“Holy shit! Bascome is taking money from the Saudis! Were the Saudis behind the attacks on Houston and San Antonio?” Steven inquired, the excitement showing in his voice.
“It’s still too soon to know about Houston and San Antonio, but it sure is damning evidence that Bascome is on the take. But that isn’t the complete picture. It turns out this Saudi has diplomatic cover and is also the lead lobbyist for Solution Brothers Trust! The very same firm Jason Combs hired at the last minute to save Starks’ campaign. It seems that Combs, Starks’ former chief of staff, was an old friend of this guy, and it was Combs who recommended that Starks use the firm to seek campaign help.” Bob took another hurried breath and continued.
“Solution Brothers Trust is a privately held company that is rumored to be lobbying Cair, an Arab charities group suspected of funneling money to Hamas and Hezbollah and several other very low profile Muslim charities, for the Arab League. In fact, Cair has been listed as an unindicted conspirator with the blind imam who ordered the attack on the World Trade Center in 1993. Anyway, Solution Brothers Trust have also been hired since the election to represent several members of Congress, all Democrats, and several wanna-be Democratic senators and congressmen and women for the upcoming elections, as well. Bill is checking the campaign funds for all of them right now! We both think we need to pay this Saudi a visit ASAP. We need to know where those bombs are going, and I think we need to know fast!” Bob paused again, allowing Steven to interject his thoughts.
“I can’t ask any of our guys to come into the States and spy on people. I told them I’d never ask that of them. They’re soldiers, not spies. I told them that I would never have them do ops on U.S. soil, and I don’t think Chip will ask them or let me ask them, anyway,” Steven sighed.
Bob shook his head. “I don’t need to have any of Kilauea’s people to get involved with this. I can get some outside contractors to help, and it won’t be that expensive. In fact, they are all Americans, and they’ve got a big ax to grind with this new administration. They aren’t cowboys who will go around shooting up the town, but they will get us the intelligence we need. All I need from you is the go ahead,” Bob explained.
“What if they get caught?” Steven said.
“These people don’t get caught! And if they do, they won’t know who I work for, so you’re protected,” Bob answered.
“But they know you! And you work for me now! How long do you think it will take for the powers that be to put two and two together?” Steven shot back, just as his intercom light flashed. He held up his hand to signal that Bob should be quiet while he took this call. “Yes, Beth?” There was a low mumble over the intercom that Bob couldn’t quite make out, then Steven replied, “Okay, bring them in.” Steven pushed the button on the phone and looked to the door as Beth stepped into the office and handed a small envelope to Steven and then left. When the door was closed again, Steven opened the envelope, pulled out a couple of pictures and quickly glanced at them before handing them to Bob.
“Shit! That’s my car! I thought you had really good security here?” Bob stated accusatorily.
“We do have very good security here, but in the public parking lot across the street, not so much!” Steven snapped, his face clearly showing his annoyance. “Was there anything in the car that was important?” Steven asked, knowing that Bob knew what he was really asking.
“No! Everything I brought with me is in that file in front of you. I know better than to leave anything lying around where anyone might find it,” Bob answered, sounding even dumber than he had when he had said it was his car in the picture.
“Okay. I’ll have the security team bring the car into the building and search it for GPS and listening devices. Then, I’ll have them turn over the photos to the local police, so that they might find out who they were, but we both know they won’t find that out, will they?” Steven stated flatly, and rhetorically.
“I’m so sorry! Damn, I’m an idiot! I should have met with you off-site, it was just that this—”
“Yeah, I know. It’s real proof, and it’s smoking hot. But you’re the former director of the CIA for Chrissakes! You had to have known that people watch me all the time and that they’d be sitting outside the building looking for anyone they could tie to me. Bob, I’ve always liked you. You’re a stand-up guy. But I think that you’re maybe getting a little old for this stuff. Come on! Drive to Richmond and walk in the front door? What were you thinking?” Steven chided harshly.
