Cabal Read online

  CLICK HERE to be notified when new books by Mark Goodwin are released!

  For information on preparing for natural or man-made disasters, visit the author’s website, PrepperRecon.com and

  click here to request your free copy of The Seven Step Survival Plan.

  Technical information in the book is included to convey realism. The author shall not have liability or responsibility to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused, or allegedly caused, directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.

  All of the characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 Goodwin America Corp.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote short passages in a review.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  All glory, honor, and praise to the King, my Savior, Jesus Christ.

  I would like to thank my Editor-in-Chief Catherine Goodwin, as well as the rest of my fantastic editing team, Stacey Glemboski, Sherrill Hesler, and Claudine Allison.

  FOREWORD

  These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.

  John 16:33

  Few topics in Christendom are as highly debated as eschatology or the study of the end times. Unfortunately, some hold more tightly to their particular understanding of last-day events than they do the Apostles’ Creed. Like my previous series covering the period leading up to and directly after the rapture of the Church, The Beginning of Sorrows follows none of the major schools of thought on eschatology. Like my former works, The Days of Noah and The Days of Elijah, the purpose of this series is not to persuade the reader into any particular viewpoint on the timing of the rapture or other eschatological events. Rather, I’m simply seeking to write an entertaining work of fiction, devoid of the filth which is commonplace in modern literature, and perhaps enlighten some to the rapid cultural shift which is pushing America and the globe closer to the dark, one-world government of the anti-Christ prophesied of by the Holy Scriptures. So please, remember it’s just fiction and enjoy the story.

  CHAPTER 1

  And Jesus answering them began to say, Take heed lest any man deceive you: for many shall come in my name, saying, I am Christ; and shall deceive many. And when ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars, be ye not troubled: for such things must needs be; but the end shall not be yet. For nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom: and there shall be earthquakes in divers places, and there shall be famines and troubles: these are the beginnings of sorrows.

  Mark 13:5-8

  DHS investigator Joshua Stone clipped the M-4 rifle to the single-point sling hanging over his body armor and softly closed the door of his unmarked car. Walking through the humid, pre-dawn, Tampa morning, he approached the ICE armored personnel carrier parked on the street in front of him.

  Tall, muscular, and kitted-up in full tactical apparel, Emilio Vega exited the steel-plated vehicle. “You going in without a helmet again, Boss?” He pointed at Josh’s black baseball cap which featured a grey American flag with a thin blue line running through the center.

  Josh turned the cap backward and pulled it down snugly over his dark brown hair which was thinning on top. “Helmets are too hot. Sweat runs down into my eyes, then I can’t see. They won’t stop a bullet anyway. Even if they do, it’ll snap your neck and leave you eating through a straw for the rest of your life. I think I’d rather be dead.”

  “I don’t know. I ain’t ever been dead.” Emilio buckled the chin strap on his helmet. “But I hear you on being comfortable. The rest of the country starts cooling off in September. Summer is just getting started here. If it were up to me, I’d be wearing a tank top and a pair of basketball shorts.”

  Emilio looked down at Josh’s left leg. “How’s the knee?”

  “I’m good. I took some Advil.” At 5’10” and 175 pounds, Josh was in good shape, but he looked small next to Vega.

  Six more ICE agents trickled out of the truck.

  Emilio checked his gear. “I saw your sister in the gym.”

  “Yeah, she pretty much lives there.”

  “What’s up with her?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Does she have a boyfriend?”

  “Will you focus? We’re getting ready to kick in a door!”

  “We’ve done this a hundred times. Seriously, what’s up with her?”

  Josh shook his head. “I couldn’t do that to you, bro. She’s what people in the business call a tough customer.”

  “Oh yeah? What business is that?”

  “All of ‘em. The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker. They lock the door and pull down the shade when they see her coming up the street. You will too if you know what’s good for you.”

  “I can’t believe you’re busting on your sister like that. Every time I see her, she’s helping one of the older people at the gym who can’t figure out how to use the machines. She teaches classes and does personal training. She’s an independent contractor. I mean, showing people how to use the equipment isn’t her job.”

  “I’m not saying she’s a bad person. Micah was little when I got my injury. She was always there to watch him while I was in the hospital or when Steph had to take me to PT.

  “But get your head back in the game. We’ve got work to do.”

  Josh looked toward the target house. “I saw a light coming from one of the back bedrooms. Could be that they left it on for security, but they might be working. Have the rest of the team go in first. You and I will come in last and push directly back to that rear bedroom.”

  Emilio looked at his men. “Everybody get that?”

  They all nodded as they made their final preparations for the raid.

  “Then let’s move.” Emilio flicked the safety off of his M-4.

  The eight men moved silently through the neighboring yard to the front door of the target house. Once there, they lined up single file. A big man with a battering ram was first in line. He swung the heavy iron object, striking the hollow door, which burst open. The big man stepped out of the way and a second agent stepped through the entryway with a large bullet-proof shield in one hand and a pistol in the other. The rest of the team rushed in behind him just as they’d done many times before.

