Book 2 Chapter 53

It took three hours to finish the paperwork, FAA papers and international transactions forms. The pilots grilled the Boeing people for those three hours over every specialty item built or added to these planes.

Even after the delays with the time zone changes, the wheels touched the Morton concrete at 2000 Saturday evening. I was expecting a nice quiet homecoming, but I was wrong.

The text messages must have been flying as fast as we were. It looked like every JBG pilot and flight attendant that didn’t have anything else to do was here. Jake, Mindy, Dad and Mom, Jason – I could understand to pick up Lisa. As if that wasn’t enough, Hanna and Melinda were there with one cameraman. I wondered about that arrangement.

Another group that was waiting was surprising and I wondered how they knew I was returning home. They were Troy, Frank Love, Eric Roberson, Ben Smith, Marty Coeburn and General Ingram. After a thought I knew they had simply looked at FlightAware. They simply looked at planes with Morton Field as the destination and the estimated arrival times.

The one issue with the 737 was that it took a stairs to exit the plane. There were none attached to the door. We had several of them now; one was the stairs truck and the other two were smaller tow able with a little Duetz diesel in them for power. Military surplus was our source. The pilots must have called for them.

They were towed close to the plane and then the operator could move it into position at a snail’s pace under its own hydraulic power. Those two were waiting with carpets on the top platform and throw carpets on the tarmac to keep mud out of any plane.

Another helpful thing that came with the plane were runners to place on the carpet to keep it clean in bad weather. We thoughtfully placed them where they were supposed to be, where I was sure there would be traffic.

It was 2200 before I walked in the door at home. The feds had wanted to have a quick talk before they left. They wanted to know when I planned to return to DC for my turn in the barrel and wanted a blow by blow of how the General’s death was planned and executed.

I put the trip off until Thursday. I had a lot of work to do for JBG; in fact, all of us girls did.

Thirty minutes in the hot tub and I slept like a baby – all of us did. Breakfast was on the table before JJ and RJ came down half dressed. They wanted to know where we were going today.

I spent the day with Robert going over the details captured from the intercepts for the last three weeks. There were interesting bits in them; some bad, some worse and some just brought more unanswered questions.

The good was the link was still active although there was a reduction for a couple days in posts from the IRG after General Kedar died. The official post had been reduced but broadcast from cells in the US and the world had an up spike.

First there had been tributes to his valor and leadership. But there had been a delay in Iran releasing any details about his death until after the state funeral. There had been some leaks courtesy of what little internet that got around the Mullah’s attempts to block outside news.

The day after his funeral the truth started to get through, although somewhat watered down for a different outcome. He was portrayed as dying fighting for the honor of his country.

The third day after the funeral the full bootleg clip of the fight and his death started going through Iran like wildfire. The official version was quickly muddied about the way in which he died.

There was anger from Iranians in all directions. They were angry at the Mullah’s that had built up their General’s last fight into something that it was not. Then they were mad that someone from the United States was involved. Then they were really pissed that it was just one woman who had killed him. There were challenges to claims of the strength of the Iranian soldiers when a woman had so easily killed the ‘hero general’ without using weapons.

There were demonstrations against the US and calls for my head. The Mullahs called for calm and began a systematic campaign on the state news to deliver explanations.

The overall official explanation was the General was under the influence of heavy painkillers for his back problems. Those painkillers had slowed his responses and affected his ability to defend himself and possible led to the decision to instigate the fight.

Of course there was no autopsy to confirm or deny anything because it was against their religion.

In a few days the anger died away after the Mullahs called for calm and a new commitment to them. There was always the new domestic issue to redirect the attention of the public. This time it was the extension of gas rationing and an expansion into diesel.

The demonstrations directed at the US were why the State Department had officially been quiet. The official statement was that I was to be called by the State Department for a review and questioning and also a possible discharge.

That review was to happen Thursday, the day I told Troy I would go back to DC. It was the headline news story on ZNN this morning.

Another memo came from the IRG was that Major General Adeem Mohamed Bashir had been named to head the IRG intelligence unit. That explained why a folder from Ben-David was in my file box.

The name stuck out like a red flag – Bashir was the last name of the Iranian agent working in the mosque in Paris. I was betting he was a close relative.

It was disappointingly small – there was little information on him. His military record that was available was nothing spectacular. It looked like he had been in intelligence for most of his career and never served in the field – another desk jockey Iranian style. The only thing that caught my eye was that he was seen at the Kremlin KBG offices a couple years ago.

Another memo after his takeover informed the cells there was going to be changes in the command structure and personnel in all foreign cells after the failures at Harrisburg.

The good news was what we thought was a code book in Jaed’s pile of evidence was indeed just that. It had been hand delivered one page at a time by couriers from Canada. The last page was delivered the day before the attack on the barn. The courier had died in the barn.

The courier had delivered contact information for the other cells in the US that Jaed was to use to pass along orders to those cells. The last page had several different emergency communications methods to reach the IRG intelligence group, if normal methods became breached.

The General was in the process of reducing exposure on the dark web. The more you sent, the more the chances of getting caught and leaks. I assumed the same process worldwide would continue with the new commander.

I went to our meeting early where Vicky spent an hour updating information on the training center at Loures, Portugal. The concrete pad had been completed and now the four helicopters were in our own hanger allowing Marcy to cancel that lease.

Three of the individual family houses had been completed and were furnished. One barracks style house would be finished in two weeks another two weeks after that. In a month all of our men would be out of the motel rooms.

While we were playing in Europe and South America HR had been busying doing their thing. The current group at Fort Smith would be completed in two weeks. Many had already chosen where they wanted assignment.

Then there were others, “Send me somewhere – anywhere – I’m ready to go to work,” then to work they were going.

The next two hundred men and ladies were to start arriving the day after the completion of the current class.

A manpower evaluation would be underway soon to determine if a next class was necessary and the size.

Tuesday morning Vicky and I were back with Robert dissecting last night’s flurry of postings from the new general. We were half way through when we decided Ching Lee needed to be here listening to the translations.

After multiple translations, General Bashir was downsizing – starting over it seemed like. Maybe he needed a confidence builder for himself or his masters.

Bashir was going back to where they had success – attacking colleges; the college he had chosen was one where JBG was the security contractor. Bashir was looking to put two feathers in his cap; one for a mass casualty attack, another for getting back at me through JBG.

The college they were looking at was Oklahoma State College. The orders from the General were to begin planning an attack on the college.

After lunch, we girls had another long meeting with Jake. We needed someone to keep us pointed in the right direction with rebuilding the Polokwane company town. There was just so much to do there.

Jake suggested and we agreed to start a group to oversee the general details and develop a plan with a vision of what we wanted to see when the project was completed.

The biggest obstacle was we were dealing with an area where most of the general population was still living in the 18th century; dung holes, latrines, chamber pots – even in the company town. It hadn’t even progressed to the level of personal outhouses yet.

In some instances water was still carried in clay pots slung over the shoulder. A description of the daily diet would be sickening to most of us.

The plan was to move them ahead a hundred years to the levels of productivity and security we wanted.
We were starting first with reliable electricity. The generator had been running all day again; that made four times in the last week.

I sent General Ingram a text, “Find out what kind of electrical service you need for your radar. The service there is fifty cycle. I need to know tomorrow.”
Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Book 2 Chapter 52

Book 2 Chapter 52

We were up early eating the buffet breakfast, the wheels left the ground at 0700 for the seven hour flight to Rabat, Morocco. We were refueling there for the flight across the Atlantic.

Time was spent with Andy, Axle, and Ellison Burr discussing things that needed to be done. We were discussed out after a couple hours. I turned the swivel seat, reclined and closed my eyes. Jet lag was starting to take effect on me.

