“I’m interested,” said Howard. “What’s the firm?”
“It’s MetroMax Security.”
“They’re one of the largest security firms in Washington, D.C. How could they be in financial trouble?” replied Howard.
“Walk with me outside,” said Ralph. “I discovered in an audit two weeks ago that a government procurement manager responsible for the security subcontractors had made an advance payment to MetroMax Security Inc. in the amount of five hundred thousand dollars for upcoming contract work. When I questioned the man, he claimed that John O’Neil’s firm was the only one whose personnel had the clearances to handle building security at key government facilities and that if he didn’t have the money, his company would go bankrupt.”
“How could a company with so many government contracts be going bankrupt?”
Ralph put his arm on Howard’s shoulder. “He’s addicted to gambling and lost a ton of money in Vegas. When no one would give him a loan, he went to the mob. Now he’s in debt to them. When he didn’t pay up, they broke his arm.”
“I gather they’re leaning on him pretty hard,” said Howard.
“His only asset is the business and the mob knows if they take it over, the government is going to throw MetroMax off the job. He’s screwed. If he doesn’t come up with the money, he’ll be floating in the Potomac.”
On Tuesday, Howard was sitting in John Patrick O’Neil’s office. John’s reputation of being a hard-drinking, heavy-gambling Irishman showed in his weather beaten face.
“I’d shake your hand,” said John, his arm still in a sling, “But as you can see it’s not working real well right now.”
“It’s nice to meet you, John. That arm doesn’t look good.”
“Yeah, I had a boating accident.”
“I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I understand that MetroMax is up for sale.”
“I don’t know where you got that idea from.”
“From the same source that told me your arm wasn’t broken in a boating accident.”
John sat for a moment in silence.
“Well,” said Howard, “You selling or are you going to attempt a backstroke down the Potomac in that cast?”
“Who sent you? Bubo Johnson?” Bubo was a notorious drug dealer in the D.C. area who was always looking for ways to launder his drug money.
“I’m here on my own. I’ll pay you seven hundred thousand dollars for your firm as a legitimate transaction and three hundred thousand dollars cash under the table to pay off your mob debt.”
“You’re crazy. The business is worth well over two million.”
“Maybe, but I guarantee you that if you don’t take this deal now, in a week you’ll be without a single government contract. Then what’s your firm worth? Besides, you’re getting three hundred thousand dollars tax-free. Here’s my number. Think it over,” said Howard as he left the office.
Two hours later Howard received a phone call from John O’Neil.
“You reached a decision?”
“I’ll accept your offer of seven hundred thousand. How are you going to honor the additional three hundred thousand?”
“At the closing, I’ll bring in an envelope with the money. You and I will have a private meeting before we sign the papers and I’ll show you the cash. We’ll sit next to each other during the closing. When the contracts for the sale are signed, I’ll leave the envelope against your briefcase. How you get it into your possession is up to you.”
“Deal,” said John O’Neil. “Have your attorney call mine, Steven Sterns.”
A week before the scheduled sale, Howard received a call from his attorney Larry Fisher. “Howard, it’s Larry. We have a problem.”
“I thought everything has been agreed to.”
“Everything is fine between you and John O’Neil, but not with the U.S. government.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not a U.S. citizen. Therefore the government will not issue a contract with you as the owner. The minute you take over MetroMax, they’ll void the contracts and re-bid.”
“I’m screwed.”
“Not necessarily. We’ll place the business in your wife’s name.”
“They’ll accept that?”
“Without a question. Besides, once it’s a minority-owned business, you’ll get special consideration when bidding.”
July 25, 1990: Mrs. Michelle Branson-Lieberman signed the papers and became the new owner of MetroMax Security, Incorporated.
For Howard Lieberman it was a sweet deal. He had just bought a company worth almost two million dollars for only one million. He now had a firm responsible for security at some of the most crucial government sites in the United States.
Howard was as preoccupied with the crisis in the Gulf as getting his citizenship. He, like Jonah, was concerned that the flow of cash into the business would be jeopardized. Having just established the company he knew that it would take large sums of cash to stay the number one security contractor in the D.C. area. To underbid his competition, the mission money would be used to offset any losses that the company would incur.
Howard’s father-in-law pulled strings with the INS and instead of a two-year wait for processing of his citizenship request, he was initially interviewed at the end of August. His wife as owner of such a prestigious government sub-contracting firm contributed to the speed of the application.
After taking the Oath of Allegiance to the United States in November, Howard was congratulated by Michelle and her parents.
I have fooled everyone. The pious Americans with their sense of invincibility have fallen prey to our plot.
Howard immersed himself in the daily operations of MetroMax. One evening working late he went to make some copies. What the hell is this? Howard looked at a package of information that had been left near the copier.
“It’s my bids for the new contracts,” Howard said out loud as he read the sheets. I keep everything on the computer under password protection. Who in the company could get this information? I’d better call Michelle.
“Hey Boss, it’s me,” said Howard.
