Bjjonesmylife. Book 2

Book 2 Chapter 5

The doc was already there and had most of his equipment set up.

“I have already checked them out. I think they are good for at least four sessions,” Doc Burns said.

“Gentleman, meet Guardian Major General Fayeez Mohammad of the Iranian Republican Guard, head of their intelligence division. He is Balthazar’s father if the reports are correct. The other gentleman waiting for his turn in the barrel is Guardian Colonel Abdullah Kassis – also of the IRG – from the military science group. His specialty was small rockets and explosives. These two orchestrated the attack that killed my men and almost killed Vicky and me,” I said.

“Director Dorin, ask your first questions,” I said.

“Who are your Hezbollah contacts?” Dorin asked.

“Do you really think I’m going to answer your questions?” he replied.

I nodded to the doc.

The General screamed and shook the table violently. It was five minutes before he returned to normal.

Art and General Ingram cringed at his outburst.

“Ask the question again,” I instructed.

It took the third dose before the General decided to talk. After that pages of questions were asked and pages of answers were written down. While Director Dorin was asking from his list, both Bens stood off to the side and General Ingram, Frank. Marty and Art joined us in the conversation.

The two military men who came with General Ingram never left the side of the table, writing down the questions and the answers.

“Just how in the hell did you get them out of Hezbollah territory?” Ben Smith asked.

“You know better than ask that kind of question, the answer could cost lives and careers,” I replied.

“Since you put it that way, forget I asked; I don’t really want to know,” he said.

“Sometime over a beer in your private bar I would love to hear that story, I will furnish the first case. That has to be one heck of a story,” General Ingram said.

“Beer and a private bar, I never had an invitation to go there!” Frank said.

“Me neither,” Eric added.

“You need to huddle with Frank, Eric, Art, and Marty and come up with questions for them for tomorrow night. I intend to put him in the furnace Wednesday night,” I said.

Director Dorin was finished with his first round of questions; the three Israelis went to a corner to sort through the answers and made phone calls back to Israel to sort them out.

It was my turn since the feds were still trying to come to grips with questions of their own. For the next two hours I asked the questions that Robert had given me. Vicky was taking notes even though I was recording his answers. Tomorrow Robert could check the answers to see if they were the truth or a lie and if they turned any lights on with the dark web sites we were following.

I pressed the Iranian hard on the websites and the posters and even who the people in the IRG that were running and coordinating the sites. I pressed him for login, passwords, locations of the operatives and the US target list.

The Israelis had completed another list of questions they wanted to ask so I backed away to check off my list. When I did Frank, Eric, Ben and Art cornered me.

“Why all the questions about the dark web sites? Surely there are lots of other things you could ask him,” Art asked.

“What the hell are your people doing with their time? The dark sites are where the organizing, planning and orders are being given. There is a major attack being planned in Harrisburg in the next thirty days, all on the dark web sites,” I said.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know anything about it,” I almost yelled.

I thought Ben, Eric, and Art were going to have a fit on the spot.

Director Dorin announced they were finished for the night. I sent Vicky to the restaurant to get the two a plate of food before we left. She and I were going to feed them and then put them to bed for the night.

“Did the information we talked about get leaked today?” I asked Director Dorin.

“Yes and they contacted Tehran before taking any action and were told to stand down. Tehran is sending a team to assist; they want to make sure Hezbollah fanatics do not get their General killed. We have been tracking them since they left Tehran. The rescue team is to meet at the Golan-Syrian border tomorrow. If your plan bears fruit, as it now looks like, it was a stroke of genius,” Director Dorin replied.

“You can be sure we will take a page out of your book and shoot for knee caps on the high value targets,” he added.

The feds had a surprised look and then one asked, “What the hell are you two planning to happen now?”

“Keep me informed, video would be nice. Revenge is best served cold. That group there would tell you I am an expert at delivering revenge,” I replied as I pointed to the feds.

“Same time tomorrow or do you want to start a couple hours earlier?” I asked.

“Earlier,”

“1500,” Doc Burns said.

It was midnight when Vicky and I walked in and made the rounds giving sleeping boys and babies kisses, and of course the girls.

