Steven quickly interjected, “Well, that’s to be expected, isn’t it? I mean the terrorists attacked Germany, killing God knows how many. It just stands to reason that there would be retaliatory attacks!”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. But after Houston and San Antonio, there weren’t any more than a handful of retaliation attacks here in the States. Of course, the fact that the president came out publicly, claiming that it was street gangs from the greater Houston and San Antonio area who were responsible and not terrorists, may have played a role in the limited number of attacks,” Bill interjected.
“So, Starks actually did something good for a change?” the senator groused sarcastically.
“It was purely unintended consequences on his behalf, I’m sure!” Bill quipped.
“I’m sure we are all aware that Starks is now ordering the FBI and CIA to investigate whether or not the two attacks—Houston and Hamburg—are related, and whether or not Russia was the culprit behind the attacks in an attempt to manipulate the oil markets. He’s decided that the evidence pointing towards the Islamic terrorists is circumstantial at best and probably was planted by the real perpetrators and constitutes a rush to justice,” Bob shared.
“I strongly disagree with the president’s assessment of the intelligence. The Germans have surveillance pictures of one of the terrorists,” Bill stated as he punched a couple of keys on his keyboard before him, and a picture flashed on the wall monitor. The picture was that of a young man in his early thirties standing in a small office. He had dark black hair, a dark black moustache with thick, bushy, dark black eyebrows. Bill then punched a couple of other keys and another photo popped up next to the one already there, showing another man, who looked similar. “Do you remember our friend in Houston, Yousef Al-Sintani?” Bill punched yet another key and the picture from San Antonio appeared next to the other two. It was very clear it was the same man in all three pictures.
“Was he killed in Hamburg?” the senator asked.
“We haven’t a clue! It will be months, if not years, before we know the true death toll. Many of the people killed were burned beyond any hope of identification. Their remains are merely ashes,” Bill explained.
“So we know this bastard was at Houston, San Antonio and Hamburg, yet Starks is denying he exists,” Chip mentioned flatly. “What a surprise.”
“I’ve started searching through the international databases looking for any border crossings where his photo pops up, but so far it’s yielded nothing. I’ve focused on the day of the attack and the next three days’ worth of border crossings for every country in Europe. If he lived through the attack, he has to have gone somewhere.
“The picture was taken by security cameras in Brunsbuttel at the Harbor Master’s office that was attacked. The Germans are reporting they had a running gun battle with the LNG tanker that exploded in the city center and that they have a surveillance photo of Yousef standing on the bridge of the same ill-fated tanker, less than an hour prior to the detonation.
“They are also reporting that two men escaped the same tanker twenty-five minutes prior to the detonation and led the police on a high speed chase in a southwesterly direction. Unfortunately, we can’t interview any witnesses because they were all killed in the blast,” Bob explained. “Of course, I’ve shared all of this intelligence with my friends overseas, and they’ve assured me if they find anything, they will let me know.”
“Okay, if there isn’t anything else right now, let’s have brunch,” Steven stated as he reached for the phone.
“I’ve got a little intelligence of my own that you just might find interesting,” the senator said with a grin.
“Oh, what would that be?” Bob quipped, teasing her as Steven replaced the receiver in the cradle.
“I’ve got contacts in the bank industry, and they recently attended a meeting of the G7 in Rome where all of the members were asked to vote on changing the global currency from the dollar to another, yet unnamed currency run by the International Monetary Fund. The measure was tabled, however, after the American representative, Treasury Secretary Hobart, had a closed door meeting with the chairman of the Fund. After the meeting, the chairman was livid and stormed out of the meeting. Treasury Secretary Hobart, he slunk out the side door without speaking to anyone.
“So my friend did some digging and found out that Hobart asked for the meeting with the chairman, and he demanded a fifty million dollar contribution to Starks’ presidential library fund if they wanted the U.S. to go along. Now, this isn’t unusual for a country to request a sweetener, traditionally in the form of better trade terms or in the form of loans or loan guarantees, but it is highly unusual for some leader to demand that he receive the money personally. In fact, it is against the law in this country,” the senator explained.
