This story is a spin-off of my "Revenge in Advance: A Sequel" series, made up of "Revenge in Advance, A Sequel," in which Oscar escapes his wife's plot and gets his own revenge, followed up by "Revenge in Advance, Derby's Dose," a tale of what happened when one wife's revenge went too far, "Revenge in Advance: Pat," in which Oscar arrests and confronts the woman who started his odyssey and continued with "Revenge in Advance: Mona," in which the Task Force finally takes down the top conspirators.
The final story in that series is "Revenge in Advance: The Briefing," in which Oscar and the Task Force stop a plot against the president.
The last two stories alluded to memoirs written by Oscar about his service in the Task Force. This is the second story in those memoirs, and is written from his perspective and in his voice. Chronologically, the events of this story take place somewhere between "Pat" and "Mona," however, the story (as presented by Oscar) was written after his retirement from the Force.
Each entry in this series can be read as a separate story, however, you may also want to read the previous entry in Oscar's memoirs.
Many thanks to edrider73 for giving me permission to write this sequel and any others that may come from his original story, "Revenge in Advance."
I would also suggest reading Colinthedog's story, "Retreat," in which Oscar plays a role.
And finally, many thanks to those who offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories. For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper...
Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...
Prologue:
My name is Oscar Warren. I served with the HomeFront Security Task Force for 35 years, and retired after serving as the organization's first Cabinet-level officer in the White House. My personal story has already been told by others so I won't rehash that here. Simply put, I was once a normal American husband who loved my wife and was targeted by a vicious organization that irrevocably changed my marriage and ultimately, my life.
Under the advise of my counselor, I decided to write my memoirs - my recollections, if you will - of just some of the many interventions where I have been personally involved. I have done my bit for humanity and now it is up to humanity to either get its act together or go into that quiet night.
The following story has been culled from my own recollection, case files and notes. Where applicable, the names of the innocent have been changed. All the information presented here has been cleared for release by appropriate authorities.
HFSTF Case File #A02756391, Shipman, Dan and Kate:
The day started out like most others. I got up, got the kids ready and escorted them to the front when the bus came to take them to school. I was getting ready for work when I saw a news story about a mysterious explosion at a house in suburban St. Louis over the previous weekend. I thought nothing more of it as I continued to get ready.
I went to my small office in the main building at the compound we called Fort Apache and looked through my stack of case files. The pile of cases grew considerably over the last four months since Pat Witherspoon, one of the most senior field operatives for the Mutual Marital Assurance Society, or MMAS, died while in our custody.
After her death, Bill Jackson, my friend, boss and mentor, suggested I take a month off with the children, which I did. After that, I spent three long, grueling months undergoing all kinds of specialized training. I had just returned from training and decided to take a day or so to get caught up on what had been going on.
MMAS was a secretive company set up by one Mona Larsen that manipulated gullible wives into spending $1,600 for "insurance" ostensibly designed to keep their marriages intact and their spouses faithful. But Mona's desire for revenge on cheating husbands morphed into a quest for political control. It was clear that she now wanted to remake society to fit her female-dominant worldview. For Mona, men were second-class beings to women, and existed only to serve the female of the species.
After Pat's death, the organization went "dark," but spouses who had purchased their services were still filing claims. That meant trouble, and it was our job to try and intercede before those claims could be fulfilled.
Although Pat was dead, the Task Force had a gold mine of information, thanks to the computers we confiscated. I started sorting through the case files on my desk, many of which had notes included with them. A number of them were now closed, so those got put in a stack to be filed. The remaining files were being worked by other officers, so I put those in another stack to get updated.
It was late in the afternoon and I had just wrapped things up when Bill tapped on my door and popped his head in. I waved him in and offered him a cup of coffee, which he readily accepted.
"Christ, what is this shit?" he hissed after taking a sip.
"I call it coffee," I said. He shook his head and set the cup down.
"Remind me to get a Starbucks outlet set up here," he said.
"So, did you just come by to insult my coffee-making skills or what?" I asked. He shook his head, smiling.
"Sorry," he said. "No, I actually have something I need you to look into." He pulled a folder from his briefcase and handed it over to me. "Did you hear about that explosion in St. Louis?"
"Yeah," I said. "Does that have anything to do with us?" He put a folded document on my desk. The document was inside a plastic protector. I recognized it immediately as a bill from MMAS.
"It does now," he said. "You recognize that, I'm sure." I did. I had seen this myself before my own interview with Pat - the interview that literally changed my entire life.
"That was found in the house," Bill said. "There's more. Check out these photos." He placed a series of crime scene photos on my desk. One photo showed what looked like a set of heavy-duty bolt cutters. I could see the blood on the cutters, which were in the open position. Another photo showed pieces of metal tubing that meant nothing to me.
A strange-looking remote control was the subject of another photo. I had never seen anything like it and looked at Bill.
"Our tech guys are going over that now," Bill said.
"Any idea what it controlled?" I asked. He shook his head.
"None," he said.
The most disturbing photos were those of the two victims. The woman's body looked as though it had been perforated with metal shrapnel. The man's body was unrecognizable, and appeared to have been blown into at least three large pieces. The top half of his body was thrown several feet and the legs were thrown across the room.
I was reminded of photos I had seen of bombings where terrorists used explosive vests, but this was different. It was clear to me the explosion originated with the man. But why?
"You think MMAS was behind this?" I asked. Bill shrugged his shoulders.
"It looks that way," he said. "But I've never known them to use explosives before. I had tech do an initial investigation, and the victims were listed in Pat's client spreadsheet. There was an entry in that sheet - PCX."
"PCX?" I asked. "What's that?"