by Oliver North
Mack drove through the gate onto the tarmac, right next to the aircraft, and they began to unload. “What about this?” Sarah said, pointing to the shotgun on the floor in the backseat.
“Ah,” said Henry, looking about. He quickly boarded the aircraft, grabbed a blanket from a seat, and returned to the car. Reaching into the vehicle, out of sight of any of the ground personnel or surveillance cameras, he expertly disassembled the firearm, covered it with the blanket, and carried it up the steps into the cabin.
With everyone aboard, he gave a thumbs-up to the two-man ground support crew, pulled up and secured the hatch, climbed into the cockpit, and started his takeoff checklist. A few seconds later he came on the internal intercom and announced, “It’s four forty. Unless the winds change or we get rerouted, we should be at DFW by seven. I’m dimming the cabin lights so you can get a little sleep.”
The second turbofan engine was just spooling up when Henry got on the intercom again: “Sorry, folks, we’ve just been given a ground hold to keep clear of the runway.”
Mack bolted out of his seat and went to the cockpit. He returned a moment later and said to James and Sarah, “The tower has been ordered to clear the runway for the takeoff of a government RPA. Look out the right side of the aircraft at that hangar over there and you may be able to see it.”
While they watched, the doors opened on the nearby hangar and a small, haze-gray, saucer-shaped aircraft with tricycle landing gear rolled out onto the tarmac, turned right onto a taxiway, then left to runway 36. It paused there for a few seconds, then quickly accelerated out of sight.
Fascinated by the sight of the unusual plane, the older boys speculated about what it was doing and where it was headed. “Was that a drone looking for us, Dad?” asked Josh.
“Well, it’s not really a drone—it’s properly called an RPA—meaning a remotely piloted aircraft or an unmanned aerial vehicle—UAV. That looked like an RQ-240, a surveillance and reconnaissance bird. They are sometimes used to detect drug runners and human smugglers off the coast.”
“Is that the kind of UAV that can shoot missiles?”
“No. Any UAV or RPA with an ‘R’ designation doesn’t carry weapons. They are equipped with FLIR—forward-looking infrared cameras, synthetic aperture radars, and radio intercept gear. They can stay airborne—we call it ‘on station’—for many hours, some of them for days.” He didn’t mention that the military variant, designated MQ-70 Marauder, was capable of delivering precision-guided munitions.
Shortly after the UAV disappeared Henry announced, “We’re cleared for takeoff. We should be at DFW shortly after oh-seven-hundred local.”
* * * *
At 0710, the King Air touched down. Guided by a follow-me truck and then a ground handler, Henry pulled the twin-engine jet up to the front of the DEA hangar and shut down the engines. As the hangar door opened, a tug pulled out, hooked up to the nose gear of the CSG aircraft, and towed it inside.
When the hangar door closed behind the plane, Henry opened the hatch and Special Agent Paul DeMelius, head of the DEA Air Wing, bounded up the stairs and said, “Senator Caperton, Mr. Lehnert, Mrs. Newman, boys . . . welcome to Texas. Anyone who wants breakfast, follow me. We’ll go to my office.”
While the boys washed down breakfast sandwiches with orange juice, DeMelius briefed the adults: “Senator, as soon as you, Mrs. Newman, and the children have had a bit to eat, we’ll get you aboard the CSG golf-seven that’s inbound from Montana. He’s coming in light, so after he takes on a little fuel, we’ll pull him into the hangar, get you aboard, and on your way to Malmstrom at about oh-eight-hundred. In that bird it will be a quick flight.”
“How long?” Caperton asked.
“Depending on winds and flight profile, at point-nine mach you should be at Malmstrom in about two hours. Sure would like to have a couple of those horses in our DEA stable, Senator.”
Mack smiled and said, “Good lobbying pitch, Paul. I’ll see what I can do in next year’s budget.” Then, more seriously, he added, “I need to make arrangements to get picked up when we arrive. As you know, this trip was set up very quickly.”
“Not a problem, sir. I’ll arrange to have some of our agents from the Great Falls Field Office meet you, Mrs. Newman, and the four boys at Malmstrom and take you wherever you have to go.”
