“This, then, is the dirty underside of the iceberg that must be exposed, prosecuted, and permanently shut down. With the support of the Trump Administration, the Comptroller’s office intends on doing just that.
“I do not expect this process to be an easy one. For those individuals working under these umbrella organizations, who have suffered under the pressure of secrecy for so long, I offer complete amnesty and financial incentives if you come forward now and provide information and evidence against these criminals. Once my office issues subpoenas, the financial incentives of this whistleblower program shall be rescinded.
“For those of you out there seething in the shadows, let me assure you — I have come into possession of a list of names and the nature of their crimes against humanity. Should something happen to me or any of my loved ones, the incriminating evidence I have compiled shall be released to the public, and you and yours shall follow us to the grave.”
Having finished reading from his prepared statement, Adam looked up at a sea of raised hands and shout-outs from the attending members of the media.
“I’m sorry. I know you have questions but that’s all I can say at this time.”
Collecting his notes, Adam exited to his right and down a short flight of steps to a small conference room where Secretary of Defense, Jordan Denny, was watching the end of the press conference on a wall-mounted flat screen television, the event broadcast on a two minute delay. Rolled up in his hand was the list of names of those defense contractors Adam wanted to subpoena.
He turned as the Under Secretary entered. “A shadow government has been in existence for the last sixty years… are you insane, Shariak? Where the hell are you getting this information from? You sound like a conspiracy nut.”
“How would you have explained it?”
“I wouldn’t have even brought it up! Two days ago you came to me wanting to investigate misappropriated funds; now you just announced to the world that there’s some transnational umbrella organization out there, made up of the military, Big Oil, and God-knows-who else. How are you going to prove that? By subpoenaing the CEOs of the biggest defense contracting firms in the world? Are you expecting them to confess to being involved in some New World Order? The Illuminati maybe?”
“Who threatened you the other day?”
“No one threatened me, Shariak. But your actions and accusations have sure threatened the defense contractors that keep America safe. And I’m not going to allow you to go on a witch hunt.”
“There’s billions of dollars that cannot be accounted for, Mr. Secretary. Unless you can figure out a better way to shut that deluge of funds off, stay out of the way and let me do my job.”
Snatching the list out of Jordan Denny’s hand, Shariak left the conference room and strode awkwardly down the hall to an emergency exit. Yanking open the metal fire door, he exited the basement floor, limping and dragging himself up two flights of concrete stairs.
He was exhausted by the time he exited the stairwell, emerging on the ground floor of the Pentagon.
A sign indicated he was in C-Ring, Corridor-7.
Patting his pants pockets, Shariak located his iPhone. Stealing a quick glance at the screen, his fingers spun through his contact list as he maneuvered his way through the rush hour crowd, his eyes searching faces for lingering stares.
“Hello?”
“It’s Shariak. Where are you?”
“Where are you?”
“C-Ring, Corridor-7.”
“North exit — got it. I’ll meet you outside in four minutes.”
Following the crowd, he headed in the direction of D-Ring.
He was hobbling badly by the time he entered E-Ring. Two minutes later he found himself outside of the north exit beneath threatening gray skies, the change in atmospheric pressure causing the leaves on the surrounding trees to invert.
Up ahead, a black Mustang screeched to a halt by the curb, former Tech Sergeant Eugene Evans waving at him from the open passenger window.
Yanking open the door, Adam climbed in, wheezing from the effort.
“You okay, Captain?”
“I need… to speak… to Greer.”
The bodyguard removed his iPhone from its charger on the console, scrolled through his contacts, and handed the device to Shariak.
“Greer?”
“Well, Mr. Under Secretary, you certainly rattled a lot of tiger cages for one day. How do you feel?”
“Like I’m about to be eaten. How will they come after me?”
“First they’ll offer you money — more money than you can spend in a lifetime. Assuming you turn that down, they’ll try to break you… tarnish your image, accuse you of molesting puppies — anything to prevent you from forcing these defense contractors to testify. Not that they will anyway. They’ll simply plead the fifth.”
“It’s not their answers that are important, Steven. It’s all about starting the conversation by posing questions about UFOs and ETs and zero-point-energy systems on C-SPAN and across the mainstream media. The more they plead the fifth, the more the public will become convinced they’re really hiding something.”
“Don’t be so sure, Shariak. It only takes one well-positioned gatekeeper to derail the entire train.”
25
President Donald John Trump paced like a caged tiger in the Oval Office behind the sitting area as he unleashed his pent-up rage at the members of his National Security Council.
“Since when does some goddam Under Secretary take it upon himself to call a press conference? There’s only one star of this show, and that’s me. What the hell does an Under Secretary even do? Can someone explain that to me? Domenik?”
Domenik Davis, the president’s latest addition to his National Security Council, felt everyone’s eyes upon her. “The Under Secretary serves under the Secretary of Defense. As comptroller, Shariak has oversight responsibilities for all military programs. While he may have blindsided Secretary Denny with some of the things he was suggesting in his press conference, he was essentially doing his job.”
“Domenik… sweetheart — forget Denny, Shariak blindsided me!” He glanced at his watch. “Where the hell is Jordan Denny? Teresa, I specifically asked you to make sure the Secretary of Defense was in this meeting.”
Teresa Ann Hurtienne — one of the president’s three personal assistants — nodded, hoping the affirmation would blunt the anticipated negative response. “Sir, Secretary Denny apologizes; apparently he had an urgent personal matter to attend to and—”
“Fuck him! I’m the goddam president! He’d better be in the goddam hospital dying of fucking cancer to miss this meeting.”
Trump turned to Kellyanne Conway. “Adam Shariak… Kellyanne, who is this guy? Did he work in the campaign?”
“No, sir.” The president’s counselor searched her notes on her iPhone. “He was a General Mattis appointment… an Apache helicopter pilot who served in Iraq… a Purple Heart recipient. Says here he was a war hero.”
“What’d he do?”
“Apparently, he lost his leg in Iraq when his chopper was shot down.”
“I don’t get that. In my book, a war hero is someone who kills the enemy or dives on a loose grenade to save his fellow soldiers. Someone who gets shot down isn’t a war hero, he’s a lousy pilot.”
He turned to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. “General, according to Shariak, there are military operations being conducted without my knowledge.”
“Not military operations, per se,” General Wade Snuggerud stated. “He referred to them as USAPs. That stands for Unacknowledged Special Access Projects.”