Chapter 11

"Question." Max looked down at the open folder in front of him. "According to this info you gave us, she's really the one who calls the shots in this nasty little group."

Si nodded. "Jed Whitlow thinks he's in charge but he's fooling himself. That woman is tougher and more heartless than most of the men I've met in my life. She's hungry for power, and I'm not even sure if taking over this country will satisfy her."

"Jesus." Max blew out a breath. "Those are the worst kind of people. Heartless, soulless, and feeding on power and control. Other people's lives mean nothing to them."

"You got that right. In many ways like the tribal leaders you knocked heads with in the sandbox. Human life, except their own, means nothing to them. Money and power. Those are their drugs."

"And they don't care who they kill to get it," Kevin added. "I've seen more situations like this than I can count. Too many of them."

"Next up are the Cavanaughs, Kurt and Hildie. Their ranch is in Colorado and has been in the family for four generations. Besides thriving in the beef industry, they have mineral-rich land which has provided a steady stream of royalties for the rights.

"And finally, we have the Ferrens." He looked at Max and Regan. "Bernardo is the only anomaly. He's not a rancher. As we dug into the history of each of them, we learned he and Jed Whitlow are friends from college who have kept in touch all these years. He and his brother own Ferren Arms Manufacturing in Colorado. They produce handguns similar to the Glock and four different models of rifles, including a sniper rifle that's supposed to be the best thing on the market. Jed reached out to him when this little group got past the stage of kicking ideas around."

George raked his fingers through his hair. "Jesus Christ!"

"Exactly."

"How did they all connect?" Max wanted to know. "The original four, I mean."

"I can answer that," Regan told hm. "I started researching them as soon as the first bits of chatter came across my desk. It seems they were all at a regional cattlemen's convention. They didn't usually attend them anymore, but this particular one was for people in the same financial category as theirs. The meeting was to discuss restrictive government regulations as they applied to ranching, especially water rights. Somehow, probably from comments they'd all made in the meetings, the four couples gravitated toward each other, and that's when the genesis of the plan from hell was formed."

"Lorena also saw another way to use the power of the cartel her husband had a connection with." Si clicked to bring up another screen.

Several ugly faces stared out at them. To Max they looked like the high-value targets he and his team had been tasked with either capturing or killing. A chill slithered down his spine, knowing firsthand how vicious they were. Soulless, despite their proclamations to the contrary.

"He used them," Si continued, "to smuggle the terrorists into this country

"If their plan is to stage simultaneous bloodbaths around the country," Max asked, "what comes after that?"

"Disruption of law enforcement and the military," Si told him. "Putting their own people in place. Creating their own version of a military state where they control all the money and resources."

"It has to have taken a long time for them to put this together," George spoke up for the first time.

Si nodded. "That convention was five years ago. We believe they have been meeting regularly ever since. Developing resources. Funding places for the devils they're smuggling into this country to prepare and wait."

"You told me they have someone in place to step into the leadership role," Max reminded him, "but you haven't identified him yet."

Si nodded. "My bosses at DHS have three possible, but we can't pin down which one of them it is. All of them are unhappy with the current administration. They believe they've been shunted aside. Given weak roles in the administration. Had their power diluted. When you have a president as confident and take-charge as this one, he's going to make enemies. In both parties, I might add."

Max refilled his coffee mug from the carafe on the table. "So, let me get this straight. A bunch of people with too much money and egos bigger than the Atlantic Ocean get their noses out of joint at the way the government regulates their industry. They decide they'll take over the country and run it for their benefit. Have I got that right?"

"Except for one thing." Si looked from one to other of the people at the table. "Some of what we picked up Regan has interpreted in a way that makes my stomach climb my backbone. Once they've got the good old U. S. of A., they plan to expand to other countries including Mexico, and put it in the hands of the cartels, at least more than it is now. And maybe the Middle East, so the soulless terrorists they're importing for their big blowup here can have their revenge on the countries shutting them down."

The silence around the table was so thick Max was sure he could cut it with a knife.

"Holy mother fucking god." He almost whispered the words. "And this meeting Regan and I are attending is, what, the final gathering before the first big event?"

Si nodded.

"Well, then, we'd best get on with this session. I want every detail, and I mean every single one, that you've got on all the people involved. I want to know how our backup will work, how we contact you, what our extraction is if we need it. You and me, Si. We'll plan this like a regular SEAL mission It's the only way it has a chance to succeed."