Chip interjected as the senator took a breath. “Oh, come on. Every tin pot dictator makes that demand on a regular basis whenever we have to deal with them. They want money, so they demand we give money to a humanitarian fund run by his wife or girlfriend or cousin. You know that as well as I do.”
“Chip, chill!” Steven shot him an angry snarl. “Continue, Senator.”
“It is in-your-face blackmail Starks is involved with here. Of course, he’ll spin it so it sounds like he was just driving a hard bargain for the American people, but the reality is, this demand is a bribe and it will go straight into Starks’ pocket. A fifty million dollar bribe to drop the dollar, then to go along with the change to a new single world currency that undermines our sovereignty. I wonder what it would cost to have the U.S. mothball all of our nukes? A hundred million?” Senator Baines asked rhetorically as she continued to look sideways at Chip, wondering what his problem was today.
“Damn! How do we prove that’s what really happened?” Steven asked, looking at Bob.
“I’ll get on it and see if there wasn’t a tape made of the conversation or notes taken. There may have been something,” Bob suggested. “This is a clear case of treason. We’ve hung people for selling out our country’s sovereignty for cash in the past,” Bob quietly stated and then went silent, letting the comment ruminate with each of them for a moment.
“My friend tells me,” the senator commented, “that the best proof will be found in the accounting of the IMF’s quarterly and annual reports, should America suddenly decide to go along with the change to a single world currency. Somehow, they will account for the whole amount on one ledger line because the members have been complaining that the creative accounting they have practiced in the past was too hard to understand, making it difficult to be accurate, which cost the members money.”
“How about brunch?” Chip asked, not wanting to explore the subject further for some reason. “I’m flat out hungry, and I’ve a plane to catch in three hours.”
“Does your friend have any idea what the new currency will be based on?” Steven asked.
“No, not a clue. I’m not sure which currency they could pick with the Dollar, Yen, Ruble, and Euro all in the tank,” the senator stated off-handedly, then added, “Say, before we leave here today, can I get someone to check my car for bugs and GPS trackers?”
“Sure thing,” Bill replied as he picked up the phone to call plant security.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The boss wasn’t making it easy for them. He wanted more intelligence on this plot between Fast Eddie and this Azzaam character. Despite having explained the Garza villa security in detail for the third time, the boss still wanted the intelligence. If Azzaam was a representative of Al-Qaeda in South America, and he was organizing an attack of massive proportions, they had to have solid intelligence before any of the assholes in Washington would believe them. Hell, they’d probably have to bring Azzaam into the situation room and have him smack a few of them around before they’d react. Even though they hated to admit it, the boss was probably right, and so they sat around brainstorming.
Ron suggested that they come in from the ocean at night and use tranqu
ilizer darts on the guards, then check the villa over top to bottom. Everyone thought the idea had possibilities until Mike reminded them that darts were a close quarters weapon and shooting at a target from over fifty yards away was an iffy proposition. So they sat and thought about it some more.
They tossed about ideas, ranging from one of them sneaking over the wall, to staging a car accident right in front of the villa, complete with an explosion and fire. Then one of them could slip through the gate when the guards came out to check to on things.
Alex even suggested that they get Pam to dress up and try to get Garza to pick her up at the bar he liked to go to, so she could snoop around in the villa after he fell asleep. Pam said thank you, but no thank you. She drew the line at sleeping with the enemy. She’d gladly shoot the asshole, but she wasn’t going to bed with him, and that was that.
In exasperation, Ron finally suggested that they just burn down the villa and check the ashes afterwards, which everyone got a chuckle out of; but then Tom thought about it some more and decided that it was the best idea they had come up with.
“No, really, I think it could work! All we need to do is show up with the firefighters and just walk in like we’re there to help put out the flames. Only we don’t worry about the fire, we look for the computers, hard drives and binders that might hold the information we need,” Tom explained.