At 1400 we were on the ground at the general aviation terminal getting fuel and having the waste tank pumped out. While that was going on the rest of us were in the shops in the general terminal. We could go there and buy small items without going through customs as long as we returned back to the plane.

I was just taking my bags from the cashier when my satellite phone started ringing.

“Hello, BJ where are you?” it was Lorrie.

“Morocco – refueling,” I replied, “Why do you ask?”

“Can you meet us in Copenhagen at the Kastrup Airport?” Lorrie asked.

“Sure. What’s up?” I asked.

“Gregory set it up so that we can look at the 737 BBJ tomorrow – the 2013 with the low hours. The 2016 that ran off the runway has been returned to service from Boeing’s repair facility; both are there,” Lorrie said.

“Have you left Morton yet?” I asked.

“Yes we have, flight track says we are two thousand miles from London,” Lorrie said.

“Who is the ‘we’?” I asked.

“Jenny, Ching Lee, JJ, RJ, Sara, Takeo, two more pilots in case we bought it, Jeanna, Lisa and me.”

“I hope you remembered to bring all the passports, even for Takeo and Sara,” I said.

“Yes I have them all,” Lorrie responded.

“How about motel rooms?” I asked.

“No, not yet,” Lorrie replied.

“I will get Marcy to call as soon as we get on the plane. We should get there an hour or more before you. I will let you know. How are you making out with JJ and RJ since this is their first flight?” I asked.

“They have been good, looking at everything, plus they have a mouth full of gum to help with their ears. They have been looking through the door into the cockpit watching the pilots and all the gauges. So far so good,” Lorrie said.

In the plane I told the pilots of the destination change. I did not how long it would take get the flight plans changed. Then I put Marcy on the trail of finding ten rooms on the same floor close together.

“Jeanna is with them,” I said to Marcy.

“Oh my, she is not fond of flying over the ocean. She must have really been bored at home,” Marcy replied.

While Vicky and Marcy were sorting out the motel rooms, I called the US embassy on MTAC to see if they had any trusted travel connections to get us to the motel.

Copenhagen embassy security was not supplied by JBG. It was considered one of the top embassy assignments in what was known as the playground of Europe, along with others that were considered prime assignments. Those were reserved for the President’s most favored donor or political confidants getting the Ambassador positions.

The same was true for the security jobs. They were reserved for special connected people in the services and enforcement agencies. I had never talked with the Copenhagen embassy before – I had not needed to.

When Marcy was done we had ten rooms at the Marriott on the same floor, all with two beds.

Less than a half hour later I was paged to connect to MTAC.

When it went live I was looking the President, Troy and Dick James, “What are you doing in Copenhagen? That is a long way from South Africa. I just got a call from Ambassador Hammond that you were inbound. He wants to know if he should be concerned,” Dick said.

“I have been quiet for a couple days, time to piss off a few more people, maybe kill another one or two. I was a little rusty the other day – damn near got me hurt, I need more practice,” I said as I watched the expressions change.

“You can breathe easy. This is simply a business trip a follow up on the Paris air show,” I then said.

“The air show was business and look what happened there – that is what worries us,” Troy said.

“I don’t expect any villains that need killing to be in Copenhagen,” I replied.

“Well let’s hope you are right and none find you that do,” the President said.

Three hours later we were on final approach when we heard N896D contact air traffic control for vectoring, they were one hundred and fifty miles out. We would still be in customs when they landed. A shuttle carried us from the general aviation terminal to the main terminal to go through customs.

When we landed Marcy called the Marriott to send their shuttle vans. The two vans would have two trips to get everyone to the motel. Customs was slow, very slow. I soon figured out that it was by design.

When we finished two officials from the Danish government were waiting at the end of aisle.

“Ambassador Jones, I’m Allyn Jensen – assistant minister of foreign affairs – and this is Finnbar Hansen from the Danish Defense Intelligence Service. May we have a word with you? In private,” Allyn said.

“Normally when someone of your stature and position in government visits our country we get several days notice to either deny the visit – or to prepare an appropriate reception,” Allyn said.

“I am not here in an official capacity so no reception is called for. My travel plans were changed mid-flight to meet my family here for business purposes. I plan on leaving after the business transactions are completed,“ I said.

About that time RJ and JJ came running though an aisle and wrapped their arms around my legs. I squatted to give then hugs and kisses.

“I missed you two so much,” I said to them.

“We will pass that on to our superiors. Enjoy your stay,” Allyn said as they turned and left.

I wondered if the EU had put a flag on my travel since France. If they did, there was little I could do about it. As soon as my hands were free I would text the EIT desk to research that thought.

We had a late dinner with the complete family with the addition of Jeanna and Lisa. JJ an RJ never stopped talking. They filled us in on everything they had done in the last couple of days, mixed in with questions of why.

Jenny and I with JJ and RJ took one room, Vicky with Sara took another and Ching Lee and Marcy with Takeo took another. Jeanna and Lisa were in another. The rest of the pilots and crew were in the last six rooms. They had to pick their own snoring partner.

Jenny, the boys and I were awake early at 0600 and decided to go to the gym before we met the others for breakfast in the hotel restaurant.

When we went through the lobby to the gym, I noticed two men in suits who looked out of place. If we had been in Washington they would have stood out as cops. I was willing to bet these were cops here as well.

We worked out in the gym until 0800 and then headed back to the room to change and meet everyone else for breakfast.

The same two men were still sitting but had changed seating so they could watch the doors to the gym. They were still seated watching the elevator doors close behind us.

We had finished breakfast and were drinking the awful stuff they called coffee when Gregory Simms and another man came into the restaurant. The other man was introduced as Howard Freeland from Boeing Commercial Financial Services.

After introductions the courtesy vans carried us out to the planes. There were at least six people waiting by the plane, all of them with a Boeing corporate jacket and pin. This was a hard sell. I wondered what the Boeing interest was in a plane they had already sold three years ago to an obviously very wealthy individual.

The first one was the 2016 model. Jack started going through logbooks and various documentation. The pilots began looking over the exterior of the planes.

“I want to know if anything is amiss, I want to know about it even if it was a dab of grease or an application of silicone in excess or in the wrong spot. Make this the most thorough walk around inspection you have ever done,” I told them before I followed the girls and salesman into the plane.

We were given little disposal booties at the base of the stairs to keep the floor clean.

The plane was immaculate. It was divided into sections with earth tone interiors and darker carpets. The first section was laid out as an elegant office with an office sized walnut table surrounded by swivel seats that made the expensive executive chair I had at Section Twelve sit like something from cheapest line that Walmart sold.

There was a sixty inch flat screen on one wall opposite the table; there was another to the side of the cockpit door. There was a full sized copier, printer and fax machine on a counter with a USB hub on the left side of the aircraft.

The next section was a huge entertainment and relaxation section. There were small tables, fancy recliners and two more flat screens.

The center section was for the flight attendant’s station and to fix meals, with a refrigerator, liquor cabinet and cooler.

The next section was a real shower with real doors, no plastic curtains. Opposite the shower were a vanity and a real flush toilet – not the normal stainless steel aviation version.

The final section in the tail had a king size bed with dressers and TV.

Because this plane was designed to fly a limited number of people, some of the cargo bay baggage storage had been replaced with fuel tanks. With a few exceptions the plane would fly between any two cities in the world in class. Only our G650 ER had more range.

After the walk-through, we went over to the 2013 737 that had with more hours on the meter. It was equally as elegant and I actually liked the interior better for some reason. I noticed that the two men who were in the hotel lobby this morning were watching us out of the window of the general aviation terminal.

