Bjjonesmylife. Book 2

Wednesday was laid back from the beginning, but we were all up at our normal time. Without the trip to Washington we had an unrushed big homemade breakfast. I was not going to Washington for the rest of the week; I was going to work for JBG.

I worked with Lorrie’s group helping get things ready for Saturday’s air show. Lots of things were arriving including some antique aircraft. I was corrected; they were called vintage aircraft. They were very clean and shined up. I know they were better than the day they left the factory.

At two I needed to leave to meet the shrinks. Doctors Rich and Moore had been working on the profile that I assigned them. Today was report day; I hoped they could tell me what made the man click.

The meeting lasted two hours and gave me what I needed. The next part of the plan required help from the Mossad ladies. They would be back on Monday and be a part of the team that was going with us to the Pact Countries and to Paris in the last week of July.

Thursday was more of the same; moving things around, helping Lorrie and boy sitting. Well, they weren’t sitting; little Robert and Jacob made every step I took. If I picked up something they had to help as best as they could. They worked – played with me all morning.

After lunch they crashed on the sofa in the living room and fell fast asleep. Lisa was shaking her finger at me, “You over worked those poor boys – shame on you!” She was smiling as she said it.

I went by the way of the tunnel to see Robert before going back to Morton.

“The link is still active. General Kedar is still burning about the Harrisburg failure. He is now sending communiqués to someone that we have identified as Sabir Mahmoud in Oklahoma City. I think that is the next target city.

“Looks like more organizing to me, only one communiqué a day but none to any other sites. The number of general broadcasts is up. I think they are checking their communications for leak.”

“On a different note the last of the working girls are leaving France next week. So far all of them have been identified. Ben Smith is sending me all the data for our files. I’m expecting a new method of communication with this group. I would not believe the General would share his communication secrets with ISIS,” Robert said.

“The General is still following his schedule; there was another confirmed entry yesterday,” Robert said.
Back at Morton while Lorrie was breast feeding Sara, the flight was scheduled to the Pact countries with several days in France. We were all going but in two different planes.

Then we were splitting up with Lorrie, Jenny and Ching Lee coming home and Marcy, Vicky and me flying on to Kampala, Polokwane and Windhoek, depending on my meeting with the Angel of Death. I still had not told the girls what was going to happen and was not going to.

Friday was a blur; all day was spent at Morton. The only break was a VCATS call to Portugal with Biff. Vicky and I assigned Biff the job of manager of the new JBG European Head Quarters renovation.

Every day there were dozens of pictures of the buildings, barracks and housing. The more we looked at the layout and the pictures, the more pleased we were of the purchase.

Biff had several contractors fixing things that needed to be done to stop weather damage to the site. Four full time maintenance people were hired and equipment bought so they could work.

Twenty men in the training group that had excelled were sent yesterday to Portugal to fill security positions at the new site and fill Biff’s manpower shortage. When manpower levels were sufficient their training would be completed at either Loures or Fort Smith.

The security fence and gates had been repaired as was the security post. All windows were to be replaced with triple pane thermal windows. They were thirty years old and many were cracked. Heaters, furnaces and air conditioners were repaired and made operational or replaced. All the buildings were being scrubbed cleaned and fumigated.
Biff had chosen the building for the site command center – it was the same building the Portuguese military had used. It needed freshening up and modernization. This site was going to be used as the central JBG European site connected to all the Pact countries.

There were three very large satellite dishes that we were going to use for telephone, internet and other communication services. They were to be restored and operational before our visit. Communications cables to all the buildings were being replaced with new high-speed capable fiber optic or new copper wire.

Luckily all buildings were connected with buried conduit making the installations easy. Security cameras were being installed in all the nonresidential spaces.

The concrete landing pads were to be replaced with a new slab and markings. As soon as the automated doors on the hangars had been checked out and the cables replaced on the doors, the helicopters were to be moved and the hangar lease at Lisbon International would be canceled.

Saturday morning started with excitement; at 0600 things were hopping at Morton. The final preparations were well under way. All of the vintage aircraft that had registered had arrived and were parked on the tarmac. The north/south runway was used for the arriving aircraft until noon.

There were plenty of vintage aircraft; B24, B17, the only flying B29, several P51s , a Corsair, an F4F Navy , a TBM torpedo bomber, an F6F carrier fighter and a dozen more.

The crew of the B29 had set up a display by the plane with chairs. We walked with Crash out to the plane. Over time we had replaced Crash’s uniform and the flight jacket he lost in the fire that almost killed him and me. I had also replaced the missing medals. Living in Washington circles paid dividends at times.

Crash walked us out giving us an explanation of everything we could see under the plane.

There was a chair for Crash so the war stories began almost immediately. I placed a transmitter that went to a recorder on Crash. I wanted to hear those war stories when I had time.

Crash didn’t know but he was going to do one more flight in the cockpit of FIFI – one of the last two flying B29s. Lorrie would have promised them the world if they had known how badly we wanted it here. As it was she paid for all the 140 octane AV gas to get it here and we had to fill it when it left, plus a donation to their organization that kept historic war birds flying.

At 0900 the gates opened allowing the visitors to view the planes. The vintage war birds, one of our C130s, a C5M, a Huey, a 407, a Blackhawk, G5, Cessna 55, and others were open for display.

People were starting to arrive – a lot of people – many carrying lawn chairs who staying for the long haul. I figured a good crowd but was surprised at the numbers.

At 1100 the other Hueys brought the National Guard guys in for a fire fight with some bad guys with blanks until the bad guys surrendered, then they set up their recruiting station. After that the war birds were fired up to make their fly over then they parked on the tarmac just further back.

At 1200 on the nose the Blue Angels made their high speed appearance and performed their amazing air show.
I knew there was a military coordinator in the tower controlling the military arrivals.

During the show I felt a tap on the shoulder, “Great crowd!” I turned to see General Ingram and the rest of the joint chiefs.

“Yes it is, thanks for all the help,” I said.

One of the General’s aides was monitoring the tower to plane communications.

The next fly over were current military. A pair A10 Warthogs flew over and did some maneuvers and actually landed and parked in front of the crowds on the tarmac. I loved the sound of those twin engines and the comforting sound of its rotary cannon winding up when I was on the battle field in Afghanistan.

The F22, F35, F18 and MV-22 Osprey all made fly-overs. Still the most impressive was a B52 bomber that made several low passes. All the external weapons pods were filled with ordinance of some kind to make it even more impressive. I remembered the sound of those eight engines saving my combat team’s ass more than once.

It was 1600 when the festivities were declared over and the crowd filtered away.

All the vintage planes had left. Crash was happy and so were we and had plenty of pictures. Crash’s flight was recorded and plenty of still pictures were taken. The B29 made several flights for paying enthusiasts – many were JBG pilots who wanted to be able to say they had flown in a B29. It was a once in a lifetime event for them.

Some clean up had to be done today for safety. Paper, hot dog wrappers and the like needed to be cleared away and boxed up securely. The same was anything else that jet engine exhaust could send flying or get sucked into the intakes.

Men from the aviation shop rode the runway several times checking for bolts, nuts and any other hardware that could cause potential problems.

The vendors carried their things away and what they did not want went into the dumpsters and roll-offs. It was 1900 when everyone was satisfied that all was clear.

It was definitely a hot tub wine cooler night that turned into holding, cuddling and intimate affections.

Sunday finished up all the odds and ends that closed this chapter on the JBG air show. Well, all except the ten pages of color pictures and interviews in the QA Gazette. Then there was the twenty second blip on the Washington and Baltimore news channels between the murder stories and the notoriously wrong weather forecast.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

When I left, Harry was in the middle of his normal daily news conference. I walked to the door, stood out of sight and listened to the questions. He was holding his own so I left. There were no media people at the gate as we drove away.

I was home in time so the meeting could start early. We used a world renowned mining survey and geological minerals and assessment company. A company representative was going to explain the report page by page for us.

Joel Moss had just arrived so one of my security team brought him to the meeting room. Joel was a senior analyst for International Minerals and Resources Consulting (IMRC). He had seven copies of the final report along with copies of a previous report.

“The IMRC survey of the Polokwane central mine was completed quickly as you asked. One thing that made it go faster was IMRC did a detailed survey of this mine just three years ago for a Crown Prince of the Saudi family.”

“The first twenty pages are general geologic studies for the area with emphasis on mineral composition. The studies for oil and natural gas came up negative in the first studies so there was no need to repeat them as there was no need to do the geologic ones as well.”

“Page twenty one in the old survey shows the recommended direction the mining operation was to take and for the best results. The mining operation ignored those suggestions in every instance, as you can see when you compare the maps. Compare pages twenty two and twenty three to the maps respectively.”

“Page twenty four and twenty five give anticipated mineral recovery prospects. There were and still are substantial mineral deposits located in the identified multiple untouched areas of the mine.”

“We expect those veins to continue for several miles based on the scans and seismic test. The mineral of abundance is gold in nugget form. I say nugget because soil tests show little recoverable gold particle in the spoils.”