“I know! I fucked up! But they still have no idea why I’m here. It’s public knowledge that I work for you now. You had it printed in the major papers. Which, by the way, I wouldn’t have done!” Bob spat in self-defense.
“Relax, Bob. I can’t blame you for wanting to get this into my hands right away. But you won’t be going home by the usual route. We’ll get you driver, and we’ll fly you out of Baltimore with a stop or two in between before you get back to Ashville. In the future, we meet off-site, and I’ll come to you. I’ll have security set up for you and the wife. I think it would be a good idea to get that help you mentioned and find out what our Saudi friend and his new buddies are up to,” Steven stated as if he were directing a child.
“Okay, boss. I’ll get my head out of my ass and start acting like the man I know I am. You’ll get results soon. You can count on it!” Bob stated flatly with a strong dose of confidence.
“Beth will direct you to security. And Bob, be careful. Those guys who burgled your car are most likely working for Bascome,” Steven stated as Bob left his office.
Steven then called Chip, whom he felt needed to know the latest intelligence and the latest in the spy game going on.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Chip Clarett read the intelligence report provided by Bob Richland and agreed—it did provide the smoking gun regarding Bascome, but it also provided insight into a new attack. It left out the crucial piece of information needed to stop it, though—the location of the attack.
It also signaled an escalation of the war no one had seen coming. There had already been two extremely large terror attacks on western targets. Plus, a third attack that was stopped before it could be executed. Now there was this report, providing a head’s up about another coming attack. This one, potentially even bigger than the two attacks that succeeded against Houston and San Antonio combined.
When he considered the information the team had provided regarding the plans to invade the American Southwest, he couldn’t help but wonder if the fuel air bombs were meant be used to kick off the invasion. It seemed logical; it wouldn’t be the first time a mass bombing campaign was used to signal the beginning of open hostilities. The Allied coalition had used a bombing campaign, (nicknamed Shock and Awe) to open Desert Storm and Operation Freedom. He could think of several ways to use the bombs, from a diversion to destroying strategic targets such as the command and control center of the enemy. He knew he needed to act but needed more information to be sure he was making the right move. He hoped the computer flash drives Pam was bringing back would yield hard information detailing what the fuel air bombs were for. What he really wanted to know was who was this Azzaam character, and what was his exact role in the coming invasion?
His intercom buzzed, and Carrie informed him that William Wyatt was on the line, wondering if he had some time to talk. Chip had her put him through.
“Well, hello, stranger! It’s been a while since we’ve had a chat.” Chip wondered why his old friend had made a call after so many years and if it had anything to do with his role as the new CIA chief.
“Yeah, I don’t think we’ve had a chance talk since Peg’s funeral. I should have called you when I got back to D.C., but I was swamped,” William replied.
“Yeah, I know the feeling. I can guess how you found me, but I won’t. So, how’s it working out, being the director of the CIA?” Chip asked.
“It’s a real learning experience. Probably like your new position as head of Kilauea Corp.’s Security Division,�
�� William replied without really answering Chip’s inquiry.
“Yeah, but I don’t get the perks you do. No more black tie affairs, where the music sucks, the food stinks and the company is even worse than the company you kept in Vietnam.” Chip chuckled and William joined in briefly.
“Oh, like you didn’t hang with the same people I did? Talk about selective memory,” William jabbed.
“I was young and didn’t know any better. What was your excuse?” Chip retorted.
“I was your adjutant; I had to go where you went!”
“Oh, sure, you were just following orders, right?”
“You bet, yeah!” William shot back. “So, I hear you’re still hanging out with questionable characters.”
“Oh, who would that be?’ Chip’s guard was fully erect now.
“The new president has his underwear in a bunch over you and Steven Howard. He tried to tell me that you, along with Howard and Senator Bains, were part of a terrorist conspiracy,” William shared.
“Really? What terrorist attack am I accused of carrying out or planning to carry out?” Chip asked, his curiosity aroused.