The pilots found nothing wrong in the walk around inspection on either plane. Jack was satisfied with the plane’s mechanical logs. He had even taken pictures of the repair entries and paper work and then sent them to Robbie. They had discussed both planes in depth.

I did ask about the communications systems, specifically the satellite and internet hookups while the plane was flying. I needed to be sure MTAC and VCATS would work. I was assured they would work.

Andy handed me my company laptop from outside the plane; he was the only true security person on site so he was outside the plane. The connection worked fine.

Gregory wanted us to do the negotiations in the newer 737. I wondered why it made any difference at all.

Back on the tarmac between planes I cornered the girls. “When we are finished here do you want to stay here for another day or go home? The reason I ask is we would need to check out,” I asked.

I had told them to pack everything this morning in case we needed to leave for an emergency or otherwise in a hurry. It was always standard procedure for me to do that, the same as having a go bag with me at the office.

The decision was quickly made to go home. Marcy, Vicky and I had been gone over two weeks. Things needed to happen at home and DC. I sent the pilots with the room keys to collect all the baggage.

Gregory and the six began the sales push – they didn’t even ask which one we liked the best; they were pushing the 2016.

Marcy asked the price four times. They kept avoiding her by listing all the extras the plane had and those that were built in.

“I asked the price and that’s what I want to hear. You’re pushing this plane awfully hard and I wonder why.”

“The owner had paid for the bare plane before it was released, according to the paperwork we have been shown.”
“The custom interior was paid for on a percentage basis as the work was completed with final payment on acceptance. I know the base price of the frame was ninety million and the up fit was thirty million. Now what is the asking price,” Marcy asked in a rather loud voice. One that clearly indicated the bullshit was over.

“One hundred and ten million,” Gregory replied.

“You didn’t answer why Boeing is pushing so hard to sell a private plane when your sales division explicitly says they do not offer private aircraft sales,” Marcy said as she pointed it out in the sales brochure.

“OK, you are right; Mr. Derrick Holland is in a position to move a multi-billion dollar commercial sale to our competitors. He feels he was wronged in the purchase of this plane by our sales department.”

“The salesman used questionable data in the aircraft performance computer programming for the airport Mr. Holland was to keep the plane at. Mr. Holland argues that data resulted in the crash and damage. The data worked fine in perfect conditions but a slick runway was a bad combination. We agreed to help him sell the plane to keep on good relations,” Gregory said.

“One hundred and ten million is out of the question for a three year old 737 with a structural damage certificate attached to its airworthiness certificates and FAA records forever. If this sale is so important to Boeing you can do far better than that. Get to the final deal and get there fast,” Marcy said.

There was a huddle then.

“Boeing will give you a ten million cash refund, and credit your commercial account thirty million to be used against future parts and labor. We know you already own several Boeing aircraft, over time you will have use for the credit. But we have to have a check for 110 million to appease the owner. The cost of the plane will be 70 million,” Gregory said.

“Because of your inflated labor time charges and 1000% markup on parts, your credit will cost you less than five million. That is not enough to swing this deal. You have to add a ten year unconditional warranty to all of the air frame, parts and labor connected to the landing gear damage, and all attachments and you have to pay interest at prime on the unused portion of the credit,” Marcy said.

“We can’t do that.” Howard Freeland said.

“Sure you can. If the repairs are as good as you say there will be no claims so it will cost you nothing but a sheet of paper. Are you saying you have no confidence in the repair and skills of your people?” Marcy asked.

“For Boeing interest on the credit is nothing,” Marcy added.

“I have to call Seattle,” Howard said.

“We are going to call the fuel truck to fuel the G5s. If you don’t have an answer by the time they are finished the offer is off the table,” Marcy said.

Lorrie stepped to the door and gave instructions to Jack for the fuel and to work up the flight plans to leave.

Marcy upped the pressure by writing out a check for the amount and placing it on the table in sight of Gregory.

“If they meet our terms, the check is already filled out,” she said as she slid it to Lorrie for the second signature.

“By the way what is the deal on the 2013 model?” Lorrie asked.

“The blue 777 BBJ at Paris is to replace it. The owner also lives here,” Gregory said.

“What’s the price?” Lorrie asked.

“Sixty million,” Gregory said.

Glances were exchanged between Lorrie, Jeanna and Marcy then Jeanna started the round of nods.

“I will write you a check for fifty five million and we take it home with us,” Marcy said.

Gregory took out his phone and made a call. Moments later “The fuel is on the owner, write out the check. He is on the way with the papers.

Howard turned, “You have a deal and we will fill it with fuel.”

Lorrie started out the door and I followed to hear her do a cowboy whistle and wave to the pilot group that was watching the fuel truck wind up the hoses.

“Fill both 737’s and the owners are paying for it. Then sort out the pecking order for pilots; we bought both of them. We are leaving as soon as the paperwork is completed,” Lorrie said.

I looked at Lorrie, “Both of them?” I asked.

“I made some calls before we left. I already have one of them booked for a month by Hooker and Booker Industrials. It has flights to China, Hong Kong, India, and the Philippines. They also want a month on the first of the year. That is only one of a dozen that have bought blocks of time and confirmed dates.”

“Jeanna has an Executive VP who has been giving her some problems; she wants to down-size his ego next week. There is a meeting in LA. She is going to supply the plane. Business is good,” Lorrie said.

I smiled; I knew there must have been a plan. With my arm around her we walked back to the plane to sign papers. I was looking forward to sleeping in my own bed and not sleeping with one eye open.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Book 2 Chapter 51

It was noon when we landed at Polokwane, but only after calling the men Andy had sent to verify everything was safe. The men were part of the crew that had come with me to kill the Prince. It almost looked like they were riding in some of the vehicles that were used by the Prince’s bunch of derelicts.

They were! After we had killed the Prince, the Saudi investigators had instructed everything be placed in one of the aircraft hangars. After the investigation was completed, the Saudi’s – for the most part – went away.

There were far more important power plays happening in the kingdom than worrying about a petered out mine. That power play led to the decision to sell the property.

The two managers worked together to make the best out of what was left and that was tourist dollars that the tours into the animal refuge generated. It was enough money to support a few dozen individuals and keep enough rooms in the motel in good enough shape for the tour companies to keep sending groups.

We were driven around the airport, looking and inspecting. Then we were driven through a hell hole called the shanty town. It could never be called anything but a hell hole in its present condition.

Every building was dilapidated with some actually falling down. The conditions of many of them were so bad that a match and a gallon of gas was the best solution. Only a few were still occupied.

Women were carrying water in plastic jugs. At the end of every street there was a dung pit. The stench I remembered.

There had been one well for every couple hundred houses, now only one well was operational with a hand pump on it and there was a waiting line.

I had seen all I needed to see. A major change was coming following a bulldozer. It would be a slow process to get started and expensive but it was going to happen. The mines were the key.

The hotel manager was waiting behind the counter of the motel. The place was in better shape than when we were here last. JBG money was already at work.

Daudi Nkosi was the hotel manager. I recognized him from the previous visit and by the glance Vicky gave me, she did to. We went to a side room to meet while a messenger was sent to get Nassor Khumalo from the airport terminal.

Vicky and Marcy had the list that Lorrie and Jenny wanted discussed.

The electricity came in from a line from the south that ran between the two mines. This electricity was totally unreliable, off sometimes days at a time. There was an ancient generator in one of the airport hangars for backup when the power was interrupted.

It could have been from WW2 but I would bet it was a leftover from WW1. The voltage marked on the meter was 230 at 50 cycles meaning nothing of any consequence from the US would work. As small as it was, I wondered how it could power anything.