“The Polokwane East mine – referred to by some as the diamond mine – is a different story. There are still minerals there at the marked locations – enough to be a profitable venture. Set up costs will be high for conversion to modern mining techniques but very profitable, offsetting the cost.”

“The Polokwane West mine on the adjacent property was a platinum mine. It was barely profitable in the glory days of the platinum market. The deposits were difficult to reach and so few of them. Testing proved there were no marketable minerals left in the mine or surrounding property.”

“However, the miles of dry massive horizontal tunnels offer many possibilities as the demand for old mines is growing for storage and manufacturing. The better possibility is aggregate production from the previous mining waste. There are millions of tons of rock in easy to handle sizes for crushing mills if a market were to be developed in the area,” Joel said to finish out his presentation.

There was a general discussion before he left; informative but left a lot of questions. There were going to be several long meetings in the next few days.

Marcy suggested we start another division to handle the South African (SA) Properties and associated development. I was inclined to agree with her; let BMM and a manager from the new division start putting things in order.
Marcy did make the statement that there was a hotel manager and an airport manager she was dealing with who were running the show. Altogether there were a total of twenty people involved. They were being paid the SA minimum wage at the time we took over – one dollar and fifty eight cents.

The sales information we signed to conclude the deal included all the information on all employees that the Saudi government was paying on the site, along with their contact information.

I thought it was interesting that the Saudi’s – rumored to be worth trillions – wouldn’t pay a penny more than the required minimum wage that was only a buck fifty eight.

But then there were plenty of accusations from the many foreign women who went to work in the Saudi households as to how they were treated, abused and enslaved.

“In order to build loyalty until we get a management control team there and decisions made, I bumped the pay to two dollars an hour and the managers to two twenty five,” Marcy said.

It made sense for the time being to do that but it also made sense for us to put a rush on getting people there. I was worried about the miles of tunnels in the abandon platinum mine. They could be used to stage and hide a lot of things and with Iran’s interest and Russia’s involvement, only added to the worry.

The discussion turned to the property in Portugal. The Realtor Lorrie had been working with found a suitable twenty acre parcel near Loures, about 20 miles from Lisbon.

It had been a military post that had been closed for several years, but was still owned by the government. Prime Minister Cordeiro was anxious to sell the property to us when he found out that we were interested.

The fenced-in property with a firing range, four helicopter pads and housing for five hundred would require some work. Well what didn’t require work to get it like we wanted?

The sale of the property would be closed tomorrow.

At four thirty the receptionist called up, “A gentleman named Fazel Al-Farsi is here. He says he is the deputy Ambassador to the US from Pakistan and has an appointment with BJ.”

“He called in at noon wanting to discuss the property we bought from the Saudi’s,” Jenny said, “None of us were going to talk to him without you here.”

“Have security search him and bring him up,” I said to the receptionist.

Things had changed for visitors coming to gain access to the executive offices. Various office shootings and pieces of intelligence caused Robert and Andy to join forces in pushing for the change and then demanding it.

I trusted both of them; if they felt it was necessary, it was going to happen even if I didn’t like it. But as usual when they put the evidence on the table, there could be no argument; they both built strong cases for it.

There was now a screening station similar to what government installations and the courthouses were using. People that did not have a JBG ID went through the station. They were emptying their pockets in the tray, had briefcases and bags go through the x-ray and then had to walk through the square and finally, the hand wand if necessary.

“Good afternoon Deputy Ambassador Al-Farsi; you represent Pakistan I believe. There was no need for you to come to the shore, we could have met in Washington on one of my days there,” I said.

“If this were related to official business I would have done so,” he replied.

“OK, what can I do for you then,” I replied.

“Ah right to the point. Pakistan – as I’m sure you know – acts as an intermediary for several countries in the Middle East and elsewhere.”

“Yes I know – every country does to some degree,” I replied.

“Several of the countries we work with were in the process of negotiating a joint purchase of a sizable parcel near Polokwane South Africa. It seems that you had been negotiating for the same piece of property. Then you fast tracked the purchase of the property and closed the deal before they could counter offer.”

“It’s interesting that you closed so fast – raising questions among the partners – as if you found out they were bidding against you. Did you buy it as an investment to resell? If so, they are still interested and will offer you a profit for your time. You have an unusual business to be buying property there,” he said.

“No, it is not usual for JBG; after tomorrow we will own property on five continents either for our vacation or security division,” I said.

“I assume we are talking about the property at Polokwane. Which parcel are we talking about? We bought a couple there,” I said.

I could tell I had caught him off guard by the expression on his face; it disappeared quickly.
“The property that was owned by the Saudi’s with the town, mines and airport,” he replied.

“Yes that is the one with six thousand acres. We also bought the adjoining property that was over six hundred thousand acres. No, we did not buy them for investment purposes.”

“We are changing and expanding our security business. We are going to use the properties for advance training and we are adding more aviation to the security department. We will have attack helicopters and ground support attack aircraft.”

“American law prevents us from training with that type of equipment in the states.”

“We currently bring all of our employees back to Maryland each year for training. This property will allow all of the African, Middle East and part of South American employees to train there. The airport, town and hotel fit the needs perfectly,” I said.

“What about the mines?” he asked.

“We just had a survey done; they will not be profitable for a decade. All the equipment was looted or destroyed. To replace all the equipment and find a suitable workforce will offset any short term profitability,” I said.

“After the investment it is unlikely the east mine will ever be profitable. It is a good thing mining was not our interest in buying the property,” I said.

“Why are you adding ground support aircraft to your business?” he asked.

“We have customers demanding that we have that capability and are willing to sign contracts,” I replied.

‘Let the guessing game begin’ I thought to myself. They will soon be wondering who and what kind of aircraft and who I am working with. Was I was getting to be a master at misinformation or a good liar? Maybe I had been around Washington too long.

The meeting ended cordially, with the usual, “We will stay in touch.”

It was time to go to the house via the tunnel. I was going to pick up any reports from my box on the way.

The evening was spent with taking turns watching the boys, taking turns so we could each help clean the house and make supper. What used to be simple was not any more. Trying to get the boys to eat when we did and then eat healthy was a challenge.

We were done early and the boys went to sleep early. We spent an hour in hot tub watching baby and boy monitors drinking wine coolers. It was a good evening, the best we had in days.
Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

After lunch I had a private meeting with four Senators, arranged by the White House, in the White House private dining area. It was a business over lunch meeting.

Two Senators were from the judiciary committee and two from the terrorism subcommittee. We ate with just small talk, mostly about the hot dry weather and a little about the IRS changes.

After the waiter cleared the table and brought weak coffee, the Senators started fishing.

“How long were you following the Harrisburg group?” Senator Casey asked.

Senator Casey was one of the senior members on the Senate’s terrorism committee and an ardent supporter of the task force.

“You do know that this conversation is classified and if there any leaks, there are only four people I have to look for,” I said.

“Yes, we understand and we know you take few prisoners,” the Senator replied.

“That’s true; several previous administrations used to leave bodies in Montrose Park with their hands tied behind their back and self inflicted gunshot wounds to the back of the head. I do a much better job than that,” I said with a straight face.

“Several months is all I can say at the time,” I replied.

“How long did you know about their plans for the water park?” the Senator asked.

“Their detailed plan – about a month,” I replied.

“Why did you wait so long before trying to arrest and stop them?” Senator Smithfield asked.

Smithfield was the newest member of the Senate terrorism committee.

“We had an outline of the plan but not all the members, their sources of materials, supporters of the group and possible connections to other like minded groups. Finding out those things was as important as shutting down the group. We felt we could shut down the group at any time,” I said.

“Did you find any information that was helpful after so much time and manpower was invested?” Smithfield asked.

“Yes. But I will not discuss that information because it has opened at least a dozen more investigations of sleeper cells previously unknown here in the US,” I replied.

“The ACLU has charged and filed suit and is demanding that Congress hold hearings that excessive force was used at Avon Heights. What is your response to that?” Senator Bellows asked.

Senator Bellows was on the Justice Committee that oversaw the AG and Justice department.

“Monday morning quarterbacking. Yes we did use a lot of force there – after the teams were fired upon – after ten agents were killed and over thirty critically wounded – and after over thirty law enforcement vehicles were riddled with bullet holes,” I replied.

“The committee directed the AG to find out who the ten FBI ladies were. We want to subpoena them and clear up questions about their assignment and if anything illegal was done. AG Dunne informed the committee you again refused to identify them. I am directing you to identify them here and now or you will be subpoenaed to bring the information to the committee hearings,” Senator Bellows said.

“I told the AG I could not remember their names nor could I remember what they looked like; that’s my story and I am sticking to it. Outing them could seriously jeopardize those other investigations we just talked about and several others that were started. I will not do that at any cost,” I said.

“The size, scope, the number of bombs and the international connections of Harrisburg indicate that we are in for a mass causality event sometime in the near future. I won’t risk one, not one intelligence source that could prevent that,” I said.

“You don’t have the authority to deny the committee that information,” Senator Bellows replied.