Michelle hated that Howard always called her boss since taking ownership of MetroMax. “When are you coming home?”
“I’m almost done, but I found something very disturbing about ten minutes ago. All of our bid information was in an envelope near the copier. Did you leave it there?”
“No, in fact, the only copy I printed is the package we reviewed at home and it’s still here.”
“I don’t understand. Who could have gained access to the computer?”
Michelle thought for a moment. “Two days ago I was having a problem with my logon, and I called in the programmer Dolan Ackerman and he helped me fix it.”
“You think Dolan would have taken the information?”
“No one else had access.”
“I’ll be home soon. Tomorrow I’ll have a discussion with Mr. Ackerman.”
The following morning Howard called Dolan Ackerman into his office.
“You wanted to see me, Sir.”
“Yes, shut the door behind you and have a seat.” Howard was drumming on the desk with the eraser end of a pencil. As soon as Dolan sat down, Howard said, “Lose something?”
“Not that I know of.”
Howard opened his drawer and pulled out the envelope. He threw it on the desk in front of Dolan. “I’m talking about this.”
“I don’t recognize it,” said Dolan.
Howard watched Dolan’s gaze dart around. “I’m talking about stealing company secrets. Only Michelle and I had access to the computer with this data. The only other person to know the password was you when Michelle asked for your help a few days ago. Do I need to continue? I want to know who you gave the information to.”
Dolan broke down. “I’m getting divorced and the legal fees are killing me. She’s going to get everything and the child support alone is crippling me financially. I’ve never done anything like this
before and I’m desperate. I didn’t sell it yet. The information is safe.”
Howard seized on the opportunity. “It doesn’t matter whether you sold it or not. You still stole it. I don’t know how you’re going to make child support payments from jail. Forget getting a job here in D.C., or for that matter anywhere else, with a conviction.”
Dolan was squirming in his seat, his left hand shaking uncontrollably. “I’ll do anything to right the wrong. I’ll give them bogus information and false client leads. Whatever you need, I’m willing to do.”
Howard sensed the kill. “You can start by doing just that, giving the competition information that will send them on a wild goose chase. Just make it look good and, as for the bid information, I’ll provide you with numbers to use.”
“Anything you require, Sir.”
Four months later, Dolan met with Howard on the results of the planted information.
Howard was pleased. “Dolan, you did well. In fact, we received four of the five contracts we bid on.”
“Sir, it’s the least I could do.”
“Well,” said Howard leaning back in his chair, “you’re going to have to do a little more.”
“I doubt these firms are going to take any more information from me after they lost these last contract bids,” said Dolan.
“I have a different assignment for you. You’re going to work for the Social Security Office, in their information technology group.” Howard placed a paper in front of Dolan. “Fill out this application. The agency is looking for programmers and I’ll give you a letter of recommendation that will ensure your employment. Once you’re established, contact me and I’ll give you instructions.”
Dolan was surprised at the turn of events, but had no choice but to accept the assignment.
Within two months of being hired, Dolan Ackerman was in Howard’s office after work. Howard laid out the details. “You’ll search the Social Security Death Master File database and find young men between the ages of fourteen and twenty-one who have not been employed and have no reported earnings. You’ll remove the names from the database and give me a listing of their names and all their personal information, including their social security numbers.”
“What if I get caught hacking the Social Security database?”
“Dolan, you won’t get caught because you’re in a position that allows you to correct errors and update the system. I’m no fool. If you only remove a few names at a time I can assure you that the Social Security Office is not going to detect any of your activity.”
Over the next year Dolan Ackerman provided Howard with one hundred fifty-nine names with Social Security information purged from the Death Master File database.
Once Howard had the information in his possession he sent a letter to Robert Peterson at Multilingual Books and Records:
Dear Mr. Peterson,
Our offer to Mr. Dolan Ackerman to join our company was turned down. Please send all correspondence to him at:
5741 Backlick Road, Apt. 135
Springfield, VA 22150
Regards,
Lee Ruby Jr.
The following month, Dolan Ackerman, arriving home late at his apartment complex, was the victim of a robbery in which multiple stab wounds punctured his left lung. He bled to death before the paramedics could arrive. The police had no clues to whom did the killing. Howard Lieberman had secured all the vital information needed to bring the clandestine operatives into the country.
During the year that Howard was receiving the Social Security information he implanted another phase of his part of the mission. “Michelle, I have an idea that will facilitate the purchasing of weapons for the business and also allow me to pursue a dream I always had of owning many different types of firearms,” said the scheming Howard. “I’m planning to apply for both a Federal Firearms Dealer and Collectors of Curio and Relic License.”
Michelle, not one to pay much attention to the ‘boy’s toys’ as she referred to the obsession that men seemed to have over guns, replied half listening, “If you think it’s good for the business and you want a hobby, go right ahead.”
Going right ahead was precisely what Howard did. After applying to the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, he received his licenses within two months.