We would need a newer, better generator – possibly two of them – to be able to reliably make enough electricity to power all the expansion.

We went through the hotel list one item at a time after we looked in every room. The room where I killed the Prince was clean, not any trace of what happened there. Only the images that still made an occasional appearance in my dreams told the tale.

Then two new lists were started, one with things that needed to be addressed immediately and the other was the list with long term needs for the hotel.

Nassor had arrived midway through and joined in the inspection of the hotel and the final discussions for improvements there. After that, we went to the airport terminal.

I sent Jack, Axle and Ellison to go over the hangars, terminal and fuel farm. They knew what I was planning. While they were gone, we discussed the improvements that I knew were coming for sure; radar, runway extension, fuel farm expansion and more hangars.

We called it a day and retired to our rooms. Marcy, Vicky and I went into an in depth private discussion about what we had seen today. I was concerned about the cost of everything we had seen that needed doing.

“BJ, you are missing the obvious. You are thinking of construction costs at home – sixty dollars an hour and higher. Remember the minimum wage here is only one fifty eight. Materials are going to be priced accordingly. The costs are going to be one quarter of what we are used to,” Marcy said.

Marcy was right, I was thinking of costs at home and the high cost when we had sent Bob’s Construction to rebuild the embassy that had been attacked.

It did not make me feel any better. I saw nothing but an enormous task ahead, one I was wondering if it would be worthwhile attempting.

We had supper in the hotel restaurant. One of the hunting parties had returned and was eating there as well. It was buffet style and that gave me some confidence that the food would not be poisoned.

Several of the hunters came over to the table just as we were finishing.

“You are a long way from Washington or France – you must be lost,” one of them said.

“No, I’m not lost. Just inspecting our property and planning on improvements we are going to make,” I said.

“Am I to understand that you own this hotel?” he asked.

“The hotel and everything you can see – as far as you can see – in any direction you look from the roof,” I said.

“You do not recognize me, do you?” he asked.

“No I am afraid not,” I replied.

‘I’m Sam Brothers, my wife is Senator Ginger Brothers of Nevada,” he said.

“OK, you do a much better job than I do of staying out of the media,” I said.

“The Senator is not with you?” I asked.

“No, she prefers the Washington animals,” he said with a laugh.

“Animals they are; tell her I said hello. I may get to see her soon; I have to make several appearances in the Senate in a few weeks,” I said.

One of his buddies took a picture of him with the three of us that I was sure would be in the media before the end of the day.

After that we turned in. Andy had enough men that the plane could be guarded. I was happy about that.

At 0700 we had breakfast then one more meeting. The two managers came to us while we were eating and requested that we see a couple of men who used to manage the two mines. They thought they could supply helpful information about the mines.

Ranako Chetty and Ndale Jordaan were standing by the hotel counter when we met them and were introduced.
The two, Andy, a couple of security personnel went into the meeting room with the three of us and began the discussions.

“Mr. Nkosi indicated that you Mr. Chetty were the manager of the gold mine for decades and you Mr. Jordaan were manager of the diamond mine. I’m hoping that you may be able to fill us in on the history on the mines and the Saudi ownership, if you are willing to do that.”

“Mr. Nkosi tells us you have big plans for the area with improvements to the hotel, airport and the shanty town that was the company town. Is that correct?” Mr. Chetty asked.

“Yes we do. The shanty is going to be replaced with more modern housing. The final size will be determined by the number of employees. We want to promote the game refuge tours through our vacation division. That means the hotel will be renovated with a lot more staff.”

“The airport improvements will include radar, hangars and runway extension. We are going to bring in a security team – including aircraft – to keep ISIS and Al Qaeda from interfering with operations. We are also going to train some of our thousands of security people here; all this will depend on the mines being profitable,” I said.

“The Saudi’s bought the mines in 2009 from Acme mining, at the time the gold mine was the most productive nugget mine in all of Africa producing over five million ounces of gold yearly.”

“The diamond mine was also very productive, although the output was kept secret as to not upset diamond prices.”

“Two months after the Saudis bought the mines, the Prince and several members of the royal family came to pick up the gold and diamonds. Along with them came the killers you call Al Qaeda to protect the mines and town.”

“They went through the miners and selected thirty they said were criminals and infidels. They executed them in front of everyone to set an example. Their young girls and boys were taken back to Saudi Arabia for conversion. They never returned. Their wives and elders and other children were carried to the preserve and fed to the crocks.”

“Every couple of months the Prince would arrive and the same thing would happen.”

“The miners with wives and children started leaving in the dark of night, making the journey to the west to the villages there.”

“The only way we could get back at them was to stop the flow of gold and diamonds. We had no guns. We built a separator in the mine. In a few months the gold and diamonds were down to a trickle, almost nothing. The digging went on but the real gold was hidden in trenches within the mine,” Mr. Chetty said.

“What stopped Al Qaeda from going into the mines and finding the separator?” I asked.

“Mining is hard work and they are lazy; stealing instead of working. Mining is dangerous. A few arranged accidents and they never ventured in the mines again,” he said.

“No one tried to leave with some of the gold and diamonds?” I asked.

“If they caught you with even a pea sized piece of gold or a diamond your entire family would be killed very slowly with you being last. If you made it past them there was the South African Citizens Collective.”

“SACC was the enforcement arm of the socialist government. They are worse than Ai Qaeda and have free reign outside of the populated areas. They collect bribes, administer tax demands at will, make arrests, kill and torture as they please. As soon as things start happening here they will pay you a visit,” he said.

“You will have to point any infiltrators out to my security people; they will take care of them. They will have no problems feeding the gators. I pay no bribes and I will have no terrorists here nor will I support them in any way!” I said.

‘We understand – you sent that message when you killed the Prince and his companions,” Mr. Chetty said.

“What makes you think I killed the Prince?” I asked.

“Some of your men look familiar; you and Vicky are about the build and height of the women who were with them. We saw the way you handled yourself in France the other day. One of the hunters had the paper. It was you and you did the world a service by killing the Prince. I think the phrase is ‘justice administered’,” he said.

“So you are telling us that the mines will be profitable again to pay for all the improvements we want to make?” I asked.

“Yes and so much more,” he said.

“Will the miners come back?” I asked.

“Many will, steady work and pay will draw them back,” he said.

“What kind of pay is needed?” Marcy asked.

“The Saudi’s paid minimum and then cheated the miners out of time. To get the good miners back – the only ones I would allow – you are going to have to pay three US dollars,” he said.

“If the gold is there as you say, it will be no problem,” Marcy said.

The meeting went on for the rest of the day, putting plans in place. Logistics was going to be a bitch – logistics be-damned.

Mr. Chetty insisted we have a tour of the final processing buildings for the gold. It was the first time we had ever been in one. It looked like the workers just walked away. The molds for making ingots were neatly placed on metal tables.

I asked Mr. Chetty, “Why are there were two different sizes of molds?”

“The large ones are an international standard twelve kilo that we used before the Saudis took over. The smaller ones are the standard one kilo used in the domestic gold trade. We went to the smaller ones to cover the diminishing output.”

“The Prince didn’t realize the difference and accepted the explanation that the larger ingots he had been shown were for display only. He liked the one kilo because they could be easily carried to impress his friends,” he added.

The big crucibles were lined up in a row as well, the ladles neatly beside them. The cooling room with heavy steel doors and racks was waiting to go to work.

“How long will it take to go back into production?” Marcy asked.

“Sixty days to twenty five percent, six months to 100 percent. It depends on you getting the things we need,” he said.

After several calls to the office, it was decided to send more from the training class here for security. They would have to stay in the hotel for the time being.