“That’s just it. I’m supposed to find out, and if I can’t, I’m supposed to make one up. Chip, are you a terrorist?” William asked, only half-kidding.
“Shit, yeah, I am. Any one of those friggin’ Muslims gets too close to Steven and his family or his business interests, and I’ll personally car bomb their asses back to prehistory. Forget about the Stone Age! Hell, half of them practically live there now.” Chip charged right into the subject.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say. So, why did you quit? You were the chairman of the Joint Chiefs,” William asked.
“I just got tired of the bullshit. No one wanted to accept the fact that we’re at war. They wanted to open a dialogue with Bin Laden and figure out why he feels the way he feels. The last straw was when they refused to accept that Houston and San Antonio were terrorist attacks, claiming they had proof it was gang-related and not terrorism. Hell, they even refused to investigate! So, I decided I’d be better off in a cushy job that paid five times my military pay, where I could have an effect on the situations that presented themselves. Oh, and the fact that my grandchildren and daughter-in-law were killed in San Antonio by the terrorists sealed the deal.” Chip wasn’t sure why he shared that last part, but he felt better for having done so.
“Chip, no… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” Wyatt stumbled out his condolences.
“We kept it quiet. David’s very private,” Chip shared. “But I was on the way out, anyway. Their idiotic planning and behavior was driving me nuts.”
“Yeah, I’ve been quite frustrated myself with these boneheads. Starks has stopped me from investigating anything to do with Muslim terrorists and told me to focus on the gangs in Central America. It’s been a real slow-go down there. Everybody is in a gang of some sort or another, every government is corrupt, and every politician has his hand out to the U.S. and every other country on the planet that wants to have some influence.”
“Hell, the president of Guatemala became a multi-billionaire overnight when he took office. He sold some road right-of-way through the worst part of the eastern jungle and just pocketed the money. The guy was a priest before he ran for office, claiming he was for the poor people. When I asked him how he justified his actions, he said, ‘I am for helping the poor people, but that doesn’t mean I have to be one.’”
“So what is Starks claiming I’ve done?” Chip interrupted, putting the info about the Central American highway to the back of his mind for later.
“He wants me to find proof that you, Howard and Bains supplied information to the gangs in order to cause damage to the relationship between the U.S. and its Arab allies.”
“What a crock of shit! You can tell that asshole that now I am coming after him! I’m going to beat him at his own game,” Chip blurted out.
“You’ll get my vote,” William chirped.
“I’m willing to bet I’ll get a lot of votes, but the media controls the politics. If you’re not one of their favorites, you’ll never get elected to a nationwide office,” Chip lamented. “So that’s why I’m here.”
“Okay, I’ll let Starks know he’s barking up the wrong tree, but I’d get prepared. He isn’t going to like that, and he’ll just try to trump up something else,” William advised.
“Yeah, next he’ll probably try to claim I’m running a private army and running around the world killing kindly old moderate Muslims for no reason,” Chip chuckled.
“Well, just be forewarned,” William reiterated.
“You know, since you called, I heard some rumors the other day you might be interested in,” Chip offered.
“Oh, like what?”
“Well, there’s a handful of ships—four, I think—in Persian Gulf area ports that have been outfitted as unmanned vehicles. Some guy by the name of Azzaam ordered them from a bunch of pirates in Indonesia, along with six or seven other ships that no one seemed to know where they are or why he had ordered them. I can send you what I’ve got on it, if you’d like.”
“How’d you come across it?” William asked, clearly curious.
“I’m in the private sector now, and these tech geeks can’t hold their liquor very well. They talk and share files, so my guys pick up intelligence whenever they can because we are always under threat and always fighting off industrial spies and hackers. Hell, the French are a real problem along with the Chinese,” Chip explained.
“Sure, send it along, and I’ll have my guys check it out.”