Mack nodded approval and added, “It would probably be best if you don’t put my name in your message traffic. Just notify your office we need space for six pax. It will be a nice surprise for my wife.”
“Can do, Senator.” Then, turning to James, DeMelius continued his briefing. “Mr. Lehnert, you’re going to stay here with me until about nineteen-hundred tonight. When the golf-seven returns from Montana, we’ll load you and some of our DEA FAST personnel and equipment aboard for a quick flight to Mexico. We’re still working out a few details.”
Seth, the only one of the boys who had been listening to the adults, asked, “Dad, why does he keep calling you Mr. Lehnert?”
There was a sudden silence in the room until Mack said, “It’s a secret, Seth. I’ll tell you all about it on our trip to Montana.”
DeMelius didn’t miss any of this but he simply shrugged and said, “I’m going to make sure everything is in order. If you all are ready in fifteen minutes or so, we’ll head back into the hangar.” Turning again to James he added, “Mr. Lehnert, I noticed you don’t have any luggage. If you will just jot down your shirt, trousers, and shoe sizes, one of our DEA logs guys will put a kit together for you to wear in Mexico.” Then, smiling, he asked, “Briefs or boxers?”
Fifteen minutes later they were standing in the hangar beside the gleaming Gulfstream VII, exchanging good-byes. Mack, the first to board, watched as James hugged each boy and lifted him up onto the stairs. He saw Sarah and her husband share a long embrace and a kiss. At the top of the steps she turned and said, “I love you,” as the door closed.
Sarah checked each of her sons to ensure their seat belts were fastened and sat down across the table from the senator. Mack saw tears in her eyes while she waved to James until the aircraft was pushed clear of the hangar and they could no longer see each other. Then she put her head down on her arms atop the table and sobbed quietly as they taxied.
Ten minutes after they were airborne, Sarah moved to the back of the cabin to check on her sons and then stretch out beneath a blanket on the starboard-side couch. A short while later, Seth came forward and took the seat opposite Caperton his mother vacated. He began the conversation by asking, “Uncle Mack, why is my dad in so much trouble?”
The old senator looked at the boy, nodded, and said, “I guess you’re old enough to know the story. Two hours is about enough time.” He didn’t leave anything out.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE SENATOR’S STORY
ABOARD CSG GULFSTREAM VII
51,000’ EN ROUTE DFW, TX, TO MALMSTROM AFB, MT
SUNDAY, 19 SEPTEMBER 2032
0830 HOURS, LOCAL
You asked why your dad was in so much trouble,” Caperton began. “It’s a complicated story, Seth, but since you were homeschooled you will get it. If I say something you don’t understand, or have a question, interrupt me, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” the boy responded, looking into Mack’s eyes.
“Good. Most importantly, your dad can be sure where he is going—and why he is going there—because he knows his Lord and Savior. That’s why he and your mom gave you that shotgun, Bible, and compass for your birthday.”
“I understand,” Seth said earnestly. “Mom carried the shotgun. The compass and Bible are in my backpack.”
“Well done. Keep the note they gave you. Tuck it into your Bible. It’s a great reminder about how to live the rest of your life—and part of the reason your dad is in trouble with our government.
“You also need to know your dad is a faithful husband who loves your mom, you, and your brothers. He would give his life for his family. He’s also an American hero who has put himself at great
risk for our country. Those are virtues not well understood in our culture today. I have known him since he was a small boy—much younger than you.
“Now, the direct answer to your question actually begins in 1979—before your dad was born. That was the year a Shiite ayatollah named Khomeini returned from exile in Europe to become the Supreme Leader of Iran and proclaim a worldwide Islamic revolution. Within months of taking power, his followers seized the U.S. Embassy in Tehran, took fifty-six American hostages, and held them for four hundred and forty-four days.”
“I remember learning about that,” Seth said. “The hostages were freed when President Ronald Reagan was inaugurated in 1981.”
“Right. But the problem didn’t go away just because we had a great president. The Shiite clerics in Iran were intent on creating a worldwide hagiocracy by every means necessary. We didn’t catch on—no matter how many times they said it.”
“What’s a hagiocracy?”
“The dictionary defines it as a government run by a body of people esteemed as holy.”
“Isn’t that a theocracy?”