“How would we go about setting the fire?” Pam asked, always the one to want to know the details.
“Well, I think…” Tom stalled for time as he thought about the answer to that question. “Okay, we could throw a couple of Molotov cocktails over the wall, or we could fire an incendiary grenade into the villa or….” Tom’s voice trailed off as he continued to ruminate.
“We could put a fire bomb in the grocery delivery that’s on a timer, and at night, when only the night guards are awake, the bomb would go off, and we’d have the fire we need to get into the villa,” Alex offered.
“Yeah, that could work! Slip the fire bomb in with the groceries. Set the timer for, say, one a.m., just before old Fast Eddie returns from his night of partying down at the Horny Bullfrog, and we could be in and out before Fast Eddie knew what hit him,” Ron stated. “I like the plan!”
“I only see one problem,” Tom stated, spoiling the moment for Ron. “They’ll unload the groceries when they arrive, and then they’ll find our little surprise.”
“Not if we put in a box of cereal or laundry powder or some other large container, with dry stuff inside. We just push it to the bottom of the box so that when they unload it, it still sounds like it just has the product in it. You know, when they shake it,” Pam offered.
“That could work!” Ron beamed.
“What if they open the box to use it before the timer runs out?” Tom asked.
“What if the grocery kid steals the box? What if they leave it in an outbuilding? There are a hundred things that could happen, but that doesn’t mean we don’t give it a try,” Ron complained.
“I think the fire bomb is our best choice to get access to the villa,” Alex added.
“I agree,” Pam chimed in.
“I’ll vote for that,” Mike joined in.
“Okay, we’ll try getting a fire bomb into the villa,” Tom caved reluctantly, and the team split up to find the grocery store where Garza ordered from and to find the necessary ingredients to build the fire bomb de jour.
It took the team the rest of the day and most of the next to learn which grocery store would make the delivery, plus what was ordered and when the delivery would take place. After preparing the fire bomb, the last bits of equipment they needed was the same equipment as the local firefighters used. That way they would fit right in when they responded to the call. To do this, they had to drive two towns over and steal five fire suits from an unattended station in broad daylight.
Alex and Mike got the burglary assignment, and they set out before noon to find somewhere to borrow the fire suits from. They traveled up the coast almost thirty miles before they came across a fire station that was set on the outskirts of town. The town’s name was Liberia. They had driven north on Highway 1 to the junction of Highway 21, where they turned left. They’d only driven about two miles when the houses gave way to the jungle, and after another mile they spotted a fire station tucked back off the road in small clearing. They drove past and then circled back around, checking out the surrounding area and the station before pulling over to the side of the road.
“Well?” Mike asked.
“Yeah, well?” Alex replied.
“It doesn’t appear to have anyone hanging around. There are no cars or trucks parked outside,” Mike offered.
“So you think it’s worth getting closer?” Alex asked.
“Yeah, why not? If they ask, we’ll claim we’re lost and we’re just looking for someone to give us directions.”
“Okay, that should work,” Alex said as he made a U-turn and pulled into driveway of the station. He honked the horn and waited for several minutes, but no one appeared. He then drove to the side of the building where there was a side entry door.
“Are you doing the honors?” Mike asked.
“I guess I have to. You can’t do anything but shoot things from a hundred miles away,” Alex verbally poked at Mike who, by his own admission, didn’t do undercover things like breaking and entering all that well. He was sniper, plain and simple.
“That’s not true,” Mike said, pouting, trying to defend himself. “I can shoot things as close fifty feet just as good as a hundred miles.”
“Well, even though you’re just a shooter, get ready to be a mule once I get this door open. We have to get in and get out quick.”
“I think I can handle that.”
“Then let’s get going,” Alex stated as he jumped out of the van and went straight to the door, while Mike slowly climbed out and began looking around for anyone they may not have seen. The coast was clear, as they say.
It took Alex less than thirty seconds to pick the lock and shove the door open. He quickly stepped inside, and Mike slowly stepped around the van and followed him into the station.