  Josh followed Emilio to the far room with the light. Emilio kicked the door open and Josh ran in. A Hispanic male turned from stuffing items into a black canvas bag to face Josh.

  Stone raised his rifle. “Hands, manos!”

  The suspect quickly stuck his hand in his pocket.

  Joshua pulled the trigger, hitting the suspect in the chest twice. The man dropped to the floor.

  Emilio rushed in and secured the room.

  Josh kept his rifle trained on the man while he approached. He kicked the object out of the suspect’s hand.

  “You good?” Emilio asked.

  “It was a phone.” Josh lowered his rifle.

  Emilio quickly scoured the room. “He had a pistol—right here next to his bag.” Emilio brought the weapon over to the fallen corpse and knelt down. He looked up at Joshua. “He failed to comply with your command. If you put down in your report that you shot him for trying to make a phone call, the paper is going to eat you alive. Plus, you’re white and he’s Hispanic. The national news will pick it up. They’ll crucify you for this. You’ll lose your job, maybe even do time.”

  Josh shook his head. “No. I’m not going down
that road. We’ll stick to the truth.”

  Agent Crane walked into the room. “The house is clear. Are you two good?”

  Emilio pressed the small pistol into the hand of the deceased man. “Yeah, the perp tried to draw on Agent Stone. Call a bus and tell them to bring a body bag. Then go back to the truck and get some evidence bags. We need to collect these documents before the FBI gets here.”

  “You got it.” Crane left the room.

  Josh looked at Emilio. “I told you I didn’t want to cover this up!”

  “That’s because you’re not thinking clearly. I’m not going to let you get jammed up—not like this. I’m Spanish. If I’d have shot him, I’d be a bad cop. But you shot him and that makes this a hate crime.”

  “DHS has my back. Brian will stick up for me.”

  “Please. You’re being naïve. Brian will try to keep you out of the lion’s den, but this is politics. You can’t win against public opinion.

  “How long do you think you’d last in prison? You’re a Fed and you shot a Hispanic in the line of duty. I’m probably saving your life here. Besides, it’s already the official narrative. Crane thinks the perp drew on you.” Emilio picked up the phone which the man had dropped.

  Josh sat down in the chair at the large work desk, playing out the scene in his mind as suggested by Agent Vega. He pulled his hat off long enough to pull his hand across the top of his head and down over his face. Stone felt his face growing pale from regret. “If only I hadn’t shot.” He turned his ball cap facing forward and put it back on.

  “One second of hesitation could have cost you your life.” Emilio examined a stack of blank passports on top of the desk. “I’ve never seen passports this good before. These look like they’re from State.”

  He removed himself from the pit of despair long enough to look at what Emilio had turned up. Josh rifled through the black canvas bag the man had been loading when he walked in. “Here are some finished products.” Josh opened up several of the passports. “These guys look Middle Eastern.”

  “They’re definitely not Mexican.” Emilio examined the equipment set up on a long table along the wall adjacent to the desk. “Whoa! This is real USCIS equipment. Laminators, magnetic strip programming hardware.”

  “What good will that do unless you have a way to get into the system?” Josh tore open the black garbage bag at the bottom of the canvas bag containing the passports. “Wow. This has to be at least two million.”

  Emilio whistled. “Not your average false document operation.”

  Agent Crane walked into the room and tossed a stack of evidence bags on the desk. “Everyone else is working the rest of the house. The ambulance will be here in ten minutes. I told them not to rush.”

  “Thanks.” Vega picked up one of the clear plastic bags and filled out the tag for the pistol he’d found on the desk. Next, he pressed the weapon against the fingers of the corpse, removed the magazine and the round from the chamber, then placed the gun and ammunition inside the bag.

  Josh watched but said nothing.

  “You should start sealing up those passports,” said Emilio.

  Joshua forced himself to move forward. “Yeah, right.” He followed his colleague’s advice.

  Crane ferried the evidence out to the truck while Josh and Emilio labeled and recorded it.

  Ten minutes later, the medics rolled in a stretcher. They loaded the body into the black polyethylene cadaver bag and zipped it up.

  “Stone! What have you done?”

  Josh’s heart jumped. He turned to see Don Nelson standing in the doorway. The man wore black body armor with a large FBI patch in the middle of his chest. Josh tried to figure out how the FBI Tampa Field Office’s Special Agent in Charge could have possibly known about Vega’s cover-up. Agent Crane must have told him. He’s looking to move up and he sold us both out. Yet, Joshua Stone’s years of experience with the Tampa PD and federal law enforcement told him not to say anything until he knew what he was defending against. So, he remained silent.

  Nelson stopped the medic before they could wheel out the corpse. He unzipped the bag and examined the deceased. He frowned heavily under his thick mustache. “Nice job.” He zipped up the bag. “You killed your only lead.”

  “Not exactly, sir,” said Vega.