“Then you have not studied the documents for the Task Force, the Oversight Committee and the power it gives me. Also you need to reread the national security directive in the classified CIA operations manual, chapters fourteen through twenty four to be exact. Then read the agreements between the Senate and House in regards to cold war cloak and dagger operations revised after 9-11.”

“After you enjoy all that look at the Patriot Act, section nineteen through twenty one. Then you need to read the orders and instructions from the Federal Judges who make up the secret terrorism court in regards to covert operations with international implications.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot, neither the Senate nor the House members have access to those records from the secret court. If you want access to an individual sheet from those orders and have the document number, you will have to have approval from the Chief Justice, the President and the chairperson of the Terrorism Task force – me.”

“To top it off they are read-only in an 8 x 8 room; no copies, no pictures, no phones or cameras and with an armed guard watching you.”

“The mountain you have to climb makes Everest look like a piss ant hill in the back yard.”

“What countries were involved?” Senator Casey asked.

“I cannot disclose the countries involved without direct orders from the President but this terrorist group was an international effort involving more than one adversarial country and a super power.”

“Those countries are in the process of sending over one hundred spies into this county as we speak. We are lucky that we – so far – are able to identify them as they arrive from one of the intelligence sources I don’t want to lose. I feel the counter intelligence will be productive and possibly lead to exposure of spy networks already here.”

“I guess you want testimony that will ultimately be leaked, destroying that intelligence source and any gains that have been made in the last two years,” I said.

“No, but we need to clear up questions about the raid, the involvement of the FBI and the connection to the former IRS Secretary,” Senator Bellows said.

“I will bet those questions are being pushed by the right to know media every chance they get, behind closed doors, just so they can push the next juicy story with a hint of sexual misconduct on their prime time news show,” I said.
“So the ladies did sexual things with customers,” Senator Bellows said.

“I have no idea, they were told only to report on the terrorists we were watching and nothing else they or anyone else saw or did. That is a need to know thing and I nor anyone else needs to know – so I don’t and did not ask,” I said.

“You run a tight ship – no one seems to know anything about the agents, the strip joints, any couriers, any information you received or how you got it. We sent investigators to every joint; even their security video for the last two months had been cleaned. Their payroll records were complete with no gaps or unusual entries, no one on extended vacations or illnesses,” Senator Bellows said.

I thought it was interesting the joints had cleaned up everything figuring they were going to get a going over. Or maybe they didn’t want to be fingered as being a terrorist hangout.

Getting rid of the security tapes and perfect labor records sounded like they had a professional cleanup team assist them in going over everything.

“Only way to win a war and I hate to lose even one minor skirmish,” I said.

“If that is all you need I must go. I must say this has been an interesting conversation. Keep in mind that the next time I may be the one asking the questions,” I said.

It was time to go home. Marcy had sent a text they wanted me there for tonight’s meeting. The reports were back from the mine surveys and to top it off I was going to have a visitor; the gentleman had made an appointment for five.
I wondered why Jenny had referred to him as “the gentleman.”

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

Tuesday morning just three Suburban’s made the trip to Washington. To put it plainly, we were short on people. With the men and ladies moving towards the PAC countries and the OPS team drafted as trainers, there were simply not enough people to go around.

There were two hundred scheduled to be in training before the end of next week. They were coming in stages based on skill level, class size and the number the doc could run through his system in a day with the physical we had chosen. Jason, Mischief and Mayhem and all of HR had been busy.

All that meant that Robert’s group had several members dedicated to doing background investigations. To hell with all the new employment rules telling us we could not look at criminal, court, medical records or social media. I had told Robert to find all of it.

Even the shrinks group was having a chat with the applicants on the couch. There was no way we could tolerate someone who was marginally unstable being assigned to the PAC Countries.

One of the first things they were told is they had to close all social media accounts – period. If we found them accessing social media they would be terminated.

All social media companies lied. Opting out of tracking and other information collecting did nothing. Even though you opted out, the companies turned it all back on with updates. You were still tracked and monitored with apps used to collect data and information and then they sold it to anyone, anywhere.

It would be highly dangerous for our company if a terrorist were able to use social media to get a list of employees and where they were assigned by using social media data.

I met Axle James at the office before I left for Washington; he had been away for a family emergency. Today was his first day back.

“Here are the pictures you asked for from Harrisburg. The three CDs are from my cameras. I was working with Robbie to develop something we could use for training.”

“There was one on each mini-gun and one aimed straight ahead that captured the Stingers. All three became active when the arm weapons switch was turned on. Ah, I’m sorry about the back ground music; I forgot to turn it off. You may want to look at them before you show them to anyone,” he said.

“Did you make copies?” I asked.

“Yes. If you want me to destroy them just tell me,” he said.

“Just hold on to them for a while, I’ll let you know. Thanks, you may have been more help than you know,” I said.

I watched the CDs with the sound turned off. I wanted to be able to hear the company radios and the JBG aviation channel.

At 1600 every reporter with a White House grounds pass was crowding the fence yelling questions. They must have had someone watching the roads. I waved as I went inside, ignoring the questions.

Some things never change and it was a good thing. Both percolators were brewing fresh coffee. I noticed the cans were marked USN, Ben had found himself a source when my supply ran out.

I had only been in my office a few minutes with Anne and Andrew, long enough to give them Axle’s pictures for the investigation, and then we went out to the big table. Shortly after that, the parade started.

The parade was the President, Troy, Art Cummins, Frank Love (who had been too busy to attend most meetings lately) and the AG. It was followed by General Ingram and the Air Force chief of staff.

“Couple more and we could have a trial,” I thought.

The AG started, “I need the names of the FBI ladies you used. Just for the record, of course. The House has said they are going to subpoena all records related to them,” he said.

“I already publicly said that no records were made or kept. I forgot long ago who they were or what they looked like. So you are SOL, don’t bother asking anymore,” I said.

“Is the Intel source still active?” the President asked.

“Yes, I believe so, we just need to verify and double check the data for a while,” I replied.

I cherry picked pages from my folder and handed them to the President; the ones with the orders from the General.

” Pass them around, read only, no copies,” I said.

“This is the one that is the most discouraging. It leads me to believe there are ten more sleeper cells in the country similar to Harrisburg. Here are the replies to Tiam that Robert came up with and found US IP addresses for,” I said as I handed the papers to him.

“Looks like your gamble may bear fruit after all,” Troy said, “Damn you have big brass pair. I never would have the balls to make that kind of decision, let alone execute it so perfectly.”

“Troy, that could be considered a sexist remark,” the President said.

“Hey, I was within arm’s reach and I am still standing and not bleeding, so it must have been OK,” Troy replied.

I gave him a thumbs up.

We beat the communiqués to death for an hour until there was nothing more to say other than the fight goes on.
I handed the three DVD discs to Bobby, “Play the one that says box truck first.”

That disc was from the right side mini gun camera. The cameras were live and recording after Axle flipped on the weapons switch. He had turned that switch on when he observed the SWAT teams entering Avon Heights.

That gun was the one Axle used on the box truck and in the first sweep on the barn. Bobbie had the volume up when it started to play; I recognized Hank Jr’s. ‘All for the Love of Sunshine’. A few seconds later the mike on the camera picked up my order to Firebird 1 to stop the box truck and the men in the back of the truck and then to cover the barn.

The camera showed the box truck cab and engine compartment being decimated by just a few second burst from the mini-gun. Then there were the wild swings as Axle positioned the helicopter to bring the mini-gun to bear on the rear of the truck.

The camera showed the four men raising their guns to fire on the helicopter only to be riddled with another burst from the gun. I was glad I didn’t work with the bomb squad getting the bikes out of the truck.

The camera picked my orders to attack the barn because we were taking heavy fire from it. My order to empty the racks and tubes was clear and plain as day. The camera picked up the swoosh and flash of the Stingers being fired. They did pick up the damage the rockets did to the barn as Axle flew along the side of the barn so the mini-gun could be fired into it.

I noticed the song had changed to Johnny Cash and Folsom Prison Blues. I now knew what kind of music Axle liked to work with and motivate him when he had to do difficult things.

The cameras on the left mini-gun recorded the same action on the other side of the barn; rockets and then gun fire.

The last disc was the camera that was looking out of the front of the helicopter. It did not record anything on the sides but it had first rate shots of the Stinger missiles doing their thing on the barn and Axle’s aggressive flying of the Blackhawk.

“Well that’s that, as if we needed a reminder,” I said as Bobbie handed me the DVD’s back, which I then put into my portable office.

“The pilot certainly follows orders to the letter,” General Ingram said.

“That’s why I hire them, and I believe in the use of overwhelming firepower, especially when we are fired on first,” I replied.

A discussion lasted a few minutes before the General asked “How are you coming on the property thing you were looking at in South Africa?”

“It’s coming along, why do you ask?” I replied.

“We would like to have another land based radar installation that would be able to follow some things down that way. You work with us frequently, I’m hoping we could work out an agreement,” he said.

“I might be able to find you a small spot to place one there,” I replied with a grin.