The final decision was to set up the site structure and chain of command. Raymond Underhill was chosen and he accepted the temporary position of Director JBG South Africa Training Center.

Everything that the four managers wanted or needed to make this place work was to be coordinated through him. None of us wanted to deal with the calls from four separate managers there. Let one person be the go to guy and let him deal with it.

Back at the office more decisions would need to be made. A lot of decisions actually. We were going to leave all the security people there with the exception of Andy. I hoped they wouldn’t be needed. But if they were, they would be terribly shorthanded.

We stayed one last night in the motel, leaving in the morning.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Book 2 Chapter 50

I cleaned up and showered in the hotel room and then put on another pant suit with no blood on it. We were going out to the swanky French restaurant L’ Abeille for dinner. At least the girls were talking to me now. For a while I was getting the cold shoulder treatment.

We rode in three Suburban’s with the drivers from the JBG group assigned to the embassy. He said he knew Paris reasonably well. It was a good thing he was driving.

The traffic was horrible, the drivers obnoxious, impatient and plain out assholes. If I had been driving I would have intentionally wrecked half of them just so I could mash their faces. I guess everybody in Paris drove with the same attitude.

The realization hit me that it was time for a vacation. The stress of the last couple of months was getting to me; I needed a break – we needed a break. As soon as things settled down, a week at East Water Cay was in order – maybe two weeks or more would be better.

The reservations had been made this morning before we went to the air show. The place got deathly quiet as we were led to our tables in the corner with all kinds of cutlery and silver utensils on it. The side of my face was bruised enough that it was easily seen.

I could only guess what local media was saying about today and what footage they were running. But there was no doubt that most of these people in here had seen it.

We looked over the wine list and Jenny picked out a couple that she thought would be good. Even though I was not a wine drinker it was good wine.

We listened as the waiter went through the entrees. All of them sounded good. I settled on an all you can eat seafood and pasta sampler with a salad and another bottle of wine for the table. We took another bottle of wine to carry to the room.

It was a wonderful meal; one the gym equipment was going to have to counteract the pounds we girls would put on.

Back at the hotel the girls all came into the room. There were enough glasses for all of us. For two hours we sipped wine and talked about today, tomorrow and forever.

Tomorrow evening Ching Lee, Jenny and Lorrie were returning home. They had been away from the little ones long enough. Truthfully we all had; the VCATS helped but not enough.

I called Louis at 0700 for an update.

“We think you baited the General and he fell for it, but there is nothing we can do about that. You are free to leave.”

“Some of our men connected to the new security arrangement found out that you assist with some of the training scheduled at Fort Smith and are looking forward to sparing with you, others not so much,” Louis said.

“There will be a hearing to present the evidence to the magistrate. If we need you to testify you can do it by video. But I think it will be cut and dry.”

“The Iranian delegation has left for Tehran with the body. The realization that their hero wasn’t such a great hero after all has set in. They are trying to find a way to keep the hero image alive long enough for a state funeral,” Louis said and ended the call.

An hour later the wheels left for Athens, Greece, the last stop on this European portion of this trip. It was 1100 miles – two and a half hours in the G5.

The embassy’s Suburban’s met us at the airport and carried us to the embassy. I needed to MTAC with Ben and the committee; I had received a text from Ben indicating that a conversation was needed.

“Ten subpoenas have been received for you to appear before various Senate and House committees; two of them are subpoena duces tecum. You are to report with the items on Wednesday and to testify,” Ben said.

“What are the items?” I asked.

“All documents and records related to the FBI participation in the surveillance related to the terrorist enclave at Harrisburg,” Ben said.

“I will not be back in the states on Wednesday; therefore I will not be there to testify. It will take time for an extensive search and to prepare the documents. Have the attorneys get at least a thirty day postponement,” I said.
“I will work on getting the subpoenas squashed before then. Only time will tell,” I added.

We went on the National Hellenic police agency; they were the agency that handled counter-terrorism, border guards and immigration laws, all workings with the Pact. The various police departments reported to the Minister for Citizen Protection. I had only talked with him a couple times.

We arrived just at the appointed meeting time and spent the next four hours working out details. For lunch they carried us to the historic section of the city past the centuries old temples and monuments; Greece was considered the cradle of civilization.

Ancient armies – since the beginning of time – had marched over the soil of this country, dominated its citizens and controlled its fortunes even into the twentieth century.

After lunch there were talks for the next four hours. There were difficulties enough, so difficult that another meeting in Portugal and then a trip back was going to be required to settle out those issues.

I didn’t have time- given the new problems in Washington – but I was going to have to make time like it or not. I made an appointment to return in two weeks.

Back at the airport we girls went to one plane and sent the security out. We had one last talk along with hugs and kisses before we split up.

Jenny, Ching Lee, and Lorrie were going home. I gave the girls an extra kiss to pass on to JJ, RJ, Takeo and Sara and that we would see them in a few days.

Vicky, Marcy, Andy and I along with most of the security boarded N297A – my G5 – and departed south to Kampala to spend the night at the embassy with our men there.

The girls were next in the departure line in N896D – what would be soon known as Vicky’s G5 – headed home. I wished I was going with them or could have slept but Vicky and I had a day’s worth of notes to put in a format to be able to understand at home.

I did an MTAC with Washington – specifically Anne and Andrew. I wanted an update on the Harrisburg investigation and when it would be completed. The preliminary report was done and just needed me to look it over. Two more weeks to the final printed version. That would work but it was going to be tight.

“Where are you?” Anne asked.

“Leaving the Mediterranean, entering Egyptian airspace – heading south to Uganda,” I replied.

With the notes done we managed a couple hours sleep while flying over the civil war on the ground. I hoped the pilots did not venture off the commercial aviation routes or nothing would matter anymore. The world powers had let the warring parties know that shooting down commercial aviation would be the end.

It was 10 PM when the Suburban’s picked us up at Entebbe International. It was good to see the men again along with Ambassador Joe Bernardi and his wife. We were going to stay a full day, maybe more before going on to Polokwane.

I now needed to incorporate a little CMA into my movements for a few days. No, it was not a reference to the Country Music Association. It was to Cover My Ass for the postponement of the subpoenas to appear. Of course this was on the advice of Jenny.

While we were in Kampala I wanted to meet with Ambassadors Dansky and my partners – Ambassador Morrison and Fauntroy – in getting aid to the refugee camp. If there had been time I would have made the trip to the refugee camp myself to see the Doc and check on how things were.

We were in the embassy having wine, beer and finger food when the girls paged on VCATS. They were home with the kids, JJ and RJ wanted to tell us about the fun times with Pop-Pop and Grandpa. It took them half an hour to wind down.

The boys had a good time and I was sure the pops were going to have plenty of little hands to help them from now on.

It was Wednesday morning when we flew on to Polokwane. Marcy and Lorrie had scheduled meetings with the hotel and the airport manager. They had arranged for several other people to meet with us while we were there. I was glad Marcy and Vicky had talked with Andy and they had decided to send six JBG security guards to look after our interest.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Book 2 Chapter 49

Book 2 Chapter 49
“We need to interview you – we have an office center in the terminal,” he said.

Louis Boucher had been the commander of the National Police for five years. I had talked with him several times since the signing of the Pact papers. This morning had been the first face to face meeting.

I liked what I heard; I liked his attitude and dedication to fighting terrorism. His father had been in the French resistance during the Great War. His grandfather earned medals in WW1 as a unit commander. He knew what could happen when politicians got out of control.

He had to play the political line, as most people in that position do; even I had to and that was one reason I hated the government job so much.

He wanted just me but Jenny and Andy ended that thought. His aide did bring two more ice packs for my sore and swelling hands.