Mack smiled and said, “You’re very well educated, Seth. To some it may be a distinction without a difference, but a theocracy could be ruled by a king or a dictator—or even an elected leader. The hagiocracy in Iran holds elections. They may be completely flawed, but they are elections. The Iranian people get to vote for their legislature—they call it a Majlis—and a president. They also elect mayors of cities and some other officials. But the candidates for these offices are all selected by a group of so-called holy men called the Spiritual Council.
“In the Iranian hagiocracy the Spiritual Council holds ultimate power. They choose a Supreme Leader from within their own ranks and they pick their own successors. The Spiritual Council and the Supreme Leader determine everything important in Iran: who has rights and who does not; what is law and what isn’t; who shall live and who shall die; whether to have war or peace—all of it based on their interpretations of Islamic holy books—the Quran and the Hadith.
“Few in the West have ever bothered to read these books. When Khomeini seized power in Iran, most of the ‘experts’ said, ‘Not to worry—he’s an old man. When he dies, the Iranian regime will become more moderate, even reasonable.’ But it didn’t. There were some like Bernard Lewis who knew better—and tried to warn us. Our politicians ignored his advice. They didn’t get it. I have Dr. Lewis’s books at the ranch. You’re welcome to read them.”
“Why didn’t our leaders ‘get it,’ Uncle Mack?”
“Good question. We missed the ‘cause’ but certainly saw the ‘effects.’ In the 1980s, American airplanes were bombed and hijacked, our embassy and a U.S. Marine barracks in Beirut were attacked by suicide bombers driving vehicles loaded with explosives, and American citizens were kidnapped all over Lebanon. We ascribed responsibility to terrorist organizations and gave them names like Islamic Jihad, Hezbollah, Hamas, Black September, or al-Qaeda. We even issued Capture/Kill orders for the leaders of these organizations. I was wounded and lost some very good friends in Beirut on one of those missions.”
“How did that happen?”
“In 1988, my SEAL team was sent on a mission to rescue a U.S. Marine lieutenant colonel kidnapped in Beirut—and capture or kill the terrorists who grabbed him. We thought we had good intelligence but it wasn’t. It was a setup and we were ambushed. I was hit by an RPG.”
“What happened to the kidnapped Marine?”
“The kidnappers tortured him for over a year, then murdered him in 1990. They sent a videotape of what he endured to his widow. We eventually figured out the Iranians directed the whole thing. But even then we missed the forest for the trees—we were seeing individual terror groups but we were actually up against something much bigger—radical Islam.”
“Was that when you lost your leg?”
“No, that was a few years later, in Iraq, during Operation Desert Storm. It was a different country—but the enemy was the same—radical Islam. But even then, we still couldn’t name our enemies.”
“Why didn’t anyone in our government figure it out?”
“It wasn’t just in our country—it was all of us in the West—meaning the United States and Europe. We couldn’t grasp the idea that self-appointed leaders of a religion—not a political system like communism or fascism, or a nation-state like Germany or Japan in World War II—had declared jihad against us. And so it got worse—especially as the most radical leaders of Islam’s Sunnis decided to prove they should lead the jihad by being even more violent than the Shiites. Do you know what jihad means, Seth?”
“It means ‘holy war,’ I think.”
“Correct. The word jihad appears more than forty times in the Quran—the Muslim holy book. Its literal English translation is ‘struggle’ or ‘striving.’ Some Muslims say it means an ‘inner’ or ‘spiritual’ struggle. But to many, many other Muslims, especially the Sunni and Shiite radicals who envision a global hagiocracy—jihad is a religious war against nonbelievers—infidels—those who refuse to submit to the teachings of Muhammad—particularly Christians and Jews. Unfortunately, very few of our political leaders have been willing to accept that idea—even after the terrible attack on our country on September 11, 2001, when your dad was just five years old. Do you know what happened that day, Seth?”
“Yes, sir. That’s the day Islamic radicals attacked America by hijacking four airliners and killed almost three thousand people.”
“You’re right. But most Americans would say the attack was carried out by a particular group—al-Qaeda—led by a man named Osama bin Laden. Who told you it was ‘Islamic radicals’ who attacked us that day?”
“I don’t know. I guess I read it somewhere or my mom or dad said it. Maybe Granddad.”