Troy being nosy, “How much land are you looking at?”

“Just a little under a thousand square miles – six hundred and thirty thousand acres. It has a gold mine, a diamond mine, an abandoned mine and an airport with a terminal and a 200 by 6000 foot concrete runway.”

“The airport has some hangars and a small fuel farm that will have to be upgraded. There is a reliever gravel runway a couple miles away, also a one hundred room hotel and a town with about a thousand houses are part of the property.”

“The sale was completed yesterday. There are issues – a lot of issues – to deal with; water, sewer, electric, roads, keeping enough fuel there and a million other things. Nothing is even close to modern standards,” I said.

I handed the General the communiqué passed among Russia, China and Iran. “This was the reason that a rush was put on the purchase. And this is why we bought the adjoining property. I did not want the IRG as a neighbor.”

“We had been looking at the property for a few weeks. The gold and diamond mine was described as being no longer productive, but I think that was misinformation. Lorrie has a company doing a survey of the mines to see if they would be profitable. The preliminary report has been very encouraging,” I said.

Troy still had not gotten his jaw to close yet.

“That’s bigger than most of the national parks and you’re going to use it for training?” Troy said.

Training was my cover story; I really had no intentions of building a training facility there unless circumstances created the need for it. I wanted the hotel brought up to acceptable standards and then a slow process of upgrading the town.

I wanted enough surplus military equipment there to be able to patrol the property. That would hopefully discourage any of the lowlifes connected to the Prince or Iran from trying anything. This would be important if the mines should prove to be productive.

If they were productive then there would need to be a rush on the town upgrades to house the miners who had drifted away when the mines closed. It would be the best way to get them back and keep them in line.

‘Company town, company store’ came to mind as a necessary evil, I was sure. When the mines closed the miners went back to the villages that were scattered throughout the national forest, surviving by poaching and whatever.

“General, when is the next lot of military equipment going to be available? I need a lot of things like thirty HumVees, a dozen MRAPS, more helicopters, two or three more C130s, along with trucks, trailers and support equipment. If I’m going to have two more training sites to equipment, one in South Africa and one in Portugal, I may need a lot more,” I said.

In for a penny, in for a pound, ask for a lot and see if I got access to anything.

“Get me a list and I will see what is available and when,” the General replied.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

Marcy was busy on the phone, her clerks just as busy. I decided to stay out of the way.

I went to my office and opened the State Department’s fancy world search Google program that I knew they paid a bunch for and was the best that could be bought. I wanted to look at Polokwane and the surrounding areas again. What I wanted to know was what made this location attractive to the Iranians?

I had looked when we were getting ready to kill the Prince, but not with any other ideas.

To the east was the national game preserve – butted right up to the line – so there was nothing there. Or was there? The game preserve was five hundred thousand acres.

To the west was an abandoned mine; it looked like it had been closed for decades. To the north from the satellite it looked like someone had done extensive testing there, or could the terrain look that way from heavy shelling or bombing in the past? I knew of no wars in that area which would have used those kinds of weapons.

To the south there was just land; it looked like nothing exceptional. I went back to the abandoned mine and kept blowing the picture up. When it got large enough I moved the pointer around again and still saw nothing worthwhile.

When the courser passed over the complex of junk and falling down buildings up popped a name, Brazil Mining and Minerals – BM&M. Damn, we had used their plane to fly from South America to South Africa in the mission to kill the Prince.

I had the company president’s number in my cell phone. Alanza Fernando and I had met when I was Ambassador to Uganda; he was easy to get along with. BM&M had contracts in South America and most of Africa where it was safe. He was at a meeting I had to attend while I was in Uganda.

We talked 30 minutes about a lot of things before I could direct the conversation to the abandoned mine. One of the things that held the conversation was he knew several of my Embassy employees in Brasilia. He was a frequent visitor there.

“The property you have near Polokwane – what are you going to do with it?” I asked.

“Nothing. It is worthless for our mining business; every square mile had been tested for minerals and any deposits that would make us money. There is nothing there but rock and dirt,” he replied.

“Not even rare earth minerals? I thought Africa was the hot spot for them,” I said.
“Other parts of Africa – but nothing in that part,” he said.

“It has been on the market several times in the last twenty years, the cattle ranchers do not even want it for pasture,” he said.

“To be honest I am in the process of buying the other Polokwane mine to make into a training facility but I need more property away from the game preserve for safety reasons. Are you still interested in selling it?” I asked.

“Absolutely! But you would have to take the whole parcel off our hands. The property borders all three sides of the piece you have bought. I’m looking at the computer as we talk. We gave five dollars a hectare American twenty four years ago. The stock holders would want to make some money.

“Ten dollars American per hectare,” he said.

That is roughly twenty five dollars an acre, I figured.

“How big a parcel is it?” I asked.

“Two hundred and fifty thousand hectares,” he said.

Damn – that is a little over six hundred twenty thousand acres, two thirds the size of the King Ranch and a bargain at six and a quarter million dollars at our land prices. Better yet, that takes both mines off the market for the Iranians. There were no other large abandoned mines or any mines for that matter in the northern half of South Africa.

Whatever Iran wanted them for, us buying both of them would close the door in this part of Africa. I wondered if the mullahs knew the mines could still be productive. According to old information on wiki there were miles of manmade caverns and tunnels.

Marcy is going to have a fit I thought.

“OK, you have a deal. Send me the information and where you want the EFT to go,” I said.

The faxes, emails and signature exchanges began; an hour later we were done. I had copies of the deeds, property plot and bill of sale along with bank drafts on my desk.

To add icing on the cake I had a list of qualified people he recommended to set up and reopen the gold mine and train our people to run it for us.

I was just refilling my coffee mug to go see Marcy when she came in with a hand full of papers.

“Done, other than receiving the original documents. I see you have been working on something as well,” Marcy said.
“Yes, I will fill in the blanks at our meeting,” I said.

Our meeting was in fifteen minutes, just enough time to put everything together for the Spanish inquisition.

Every time I stepped out of my domain into one of my mate’s areas, they gave me the Perry Mason cross examination at the meeting. At times I felt like Hamilton Burger – out gunned.

It was all in fun – of course – to keep me on my toes and that nothing any of us did was going to slip by unnoticed even if it was by me. And in the end they let me know it was alright – but.

I let Marcy go first and put out the facts and paper on the mines and a property plot of the six thousand acres and the roads. I questioned her about little details on the transaction. I questioned Lorrie about the hangers, the runway and the hotel and what her plans were for them. She had Google Earth close ups that we had paid for from Vicky’s security accounts.

They could clearly see I was stalling. The finger nail drum beat started ta-ta-dum; first it was Ching Lee then Jenny added to it and Vicky. Lorrie was still talking plans.

When she finished I started with the intercepts from the trio about their quest to buy the mines. They reinforced my thoughts the mine could be productive or that it could be used for advanced weapons testing. We felt that Iran knew about the false production by the Prince. Iran needed hard currency badly; gold and diamonds would do nicely for them.

That explained why the purchase had become a rush. Then I opened the property plot of my purchase and placed Marcy’s in position on it.

Almost a thousand square miles! Damn, what had we done? Better yet, what had we started? There had been a lapse of thought on my part.

I had forgotten that the Prince had a mixture of Taliban, ISIS and other renegades working for him. We had killed a few – where were the others now and had they regrouped and organized? Could we be walking into a hornet’s nest?

Was it possible that Iran already reassembled that group? I wondered if any of the replies to the General Kader’s postings were from the area. More work for Roberts’s group and needed in a rush.

The girls were not unhappy about the land purchases. If we bought property for a training center and housing in Portugal, JBG would own property on five continents. North America, Europe, Africa, South America – we owned hangars for the helicopters in several countries , and Asia – hangars and the housing complex for our embassy men in South Korea – truly making JBG an international company.

Marcy was hoping that the mine surveys came back favorable. If they did it would be a sizable income not connected to the federal government, helping with the diversity in income numbers she wanted so badly.

The fun – logistics was just beginning. First order was to post a general email message to all security employees to find if we had any with mining and general contractor experience that were willing to go to South Africa for months as supervisors.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

Monday I spent two hours on VCATS with Prime Minister Cordeiro and then another hour with Biff and Ed. Things were coming along nicely with the Portugal security arrangement. With the Pact firmly situated and the addition of two more countries – Slovenia and Austria – into the Pact it was time to move forward.

I gave Ed an assignment to look at several properties that Lorrie’s group and a Realtor had found. With the bulk of our people in Portugal I – along with Andy – felt our European headquarters should be there. I felt that we could handle all the Pact needs from there, especially if the right location could be found.

Portugal was on the Atlantic coast and all of the JBG planes, with the exception of the C130 and the C5, could make the flight without refueling.

I certainly had no interest in having a headquarters in Italy or France.
The US Navy had a base in Italy and it was unsafe for the sailors to go alone practically anywhere after dark; they needed to be in groups. It was nearly as bad for tourists. You stayed with tour groups at assigned hotels and points of interest. Anything else could get you robbed and beat up or worse.