“I’m her attorney, where she goes I go,” Jenny said loudly enough.

“We are her security team; we go as well,” Andy said.

“Then why was BJ out there alone?” Louis asked.

“She is the boss and demands that we follow direct orders,” Andy said.

“And after a bloody nose and a bruised face?” Louis asked.

“I still follow direct orders. There was no doubt that BJ would put him down. We train with her all the time,” Andy said.

“So she ordered all of you to stay while she went to meet the General alone,” Louis said.

“That is what was in the invitation, that it was just to be the two of us,” I answered for Andy.

“The Iranians want you arrested, even extradited to Iran for trial. Obviously that is not going to happen. They are talking about a trial in World Court but that is an international political decision.

“We are collecting all the video we can find – there were several international media stations making reports from the show. We know one of them has the video because ZNN is running it as we speak.

“What was in the letter?” Louis asked.

“I invited him to have a chat at the halfway mark,” I said.

“Was the chat government sponsored or something you did on your own?” Louis asked.

“He was behind the killing of two of my men in Morocco a few years ago and the attack on me in the Golan Heights. I wanted to have words with him about it. The meeting was not government sanctioned. Nor the kill, if that is what you are asking,” I said.

“How did you know the General was going to here?” Louis asked.

“You know I can’t answer that,” I said.

“Did you plan on killing him?” Louis asked.

“It was to be a friendly chat, although most likely a bit heated,” I said.

“I haven’t seen the video yet – who threw the first punch?” Louis asked.

“The General – two of them – then I decided I was having no more of that,” I said.

“Those were the only two I let him have. After that it was for survival of the fittest,” I added.

“So all 180 centimeters and what – 66 kilos – of you beat down a man 190 centimeters and 111 kilos?” Louis asked.

“Sounds that way,” I said.

“You still had your gun and knife, why didn’t you use them?” Louis asked.

“I didn’t need to, besides I saw no weapons on him. If I had shot him this conversation would be going a totally different direction,” I said.

“Oh – so true,” Louis replied.

“How much longer are you going to be here?’ Louis asked.

“We are going to Greece tomorrow – then some of us are going home,” I said.

“Check with me before you leave the country. Now I have to go get the other side of the story and get a copy of video,” Louis said.

I had Andy carry us to the US embassy so the doctor could check my nose and the side of my face. I was sure there was nothing wrong with either, other than a little bleeding.

I finally got my phones back as we loaded up in the Suburbans. I had dozens of calls to make. I was going to do that from the embassy and answer others by MTAC.

I was sure the girls needed to make just as many plus a statement and news release from the office. While they were sitting watching me get grilled, their phones had been turned off.

I was put in one Suburban while Jenny, Marcy, Ching Lee, Vicky and Lorrie split up and rode in the others. I didn’t think anything about it, I just thought that they wanted me to have plenty of security. Andy and four other men rode with me.

As soon as we were inside the embassy Marcy asked if there was a meeting room we could use for a minute.

Marcy stopped Andy’s men and ladies at the door, “Guard the doors. No one is to come in until we are finished.” Then she slammed the door as soon as Andy was inside.

“What the hell was this all about? You planned to get yourself beat up? You didn’t tell us what you were doing!“ Marcy didn’t stop yelling and going on for five minutes before she turned on Andy.

“I guess you did not know anything about this either?” she asked.

“No Ma-am, absolutely nothing about it,” Andy said. I said he was smart.

Each of the girls took turns venting at me at least five minutes each. It was Jenny who said, “I’d smack the other side of your face but I am afraid it would cause you to start bleeding again. THIS IS NOT OVER!” Jenny said as she stopped and sat down.

I finally got the chance to say something.

First was, “Andy, I am sorry you had to sit through this,” I said.

“It had to be just the two of us to meet. If more people than I went, it would have been nothing but a shouting match. I wanted the son of a bitch dead, not hoarse.”

“The evidence shows he was behind the planning for the Golan attack and we know he put the new bounties on all of us. This was the way it had to be. I planned it carefully and intentionally allowed his two hits to lightly connect. I needed evidence that he hit me to go along with any video evidence. There was no guarantee it would be on tape.”

“I knew he was going to be slower than I could react. His file indicated he had serious shoulder injuries in the Iraq-Iran war plus he had back trouble. I know it was a gamble but I knew that I could beat him and I didn’t want you to worry for days,” I said.

“I am hoping the Mullahs decide to declare a truce. We have hit them pretty hard recently, two generals, a colonel and half a dozen spies should be enough for them to get the message,” I said.

They just sat there looking at me saying nothing – emotionless. I wondered if I had stepped over the line one time too many for them. They had given me warnings before about doing dangerous things when we paid people to do things like that. Then the cracks started showing – the expressions started changing as what I had said started sinking in.

They started making the needed calls without saying any more to me. That was my cue to go do the same before they thought of something else to say. I started with Troy and the President.

I didn’t even get to say hi.

“I guess now you have moved beyond just pissing people off to just killing them on sight,” the President said.

“Yeah, that is the way you have to handle things sometimes. I have a couple in DC that have moved near the top on my list when I make the next trip,” I said.

I waited for Troy’s comment that didn’t come; I finally asked for it.

“Well Troy, don’t you have something to say?” I asked.

“Boy, am I glad those Secret Service agents were close by. Forty five seconds, just forty five seconds is all it took,” Troy said.

“I knew he would have help coming so I had little time,” I said.

“He threw the first punches, I was just defending myself,” I added.

“I’m not sure that head twist could be considered defending yourself,” the President said.

“Are they going to hold you in France or are you free to go?” the President asked.

“I have to check in with them before I leave. We are going to Greece tomorrow then Vicky, Marcy and I are going to South Africa and the rest are going home,” I said.

I made 10 more MTAC calls and a dozen more that were pickup calls where they saw that I was on the system. Then I had at least that many phone calls.

Ben-David did get through just as I was getting ready to find the girls.

“Wow – just Wow, is all I can say. To kill him in public like that – way more courage than I have. Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes I am fine as long as I can calm down my mates. They are not very happy with me right now,” I said.

“They are not alone; Iran is in a tizzy – the IRG leadership even more so. It hurt their feelings to have one or their stars get his ass kicked. Even worse, that it was an American woman and to add to their humiliation, it was on film so they can’t deny it happened,” Ben-David said.

“The Mullahs are meeting with the top generals of the IRG tomorrow morning.”

“Keep me informed. I am not going to be back home for another few days. I will have a tool order as soon as I get things straight.” I said.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments

Book 2 Chapter 48

We were up early, the hotel restaurant was packed. The Paris air show was one of the three biggest in Europe. There were several types of planes we wanted to see. Lorrie wanted to look at all of them.

JBG Aviation was growing; some of our planes were gone for a week at a time and sometimes longer. The economy was good, big business was doing better. There were a few business executives willing to run out and buy sixty million dollar jets for themselves and even a couple willing to go to the one hundred million level.

When the executives or the wealthy chartered a G5 to go on a vacation, most now wanted the plane to be at the airport in case there was a need to leave right away and were willing to pay substantial standby rates. It was also a talking ego point in their social circles, “My plane is waiting at the airport.”

Those talking points created more demand for our planes. It was one reason we were splitting up. The plane needed to be somewhere else next week.

But more were being far more cautious since the auto company executives had been burned by flying to Washington in separate eighty million dollar jets during the auto crisis.

They had been buying blocks of time on our executive jets. Buying a block of time meant that with a five hour notice, a G5 or equivalent would be at the nearest airport stocked with food, drink and a flight attendant to carry them to their destination anywhere in the world.

Now they were wanting more luxurious and larger jets and were willing to pay. Boeing had a division that specialized in converting the 700 series into very luxurious personal and business jets. The sales division was to have several on display.