“Well, that’s another reason why your dad is in trouble. For decades our government told us it was wrong to refer to those who hate us as ‘radical Islamists.’ Our government refuses to use terms like that—in fact in 2014, they declared the phrase ‘radical Islamist’ to be ‘hate speech’ and made it unlawful to say or print the words. They describe those who attacked us then—and since—as ‘violent extremists.’ Our government wants us to believe those who attack us are a small group of bad people led by a particularly bad man.”
“Why?”
“Several reasons. First, we abandoned our Judeo-Christian heritage and became so totally self-centered and secular in our thinking we could no longer comprehend how others regard religion to be so important they want to die for it. Therefore, we called vicious killers ‘extremists’ or ‘al-Qaeda’—not what they really are: radical Islamists, guided by the vision of a global hagiocracy.
“Second, for more than a century we in the West have gotten most of our oil from parts of the world where Islam is the predominant religion. Our economy has long been very closely tied to the cost and availability of oil. But we refuse to acknowledge our petrodollars—I suppose we’ll call them ‘petro-gex’ next year if the president is reelected—actually fund the jihad against us.
“Third, it’s human nature to deny our own errors or acknowledge our own bad judgment. It’s easier for us to believe bad outcomes are someone else’s fault. In this case we convinced ourselves the problem of ‘extremism’ and ‘unrest’ in the Middle East would all just go away if Israel made peace with the Palestinians. So we abandoned Israel—our only real ally in that part of the world. What nobody understood was radical Islamists never wanted peace—they just wanted Israel to disappear. The Islamists spelled ‘peace’ with Israel ‘p-i-e-c-e.’
“By the time your dad graduated from the Naval Academy in 2018, the United States was no longer an economic or military superpower. Our country was deeply in debt to foreign lenders—principally China and India—and in 2019, our government decided to all but eliminate the brightest, best-equipped, most competent and effective force for good the world has ever known—the U.S. military.”
“Why?”
“Be
cause the United States and most of Europe went bankrupt—morally, spiritually, and financially. For decades political leaders in Europe and America told people that government could provide for all their needs. People came to expect government to give them housing, food, electricity, health care, transportation, jobs, and a comfortable retirement. In Europe it’s called ‘social welfare.’ Here in the United States we call them ‘entitlements.’ Politicians use these government programs to redistribute wealth—taking it from some and giving it to others—as ‘legal bribes’ to get reelected. To pay for all the promises the politicians made they kept borrowing more and more money, raising ever higher taxes on the most productive Americans and eliminating what they called ‘wasteful military spending.’ It was a disaster.
“By 2018, when the ‘second dip’ of the ‘Great Recession’ hit, our two-party political process—which served us well for more than two centuries—self-destructed. The Democrat Party rebranded itself as the ‘Progressive Party.’ The Republican Party fractured into a half-dozen splinter movements when ‘Progressives’ decided the best way to pay off our debts was to grant citizenship to millions of illegal aliens and encourage hyperinflation of our currency. Americans with the means to do so fled to other countries.”
“Where did they go?” the boy asked.
“Australia, New Zealand, Singapore, Switzerland—some to South America—anywhere they felt safe. The ‘brain drain’ and ‘capital flight’—that’s what the press called it—resulted in those who departed being described by our government and media as ‘selfish traitors.’ Later, when we made it unlawful to say or write things critical about abortion or radical Islam or homosexuals—and revoked tax exemptions for churches that refused to perform same-sex marriages—there was a second wave of departures.”
“But how did all this make my dad a wanted man?”
“Because families like yours, who stayed and fought back—not with bombs or bullets, but with ballots and hard work—infuriated the political elites and were branded as politically incorrect, intolerant, unpatriotic ‘religious kooks.’ That’s where the term ‘Anark’ originated. It doesn’t have anything to do with anarchy. It’s an abbreviation for ‘Anti-American Religious Kooks’—a pejorative term for describing American Jews and Christians who wanted to do more to help Israel after the nuclear attack on Tel Aviv in 2020. By the time your dad got in that terrible gunfight in Shindand, Afghanistan, in 2025, the Newman family name was already on a blacklist of people who were deemed politically incorrect.”