It was rumored that Italy was the largest maker of snuff porn in the world.
Snuff porn is where the actress dies for real in the movie. In Italy the Mafia controls the porn industry. High risk strippers, hookers, high end call girls and porn movie queens unknowingly met their fate in snuff movies.

High risk meant someone who catered to politicians, Mafia bosses, or those involved in extortion or murder rackets, or when they knew too much to risk being flipped over to the prosecutors with information that could damage the Mafia.

End of career was when they were too old, fat or worn out. How does one get worn out? After the run of main line porn and being no longer in demand, they go to fetish porn; the crazy kinky stuff and abuse. After that is the end of their career. Instead of dead in a ditch, the Mafia wanted one last euro from them and to eliminate the risk; it was snuff movies for them. Obviously they do not get the last page of the script.

Few of the movies were ever made public. They were to be viewed by a special clientele and Mafia bosses. Occasional clips were leaked on the internet but very few. Everyone who was allowed to watch them knew the consequences for leaking.

It was also rumored that the Ukraine and Russia were now big in snuff movies and for them the girl did not need to be at the end of her career. The Russian mob and powerful politicians had a sick sense of pleasure and an unlimited source of girls. The Russian mob made the Italian mob – even in its heyday – look like a kindergarten class.

France was another one that was out of the question since we were investigating the ISIS and its Iranian connection near Paris. I thought it best not to stir the pot that large, at least for time being.

We had to have a facility capable of housing two hundred with an area for training both physical and firearm.

There were ten more trips with the C5 to Turkey to pick up the last of the classified cargo. It was enough for us to get nearly all the things Biff and Ed needed. It would be stored in the hangar until the site was ready.

After lunch I was helping Lorrie; she wanted me to look over the air show plans. There was a lot to look at; Lorrie’s clerks had white boards with the timeline for events. There sure were a lot of events.

There was another set of white boards with the list of displays that were going to be there. I was surprised to see that the Coast Guard was going to have one of their newest rescue helicopters on display.

General Ingram had come through on my request; there on the white board were spots for fly-over’s by military aircraft. There was no description of what was flying over, just a time. I did know that the Army Golden Knights parachute team was going to drop in early at some point.

There were a dozen or more historic aircraft going to be on display. Ching Lee had advertised the air show in every paper, radio station and on TV station for a hundred miles. We were hoping for a good crowd.

One of the fences had been moved back to expand the parking area for planes that could be parked on the grass. The portable bleachers were coming tomorrow. It was going to be a good show.

I didn’t get to work more than two hours. When the calls started, first was the EIT duty man, “Make sure you come by and check your box.”

I wondered what that was all about; if it had been important he would have said something on the phone. Then again, maybe not. Robert had cautioned his people to be careful about what they said on the phone.

Tom Folsom was not one of the normal EIT men who worked the duty desk and talked to me. He was always quite to the point and little else but he knew how to work computer hacking. His desk was as far from the door as he could get. Maybe he was playing it close to the chest to make sure he did not make any mistakes with me.

The second call was Ben Smith, “The search of Jaed’s house ended today. There was a trove of well hidden information collected. I ordered Harrisburg to send all of it to Washington. It will be here today.”

“I believe you need to come and look at it. I will have it copied for you but we need to go through it together at 0800 tomorrow morning,” he said.

“I’ll be there,” I said.

“Two days – just two days,” I thought.

The next call was from General Ingram.

We had a wide-ranging conversation; part of it was on the flights to Turkey. Then on the next question, “I understand you are buying property in South Africa?”

I wondered how in the hell he knew that? “Yes, we have put a down payment on some property there,” I said.
“I hear you are coming to the White House tomorrow. I will talk more about it then,” he said.

Now I did wonder what that was all about.

There was something nagging me about my conversation with Tom Folsom. I left Morton and went to Roberts’s office.

Tom was sitting at the control panel working with gibberish. That was the best name I could think of off the top of my head. A screen full of slashes, periods and all other kinds of symbols.

I picked up the big stack of paper from my box and it was a stack, considering there had been nothing there last night. Instead of leaving I pulled up one of the other chairs by Tom.

“Good afternoon Tom, looks like you have had a productive day,” I said.

“Yes – very productive and lucky I think. There were twenty responses to Tiam’s orders yesterday. I spent most of the morning trying to run down where they came from.”

“Ten are from the US, the rest are Europe, Australia, Japan, and South America. I concentrated on the ones from the US. We were right that there is a group in Oklahoma City. The others are in California, Minnesota, Illinois, Texas, Washington, Kentucky, Michigan, New Mexico and Arizona.

“It Looks like Texas, New Mexico and Arizona may be way points for those coming across the border, possibly orientation and training. I did find several short messages from them to Tiam, usually just a few words basically like – shipment arrived or something similar. You have a binder with all the information I could get about them.”

“Oklahoma is the only one we have seen before in any of the other communiqués. The rest appear to be dormant cells or have a separate communication link assigned to them,” Tom said.

“If that were case, why would they answer on a general broadcast?” I asked.

“Good point and I do not think they would. One cell making a mistake – maybe – but all ten, I don’t think so,” Tom replied.

“The process team has wondered if there were more links we had not found.”

” Since I had the time I went looking and experimenting. I found in the same general area of the dark web two goodies. One was a link from Tiam to the KGB and the other was a link to the Chinese Intelligence services; both have been active in the last few weeks.”

“Iran wants a base in Northern South Africa but knows it would never get one legitimately. Russia is supporting the move behind the scene. Iran is trying to get the Chinese to buy the property for them.

“They are close to making an agreement; the only sticking point is China wants them to buy a substantial anti-aircraft system from them and the price of the land would be included in the pricing.”

“Russia is objecting; they do not want China to get that kind of deal – afraid that they will work Russia out of the arms sale picture with Iran over time.”

“Here is the real kicker; Iran wants the mines in Polokwane. The reason is to continue the nuclear testing and development, and to store materials and waste away from the international inspectors.”

“Isn’t that the same property you are looking at? Tom asked.

“Yes it is,” I replied.

I called Marcy.

“Close the deal on the South African property today. Send them the full amount. Get a bill of sale – complete as much as you can by whatever means necessary to get it locked down, giving them no wiggle room to get out of it.”
“Please get it done today – forget about the survey. If you have to use the embassy team to get the paperwork, do it,” I said.

I started reading that section of the report one line at a time in deep concentration and thought.

The more I read the more pissed I got and that was not a good thing.

An hour later I had finished, “Thanks Tom for the good work, keep me informed.”

I rode the elevator to the first floor to see Marcy.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof Read by Bob W.

Everyone had Thursday off except for the critical people needed to run the airport and command center. Even those were working split shifts.

Thursday morning we went out in the boats, Jake’s and Dad’s. We had not bought a boat yet. The cut that came up behind the house had not been dredged yet. It was on the schedule but was a month away. After it was dredged, sheeting would need to be driven in to stop the creek from filling in with topsoil over time. After all that, the dock would get built before we could look for a boat. We cast some lines just to make it look like we were fishing.

We took turns lying on the cabin in the sun – naked – for the natural tan while watching the boys. There is something about extended time in the warm sun over a few seconds in the tanning booth.

Lorrie and Ching Lee both had returned to their pre-pregnancy form. Other than a few slight stretch marks you would never have known they had been pregnant, other than that and the slightly bigger boobs, that is.

At noon – with no fish to clean – we went home to start our cookout. At four our families and close friends were coming. Frank, Ben, Eric and their wives and kids were invited along with Joey. I wondered if they would show after yesterday.

All the normal foods and steamed crabs would be a feast for all of us. We had plenty of mac and cheese and hot dogs for Jacob and little Robert; their favorite foods.

There was no business or political talk for a change, just the normal things; the weather, kids, traffic and family.

After the meal and socializing, we were all going to watch the fireworks from our yard. We were close enough to the big yacht club to see them. They always put on a great show. We would have gone back to the boats and anchored on the viewing area by the narrows. We were afraid the explosions would be too loud for the little ones if we were that close.

I stayed home on Friday with the IRS now in capable hands and with Harrisburg over and now in the hands of the investigators; it eliminated two reasons for me to go.

Congress was soon on summer recess – as if they needed one. They were in the rush of budget bills along with the rush of trying to get all their local projects approved and funded, also appeasing the special interest groups they needed for campaign funds.

As such, I did not need to worry about any subpoenas for a few weeks. There were a few senators rotating in and out of the news cycle making noise to keep the story alive in order to distract the media from what they were really doing behind closed doors.

I hoped I could put off testifying until Andrew and Anne finished the investigation. I planned a blockbuster report with all the whistles and bells. The final report should take the steam out of Congress.

I stopped by Roberts’s office to look in my box and to talk to the duty man. Robert had given his group Friday off; I approved the extra day for them. Many had worked twelve hour days for the last few weeks on the Harrisburg mess.

The duty man had made himself busy deciphering the hackings from Tiam. I was glad to see it was still active, even more to read the orders from the general.

