Free The Zimmer Doctrine (Corps Justice Book 11) by C. G. Cooper Page A

entered the kitchen, the whole gang was there. They were spread around the room eating bagels and sipping coffee, everyone except Daniel. Trent and the Secret Service agents looked like they’d just woken up. The president was sitting on the couch nursing a mug of coffee as he talked with Jonas. They both looked up when Cal and Diane walked in.
    “Well, good morning, sunshine,” Cal said, letting go of Diane’s hand and taking a seat next to Brandon. Diane went in search for coffee.
    “I think Travis would’ve been proud of the mess we made of ourselves,” Brandon said, rubbing his head like it would help the pounding.
    “How's your detail feel about it?”
    Brandon chuckled.
    “I don’t think they’re too happy about the leader of the free world getting hammered, but they’ll get over it.”
    Diane was back a second later with a mug of steaming coffee for Cal. He took it gratefully and Diane left to give them some privacy.
    “So, what’s new? What did I miss during my sabbatical?” Cal asked, taking a sip of his coffee.
    “Have you not seen the news?” Brandon asked, one eyebrow raised.
    “No, not a bit.”
    Brandon and Jonas exchanged amused looks.
    “Let’s just say that in your absence I’ve somehow managed to stir up a virtual hornet’s nest on the world stage.”
    “Would you care to elaborate?”
    Brandon nodded and told him about the speech at the U.N. and the resulting tsunami of confusion.
    “What brought that up? Something you’ve been planning for a while?” Cal asked, surprised that his friend would go out on such a shaky limb. It wasn’t that he didn’t agree with Brandon, but to say those things in a public forum, and especially at the United Nations of all places seemed more than a bit out of bounds.
    “Would you believe me if I said I thought it’s what you and Travis would’ve done?”
    “You’re serious?”
    “I am.”
    “But you’re the president. Aren’t you supposed to be more politically correct than us dumb grunts?”
    “Watch who you’re calling a dumb grunt!” Trent bellowed from across the room. It seemed that everyone was listening in.
    “I guess I just thought that I needed to shake things up.”
    “Well you sure did that!” laughed Gaucho from his perch at the bar.
    “So what’s your plan?” Cal asked, warming to the idea as his mind continued to wake after months of long hibernation.
    “Well, I was just talking to Jonas about that. Now that you’re back, I was hoping you guys could help us track down some of our leads.”
    “What leads?”
    “We’re already seeing a lot of money being moved, lots of chatter in social media and over the cell networks. The NSA and CIA are working overtime to find the commonalities to gather the intel we can exploit.”
    “So, what you’re saying is that you beat the bushes and now the rats are running for new places to hide,” Cal said, imagining the panic in places like Iraq, where U.S. dollars had filled the pockets of officials and criminals alike.
    Brandon nodded.
    “I’ve told agency directors to prioritize the actionable intelligence with the biggest targets first. When we take down the first handful of bad guys, I want to make sure it hits the media with a bang.”
    Cal imagined the possibilities. They could be busy for decades. Finally, someone was doing something to lift the veil and expose the darkness. Cal felt the familiar urge to grab a gun and jump on a plane. He was about to ask Brandon where he thought the first targets might be when the Secret Service agent positioned at the front door rushed into the room. Everyone turned.
    “Mr. President, there’s a young lady downstairs who would like a word with you.”
    The special agent looked uncomfortable like he’d just told the president that there was a naked woman downstairs. Half the room got up from their chairs.
    “Who is it and how did she find me?” the president asked patiently.
    “I don’t know, sir. She said she could only tell