Another plane we were looking for was something to patrol the South African property. I knew that getting anything like that from government surplus was not going to happen, period.

I had a bad gut feeling Iran was not going to go away peacefully. They were tied in with ISIS, Boko Haram, Al Qaeda, Ansar al-Sharia, Al Shabab and several more. All of those groups were strong and growing in Africa. I just knew Iran would have them cause trouble by raiding the mines and town sooner than later.

Really, there was nothing to stop them in their eyes. Previous policies by our own and other governments had done nothing to their quest to dominate the Middle East, Africa and become a nuclear power. Just about every conflict in the area could be traced back to Iran; especially the ones JBG had been involved in through the embassy contracts.

Russia had been openly supporting them and now with China trying to move into the picture, bad things were coming faster. I wondered if China may have had eyes on a base of some sort in the area.

The first place we stopped was the Boeing display section to look at a new 737 BBJ ‘Boeing Business Jet’; there were three there. Boeing builds the plane with no interior and then they are sent to different companies to install the interior to the customer’s specifications. It usually adds two to three years onto the delivery time and up to thirty million or more to the price.

The three there had been finished out by different companies with different custom interior plans. They were a class of luxury beyond imagination. Two of them even had full sized showers and king size bed.

We liked all three of them but all three were special orders waiting on the customer to pick them up. Or the customer had agreed to allow them to be displayed for one reason or another; usually a fee was discounted. At least we could look and place an order, if Lorrie wanted to wait for five years to get the finished product.

We spent two hours looking at the three planes with the same Boeing salesman that had sold us the 737 200 a couple years ago. Gregory Simms turned out to be helpful.

“There were four 737 BBJ used for sale, one in the Middle East, Dubai to be exact. It was older, a 1998 with a lot of hours. There were two in Europe, one was a 2013 model but not in service until 2015 with low hours,” he said.
A 2016 had just been put in service several months ago and ran off the end of a runway in Sweden, causing considerable damage to the landing gear. There was no way we were interested in that one.

The other was also an older 1999 with lots of hours located in Canada. Gregory was going to gather information for Lorrie next week after the air show was over.

The next planes we looked at were for the South Africa mine airport. There were two that had possibilities; the Air Tractor AT802U looked the most promising. It was US made; in fact, we already owned six as crop dusters. They were tough as nails both in flying and durability.

To add to that Robbie’s mechanics knew how to work on them and we had some parts in the stock room.

Air tractor had a border patrol, light attack, surveillance aircraft version. It was short runway and dirt strip proven with a variety of light weapons mounts for Stinger missiles, Hellfire missiles, Hydra 70 rockets, and mounts for both the mini gun and 50 cal, all of which we could get from our Israel connection.

They could carry hard ordnance of up to 500 pounders, something I would never consider because it crossed all the lines.

The defense version had armor installed around critical areas including the cockpit; some of it was titanium.

We had just finished negotiations to buy six; two to be in the air, two for backup if needed and two for spares. I noticed a delegation a little over a hundred yards away. General Kadar had stayed true to his calendar. His delegation of officials and other IRG officers were by the Euro-fighter plane displays.

I pulled the letter I had worked on – off and on – for the last few weeks. The shrinks had read and suggested changes. Ziva and Sofia had suggested changes as they wrote it in Persian. The letter was ready. It was addressed to the General.

I gave the letter to Ziva to take to the General.

“Make sure on your way back you stay out of the line of sight and get back here quickly, I said.
The letter went like this:

“Hello: General goat humper. I hear you have plenty of experience. Has this experience caused your performance to falter in other areas such as your attempts to complete terror attacks in my country and caused you to lose so many terrorists to me?
General Kadar BJ the Lioness
Albert Koons Morocco killed 1
Phil Adams Morocco killed 1
Milles Pike Morocco killed 1
Ahad Byair Iranian sponsored, dead 1
Faaiz Faeq Fahad dead 1
Haamid Muhammad dead 1

Iranian spies at Windhoek dead 2

Iranian IRG spies Kampala dead 2

Dagar Daharr dead 1

Diya Daharr dead 1

Randolf Reichmann jail 1

Saif Alawai al-Jawfi dead 1

Abdulraouf and Sultan al-Zahab dead 2

Crown Prince Sultan al-Zahab dead 1

Prince Abdulraouf al-Zahab dead 1

Abu Barazan dead 1

Rafi Quastri dead 1

Careem Al Daharr dead 1

Faaz Em Daharr dead 1

Tamerl El-Hassan dead 1

Tamim Bashara dead 1

JBG security Israel dead 9

Guardian Colonel Faaz Fayeez Mohammad dead 1

General Fayeez Mohammad dead 1

Colonel Abdullah Kassis dead 1

Iranians sent to rescue General Fayeez dead 10

Jaed Al Mohamed dead 1

Twenty four unnamed dead terrorists 24
In Harrisburg barn dead

Eight of Jaed’s helpers in jail 8

This is horrible results for an experienced General goat inseminator like you. Any girl could do better than this.
Meet me halfway ALONE and we will settle this.
Ambassador Jones – the Lioness.

I watched as he read the letter. I could almost see him turning red from where I was standing with my group. I gave him a little girl wave to piss him off even more. He ripped the letter to shreds and threw them into the air.

Then he was pushing his way past his group. I heard him yell at his men, “STAY HERE.”

I did the same but added, “All of you stay here,” as I walked towards the oncoming General.

The closer he came it was easier to see how mad he was – he was red as a beet. We were twenty feet away and I could hear snorting like a mad bull. I had not realized how big he was from his file. He was six three and two forty five pounds at least but the muscle was giving way to gut from a desk job.

At ten feet he almost ran and then lunged at me as he swung. I barely reacted in time but I did move enough that he just clipped the end of my nose. Blood was running down my lips. The blood gave him confidence.

His next action was a jab that I barely escaped real harm from as it caught me just off the cheek bone – I would have a bruise. That was all the evidence that was needed to say I was defending myself.

I retaliated in force; there was no time for a drawn out fight, I had to go for the soft spots. My right fist to his throat then the left as his brain registered the pain. He started to drop his hands but raised them up again. He wasn’t fast enough; a karate chop to the bridge of the nose to fill his nostrils with blood. Then I gave him a vicious kick to the groin.

It didn’t seem to faze him so I used the other foot. He went to his knees and when he did I could see his men coming to help him. I didn’t have much time. I stepped behind him. My right hand I placed over his head – his Generals cap long ago on the ground. I curled my fingers in his eye sockets and yanked his head back as hard and as far as I could.

With my left hand under his head I turned his head clockwise until there was great resistance then with all the power I could muster I kept turning, feeling the bones and tendons in his neck snapping and breaking.

If his brain could interpret what his eyes were seeing he was looking down at his ass and at the back of his knees. I could hear his men, they were almost on me. The girls and my men were almost to me. I pushed his head and body forward. There was no resistance – no body reaction – no tension in the muscles to save himself from the fall as he fell forward, his hands hanging uselessly by his side. His head hit the concrete like a watermelon and it sounded like it.

I had just killed the man that the Iraq villagers had named the Angel of Death for the death and destruction on the hundreds of villages; his men eliminated even down to the newborn. Now for the fallout.

I stepped over him just as a hand tried to grab me from behind but it slipped off my shoulder. My girls and men were having none of it, ready to fight. Andy and his men herded us further away from the screaming Iranians. They were screaming for medical attention.

A first aid kit appeared from somewhere. The girls wanted to clean me up, but I stopped them, “Pictures – take pictures of me first,” I said. For some crazy reason ‘another high priced outfit ruined’ popped into my head.