He was furious over Harrisburg, raging about the loss of valuable people and resources with no message to the detractors and no glory for Allah. All because of weakness for the vile temptations of women and drink.

A series of directives and orders were in my unencrypted messages.

In a nutshell he ordered all operatives to abstain from all alcohol, pornography, and the illicit temptations of infidels. He ordered a complete religious cleaning and new commitment to the cause.

I believed that it was a general broadcast to all their operatives. The best thing about it was he wanted acknowledgment that the operatives received the message.

One more sign that it was bad for leaders to micro-manage people in the field to the point of wanting verification of messages.

For us this could be an intelligence bonanza. With enough research Robert should be able to track down just how many active groups the general had planted and were working in the US.

The immediate question was, were the communiqués a plant and would any information gleamed be false? Only time would tell.

The rest of the morning was spent in meetings with the rest of the girls; we had a lot to talk about. The primary thing was who to assign the Pact country security teams to.

The embassy security division reported to Vicky with over seventy five hundred employees. That was a lot of people to be responsible for, even with Cindy and two vice presidents under her to help. Cindy had long ago been promoted to Senior Vice President over the two other vice presidents.

With all the problems and issues with Pact – languages, foreign locations associated with – it fell well within Vicky’s wheelhouse.

Ching Lee did not need any more things to deal with either, with twenty five hundred people in college security and five hundred in other security contracts. Plus at least three more colleges were near to completing contracts for the fall, and to top it off, Public Relations was also hers.

It was certainly out of the scope of Marcy with all the financial things and the MAAR rental sites, utility leases and now the truck dealership.

Lorrie had the aviation division plus the vacation rental, real estate, the truck stop and the Horsey and Crash motels. If the South African mine reports came back favorable, it was going under Lorrie’s real estate arena as an investment. We had already locked it down with a deposit.

Lorrie and Marcy had opened a discussion that if the truck stop was successful, we should be adding more to create a chain of them. Successful meant a very good profit ratio in Marcy’s eyes.

Jenny had Legal and Human Resources; even with help from Jason, HR was still a work load. Everything revolved around contracts and agreements. We were still hiring continuously and continued expansion was the driver.

Our employee turnover was minuscule compared to other businesses – less than .1 percent – while other similar businesses were 3 percent and fast food was at fifteen percent and more.

There was a real question on how to make the Pact fit in. More thought was definitely required.

I asked my security detail if they would like lunch at Morton. Since we were all together today to have lunch – the first in a while on a work day – the girls and I decided to take the boys to the restaurant. We waited until the noon time rush was over before we went.

There was plenty room for us. We girls ordered salad and lemonade, little Jacob and little Robert wanted Mac and cheese with a hot dog. The security guards with us were sitting at various tables so they could watch over us as they ate.

We were finishing up when several reporters from a Delaware station came in to eat. They had been covering Energy Department hearings in Washington on the proposed wind generation off the coast, according to the rowdy conversation they were having. One of the reporters was eyeing us to the point of staring.

We were just getting ready to get up and leave when Hanna and Melinda came in.

“So you two are palling around together on your day off?” I asked.

“I was showing Melinda around today; she worked out with me in the gym. They said you might still be here. We thought we would come join you and get a piece of apple pie a la mode and coffee,” Hanna replied.

I sort of laughed.

“You do know that gym, workout, apple pie and ice cream do not belong in the same sentence,” I said.

“We worked out a little extra hard,” Melinda said.

“OK, but I’m reasonably sure that a little extra may be required for the next couple days,” I said.

“Have you been listening to the news today?” Melinda asked.

“Nope, too many other important things to deal with,” I replied.

“The ACLU and certain congressmen are calling for an investigation into the raid, for all the normal reasons,” Melinda said.

“I ordered my own investigation on the flight back, I’m way ahead of them,” I said.

“To change the subject, there is another delivery in four weeks to the refugee camp in Uganda if either of you two want to go along,” I said.

“None of us are going and lately the deliveries have been unloaded in the warehouse, but if you wanted to go to the camp it could be arranged,” I added.

The Delaware reporters were leaving. The one that had been staring stopped at our table and said, “I hope they put you in jail for Harrisburg.”

“That’s not going to happen,” I replied. “But thanks for your opinion,” I said.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

The helicopter ride seemed to take forever, even thought it was only forty minutes.

I called the girls to fill them in and to tell them I would be on the news again.

I turned the swivel seat around to face Eric, Ben, Anne and Andrew.

“I want every single individual from every department and agency that was on site to be interviewed starting on Friday. This needs to start from the time they turned off the highway on to the lane. I need what they did, what they saw, what orders they were given, and how many rounds they fired.”

“I want maps and location of every vehicle with notations of who was in the vehicle. I want the location of everyone dead and who was injured. I want to be able to reconstruct this fiasco like a movie script from beginning to end,” I said.

“Axle took pictures as he was leaving; I will get you copies to help with mapping the scene. When that is finished we will meet with all the agencies and hash out the differences.”

“Anne, since you have the most experience at analyzing data and systematic planning you are in charge. Don’t be afraid to exercise your authority. Split the agencies in half with Andrew. Get it done.”

“I will authorize an expense account with air travel and have the GSA authorize a car for both of you. I will also authorize for you to get whatever clerks you need from the pool to assist you.”

“Eric can supply the list of agencies that participated and the contacts with them,” I said.

“How long do you think you will need?” I asked.

“Not more than thirty days to the final report with both of us working on it. The sooner the interviews happen, the better – before memories get cold. We just have to wait until the funerals are over,” Anne replied.

“This investigation is not to assign blame. I have already accepted that. It is to identify why and what went wrong, and how to fix it before the next one happens – and it will,” I said.

Then I called Andy, “Bring all our people and equipment home from Harrisburg. They can stay and watch the fireworks there or come home to be with their families for the holiday.”

“Monday run them through the gun range and the fitness test. They will be reassigned to the Pact Countries by the end of the week.”

“Plan on a team going to Paris with me during the last week of July. Fate has scheduled a meeting for me with the angel of death. Make sure there is a coffin on board to bring my body home,” I said.

After a long pause, “OK,” Andy replied.

”Boss you are not going to meet him alone,” Andy said.

”This is one meeting I have to do alone,” I said.

Every eye in the helicopter was wide and on me but no one said anything.

A few minutes later we were landing on the west lawn at the White House.

We met with the President and his staff for most of an hour, first discussing the all the information. The FBI bomb squad confirmed that all one hundred bikes were recovered and disarmed.

Friday they were going to cut the tubes apart with a pipe cutter and remove the C4, holding some of it for evidence and disposing the rest of it.

There would be long and drawn out trials for those arrested in the machine shops and community members of Avon Heights. The raids had produced plenty of evidence.

I could just imagine the fun they would have blowing things up with it. I loved to play with explosives myself at times.

The news conference started at four with Ben and Eric in front giving statements. The grim news about the causalities was given and the agencies they worked for. Then the condolences and sorrow for the loss of life and the gallant sacrifices of the fallen officers.

I stood with Anne and Andrew behind Ben as I said I would. The politicians gave the usual pat themselves on the back and the fine work that their agencies and people had done protecting the citizens of the nation.

Then there was the reassurances that everything that could be done to protect the public was being done. And then the questions started.

Ben, Eric and the others answered carefully. One of the things we had done in the meeting before the news conference was to discuss how certain questions and answers were to be given. The Harrisburg group was given a script to use before we left there so we would be on the same page. We wanted to preserve the dark web intelligence if we could.

At the Harrisburg news conference DHS director Creber had followed script when answering the question on how we found out about the terror group and their plans. Eric answered the same way but the Washington reporters were insistent on more detail to the point of harassing Eric.

Finally I stepped to the podium.

“I can give more information on that, as Director Roberson had stated – the first information did come through the tip line.”

“One of the members of the group had a weakness for strippers and booze. He was a mouthy bragging drunk. He visited a strip joint several times a week. One of the strippers that he fancied became very concerned at some of the things he was bragging about and phoned the tip line several times.”

“The lady agreed to an interview and after a convincing interview, I made the decision to replace all the strippers at the joint with agents if we could fine enough qualified volunteers.”

“Ten volunteered with conditions. There were enough ladies that the complete staff were agents for the hours of operation.”

“The drunk unknowingly supplied a wealth of information about their plans, even going to the strip joint to tell the lady he may not see her again and giving her a substantial tip,” I said and then turned to stand behind Eric.

I was hoping it would key up the media and it did. The more attention it drew, the better the chances it would get to the General.

“What kind of qualifications did you require?” someone asked.

“They had to look good in lingerie, pasties and dental floss – all the normal things for that business – and be able to master the pole,” I replied.

That left the media group in hysterics.

“What were those conditions?” another asked.

“Their identities had to remain anonymous, there was to be no electronic or paper trail that would ever lead to them. Their work computers were logged onto and work under their ID was completed every day they were on this assignment. They were not to be photographed in working attire.”

“The reports they generated were on paper and picked up by a courier, they were not copied, scanned or photographed. Once I read them they were shredded.”

