfully, Another week! You have been gone weeks now! I’m getting very lonely here without you!

Weakly, Kate explains, If we can get the senator to accept our research findings, then it will be sooner. He is afraid of rejection and hesitant to approach the rest of the committee about funding for the project. We are having a difficult time convincing him to try. We—

Softly interrupting while trying to sound understanding, Mick says, I know, I know. This project means a lot to you. Well, go ahead. Give them hell. You can do it. I’ll make it another week without you. Another long, long week! I’m just being selfish because I miss you.

Kate, in her most soft romantic tone, replies, "When I get back maybe we can take a few days off and sail together aboard the Jerri-Ann. You and I out among the islands? Just you and I alone?"

The Jerri-Ann is Mick’s forty-four-foot, double-mast charter schooner moored in the bay just below his patio.

Let’s plan on it. I’ll get her ready and will be looking forward to our trip, replies Mick enthusiastically.

She says, Mimmmmm, that is enough to keep me going for another week. In her soft, sensuous, and seductive voice, Kate adds, I will be dreaming of you, and I will try to call again, within a day or so. I have a big surprise for you and guarantee you’ll like it.

Kate, I love you, I will be waiting for your call. Good luck with the senator.

Mick is trying to appear understanding although he is thoroughly disappointed.

Kate whispers, Bye-bye, honey, I love you.

Ending the conversation, Mick utters weakly, See you soon, babe.

Mick returns to the bar and pours another glass of liquor. Glancing in the mirror above the bar, he sees the reflection of his patio doors and an unusually bright light shining from out on the bay. This intrigues him as nothing was visible about the bay only moments earlier. He quickly spins about on the stool and hastily advances onto the patio for a better look. The rain has mysteriously stopped and the thick, seemingly impenetrable fog has drifted out upon the water several hundred feet. The fog looks foreboding as if it was an enormous curtain hiding all beyond it. Another bright, radiant light similar to the one he saw earlier is now shining from within the fog bank. It appears too large and too brilliant to be on any small boat that normally enters the bay area. Brighter than any light he has seen within the bay area before, Mick determines that it must be a large ship lost in the fog. A tingling chill spontaneously travels up Mick’s spine as he imagines such a large ship hitting one of the many rocks within the bay. Very few boats any larger than Mick’s and never any ships venture into the bay due to the many large rocks that create a very dangerous navigational hazard for larger vessels.

Bolting down the long and steep patio stairs leading to his dock, Mick concludes that he may be able to warn them from his boat’s radio. He jumps aboard his boat, then rushes to the helm, quickly flicking the switches providing power. Picking up the radio’s microphone, he speaks anxiously, "This is the Jerri-Ann AP2339ME to the unidentified ship in the fog bank off Alton Bay. I can see your lights, and you are near the rocks of a jetty. Please respond! Nothing is heard but static. Again anxiously, Mick continues, This is the Jerri-Ann AP2339ME to the unidentified ship in the fog bank off Alton Bay. I can see your lights, and you are near the rocks of the jetty. Please respond!"

Still no response, nothing but static. Mick watches the light get closer and closer to the jetty. Again and again, he tries to contact the ship as the light slowly approaches within a few hundred feet of where the jetty is located. Mick drops the microphone and starts the engine. Casting off the mooring lines, he heads the Jerri-Ann toward the ship to help their crew once they run aground. With the fierce wind-driven waves crashing over his bow, he races forward, toward the bow, to adjust a spotlight. Tripping on the wet, slippery deck, he falls hitting his head. Blood begins running from the top of his head down the side of his face. Everything begins to go black. Mick, summoning all his energy, fights his way back to the helm. Reaching for the throttle, he pulls back on it, cutting off the power, and then suddenly collapses as he loses consciousness.

The boat loses some momentum but drifts toward the light and toward the jetty. The Jerri-Ann enters into the fog bank. Mick then returns to a semiconscious state and finds himself on the deck near the helm. Nothing but static continues to blare from his radio. The light is now much closer, much brighter although he still cannot make out the outline of the ship. Terrified, he knows the rocks of the jetty are beyond it by only a few hundred feet.

Mick can see nothing within the fog bank, except the glaring light. Rubbing his head, he feels the blood matting his hair. Staggering to the first aid kit, hanging upon the cabin wall, he begins retrieving what he needs to bandage his wound. Then suddenly, he realizes that he too must turn his boat away from the light, or the Jerri-Ann will also end upon the rocks of the jetty. Judging by the distance and position of the light, the ship must now be aground. Mick knows in his condition that he can offer little assistance.

Trying the radio unsuccessfully one last time, he flips the little red switch on the front panel that will send a continuous distress signal to the Coast Guard. He is aware the ship’s survivors will need help in the fog and heavy winds.

In almost a panic, he drops the first aid kit to the deck as he staggers quickly to the helm and begins to turn the Jerri-Ann. Before he is able to turn the boat fully away from the light or the dangerous rocks, his injury once again forces him into unconsciousness, and he falls to the deck. Mick’s boat continues unguided, drifting through the fog. The powerful winds accompanied by the thrashing waves are quickly pushing it toward the light and toward the dangerous jetty.

Chapter 2

Rescue at Sea

Mick awakens upon a bunk inside the metal cabin of a strange boat to the sound of a rumbling engine and to the presence of a dark-haired young sailor wearing a neatly pressed khaki military uniform. The stranger is dressing the wound on the back of his head. Filled with apprehension, he sits up