Pulling a small flashlight from his pocket, Alex started to weave his way through the maze of equipment inside the station.
“Hey, not so fast. I don’t have a flashlight,” Mike called out.
“What? Where did you leave it? Didn’t it occur to you that you might need it?” Alex quickly questioned.
“It’s daylight,” Mike answered.
“I’d expect Steve not to bring his flashlight, but you? You’re the consummate professional soldier. Hurry up. We’ve even less time now,” Alex complained.
“Uh… why don’t we just turn on a light?” Mike asked.
Alex gave him a nasty look before replying, “It’ll be pretty obvious that we’re in here if we turn the lights on. Didn’t you learn anything in the covert classes? Maybe you can get Clarett to give you a refresher course,” Alex chided, noticing Mike staring blankly at him. “What?” Alex finally asked the staring Mike.
“Dude, it’s daylight outside. No one is going to see any light in here,” Mike explained while Alex suddenly got a strange look on his face.
“Oh, right. Well, I guess we could turn the lights on then. I don’t do this during the day too often,” Alex chirped.
“Ah, yeah, I guess that’s it,” Mike snidely replied as he began looking for a light switch. He found one on the wall a few feet in front them and switched it on. “Okay, that’s more like it. Let’s go find the locker room,” Mike said as he walked off towards the back of the station.
“I think it might be upstairs. I’ll go upstairs,” Alex replied, starting up the stairs.
“I’ll check the rooms back here,” Mike called as he opened the first door which proved to be an office of some sort. He then checked the other door and discovered a tool crib filled with lots of shovels and axes and not much else. As he turned to go back to the stairs, a blur dropped past him and landed on the f
loor in front of him.
“Whoa!” Mike exclaimed as he looked down to check the pile on the floor in front of him.
“Just pick it up and head for the van,” Alex stated as he came down the stairs, his arms full of fire gear. “The helmets must be on the trucks somewhere. We’ll need to come back for them.”
“Here, just load me up and you go look for them, while I take these,” Mike offered and Alex complied.
“Done,” Alex snipped and dumped the balance of the fire suits into Mike’s arms and quickly ran off towards the trucks. Mike stumbled through the station and out the door to the back of the van where he struggled one-handed to hold the suits and open the doors. Once he’d managed to get the doors open, he tossed the gear inside.
Before he could turn around, Alex was there, tossing the helmets into the van. “Let’s close it up and get out of here,” Alex stated as he ran to the driver’s door and hopped in. Mike quickly slammed the doors and joined Alex in the front.
They pulled out on to Highway 21 and turned towards Highway 1. When they reached the corner where they needed to turn, it was Mike who pointed out to Alex the fire station pickup truck that was coming up the highway from the south. Its lights were flashing, and it was clearly in a hurry.
“I hope they have other suits,” Mike mentioned.
“They have a couple of them left,” Alex answered.
“A couple?” Mike asked.
“Yeah, there were maybe two or three left on the hooks.”
“Drive faster,” Mike quipped.
The following morning as the grocery delivery truck was being loaded, Alex and Mike switched out one of the five boxes of corn flakes supplied by the store for one with their bomb in the bottom of it. Then to ensure that the explosive corn flakes box went to the right address, they followed the delivery kid on his route. Once the delivery had been made, they returned to the team’s villa and waited for the show to begin later that night.
Under the yellow rubber coats, pants and boots, the team wore lightweight body armor under black combat jumpsuits. They each carried a silenced H&K MP5 short barrel, the same ones they’d brought with them from the R&D that were designed for close quarter combat and fit nicely under the protective gear of the firefighters. In addition to the firefighters’ helmets they were to wear, the team added their flexible night vision goggles that were the newest piece of equipment used by the combat elite. The goggles were small and lightweight with enough flexibility to be worn under blast shields or the firemen’s helmets’ faceplates they would be wearing.
Reprisal!- The Eagle's Challenge Page 9