“The internal and external cameras at the joint were disconnected and cell phones were forbidden inside the joint.”

“Their assignment ended last night and the employees returned to their normal work today. All things at the strip joint were returned to the condition it was before the surveillance started,” I said.

A Senator who was standing with the administration went ballistic.

“Am I to understand that you had female federal employees – from the FBI no less – working as strippers in a strip joint and had them there for a while in violation of dozens of rules?” he yelled.

“Who gave you that authority? I demand an investigation, that you be fired and criminally charged,” he said.

“The terrorists obeyed no rules in their quest kill thousands – I bent a few rules to stop the carnage and save thousands. I’m willing to bet few people attending the fireworks will have a problem with the undercover intelligence operation methods I used,” I said.

The President returned to the podium.

“On another matter I am nominating Hap McCoy as the Director of the IRS effective today. I would like to thank Ambassador Jones for her work there and hopefully this will reduce some of that overworked condition she has been under.”

With that the news conference was over. We members of Section Twelve started for the elevator but were stopped by the President and Troy.

Before the President could say anything, Ben said “If that was a little white lie I would hate to see a big one.”
“Yeah, it qualifies as a whopper. It was the only way that I could think of that might salvage the dark web source by convincing the General he had a failure of personnel and not broken code. We will know for sure in a day or two. If the code stays active it will be worth it.”

“The media is going to go crazy trying to find which nonexistent strip joint cooperated with us. Congress will spend millions trying to find ten FBI agents,” the President said.

“There are at least six strip joints and even more adult clubs, none of them are going to talk to the media and I bet they don’t say a word to any investigators,” Eric said.

“You are going to need another presidential pardon for when the wolves close in,” he added.

“You answered the question I was going to ask but would you really put agents in that position?” the President asked.

“To stop a terrorist strike like this, I would work the joint myself, if necessary. But I doubt anyone would pay to see me in pasties and dental floss,” I replied.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

They had been waiting inside the barn for all the occupants to exit the vehicles to become easy targets. When the SUVs started backing away they opened fire, filling the occupants and the engines with rounds. The engines died and the men inside were dying.

“FIREBIRD1 WE ARE TAKING HEAVY FIRE FROM THE BARN! EMPTY THE TUBES AND EMPTY THE RACKS INTO THE BARN,” I yelled into the aviation radio.

“10-4”

Axle James was the pilot of the Blackhawk. He was a marine UH 60 pilot for years, with thousands of combat hours in the Iraq war. He hated the goat humping bastards with a passion.

He had positioned the Blackhawk to make a pass down the side and rake it with the mini gun. Instead, he kicked it around enough to put two Stingers into the end of the barn and six more into the side. With that done the side was raked with the mini gun. There were two mini guns in the Blackhawk – one fired out each side door – each one fed with a rack that carried ten thousand rounds, firing up to six thousand rounds a minute. He emptied that rack into that side of the barn. Every foot was receiving dozens of rounds.

Axle flew past the barn then turned and put two more Stingers into the other end of the barn and the six remaining into the other side. A swooping turn brought the other mini gun to bear on what was left of the barn. With the racks and tubes empty, Axle landed the helicopter in the grass.

My group was outside of the SUV we were riding in, looking at the inferno that used to be a barn. Axle and his crew walked over to us.

“Well boss, that is all I got unless I empty my Glock into it,” Axle said.

“Looks like you had just enough. Do you have enough fuel to get back to Morton?” I asked.

“Oh yeah, no problem there. Do you need a hand or two before we leave? Or maybe a bag of marshmallows?” he asked looking at the fire.

“I forgot the marshmallows,” I replied. “Besides with all that ammo going off I doubt you could get close enough.”

“Probably just as well, they would have an odd taste to them,” he said as he started to walk away.

“Axle, make a circle and take pictures of this fiasco. I may need them later,” I said. “Also, keep them to yourself.”

By now dozens of ambulances, EMTs and Medevacs were arriving to care for the injured and dead.

I sent Anne and Andrew to use their phones to take pictures of everything, everyone and their position. I knew we were going to need them.

Fire companies were arriving to put out the barn fire.

“No, let it burn out,” I ordered. An order that pissed them off. It makes fire fighters mad not to be able to put water on a big fire.

My cell phone rang; it was the service manager at the dealership, “We think we have figured out a way to slow the truck down but not stop it.”

“No need to worry about it now – I blew it up ten minutes ago,” I replied as I ended the call.

I turned to Fred Creber, Eric’s DHS director Harrisburg office, “Get some of your healthy men and watch those four corner buildings to make sure no one comes out of them with a gun. When the fire cools down open them carefully. I don’t have to tell you that if there are tunnels to put a camera robot in them to check them out. If you are in doubt, get an excavator to dig up the tunnels.”

“By the way Fred, you’re going to have to come to Washington to explain the fubar tactics used in this raid,” I said.

Eric looked at me then the ground; he knew there had been a major mistake in the raid by his department. There would be hell to pay.

“Have you sent anyone to check out the box truck for anyone alive? All those bikes in the back have to be disarmed,” I asked Ben.

Then I reminded Eric that this place needs to be kept under guard until it gets an all clear.

“Eric, call your New Jersey and Ohio offices to send some agents here to do that. Tell them to pack for a couple days. You know the drill,” I said. “Call the state police to see if they will help, but I doubt they will.”

Eric and Ben both looked at me, finally Ben said, “I want to hear how you explain all this at the news conference and to the President.”

“Not me; you have the big boy pants on now. I will stand behind you, smile and look cute if that is possible. I just have to explain it to Congress and that will be after months of investigations and reports. By then they won’t really care and just go through the motions,” I said.

“I will help you write out the statement if you ask nicely,” I said.

Before he had chance to think, I asked “How many were injured and what is the number of dead?”

“Ten agents died, over thirty wounded – many critical. Every agency that participated lost someone,” Eric replied.

The media had given up on getting in by road and sent their news helicopters. They were in the air over the farm when the Blackhawk took off. All four Harrisburg stations were running live coverage.

It would take days to sort through the evidence here; there was no need of us staying for that. I had gone out of my way to destroy all the evidence I could.

The fire that I refused to let be put out should have been hot enough to melt any remains of the Stinger missiles. Not that it mattered with so many witnesses to their use, but the serial numbers were gone so our source was secure.

I let the fire burn to destroy any explosive materials, booby traps, gunpowder or anything else that could kill any investigators. Who knows what kind of goodies Jaed left to kill.

The Stingers clearly crossed the line about military equipment being used against civilians. It was not a gray area, or maybe it was; only time would tell. The agents were clearly being attacked in a well planned military style defensive and trained operation.

I might be able to convince the powers that be that the mini guns saved the day. There were twenty thousand casings and belt links on the ground in the path the Blackhawk flew while firing. The guns ejected the empties and links out the open door of the helicopter so as not to jam up the gun. There was certainly no way to hide them.

The decision was made to get the bomb squad to disarm the bikes. We would give them all we knew about the bikes when they arrived. We needed several in one piece to get convictions against the machine shop people. They arrived as the last ambulances left with the dead.

“Tell the bomb squad we need an immediate count on the bikes,” I said to the FBI agent walking towards them.
“Yes ma-am,” he replied.

I called our helicopter to come and pick us up.

The hard part was over, the horrible part was next. Mayors, police chiefs and directors needed to meet to put together a news conference. That was on hold until all the families of the dead had been notified.

The massive multimillion dollar command center from the FBI arrived; it was big enough for all of us leaders, chiefs and directors to sort things out and write up a statement.

It rose, unfolded, stretched, and extended in all shapes and fashions into a command center.

First up was the causality list with age, the department list and so on. Totally disappointing, tragic, unnecessary and there would be fallout.

Then the pecking order for the local news conference. While they sorted it out I thought about our dark web intelligence source. I knew it was gone – or was it?

Harrisburg DHS Director Ross was to be the lead spokesperson at the news conference.

I knuckled the table for quiet, “When questioned and you feel it is necessary to answer about how we discovered this terrorist plot, the unified answer is to be that there was a leak from within the group that was called into the terrorist tip line.”

“I will expand on that answer at the Washington news conference,” I added.

My State Department cell phone started ringing; it was the President.

“Good afternoon Mr. President, how are things in Washington?” trying to ease into the conversation.

“Mr. President, I am in the FBI command vehicle with the other directors, the systems here are picking up both sides of the conversations. I believe we are among friends, go ahead with the questions,” I said.

“Is the news coverage about the raid on the terrorists?” he asked.

“Yes, the video you are seeing is the raid,” I replied.

“Have you found all the bombs?” the President asked.

“I am waiting on a count now from the bomb squad to verify we have all the bombs – I should have it in a few minutes,” I replied.

“I believe the threat to be eliminated, although I would suggest we keep advanced security at the park for the events there,” I added.

“Were there any prisoners captured?”

“Yes there were a few prisoners taken. No one in the barn survived.”

“How many causalities were there?” he asked.

“We took heavy causalities,” then I read the numbers.

“Why were there so many?” the President asked.

