Lost in the Maze

by Gary William Ramsey

  The entire power structure of the United States of America could be wiped out with a nuclear attack at that event.

  The Controller considered all the facets of his brilliant Master Plan.

  The security for State of the Union Address is unprecedented.

  A National Special Security Event (NSSE) is an event of national or international significance deemed by the (DHS), the United States Department of Homeland Security, to be a potential target for terrorism or other criminal activity. These events have included summits of world leaders, meetings of international organizations, presidential nominating conventions, presidential inaugurations and the State of the Union event.

  NSSE designation requires federal agencies to provide full cooperation and support to ensure the safety and security of those participating in or otherwise attending the event, and the community within which the event takes place, and is typically limited to specific event sites for a specified time frame. The NSSE puts the United States Secret Service in charge of event security.

  The Federal Bureau of Investigation is in charge of intelligence, counter terrorism, hostage rescue and investigation of incidents of terrorism or other major criminal activities associated with the NSSE. The Federal Emergency Management Agency is in charge of recovery management in the aftermath of terrorist or other major criminal incidents, natural disasters or other catastrophic events.

  The State of the Union Address was the primary target of the Controller’s Master Plan. In addition, the Controller planned assaults on the CIA Headquarters, FBI Headquarters, Department of Homeland Security Headquarters, the Federal Emergency Management Agency and other critical government agencies. The nuclear device would be used on the primary target. The other attacks would be carried out with suicide vests, and a van bomb. All conducted by the recruits of Aalim, The Chosen One.

  The suicide vest involves the use of a vest worn under the suicide bomber’s clothing. The pockets of these garments contain explosives and bits of shrapnel, though everything from the bomber’s wristwatch to his bones essentially becomes shrapnel with this tactic. The explosives connect to a detonator, which in turn connects to a pocket trigger.

  Even thought each of the agencies has security at the entrance, including security scanners, the bombs can be detonated prior to being detected to cause confusion, turmoil and delay the agencies’ response to the major attack at the State of the Union Address. The van bomb would simply be parked adjacent to the target and immediately detonated.

  Confident that he had all his bases covered, The Controller was ready to begin the process.

  He was spending most of his private time in his condo. His wife didn’t care if he was home or not, since she only stayed with him because of his lofty position in the federal government. She loved the attention it brought her, and the perks, which were abundant. They had not lived as husband and wife for over fifteen years. The Controller knew she was having a long-term affair with his Press Secretary. He pretended not to know, but was content that it kept her out of his affairs. When he needed sex, he called his girl friend, Rita. She meant nothing to him, only served as an outlet for his tension. He paid her well and she appeared content.

  The Controller wanted Rita’s attentiveness tonight, but first he must begin the implementation phase three of his scheme.

  The nuclear device had been successfully transferred to Washington into the trusted hands of Dabir Matin Kazmi. It would be moved to a Washington mosque with the other devices before the attacks.

  Kazmi had legally immigrated to the USA over ten years ago. He was extensively trained in explosives by Al-Qaeda. With Al-Qaeda’s decent, he changed his allegiance to ISIS. During his time in the USA, he recruited five converted Muslims to complete his cell. They had successfully constructed explosive vests and belts awaiting the appropriate time to unleash suicide bombings on US soil. His position of Professor of Islamic Studies at American University in Washington DC was widely respected. His hatred for the Satan America was well hidden from his associates.

  The Controller went to his closet and pulled out another secure disposable phone.

  He went back to the living area, sat on the couch, and punched in the number of The Chosen One, Aalim Mohammad Alam.

  After exchanging the security passwords, he greeted the young terrorist.

  “Allāhu Akbar, my Son.”

  “God is Great, Master,” Aalim responded.

  “We have now reached the phase of elimination of the Infidels that requires your long awaited actions. Are you ready?”

  “Yes Sir,” I am ready for Martyrdom and my seventy-two virgins. All the members of my team are looking forward to killing infidels in the name of Allah.”

  “Listen carefully, I am going to give you orders so you can prepare. I will personally meet with you prior to the attacks taking place. Be sure to warn members of your cell that if they divulge any part of the plan, their families will be tortured and killed and Allah will send them straight to hell.”

  “Master, as I said, I trust them with my life.”

  The Controller smiled. He was proud of his convert and trusted The Chosen One.

  “Aalim, you will be contacted in one week by Dabir Matin Kazmi. He is a trustworthy member of ISIS. He has in his possession your weapons, vest bombs, a van bomb, and the nuclear weapon. He’ll make them available to you on January 19th. The location will be reveled to you during his call. I’ll be there on that date with final instructions.”

  The Controller hesitated for a moment and then continued.

  “We will now assign, together, each member with the special tasks. This is for your knowledge only. Your cell members will not be informed their assignments until the day of the assaults. You and I and a special few are the only ones to know the exact plans until the designated day of the attacks.”

  The Controller took a deep breath in order to assure that his voice didn’t waver as he unveiled his magnificent plot.

  “At approximately seven pm on the evening of January 20th, the President of the United States will give the State of the Union Address to a joint session of Congress. The entirety of the power structure of the Unites States will be in attendance. Only one member of government will not attend as required by law. That person is the ‘Designated Survivor.’ The Cabinet member who is picked to be the ‘Designated Survivor’ has a grim task: Stay away from the U.S. Capitol on the night of the Address, and be prepared to help run the government if a catastrophic event wipes out the government leaders attending the State of the Union Address. It’s usually a cabinet member who is assigned this task, however this year the President is making an exception to that tradition. I have been named as the ‘Designated Survivor.’ I was able to arrange this because of my control over the Vice President and several of the President’s close advisors. I have successfully implanted sympathizers to ISIS in all branches of the government, and in the hierarchy of the Armed Services. Our time has come.”

  “Will I be given the honor of detonating the nuclear weapon in the halls of Congress?” Aalim asked.

  “Aabish Lini Malik will have that honor, however you will be there with her to remotely detonate the weapon in the event she falters, or is stopped for any reason. She will use her association with Secret Service Agent Hammond to gain access to the building. Her access only needs to be inside the door at any level, preferably the lower level. She only has to be at the building to insure the demolition of the structure and the death of all within. Between now and the date of the attack, she should intensify her personal activity with Hammond. She must do all that is necessary to secure his complete trust. She is one of the few to whom you can divulge the plan. Beginning next week, you and I will be in communication daily with training instructions for Aabish. Next to you, she is the key to our success.”

  “I will say my prayers and know that Allah is at my side,” The Chosen One replied. “You are my blessed Mentor, and I will await your instructions.”

  After hanging
up with The Chosen One, he made a call to the Organizer to update him.

  “Our plans are in place and on schedule. Will you be in the country when we take over?”

  “I have not decided for certain, but I will definitely send my most trusted female associate. She is capable and will serve as your advisor in my stead if I choose not to come. Allah is with us. He recently delivered to me the man who can lead us to any substantial opposition so they can be eliminated. My trusted assistant will be with him.”

  He did not offer any additional information and the Controller knew better than to press for more.

  Hanging up and destroying the phone, the Controller went to the bar and poured two fingers of Gentleman Jack Bourbon. He sipped it while phoning Rita.

  Within thirty minutes, there was a knock on the door. He opened it to the smiling face of the dazzling Rita. Without saying a word she entered, closed the door and locked it.

  “Do you need me now or may I have a drink first?” She asked, running her fingers through his silver hair.

  “You can drink later,” he replied. The Controller picked her up and carried her to the master suite. Throwing her on the bed, he stepped back and looked at her. She was wearing a short black dress, which was hiked up revealing her black lace panties. Watching his eyes, she spread her legs and ran her fingers through her long red hair. He watched as she slowly removed the panties. She grinned at him.

  “It’s here waiting for you,” she said. “You can take me anyway you want.”

  The Controller ripped off his shirt and pants. The sexual activity was going to be rough and violent. He needed to release his severe tension.

  “Soon I will be the most powerful man in this world,” he said as he grabbed the top of her dress and ripped it off. Rita whimpered at the pain, but reveled in his passion.

  “Do anything you want to me, anything,” she whispered.

  Chapter 43

  Dubov lay breathing heavily and exhausted at Macy’s side. She bit her lip to gain control and not vomit at her revulsion with the disgusting Russian. She knew that this was his most vulnerable time just after sex, and she was determined to take futher advantage of the situation.

  Macy put her hand on his hairy, sweating chest. “Honey, you said that in January we will be in power. May I be at your side when that happens?”

  “You will always be at my side,” he said. “When all the pigs in the USA get together and we take them out all at one time, you can have anything you want, anything.”

  “I can’t wait,” Macy whispered. “Power turns me on,” She kissed his neck and pressed her breasts against his arm. “How are you going to do this?”

  Dubov abruptly sat up and looked down at her. “Why are you asking so many questions?” He barked. “What difference does it make to you? We will be rich beyond all your dreams, and once we get the Muslims out of the way, we will be the most powerful force in the world. Enough of your questions! I’m hungry. Lets go to the kitchen and get some food.”

  Macy knew not to force the issue. She recognized that something was going to happen in January and that radical Muslims were involved. It was clear that there was going to be a mass attack, but he didn’t say where.

  She put on a robe, and Dubov donned a pair of shorts. She followed him downstairs to the kitchen. A short stocky man was sitting there at the table eating a sandwich. He looked up as they entered. Macy noticed a ragged scar stretching from his left eye socket down to his chin. His deep blue eyes didn’t seem to fit his pudgy face and pug nose. He grinned revealing a space between his front teeth. He was wearing a white t-shirt and khaki pants with no belt.

  “This is Boyra Glackov,” Dubov said. “He was sent here by Nevsky to assist me. He will replace Sonny.”

  Glackov nodded and stared at the barefoot Indian girl. Macy closed her robe and smiled. “Nice to meet you Boyra.”

  He ignored her greeting, looked at Dubov and with disgust in his voice said, “I was not expecting you. I thought you were in bed for the evening. Nevsky called and left a message for you.” He reached in his pocket and handed Dubov a note.

  “This is private and no other person should know.” He looked at Macy and smirked.

  Dubov shoved the note in his pocket without looking at it.

  Glackov gazed again at Dubov, picked up his half-eaten sandwich and left the room.

  “Well he’s not very friendly,” Macy said. It was apparent to her that the man had no respect for Dubov, and was probably sent there to spy on him. The “Sonny” incident and the lie that he was an undercover FBI Agent probably lowered Nevsky’s confidence in Dubov.

  Dubov didn’t appear to notice Boyra’s impertinence. “What would you like to eat?” He opened the fridge and took out two large plastic containers. “What about some Borscht and Pirozhki?”

  Macy hated the Borscht, which was a hearty soup filled with veggies and meat, however she could tolerate the Pirozhki. These little pastries were packed full of potatoes, meat, cabbage, and cheese.

  “Wait Ivan,” she said. “I’ll heat the Borscht for you and the Pirozhki for me.”

  She heated the Borscht in a pot on the stove, and microwaved the Pirozhki. She put a large bowl of the soup in front of Dubov. She retrieved a loaf of Russian black bread from the cupboard, buttered it, and placed that in front of the Russian. “Wait,” Macy said. “I’ll be right back.”

  She quickly made her way to the bar and grabbed a bottle of chilled Magnum Grey Goose Vodka from the bar fridge. She hurried back to the kitchen. “This is a special night so let’s do this in style,” she said, and showed him the bottle.

  “Wonderful,” Dubov responded.

  Macy took the vodka to the counter and grabbed two glasses from the cupboard. She glanced at Dubov, he was dipping the bread in the Borscht and eating it. Macy filled her glass half full of water, and filled his full with the chilled vodka. If I can get him drunk, maybe I can get a look at that note, she thought.

  Dubov ate heartily and finished three glass of vodka. He sipped a forth one and got up from the table. He wavered and put his hand on the table to stabilize himself.

  Macy went to his side. “Honey I think its time to put you to bed.”

  Dubov nodded and leaned on her as she guided him to the bedroom. He crawled into the bed, stomach filled with Borscht and vodka. The drunken Russian fell asleep within minutes.

  Macy lay beside him as he snored raucously. She slipped her hand in his pocket and removed the note. She quietly got out of the bed and went to the bathroom, sat on the toilet, and unfolded the note.

  I have been informed that the Controller has gained a greater position of strength in the government. The murders of Roberts and Patton may have been unnecessary, but the bastards needing killing anyway. Call me and let’s set up a date for you to come to New York so I can share the Master Plan with you. The time for action is near. We need you to set up one more hit. I sent Boyra Glackov there to act as your operative. Trust him completely. He works directly for me.

  Macy heard a noise coming from the bedroom. She refolded the note, put it in her robe pocket, and went back to the bedroom. Dubov was sitting on the edge of the bed.

  She went to his side. “Honey you need to rest, what’s the problem?”

  Dubov stared at her with bloodshot eyes. “I can’t find the damn note.”

  Chapter 44

  I hung up the phone and lay there thinking. The depths of grief filled my soul. I had one thing to keep me going. My daughter Lisa is presently unaccounted for. I must do what’s necessary to find her and protect her. Also I must clear my name. I have no idea why I was framed for my wife’s death, thrown overboard, and left for dead.

  Anger replaced the grief. If it’s the last thing I do in this life, I will track down who did this, and I will make them pay.

  I heard a noise and looked toward the door. Maria Debue entered the room carrying a tray. She had changed into a white blouse and black silk pants. She smiled at me and placed the tray on
the desk on the left side of the room.

  “I thought you might be hungry, Senator Roberts, so I brought you something to eat.”

  I was shocked to hear my name. I knew that I had no identification on me. “How do you know my name?”

  “Sir, my father Alexander Debue is very involved and knowledgeable about US politics. We have a home at Martha’s Vineyard in Massachusetts. We spend the summers there. He recognized you from the newspaper reports and watched many of your campaign speeches. He felt that you were the most qualified to be President of the United States. He donated to your campaign, and felt that your election would be good for business. He recognized you when he found you unconscious on the pier. As soon as you eat and shower, he will speak to you. I’ll return with fresh clothes.”

  She turned and left the room. Looking at the food, I realized that I was starving. I went to the desk and sat down. The tray contained a bowl of fresh fruit, grilled fish, and a garden salad. A glass of chilled orange juice completed the meal. I took a drink of the juice. It was fresh squeezed and tasted wonderful. I calmed myself and slowly ate the fish and salad, and finished off the bowl of fresh fruit. It was the first good meal I’ve had since my last night on the cruise ship.

  Maria returned and looked at the empty plates. “I see you enjoyed your brunch,” she said, and smiled. She was carrying a hanger with white pants and a black silk shirt on it. In the other hand she had a pair of white boat shoes and a bag. She placed the hanger on the bed and the shoes and bag on the floor.

  “Get cleaned up, change clothes and my father and I will speak to you,” she said. “You and my father are approximately the same size so these should fit. Please take your time.” She picked up the tray and left the room.