Push Back: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (The Disruption Series Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

of congressmen on a fact-finding mission? The frigging dogs were following Tremble’s scent, weren’t they? The fact is, Tremble managed to give you the slip AGAIN, and you’ve been stalling for time trying to pick up his trail. You’re in here now hat in hand because you’ve failed and you can’t stall any longer. Tell me I’m wrong.”
    “We know which way he’s headed, Mr. President, and we have a new strategy. it’s only a matter of time before—”
    Gleason pounded his fist on the desk. “ENOUGH BULLSHIT! Find the bastard. And if you can’t pinpoint him, I want you sweeping up anyone moving in those woods along his path. Get him one way or another. Is that clear?”
    “Yes, Mr. President,” Crawford said.
    “If I may, sir.” Rorke spoke for the first time. “It’s not quite as bad as it may seem. To date we’ve been pursuing Tremble and attempting to block his path and ‘drive him into a net’ so to speak. However, he’s no fool and obviously can anticipate where we might have barriers and figure out a way to bypass them. In response, we’ve just implemented a two-prong strategy, keeping pressure up on his rear while simultaneously starting well south and sending search teams north up every even remotely viable route. Rather than stationary barriers and pursuit, he now faces active pursuit closing from all directions and must react to our actions rather than vice versa. As the Secretary said, it’s only a matter of time, Mr. President.”
    Gleason stared at him a moment. “How far south?”
    “Tremble is an ex-Ranger and stays in good shape,” Rorke said, “but for all that, he’s still in his fifties. He can’t have much in the way of supplies either, so he’s likely protein deprived. I doubt he can maintain twenty miles a day in that terrain at the outside, but we figured twenty-five to be on the safe side. This morning we started a unit north from Loft Mountain Campground, which is a hundred miles south of our last sighting. We’re quite sure we’re in front of him. We also put units in by chopper to start north on the few side trails in the area. We’ll get him, Mr. President. You can count on it.”
    Gleason nodded, mollified. “Sounds sensible.” He turned his gaze to Crawford. “And about damn time. Why didn’t you think of that, Ollie?”
    “With respect, Mr. President,” Rorke lied, “this was Secretary Crawford’s idea. He just hadn’t had an … opportunity to inform you.”
    Crawford shot Rorke a grateful look and nodded.
    Gleason nodded again. “All right, but catch the bastard. He’s a loose end we can’t afford, especially with this homegrown alternative to the Emergency Broadcast System. Now what are you doing to contain these damned HAMs? The information they’re sharing about our FEMA operations is a direct contradiction to what we’re putting out on the EBS.”
    “We got the HAM license database from the FCC, and General Rorke is preparing a coordinated operation to take all the operators and their families into custody and to destroy all of the equipment,” Crawford said. “Our main concern is non-licensed operators, so we’re waiting a few days to try to locate as many as possible via triangulation. Almost everyone is transmitting in the clear now, but as soon as we crack down, word will spread and any we miss will likely start evasive techniques. The more effective we can make the first raid, the more likely we are to stamp this out quickly.”
    “Okay, but don’t take too long. And have your public affairs people gin up some sort of misinformation to cast doubt on the HAM operators. Say they’re foreign infiltrators trying to spread discord and soften us up for an invasion at our time of weakness or something like that.” Gleason paused. “Why didn’t I think of that before? Let’s run with that ‘foreign invasion’ thing. I can see all sorts of applications beyond smearing the HAMs.”
    “But, Mr. President,” Crawford said, “we’ve