The Iranians had by now figured out their commanding general was dead and were now yelling for the police. Then six of them charged my group to get at me. Andy and the group were having none of that and quickly dispatched them, a few bleeding and needing help as they retreated.

The French National police arrived in force, many in riot gear. They divided into two groups. A couple of officers questioned me for a few minutes. Then they questioned the Iranian group that was growing. They were picking up friends.

The police were in a powwow and on the radio. A police sergeant came over and took my gun, knife and phones. He then placed me in handcuffs and started questioning me some more.

I reminded them I was a diplomat and had immunity, and that seizing my phones was a violation of international law without international court process. Then I added that as leader of the JBG Pact security organization I was authorized to carry weapons. “You need to call a supervisor,” I said.

A higher ranking officer removed the cuffs and returned my tools. It was time to move away from the body. We made our way back to the Air Tractor booth.

Jenny and Marcy had cleaned the blood from my face and chin but was nothing they could do about blood stained jacket and blouse. I tried to hold an ice pack to my nose. I was afraid it would cause my nose to start bleeding again so I gave up on that. I did hold it on the side of my face for a bit.

My phones started ringing, the three of them. Jenny, Marcy and Lorrie each took one, “BJ is not available to talk on the phone. I will give her the message to call you,” I heard each of them say. They kept my phones.

A television reporter tried to force his way into the booth to me shouting questions and then insults as another one followed. The French had different ideas about reporting.

They quickly found out they made a mistake as they were roughly handled and shown out.

The commander of the National Police – whom I had met with this morning – appeared. “You need to come with me,” he said.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Book 2 Chapter 47

We left Biff to his project and went to the palace of Prime Minister Cordeiro.

There were lengthy introductions of the girls and his cabinet officers along with their office administrators.

The conversation covered several topics that I needed information on. One was how satisfied he was with the security arrangement with JBG so far and another was, were there any changes he wanted to discuss.

Then the discussion went to the Pact with the new countries added and the new contracts that we had brought for them to sign.

There was a joint meeting with all nine countries to finalize the training arrangements and formulate a schedule ten days from today where I needed to be.

It was back to the hotel – the same one where the rest of the men were staying. It was a low four star hotel. We did go out to a swanky restaurant for dinner.

We left Lisbon for Madrid Spain at 0700 on Tuesday to meet with the politicians for a photo op. Then it was on to their national police academy to discuss ideas on their training needs. After that, there was a meeting with the entire group that was coming to Fort Smith for training.

There were lengthy discussions about where JBG command and operations functions were to be located. We finished out the afternoon at the US embassy giving the JBG team a review and audit.

We then spent an hour filling them in on the changes coming. The important thing was there would be some cooperation between the two groups although it was somewhat limited by the contracts.

We finished out the day with another State dinner before going to the Madrid Hilton.

At 0500 we were in the gym and then on to a light breakfast. At 0730 the wheels left the runway for Vienna, Austria. Austria was one of the last countries to join the Pact so I had not met any of the principals involved with the PACT. I had talked with several members of the President’s Cabinet including the important Immigration Minister and the Minister of Justice, to whom the secret police reported.

A closed door meeting was to take place with the President, cabinet and ministers. With politics as usual there would be the important arrival media orgy and after meeting news conference. Then there was the state dinner and more politics.

We were finished by 1300 and had a few hours before we needed to be back for the dinner. With a guide from the ministry of tourism, we went to see the Mauthausen-Gusen concentration camp that had been designated a National Memorial.

As part of history classes and then as part of Marine training, (why we fight for freedom) I had said if I ever got anywhere near one of these memorials I would visit.

The four hours we spent there were nowhere near enough. I could have spent days there with my interest in history. It was a tough experience; we had tears in our eyes more than once.

To think that man could inflict this kind of torture and brutality on his fellow man was beyond belief. And then the reality sinks in that it goes on today with hardly a whimper from the world powers.

Africa, the Middle East, Asia and the western Pacific mass murders, rape, genocide – all over religious beliefs, economics, greed and power – only gets bigger with killing and torturing more and more. If we just stand by and turn away it will be here in just a few years.

That was the lesson that I wanted to see and understand and there was no better place than this.
After dinner and politics I went to the US embassy in Vienna to use MTAC to call the White House and Section Twelve for updates and to meet with the US ambassador.

Thursday was a repeat of Wednesday, just in a different location – Ljubljana, Slovenia – with more media meetings, public relations and more news conferences. Then we went to the US Embassy for a meeting with US Ambassador and to use MTAC again. Agreements were made for a small operations center and training.

Friday was again a repeat with another new location; Tirana, Albania. This time there were meetings, media and high level meetings with the Albanian security, the President and Prime Minister and a cooperation agreement. They wanted it called a cooperation agreement for political reasons.

Saturday morning we landed in Sofia, Bulgaria to start another day. A repeat of the previous five but with a little change. We were asked to participate in another state dinner with a full orchestra private concert afterwards; of course there would be dancing.

Sid and Gordon were with us and had brought their tuxedos just in case; there was that Boy Scout motto again ‘always prepared.’

After a few questions Jenny, Marcy, Lorrie and Ching Lee each picked out an evening escort from the security group. They were sent to find a tux for tonight. Don’t rent, buy them they were told. All the girls had brought fancy dresses and jewelry. Now if only the men could dance.

ZNN covered the news conference live again with the red carpet for the state dinner with all the dignitaries. After the dinner and dancing – that the men made it through without serious blunders – there were interviews as everyone was departing, again carried live.

I was glad that we had the foreign language requirement for my security men. It had come in very handy for them and impressed a lot of the other dignitaries.

The girls were on an emotional high as we went back to the hotel for the evening; they had a wonderful time and the fact we were all together made them all proud and envious. I had a feeling there would be some drawing of straws on the next visits and Vicky and I could expect some company.

Sunday morning we landed in Rome, Italy. Our meetings were in the afternoon so the morning was spent sightseeing; the Leaning Tower, the Coliseum, the cathedrals and anything else we could see in four hours. We did have a JBG embassy team as a tour guide.

After lunch the meetings went fast; Rome was in all the earlier meetings to set up the Pact and early negations with JBG. They were ready and prepared. A press conference carried live. We were not prepared for another state dinner with another orchestra and dancing but we had been invited. It was a good thing I had told the men to buy the tux.

This was a tit for tat I thought; the countries trying to put on the best for us in the public eye. Public relations and politics as usual.

The girls again were on cloud nine even without the high priced bubbly. A million dollars would not buy the smiles and happiness they were exhibiting. The fashion people were fawning all over us asking questions about jewelry and clothes and if it as true that we were armed.

Monday morning we landed in Paris. There were lots of things going on here. We were staying two days then we were splitting up with Lorrie, Ching Lee and Jenny going back home.

We were to meet Jack Rush, our pilot trainer recertification person along with Axle James and Ellison Burr, another one of our ex-military pilots late this afternoon. The trio arrived not long after we landed. Ellison had flown Warthogs and had accumulated lots of hours in them.

We were to have a long discussion with them. They were to go to the annual Paris Air Show tomorrow with us and then they were to accompany Marcy, Vicky and me to Polokwane.

But first there were the Pact issues to work out. We met with the President, the Prime Minister, President of the Senate and the President of their National Assembly. Those meetings lasted until noon.

After a light catered lunch we met with the Director of National Police and the commander of Gendarmerie; the military division that also acted the police in small towns, suburban and rural areas. It took three more hours to work out the details with that group.

We met Jack, Axle and Ellison at the motel for a dinner with all the fixings. After the meal I explained why they were here and what they were to do tomorrow.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment