I woke up when I heard the landing gear lock down. We were landing at an off-the-way strip in Cameroon to refuel and layover for the night. The idea at this stop was for the plane to be seen.
Sunday morning we flew to Rabat Morocco to refuel – to be seen – and then on to Caracas Venezuela – again to be seen. The Crown Prince had terrorist contacts there so a landing would not be out of the way when the powers started checking his email, if they found them. I was trying to make it look like the cartel was involved.
Monday I donned the burqa and getup again as the plane landed at the remote Atlantic banking island at noon. Burt had sent a text that everything was ready for me to pick up.
The pilot called a cab to come to the plane to pick us up. Abra, Ziva, Andy and Bill were going to the Island bank with me.
We were met in the lobby by Alfred Drake. Apparently, few wealthy clients actually made the trip to the island, depending totally on electronic banking.
“Ma-am may I ask your name and business with the bank?” he said.
I went through my name in Arabic then for good measure in broken English.
“I am Crown Princess Fayza al-Zahab. I am here to receive my withdrawal bonds. I am told they would be ready,” I replied.
“Yes they are ready; your treasury official was thorough. Everything was completed as he instructed.”
Ed and Bill each had a fancy leather business case with the Kingdoms seal inlayed in gold on them from a storage locker in the plane. They opened the cases on the counter.
“Do you wish to count the documents?” Alfred asked.
“No, if there is a problem someone from the King’s treasury will come and extract the variance in blood. You are the one who needs to make sure they are correct,” I replied.
“I can assure you they are correct. They are banded in lots of one hundred and we have counted them several times,” Alfred replied as he began putting the bonds in the two cases. I signed a scribble with my left hand; folded the paper and placed it in the case without bothering to read it.
From the island the plane was flown to a short remote strip of blacktop in La Jarita Mexico, twenty miles south of Laredo. This was one of those strips used by the cartels. It was nearly dark when we touched down. Ed and team 4 were waiting for us in four wheel drive SUVs.
After transferring everything, the pilot full throttled the jet and short hopped it off the end of the runway several hundred feet into the sand and gravel. That gave the appearance that the pilot had botched either the landing or takeoff.
Howie placed several incendiary charges at important places in the plane; one was right at the junction of all the fuel lines. We were five miles away when we saw flames in the night from that direction. With the circuit breakers tripped on the fire suppression system, the multimillion dollar plane would be a pile of melted aluminum in a matter of minutes.
We went through the border crossing with no problem and drove to Laredo General Aviation airport where my G5 was waiting with another of our pilots – who did the CIA flights – at the controls to take us to Morton.
I had faith that the CIA approved pilots knew how to keep their mouths shut. Just to make sure, Lorrie had ordered that there were to be no entries in the plane or pilot logs. It would be early morning Tuesday when we landed. I had two more Buds and went back to sleep. I slept until the tires touched the runway.
All the airport security cameras went offline as my G5 approached. I wanted no visual records of anything we off loaded. We had left the Russian guns in the belly of the Prince’s plane to be burnt.
I sent all the men home for two weeks of rest and recovery and to clean up. I went home with my mates; all of them were waiting as I got off the plane. Behind closed doors we made up for being apart. The boys seemed as glad to see me as the girls.
I needed the time to unwind, clear my head and put the things I had done into deep memory. Several large cups of coffee and time with my family did the trick; after all, the bastard had tried to kill me four times. He deserved what he got four times over.
After a quiet lunch we went over to the office via the tunnel. I carried the two fancy leather cases. In my office they went into safe without opening.
After a better job of labeling, the three mason jars joined the others. A thought flickered in my mind, a note to all men; never piss off a lady with a knife and a gun and an attitude. I wondered if I should have that made into a poster and put on my wall.
The jet carrying team 3 and the rest of the loot was in the pattern at Morton. I had Lorrie order it pushed into the hangar and locked down; we would go after dark and remove the valuables from the cargo hold.
It was almost 1600 when the crap hit the fan. ZNN as well as every major station was carrying the news.
BREAKING NEWS FROM POLOKWANE SOUTH AFRICA “Crown Prince Sultan al-Zahab – the second in line to be king of Saudi Arabia – Prince Abdulraouf al-Zahab and Abu Barazan- a reported middle Eastern arms dealer with all body guards – were killed by ISIS terrorists in South Africa. The beheaded bodies were covered with ISIS flags.”
“Bodies were found at multiple locations at the former Polokwane Hilton hotel and airport. There are reports of bodies being found several locations near the National Game Reserve. There are some unofficial reports that some of the dead were known to be associated with international terrorist groups.”
“There was another report that there were four Chinese citizens who were also found in the room, there has been no other information on that report.”
“Tiaylaa Duchene, for the International News Network at Polokwane South Africa.” The reporter closed the segment.
From the news desk at ZNN, “Saudi King Al-Zahab has ordered a national day of mourning and pledged to increase assistance in fighting International terrorism.”
The response told me that the King may have known after all what his sons were doing and just decided to see where they would take it. Now that they were dead he was going to change course.
Another sign of a course change was that the kingdom had reportedly stepped up strikes against several terrorist organizations in Yemen, Somalia and Ethiopia with nearly a hundred strikes carried out today.
These were the same organizations that the Prince was supporting, based on the email hacking Robert had done.
It was after dark when the four Suburbans driven by Marcy, Vicky, Ching Lee and Lorrie made our way to Morton to get the treasure. Marcy, Vicky and I did the work while Lorrie and Ching Lee acted as lookouts.
Back at the house it took two trips to get it down the elevator. Dad and Jake had shown up at the right time and were drafted to help. I had to commandeer another room in the basement to put it in. We had no safe big enough at the office to put it in. It would have easily fit into the gun vault at Morton but I did not want it there.
I chose the room that had some heavy duty tables next to Vicky’s extra hardware and vest storage to place the 10 crates at three to a table. The smaller box with the gems and the briefcase with the bonds would go into the safe.
“What the hell have you got here?” Jake asked.
With a hammer and bar from Roberts’s tool box that he kept in the computer room, I opened one of the crates. Why he needed a hammer in the computer room was beyond me; I thought I was the only one that wanted to use a hammer on one.
I pried the top off and handed the hammer and bar to Jake, “Open them all and stack the gold on the table. Look for anything out of the way, electronic tracking devices, things like that,” I said.
It was not that I did not trust them, but I did not trust any of them at all.
I directed Marcy to open the cases with the bonds and precious stones in it and check them out while I went to retrieve the other two cases from my safe. If any had tracking devices, it would have been those. I wish I had thought of checking things out sooner.
“Dad,” I asked.
“I know, burn everything as before and do not ask any questions,” he replied.
I just nodded.
Marcy was counting the first of the treasury notes that had come from the case with the jewels. I knew there were 68 there unless the Crown Prince had changed plans. I doubted he was going to short-change the arms dealer. That would not be a smart move.
I went to the table and looked at the stacks of the bonds I had picked up at the island. There were one hundred to a bundle at five million each; half a billion dollars. There were forty bundles; twenty billion dollars in the Prince’s terrorist account, way more than I expected. There must have been one hell of a deposit made in the last day. What the hell was he planning?
Twenty billion was more than the fifty smallest countries budgets all combined together. Twenty billion was equivalent to beer and slave money for the Crown Prince. The kingdom was reported to have trillions in US bonds and cash in its vaults from decades of oil sales; what’s twenty billion to them? Chump change.
What in the hell was the Prince going to do when this kind of money was suddenly transferred in a day? We would never know. It had to be payment for past operations or a new one in the works. But I knew they would not be using this money to buy arms or pay for terrorists now.
I stacked the bonds on the table – two bundles each – and covered it with a large fire blanket. One thing was for sure, I knew of no way we would ever be able to use any of it. The day I tell Marcy she has to put it in the shredder, I better have a full box of tissues handy; she would need them.
The rest of the treasure was covered as well. I wound a hardened chain through the handles of the doors and locked the chain. The door had a card lock that I was going to change the code on when I got to my desk.
I had another thought as the elevator door closed behind us, “Locks only work against honest people. Even electronic ones.”
I closed my office door behind me and started to deal with emails. It was going to be a long afternoon; tomorrow at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue may be a welcome break.
Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.