The skepticism regarding the validity of his information wasn’t lost on Chip. “Fine, but I’d get working on those ships real quick. It seemed to be a very hot topic in Singapore. They were all headed for the Middle East.” Chip baited William just a bit more, hoping he’d get working on it right away.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The plan was simple. Ron would set up on the roof of an old five-story hotel that faced onto the center square of Boca Barranca. He would be using a Barrett fifty caliber sniper’s rifle, with a range of up to twenty-two hundred yards in the proper hands. It fired a six-inch, depleted uranium armor piercing shell and had a Leupold 120x scope, with built in optical filter. The optical filter eliminated the sun’s glare and any reflections that might interfere with the shot.
From the hotel on the center square of Boca Barranca, it was just shy of twelve hundred yards to the fourteenth green of the golf course just south of town. They had learned that Garza was still going to play golf with his Mexican contact the following day from the bug that Alex had planted in Garza’s hotel suite at the beachfront hotel. Alex had rented the uniform from the maintaince man at the hotel, so he could pose as hotel maintenance when Garza’s men called down to the front desk, complaining of a couple of small electrical problems. Garza’s men searched him and his tools, but they didn’t look that closely because he was just the hotel’s maintenance man, after all.
Tom and Ron argued for over an hour about whether or not they needed a closer location from which to shoot, but Alex explained over and over, since he had scouted the town and the golf course while they had taken Mike and Pam to the airport, that there wasn’t another spot that allowed for a clear field of fire without leaving the shooter exposed to retaliatory fire from Garza’s security team.
When Alex volunteered to be the shooter since he had been a sniper for Uncle Sam, both Tom and Ron took issue with that idea. Tom at first tried to pull rank, but Ron pointed out that both Tom and Alex could pass for Hispanic, whereas Alex was blond and looked northern European. Ron felt Alex and Tom could blend with the neighborhood far easier than an obvious white guy would. He also pointed out the locals would be reluctant to point out Alex or Tom, as they would be considered amigos. But when it came to pointing out Ron, the white guy with white/blond hair, they’d do it without a second thought. It was Ron’s understanding of the fact that natural human bigotry towards others who are dif
ferent from you and yours that settled the argument, allowing them to get to work setting up the hit.
The diversion wasn’t quite as easy to figure out. It had to be compelling enough that it would cause Garza’s protection detail to momentarily look away from Garza to determine what it was. Yet, it couldn’t be so compelling it triggered a flight response from Garza’s protection detail before Ron could get off the shot.
It was finally decided that Alex would borrow a car (steal it, actually) and then crash it into another car along the road just outside the fence of the golf club, which ran along the fourteenth fairway. After the accident, but before any police could respond, Alex was to stage a screaming match with the other driver, maybe throwing a few light punches for effect, and once the shot was fired, run!
Tom and Alex knew exactly where they wanted the accident to take place, but after careful consideration, they decided that they could not guarantee a car would come along at exactly the right moment. Plus, there was no guarantee that the driver who did come along wouldn’t be armed or run away or be injured in the fender bender. So after running the scenario over and over, they decided they would have to use two cars, and Tom would act as the other driver to ensure no innocent local was injured and the accident would happen at just the right time.
The following morning, Alex and Tom found two newer Honda Civics. Both were blue in color with a sticker proclaiming they were Alamo rental cars. They were parked side by side, down at the marina, where all of the sport fisherman set sail every morning. After making sure that no one was around to notice, they jimmied the door to the bait shop, which doubled as the ticket booth for the deep sea fishing charters, and found the drawer used to store the keys for the fishermen who didn’t want to risk losing their keys while fishing. They took the keys for the two Hondas, then slipped behind the wheels and drove away, each turning the opposite direction when they hit the main road. They were pretty sure the cars wouldn’t be reported missing for at least eight hours. By then, they’d be in the air having dinner and drinks, headed back to the Kilauea Corp.’s R&D facility.
Reprisal!- The Eagle's Challenge Page 13