Howard established his Gun Dealer/Collectors of Curio and Relic address in Arlington, Virginia. The State of Virginia, with very weak gun control laws, permitted him to purchase assault weapons. Soon his collection consisted of semi-automatic AK-47’s, AR-15 rifles and semi-auto shotguns. He eventually bought a sniper rifle with scope, a single-shot .50-caliber, capable of hitting its target with accuracy in ranges of over a mile.
As a federally licensed gun dealer, and with his connections through MetroMax Security, Howard was selling firearms to law enforcement agencies in Virginia, Maryland, Delaware and Washington, D.C.
During this time Howard opened the MetroMax Security Firearms Museum in Arlington, Virginia, which featured firearms from the Revolutionary War up to modern weapons. The museum was a hit from the day it opened, which allowed him to expand his firearm collection beyond anything he could have imagined.
In 1992, Howard applied for additional licensing to become a registered machine gun owner. A complete FBI background investigation was conducted, checking for any criminal history or violent behavior. The application to the ATF had included two sets of his fingerprints, a recent photo and a sworn affidavit that transfer of the National Firearms Act weapon is of reasonable necessity. He used the museum as his reasonable necessity, and along with the Arlington, Virginia’s police chief, who he had befriended a year earlier signing off on the application. His approval was a foregone conclusion.
Howard’s ultimate purchase was the 7.62mm electrically driven machine gun with a capacity to shoot four thousand rounds per minute.
As Howard surveyed the gun, he surmised. I’m amazed that the United States Government would allow an individual to own such a lethal weapon. Any moron who could pull a trigger can own such powerful arms. No wonder they have one of the highest murder rates in the world. It’s a good thing the American government is so incredibly stupid, for it allows me to operate almost obscurely to any government agency, including the ATF!
MetroMax Security ran the museum on a full-time basis. Howard had achieved his goal of legitimately obtaining assault weapons, high-powered sniper rifles and the four 7.62mm machine guns that were being displayed.
Daniel Schonfeld
Daniel was busy moving into his new apartment in Blacksburg, VA. He would begin work at his new employer in two weeks, Blue Mountain Munitions Incorporated, in Radford, VA.
Blue Mountain was formed during the height of World War II. They manufactured detonators, stab primers, pyrotechnic cartridges and initiators for industry and the military. They considered themselves very lucky to find a chemical engineer with such a high grade-point level that wanted to live in the hills of western Virginia. Most graduates, even those from nearby Virginia Tech who had similar credentials, would be heading to either California or the Southwest.
Daniel was neither excited nor disappointed working for Blue Mountain Munitions. It was a means to an end and he was fulfilling his duty to the mission. His last communication from Peterson Books and Records was: “No woman identified; you can make your own choice.” The Muslims For Justice must have more important matters at hand than finding me a wife.
Daniel had chosen Blacksburg for his housing because of Virginia Tech and their graduate program in Environmental Sciences and Engineering. He had decided to pursue his second masters by attending night school.
It wasn’t until Saturday, August 4, 1990, that Daniel had any clue to what was happening in the world. The news of Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait hadn’t yet reached him. Daniel had just lugged a new twenty-seven inch television from a local retail store into his apartment. While flipping through the channels he came upon the news broadcast and was completely surprised by what was televised.
How could I’ve not heard about this? Maybe because I haven’t left the apartment since Wednesday night, except to find a fast food restaurant.
The Gulf War
Events in the Middle East were moving quickly during the fall of 1990. President George H. W. Bush called for the mobilization of American forces to the Middle East and predominately Saudi Arabia. The entire western world was dependent upon a steady source of crude and refined oil from the area and any disruption would cause economic havoc upon those countries. Within days of the August 2 invasion, two United States Naval Battle Groups with aircraft carriers and battleships were deployed to the Gulf. American troops, planes, tanks and support personnel were streaming into Saudi Arabia.
For most Americans, the sight of hundreds of army jeeps, personnel carriers and tanks on flat bed trucks moving along highways and bridges was something they had never witnessed. Not since World War II had the armed forces mobilized so many in such a short period of time.
Endless meetings were being held in governments around the world. The U.N. Security Council in November passed a resolution, giving Iraq until January 15, 1991 to withdrawal. A defiant Saddam Hussein refused.
As the U.N. Security Council ultimatum drew closer, Daniel was hypnotized by the television. As soon as he returned home from work until he went to bed he watched the news channels, flipping between them to try and find the latest events. He was watching one program on Sunday afternoon that centered upon the Iraq Army’s strength and the coalition’s ability to combat those forces, along with commentary by an Israeli General. One statement by the general was implanted in Daniel’s mind.
“Cakewalk,” the general said, “this will be nothing more than a cakewalk for the coalition forces.”
The interviewer remarked, “Isn’t the Iraqi Revolutionary Guard one of the best trained and best equipped of any army in the world?”
The general looked at the interviewer with disdain. “The Iraqi Army doesn’t stand a chance.”
The Third Cell Page 19