“We anticipated some resistance but not a heavily armed military style resistance with a fortified and reinforced structure,” I replied.

“Where does the blame go for that?”

I watched faces tighten up all around the table to the question.

“On me sir. I take full responsibility for the number of causalities. No one else is to blame. I failed to properly analyze the challenge the SWAT teams were going to face and to involve myself in the final details of the raid on the structure,” I said.

“We will be leaving here in a few minutes – go ahead and schedule the news conference in two hours. You can cut my throat and feed me to the wolves – better known as the press corps then,” I said.

I saw no need to throw anyone under the bus here now, the investigations would tell all tales. The investigations would be more truthful and factual if no one thought they were going to be the fall guy for the fiasco.

“See you in two hours,” said the President.

The helicopter had just landed; it was time to go.

“Let’s go! The pack will be hungry and circling by the time we get there,”

“Get me numbers from the bomb squad, ASAP,” I said as my group stood to leave.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

Wednesday morning early, we were at Morton eating breakfast. We had just finished when the crew moved the helicopter to the apron and were waiting for me and the few security going with me.

At 0730 the helicopter landed at Reagan International where Eric, Ben, Anne, Andrew and couple secret service agents joined me and two of my JBG security.

A few minutes after we had taken off Ben and I both got the same call, “Jared picked up the truck; it is now parked at the farm.” My call came from Robert. Ben’s had come from the CIA, generated by video from the drone.

Thirty minutes later I picked up the David Clarke headset so I could talk to Josh Martin the pilot, “Fly to the coordinates I gave you and see if it is safe to land there.”

Fifteen minutes later, as we were circling the dealership Josh said, “Nice clear area – no poles, no wires – I can put you down there.”

“Do it.”

Ten minutes later – with the exception of the pilots – we walked into the showroom and to a cluster of people.

With my badge open and in my hand I said, “I want the boss, the service manager and the truck rental manager front and center NOW.”

Several minutes later they were all three in front of me.

We followed them into a private office, “What can we do for you that is so important that all the big shots are here?”

“You rented a box truck to Jaed Tayfur yesterday and it was picked up this morning. Vehicle identification number 1HTMNAAM95H693599, is that correct?” I asked as I slid a copy of the rental agreement Robert had hacked from the cloud.

“Yes that is a copy of the lease agreement. Why are you so interested in that truck,” lease manager Louis Redman asked.

I ignored his question and asked one of my own.

“That is an International MV series truck with On-command connection diagnostics and monitoring link. Can that truck be disabled – shutdown by a computer command sent to it?” I asked.

“I don’t think so. That’s not something we have ever been asked to do,” the service manager replied.

“Call the factory and find out if it can be done; we are working with a deadline,” I said.

Ten minutes later there was still no answer from the factory tech department.

“Apparently they are unable to answer that question or unwilling. We have several meetings we need to attend. If you get an answer, call this phone,” I gave him one of my cards.

We flew on to Harrisburg to the pre-raid meeting with the various SWAT teams.

The second helicopter that I asked Lorrie to send to Harrisburg was sitting on the tarmac in front of the general aviation terminal. When the rotors stopped turning I stepped out and walked to the Blackhawk with Eric, Ben, Andrew and Anne following. The fuel truck had just left.

I gave the crew their assignment, the terrain map and coordinates. I checked the handheld aviation radio I had to make sure we could communicate.

“Your call letters for today are Firebird 1. Load the tubes; we may need them, the other option is not looking so good,” I said.

As I finished multiple police vehicles approached to carry us to the meetings. It was 1100 when we finished.

The Harrisburg FBI and DHS directors presented the overall plan that the SWAT teams were going to use in the three-prong raid. I stayed out of the planning; I did know that the machine shop raids carried risk because they were located in a mix of residential and light commercial areas. These people should know and have planned how to deal with the local problems.

The Harrisburg SWAT teams were going to raid the machine shops on a cue from Eric’s DHS group. Eric was in over-all charge with his Harrisburg director of the FBI and DHS leading the raid at Avon Heights.

One decision Ben had made that I supported was that the local cell blockers were to be activated on all the raid vehicles to prevent calls. Those blockers had a range of several hundred yards. It also meant that the teams could only communicate by 800 Meg radios.

Federal teams from the DHS and FBI along with Hershey, Hummelstown, Palmyra, and Annville PD SWAT team were going to raid Avon Heights. Every single house – all twenty of them including the mosque – were going to be searched, with the DHS and FBI taking on the barn.

We had reason to believe all the men in the community were involved in Jaed’s little plot in one way or another.

According to shipping records large amounts of ammunition had been delivered in the last few months to every house in Avon Heights, all of it the same caliber – 7.63 x 39 – ammo for AK47 from a couple different suppliers.

The general thought was that they were preparing for a big fight or were removing the powder from the rounds to make more explosive devices. That was certainly possible since Tiam had told him there were no more ingredients available to him.

There was that waiting game I hated so much but finally at 1200, video showed better than two dozen men from the houses – including the Imam from the mosque – converging on the barn.

Microphones placed by miniature drones the night before – disguised as old cow dung – began to transmit conversations and prayers, including the joy that after weeks and months of preparations they were finally going to kill thousands of infidels for the glory of Allah.

Jaed and another helper were activating the timers and securing the seats on the bikes. Other men were loading them in the truck as they were completed.

Ben ordered the raids to begin at 1300; police were in place to close the roads seconds after the order was given.
I called Firebird 1 on my cell phone, “Be in position to supply backup as necessary at 1300.”

The SWAT teams descended on the two machine shops without any problems. After some scuffles the eight known terrorists were in cuffs and demanding their call that they were not going to get for several hours. The rest were being questioned while the place was searched with a fine-tooth comb and dogs; the kind that specialized in drugs and explosives.

Even with all the planning, Avon Heights was going to be a cluster fuck – to put it mildly.

The way the community was positioned there was no way that Jaed was not going to know something big was afoot. The plan was to rush through the winding dirt and gravel streets straight to the barn with the rear units dropping off at the individual houses.

Any alternative required fences to be taken down or simply driven through. Some of them were traditional field stones simply stacked up in neat rows around trees for support – nature’s fence post.

However, PA had no MRAPS or heavily armored vehicles in its police force. The last liberal governor – caving to the ACLU – had forbidden any police departments from possessing any former military equipment. In fact, they were forced to give back equipment they already had.

The larger cities with big budgets had bought some aggressive equipment but none could handle the stone and hedgerows. Those fences would have been a piece cake for an MRAP to climb over and push through. So ,taking the dirt and gravel lanes; it was taking the long way and giving plenty of warning.

The Washington group – including me – was following up the longest line of SWAT vehicles.

The truck was pulling away from the barn as the SWAT team drove towards them. Jaed and others were walking towards the truck he normally drove. Jaed directed the box truck to make a run away from the barn and towards the back of the field.

Two DHS units followed the truck as Jaed ran into the barn closing the big doors. By then the barn was surrounded with agents and a bull horn to get them to come out peaceably.

I immediately began to wonder about the training of the Harrisburg DHS and FBI. But that thought was interrupted by the radio.

The two units following the box truck had been disabled by gunfire from the back of the truck. During the chase the rear door was raised and four men in the back opened fire on the two SUVs with AK47s using Russian military surplus full metal jacketed ammo.

The plane jane SUVs were no match; engines and radiators were quickly destroyed. Six of the eight men in them would prove to be critically wounded.

“Firebird 1 destroy the box truck – rake it with gunfire – there should be four men in the back. Make sure you get them, they have auto weapons. Then get up here to cover the barn,” I said.

“You better get more EMTs on the way to take care of your men,” I said to Eric. I heard the mini guns give a burp and knew the box truck was finished.

I returned my thoughts to the barn, who in the hell trained the Harrisburg DHS and FBI? It surely wasn’t JBG; we trained far better than this.

They had pulled all the police vehicles – like wagons forming a circle around the barn – with the cabs facing the barn. It was the dumbest maneuver I had ever seen by professionals.

Every single one of the men knew we thought shooting holes had been cut into the barn. By pulling up like that they had signed their death certificates with their own blood.

By pulling the vehicles in like that they were sitting ducks; they could not exit the vehicles from either side without being the turkey in a turkey shoot. To sit in them carried an even bigger risk, all of them dead in a instant from taking rounds through the windshield; a five foot wide target, like shooting chickens in a coop.

Those vehicles were not tanks with reactive armor nor did they have a 120mm cannon pointing forward.

The proper way – if there is one in this kind of situation – Andy taught to the seven plus thousand JBG security employees and every agency that trained at Fort Smith was to pull in at a forty-five degree angle.

That angle allowed everyone to exit the vehicle away from the potential hideout. It also allowed them to hide behind the engine and front wheels (a lot of metal there) even if it were not armored. It also meant the hood could be used as a steady rest for rapid defensive fire.

I screamed into the radio, “PULL BACK, RETREAT, WITHDRAW, GET AWAY FROM THE BARN, NOW.”

My entire group was looking at me like I was crazy.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.