The flight continued on without incident. We were 20 minutes from landing when I received a text from Brooke Haywood clerk EIT team, “Success, Robert and Burt got the break they were looking for today – you will be surprised.”
“Thanks, looking forward to reading it,” I replied.
The three JBG Suburbans and a multi-passenger van were waiting when we landed. The four pilots stayed with the planes, “Keep your eyes open and get the planes ready to leave. I don’t know how long we will be but I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to,” I said to the pilots. “10-4 Boss”
We drove in the main gate and around back to the housing complex that the security personnel were assigned to. As soon as I exited the vehicle I started looking around.
It was easy to see where the walls and south east corner had been replaced. Then I turned to look at the north east corner of the compound and instantly became infuriated.
There along the wall at the north end, partially covered by a blue tarp, was the Suburban that our two employees and the two state department employees were killed in. It was no wonder moral was on the floor. To look at that thing everyday, all day long, was emotional torture of the worst kind.
It should have been gone as soon as the investigation was completed. In fact I had sent an email to Washington that it was to be disposed of.
I pulled out the state department smarter than smart phone because it would work anywhere in the world I was told; the other phone I carried would not even work in the back yard sometimes. I had it on speaker; Ching Lee was standing beside me so she could hear.
“Victor, why is the blown up Suburban still sitting inside the embassy compound at Morocco?” I asked.
“How do you know it is still there? Oh shit, you are there,” he replied.
“Yes, I am here looking at it. It was supposed to be long gone. No wonder moral is so low,” I replied.
“I will call and tell the Ambassador to have it removed,” Victor said.
“It will be gone today if I can find someone to haul it. Do you have any more information on the timeline of the attack and the participants?” I replied.
“Nothing more than what was in the report that you have,” Victor replied.
“OK, I will see you on Wednesday,” I replied.
“BJ, your tone is worrying me. Do you know something that I don’t?” Ching Lee asked.
“The EIT group got all the dots to connect today. I think either we have been lied to or there has been a major intelligence failure. I will know for sure when we get back and look at their data. If we have been lied to I am going to carry a bucket of fire and hell into that Senate meeting on Wednesday,” I replied then added, “No one is going to lie to me and get away with it.”
I turned around to walk back to my guys and was standing just inches from Ambassador Rambo, Assistant Ambassador Earl Conley and Harvey. I was mad and I know my expression showed it.
“Harvey, is there an auto scrap yard around here that you know of, that can come get this piece of junk out of here today?” I asked.
“Yes Ma-am, there is about 6 km away,” he replied.
“Go call them. If you cannot get an answer, get with Andy Reddick; he is the commander of Rapid Response team. Take three or four of the new guys for backup and go there. I want this thing gone today,” I replied.
“Yes Ma-am, right away boss,” Harvey replied.
I turned my attention to the Ambassador and assistant, “Good afternoon Ambassador, it is good to see you in the flesh,” I said and I took his extended hand to shake it.
I gave him one of those marine handshakes that hurt intentionally; although I was not known for a gentle handshake he would remember this one. I introduced Ching Lee to them; I know she had the very same handshake.
“May I give you the grand tour?” Ambassador Rambo asked.
“Yes indeed, then we need to do a private meeting and I need to audit the accommodations for my employees. I have some questions I need answered. Then I need both groups together for a quick information exchange,” I replied.
“Then we need to leave, I wish my stay could be longer but I have to testify before a joint congressional committee Wednesday morning,” I replied.
“Being we are this close lets look at the accommodations for my men and get that part of the audit out of the way.”
All of the other embassies I had visited had small groups of JBG employees; Morocco was one of the largest with 20 and now 25. At those small embassies there were a variety of accommodations ranging from being housed within the ambassador’s residence to separate housing.
When the State Department sent the request to expand the JBG unit I had asked if there were sufficient accommodations for them and I was assured there was. I would find out for sure now, or was the housing one more reason for the low moral.
The building was two stories, good sized and away from the back wall of the compound by 15 feet. The first floor had a large kitchen and recreation room with a big screen TV and two gun safes.
Several of the guys who were leaving had already packed and the doors were open. Each room was like a very small apartment. They each had a tiny bedroom with a ½ shower with a toilet and sink and a small kitchen that consisted of a sink, microwave, hotplate and toaster oven. The living room was combined with the kitchen and had a TV and a couch or a recliner. There were 30 of these rooms with several being used for storage.
The basement that the ambassador tried to direct me away from was a workout room with weight benches and a variety of other exercise machines and also contained two washing machines and driers. I found out why he tried to steer me away. Taped on the wall were various Playboy and other centerfolds. There was a TV, a DVD player and a pile of XXX DVDs.
Ambassador Rambo and Assistant Conley started apologizing and stuttering all over themselves.
“No need for you to apologize; they work for me,” I replied.
“What do you think Ching Lee, are they real or silicone?” as I looked at the nearest centerfold.
“Fake, they are too perfectly shaped here,” as she followed the outline with her finger, “But the doc was a good one; they are a perfect fit for her body structure,” she added.
“The nipples are perfect for piercing; nice and erect and not too big around. What do you think – barbells or rings?” I asked.
“Rings definitely,” Ching Lee responded.
“I will agree with that, she needs a shave, should she leave a landing strip or take all of it?” I asked.
“All of it, she has a nice protruding clit, either posing made her horny or she played with it to get it to peek out of its hood for the photographer,” she replied.
“Find a good piercer who knows what he is doing and split the hood back a bit, and then put a ring so that it rests on the clit. She will never wear panties again without being aroused with every few steps,” I replied.
“Definitely a beautiful lady have you seen the new group that joined the gym? There are a couple ladies who are this good, maybe better,” Ching Lee said.
“No, I have been too busy,” I replied.
“Let’s get going, we have a lot to do yet,” I said.
“What do you want done about all this?” the Ambassador asked looking at the posters. Both of them were blushing at Ching Lee and my conversation.
“Nothing, if you are OK with it so am I. I would rather they have jerk off sessions than hunting for hookers in these streets. Men will be men no matter where they are. If we ever add women to the team here then things will change,” I replied.
We had gained an audience during the discussion and no one said a thing. As we walked by the gun safe I stopped. “Open it up,” I said.
“Do these belong to JBG or the embassy?” I asked.
“JBG,” Harvey said as he joined the group.
“Inventory them and your side arms with serial numbers and condition while we are in the administrative meeting.”
We looked over the rest of the place and had our meetings – first with the ambassador and his team.
When we came out of the first meeting the burnt Suburban was hooked up behind a ragged beat up 1960 Chevrolet Holmes wrecker.
The driver wanted a bill of sale. I wrote it out on a ½ sheet of paper for him. He was upset that he had to deal with a woman and even more upset when I responded to his frustrations in a mix of Arabic he understood.
Then I brought both JBG groups together for an informational exchange. Two hours later we were back on the planes. I had the four senior people who acted as supervisors in my plane up front where we could talk. It was a long flight home.
Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.