by Mark Young
“Does this mean that Israel will renew their efforts to destroy Iran’s nuclear plans?” Gerrit asked. “They are going forward, aren’t they?”
Frank shrugged. “That’ll be between the president and the prime minister, Gerrit. Only time will tell.”
Gerrit glanced at the lake again, watching Bones working his way along the water’s edge. “And what about Raed? What will become of him?”
“He was able to show Assad’s people that he worked to prevent whatever Hassan and the others tried to pull off, saying he had to appear to be a traitor. It just might work. I bet he comes out of this with a medal from Assad.”
“Won’t they wonder why he was working with a group of Israelis and Americans?”
Jack crouched down near the lakeshore, his shoes a few inches above the high waterline. “His story is that once he figured out what was happening, he presented himself as a mercenary traitor to gain Israeli’s trust and support. Like I said, they may give him a medal.”
“And he will continue to work with Mossad?”
“For now,” Frank said. “Unless the truth comes out as to whose team he really bats for.”
Gerrit tugged on his ear. “And what about Hassan and his Muslim Brotherhood buddy, Mohamed Abul Fotouh? What’s happening with them?”
“Hassan is in a tough spot,” Frank said. “Raed will let Assad’s people know that Hassan was playing them. And by now, Fotouh will know that Hassan lied to him, thanks to a little bird that Marc Perlman’s people planted in Fotouh’ s organization. That and Raed sending word indirectly to Fotouh about Hassan’s role and that the MB better pack their bags and set up in someone else’s country.”
“That’s never going to happen,” Gerrit said. “Look at the Arab Spring, look at Egypt, Libya, and other parts of the Middle East. The Muslim Brotherhood will never give up. They’ll climb into bed with anyone who they can use to gain power—Hamas, Hezbollah, and any number of other terrorist organization and rogue countries.”
“Not to mention lobbyists and self-interest groups right here in our own country.” Jack seemed pensive. “I hope Beck comes up with something we can use to attack that group here.”
Alena called out from the back patio. “They’ve arrived.”
Gerrit motioned toward the house. “For the moment, let’s just enjoy our victory.”
The men turned and walked toward the house where Alena and the others had gathered. Shakeela gingerly came down the stairs. Willy stood to one side of the group, nervously shifting weight from one foot to the other.
As they entered, Gerrit saw a familiar figure coming through the front door. Beck Malloy. The FBI agent stood to one side, holding the door open.
“Hey, Beck. I thought you were back east.” Gerrit walked toward him just as he saw another man backing into the house with FBI written all over him and struggling with a wheelchair.
The FBI agent got it into the house and whirled it around so Gerrit could see the occupant.
Joe!
Gerrit rushed forward, knelt down, and hugged his uncle. “Man, you gave me a scare.”
Laughing, Joe returned the hug. “I was sick as a dog and thought it might be time I’d moved on to greener pastures. The good Lord must have decided I’m still needed here.”
Alena came over, tears in her eyes. “Welcome home, Joe.” She took his hand and kissed it.
Willy, still impatiently shifting his weight, broke in. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, Mr. J. I thought you were a—”
Sensing Willy’s discomfort, Joe reached out both arms. “Come here, Willy.” Joe circled his arms around Willy. Gerrit saw the younger man’s shoulder shake as emotion overcame him.
It was good they all got home—alive.
Sitting by the lake, Gerrit looked out at a full moon shooting beams of silvery light across darkened waters. Bones stretched out next to him, breathing heavy in his sleep. Above, a clear sky sparkled with tiny pricks of galactic light, each heavenly body joining together to create another light show for mankind. Some of the stars seemed so close he could touch them.
Gerrit had dragged a patio chair to the water’s edge to be alone. Everyone seemed to have gone to bed, but he couldn’t sleep. His mind would not shut down and let him get some rest.
He heard a squeak and turned around to see Joe wheeling himself toward Gerrit. Leaping up, Gerrit moved toward his uncle. “Here, Joe, let me give you a hand.”
“I’ve got it, Gerrit. Right now, this is my only form of exercise.”
Gerrit sat back down and waited for Joe to get closer. “It is so good to see you back here.” He waited until Joe came to a stop near his chair. “Devon’s people got to your luggage in Miami and left that envelope with a full dose of TTX inside. If you had reached inside that envelope and gotten a full dose, we would never be sitting here chatting tonight.”
Joe nodded. “I thank the Lord every day. Now, I have one more thing to add to my list.”
“The idiot who sprinkled the powder in your luggage left just enough to alert us that something was wrong. That’s when your symptoms started appearing, when the powder in minute quantities kicked in.”
“Tell me about it,” Joe said. “Almost done in by a blowfish. I thought I was having a stroke—trouble breathing, weak pulse, paralysis, trouble speaking. A real mess.”
“Those hazmat guys got you help just in time.”
Nodding, Joe folded his hands in his lap and looked out over the lake. “What a beautiful sight. It is great to be alive.”
Gerrit nodded. Lapsing into silence, they watched the water lapping on the shore. He listening to a winged predator calling out from the darkness above, and somewhere nearby he heard a fish break the surface.
After a few minutes, Joe turned toward him. “What is troubling you, son?”
Glancing at him, Gerrit just shrugged.
“I know there are many unanswered questions about your folks.”
“I thought it would end with Brandimir, Uncle Joe. But I just can’t be certain. Not until we know more about him. Who he worked with—or who he worked for. Maybe he leaked something to Hassan during the torture.”
Joe raised his eyebrows. “Torture?”
“Yeah. Frank found out that Hassan put the screws to Brandimir before killing him. Shakeela and Frank are working to try to get their hands on any intelligence that came out of that interrogation.” Gerrit placed his hands behind his head, looking up into the heavens. “I don’t know, Joe. It’s like peeling back layers of an onion. The more I peel, the more I uncover. Where does it stop?”
“I don’t know,” Joe said, his voice filled with emotion. “I will do everything I can to help you find those answers. Truth is, we may never know. My guess is that Hassan killed Brandimir after he got what he was after—contacts and sources within the United States. We will see that Iranian terrorist again—somewhere, somehow.”
“I hope so, Joe. I have some unfinished business to take care of.”
Joe just shook his head. “Revenge can work against you. Give us time to find the answers. Brandimir worked for an organization that enjoys immense power. I don’t know how organized they are or how well defined their goals might be. I do know they want to change the face of America. To make it what it was never intended to be. But that old adage follow the money holds true here. We need to follow those money trails until we find answers.”
“I can only imagine where that will lead,” Gerrit said, discouragement and tiredness weighing down each word. “And what will it cost?”
“I don’t know. Maybe our lives. But I know you’ll never give up. And neither will I.” Joe placed his hands on the wheels. “I’m going to turn in. Just wanted to make sure my favorite nephew was okay. Are you?”
Gerrit nodded, watching Joe wheel around and begin heading back toward the house. Once he was sure Joe got back inside without difficulty, he turned toward the lake. The night sky seemed to be laid out like a blanket above the darkened water. Pinpoints of ce
lestial light beamed through the bleakness like a jury of angelic beings—waiting to hear all the evidence before rendering final judgment.
He rose and walked toward his cabin. Bones followed, not willing to allow Gerrit out of his sight. As he stared up at the heavens, Gerrit understood it was time to say good-bye to those he must leave behind. Letting go of the memories. A new dawn was coming.
Without looking, he reached down for Bones, feeling the dog’s warm fur. Until new challenges emerged, he chose to live a simple life. Time to enjoy what he did have—good friends, a faithful dog with an attitude, and a beautiful lakeside cabin.
And Alena—a woman who could give him a kiss one minute and kick his butt the next. Only time would reveal where the two of them might wind up. Right now, he chose to live in the present—not the past and not the future.
Tomorrow, he would take Alena out for their first date—ever. Alone! He looked down at Bones and smiled.
Atash Hassan dialed the northern Virginia phone number and waited for it to ring. A moment later, a man answered. “Good, you are home. With your family.”
“Who is this?”
Atash smiled to himself. “Look around. See where those guys came into your home and terrorized your family. I have good news and bad news.”
“What do you want?” Fear crept into the man’s voice.
“The man who came into your home and threatened your family has been killed before he could reveal your name to the FBI.”
“And the bad news?”
“Now—you work for me. That information you leaked to Brandimir about those sent to Dubai and Syria. Now, you feed that information to me. Everything you learn from the president, you tell me. Understood?” He gave that last statement a few minutes to sink in. “I will be in touch.”
Atash killed the connection and pocketed the phone. “Okay. Now we can leave.”
The dark sedan edged away from the curb as Atash glanced out the side window. He watched the house across the street as the car gained speed. He knew the man inside would go to work tomorrow for the president of the United States. A man Atash controlled.
He leaned back and closed his eyes. Time to make the Americans pay for what they and their Israeli friends just ruined in the Middle East. Time to bring the war home to their doorstep—again.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Acknowledgements
Novels by Mark Young
Excerpts of Broken Allegiance
About the Author
Contact Author
Copyright
Acknowledgements
A novel is never created by one solitary person. It is a collection and collaboration of many. FATAL eMPULSE is no exception.
To Katie, my soul mate, without whom my writing dreams would not have become a reality. Her knowledge of the publishing world and her thoughtful input continues to keep me out of trouble. To my mom, Lorene, who went to be with the Lord this year. I miss her. She fostered my life-long love of reading for which I will always be indebted. May heaven cherish her as much as I do. And to my daughters—Ingrid, Julia and Jacqueline—whose love and support continues to brighten my world.
A special thanks to my patient editor, Julee Schwarzburg, whose guidance and wisdom teaches me more that she will ever know. To my new friend, Cory Clubb of Go Bold Designs, whose creative gifts makes this design cover shine. And to my friends, Rob and Amy Siders of 52Novels, whose formatting skills make my eBook pleasing to the eye and easy to load. To Denise Fehlman, whose proofreading skills always seem to catch what I miss.
I want to thank those who offered their expertise in matters of military strategy, weapons, and intelligence that made this story credible.
• First, my friend and bestselling author, Austin Boyd, whose experiences as a Navy pilot, NASA astronaut finalist and a spacecraft engineer, and work as defense contractor, helped provide a better way to approach this story.
• Lt. Colonel Rick Francona, a highly-recognized Mid-East expert, who has studied the Syrian military air defense system for decades, provided me with enough insight from public sources to create a believable scenario.
• Dr. Carlos Kopp, a widely sought expert in the areas of information warfare and strategy, networking and radio frequency propagation, and operating systems/machine architecture. Dr. Kopp pointed me in the right direction for sources of information relating to electromagnetic pulse (EMP) technology.
Further, I would like to recognize the authors and their works used as research material for this novel:
1. Eretekin, Necati. E-Bomb: The Key Element of the Contemporary Military-Technical Revolution,” Monterey, California: Naval Postgraduate School: September 2008.
2. Jones, Ishmael, The Human Factor: Inside the CIA’s Dysfunctional Intelligence Culture. NewYork: Encounter Books, April 6, 2010.
3. Kahlili, Reza, A Time To Betray: The astonishing double life of a CIA Agent inside the Revolutionary Guards of Iran. New York: Simon & Simon, Inc.: April, 2010.
4. Salus, Bill, Isralestine: The ancient blueprints of the future of the Middle East. Highway, 2008.
5. Sutherland, Benjamin, Modern Warfare, Intelligence and Deterrence: The technologies that are transforming them. New Jersey: The Economist, 2011.
I take full blame for any misunderstandings or errors that might show up from my turning these experts’ information and experiences into fiction. Any mistakes, readers, chalk up to my turning fact and truth into fiction.
Last, but not least, to all my readers who have given their precious time and money to enter into this fictional world I created. Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the journey. Hopefully, we will meet again in the near future.
Mark Young
2012
Novels by Mark Young
Gerrit O'Rourke Novels
Off the Grid (2011)
Fatal eMPULSE (2012)
Tom Kagan Novels
Broken Allegiance (2013)
Travis Mays Novels
Revenge (2011)
Blood Quantum (2013)
Excerpt: Broken Allegiance
(A Tom Kagan Novel)
Chapter 1
&n
bsp; Santa Rosa, California
A full harvest moon cast shadows of burnt-ochre over acres of dying vineyards. Trees stood like towering sentinels in the gathering darkness along the edges of the vines as Rascal raised the gun to the back of the kneeling man’s head.
The gangster felt the trigger’s taut pressure against his fingertips as he quickly squeezed off two shots, blinking each time he pulled the trigger. Two blinks, two explosions, two shots. The man collapsed face down on the recently ploughed soil. A dead silence filled the air as if all nature held its collective breath in fearful anticipation.
The gunman turned to two other gangsters standing a few feet away. “May the angels carry Paco to a better place.” A pungent odor of gunpowder lingered in the cool night breeze. All three men stared down at the body, the dead man’s hands bound behind him with gray duct tape “I’ll hand it to him,” Rascal said, still grasping the weapon. “Once he knew it was coming, he sucked it up. Took it like a soldado.”
The others bobbed their heads in agreement. One said, “I wonder why they ordered us to kill him? I thought Paco was all good.”
Rascal’s left hand, buried in his pants pocket, clutched a tiny piece of paper upon which Paco’s death sentence had been scrawled in code. The shooter glanced at the other two he’d recruited for this job, knowing they obeyed him out of fear. If they refused his order, their fate would be like Paco’s—a bullet to the head. The edict to kill this man shook them all up. Nortenos—Northerners— revered this legend lying at Rascal’s feet.
All three men knew one thing for sure—this killing would turn their world upside down.
Rascal struggled to stifle his emotions, knowing he must control this situation. He tightly clutched the gun as they walked back toward the car. If he let go of this cold piece of metal, he feared it might take his authority and power with it, leaving him once again a normal man. Glaring at the speaker who dared to question the killing, Rascal snapped, “We got our orders. That’s all we need to know.”