  “Oh? Are you the one in charge of this fiasco?”

  “No.” Emilio dropped his gaze.

  “What’s he talking about?” Nelson demanded of Josh.

  “We found high-end USCIS document equipment, blank passports that look like they’re stolen from the State Department, and a significant amount of cash.”

  “If we don’t have anyone to question, how does any of that help us?” Nelson looked around the room. “Where’s the phone?”

  Already embroiled in the cover-up, Josh replied nervously, “What phone?”

  “What phone?” Nelson’s brows snapped together like the hammer of a gun. “Are you jerking me around?”

  Josh immediately regretted his impetuous reply, nearly as much as conceding to the cover-up, and almost as much as shooting the man in the first place. Yet, he said nothing.

  Nelson grilled, “There’s always a phone. My nine-year-old daughter has a phone. People who run false-document rings usually have two or three.”

  Josh breathed a silent breath of relief. “Right. Emilio, did you check the corpse before the medics wheeled him out?”

  “No, Boss, but I’m on it.” Emilio hurried after the team pushing the gurney out to the ambulance.

  “What a clown show!” Don Nelson shook his head. “I’m taking over this investigation.”

  “That’s not up to you. Homeland Security Investigations has jurisdiction over immigration and document fraud,” Josh argued.

  “High-end hardware, bags of cash, stolen blank passports, these aren’t fence jumpers looking to get jobs flipping burgers. Despite your competency level, you’ve stumbled onto a terrorist services network.”

  Josh pressed his teeth together. “I’m usually a sucker for flattery, but terrorism falls under my jurisdiction as well. If memory serves me correctly, I believe the formation of DHS may have had something to do with combating terrorist activities.”

  “Maybe so, wise guy, but I run the Tampa Joint Terrorism Task Force and I’m pulling rank.” Don Nelson glared at Josh. “Let me see what you’ve collected so far.”

  “You can file a request to view the evidence after we’ve got everything logged.”

  The FBI SAC turned his back on Josh and took out his phone. “Yeah, right.” He walked out the door.

  Emilio came back in, handing a phone to Josh. “Found it,” he said loudly enough for Don Nelson to hear from the other room. “Who’s he calling?”

  “My guess is Brian Smith.” Josh looked down at the phone. It was different from the one which the perp had pulled from his pocket when Stone shot him. His eyes begged the question which his lips were not permitted to ask at the inopportune moment.

  Emilio shrugged with a dismissive smile in lieu of the answer he could not provide in present company.

  “Is this it?” Nelson walked back into the room and snatched the phone from Josh.

  Josh tried to regain possession of the device.

  “Ahh!” Nelson held it away from Josh like a school-yard bully. “Wait for it.” He smiled as if enjoying the opportunity to taunt Stone.

  Before Josh could say another word, his phone rang.

  “You might want to get that, Stone.” For the first time since he’d arrived, Don Nelson seemed to be enjoying himself.

  Josh knew he’d lost the battle with Nelson before he answered. “Hello?”

  Indeed, it was the voice of Tampa HSI SAC Brian Smith. “Agent Stone, the Tampa JTTF is taking over your investigation. I need you to hand over everything you have to Don then report to my office by 8:00 AM.”

  Josh’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes, sir.” He clicked off the call and walked out the door. “Come on. I’ll give you what I have.”


  Nelson followed him out to the armored vehicle. He laughed. “Boy, that took the vinegar out of you, didn’t it?”

  Josh said nothing. Instead, he tossed the various evidence bags out of the armored personnel carrier. He addressed the ICE tactical team. “Everyone, we’re done for today. The FBI is taking over.”

  Emilio pointed to Crane. “Get everybody back to the shop and have them fill out their after-action reports before they go home. I’ll ride with Stone.”

  Stone and Vega placed their rifles in the back of Josh’s dark gray Charger. “What happened to the other phone?”

  “I have it.” Emilio opened the passenger’s door and got inside.

  Josh got in and started the ignition. “Why didn’t you give it to Nelson?”

  “He asked for one phone. The perp had that one in his front pocket. Something is on this phone. When you told the perp to freeze, he decided making this call was worth his last breath. I’m telling you, this is the key to the whole case.”

  “Then you should have handed it over to Don. This is his investigation now.”

  “You’ve been working twelve-hour days for the last two months on this case. You finally hit the jackpot, and you’re going to just hand it over?”

  Josh stopped the car. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Emilio. “That’s right. It was my investigation. Do you want to know why? Because I’m an investigator. We went through training together. You should have been an investigator by now but you make your own rules. So far, it’s only cost you a couple of promotions, but now, it’s jeopardizing both of our lives! What’s wrong with you?”

  “What’s wrong with me? Why? Because I think results are more important than bureaucracy? Because I don’t want to see my friend burned at the stake over some perp that wouldn’t comply with orders? I didn’t take this job to climb the ladder.” He paused, then said, “Tell me you’re not going to confess to Brian if he starts interrogating you about the gun.”