Breakfast had barely finished when the calls started. The first one was the funeral home, “The families have decided on Friday at 1100 as the time for the service. The school board is going to bring additional chairs from other schools in case they are needed. They are going to start setting up today,” he said.

“Where are the internments going to be?” I asked.

“Three on the Island, Three in the Cville cemetery and the other three wanted cremation,” he replied.

I breathed a silent sigh of relief; the last thing I wanted was a section of a cemetery to be known as the JBG plot.

“That will make logistics a nightmare, but it is what it is,” I said.

The doc called and asked, “Is there security at Fort Smith to assist him and a nurse in replacing the bandages in the two prisoner’s legs?”

“Yes there is; I’m not really sure why you want to do that,” I replied.

“Sometimes the illusion of sympathy and caring is the best cover,” the doc replied.

Vicky volunteered to go to make sure that nothing was said out of the way by the two; there was no telling what they would try. I was going to meet with Robert and we went over the answers from last night.

There was some good news at 1100; the four who were injured at Portugal were going to be discharged today – one of them in a wheelchair – but they would be home. That alone improved my mood some.

Today’s mail improved all our moods a little more; we had it in writing that the truck stop permits were approved with all the engineering plans accepted.

Engineers from J&J, Bob’s Construction and a dozen subcontractors had spent the last few days surveying, driving stakes and moving in heavy equipment. They were as anxious to get started as Marcy and Lorrie were. Everyone wanted concrete down before the fall rains came.

Next I spent time with Robert; there were some things that were beginning to bother me. We went over all the questions and answers from last night and I had over one hundred more I wanted answered.

One more thing we talked about was the web sites, one of the sites had dropped all pretense and clearly posted information about the attack on my convoy. The operator posted a request to all members in the Golan, Lebanon and no man’s land area looking for anyone witnessing the attack on my convoy.

There were several responses; one was close to the time the plan Director Dorin and I had worked out should have been leaked. The time was close to the time the Iranians started across the desert in Iraq.

The next thing I did was pull up the NSA and CIA satellite data from the day of the attack. Since all the world powers had gotten involved, so many satellites had repositioned in the area that there were concerns of space collisions. I downloaded all the data from about four hour before the convoy arrived at the fatal spot till shortly after we left.

Robert and I each took one and ran it at triple speed, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Almost at the exact same time, “Hey, did you see what I think I see?”

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Twelve hours later the wheels touched the concrete at Morton. The girls had done the usual great job of making difficult things come together.

Two were going to AAGH for the special care they were going to need; local ambulances were going to carry them there.

Two more were going to Shock Trauma for special treatment. Two of our helicopters were carrying them.

The final two were St Marys; they were going to need special work on their legs and the Saint had the best there was. Two more helicopters carried them.

Doc Burns and his doctors had made all the arrangements while they were somewhere over the Atlantic. That was one more reason I liked Doc Burns medical group; they were on the job when I needed them.

The nine that had died were another matter. The funeral home in Cville was going to store the bodies temporarily until all arrangements were made. Tomorrow the families were going to meet at 1000 at the funeral home.

Once at the funeral home the bodies were going to be removed from the leak proof military coffins. The bodies had been packaged with ice to keep them from decomposing during the flight. They would be place on a tray in the cool box until the arrangements had been made and the family had chosen a casket or cremation.

I had been on the tarmac by the plane telling each of the injured I would try to see them tomorrow.

I was still there when they started to unload the caskets. The rest of the girls joined me and stood silently with the families as they were loaded into the hearses. Before the door was closed I walked to each one and said a prayer, then closed the door.

We made the long walk to the terminal and the gathered crowd of reporters who had been recording the event and taking an endless stream of pictures. I stopped in front of the reporters.

“As you know the last few days have been rather dangerous and deadly. To put it bluntly, I am tired and hurting physically, mentally and emotionally and I know the same is true for the families of the deceased. And the day is still far from over,” I said.

“That said, as soon as the families have finalized the services for their loved ones, we will get the information to you. Right now all of us at JBG need time to reflect and heal and come to grips with the events of the last few days. Please give us time to do that,” I said.

“BJ, Al Jazeera said you were injured; how serious are the injuries?” asked Hanna Page.

“We were wearing IDF issue body armor. An RPG penetrated the armored HumVee as we were exiting the HumVee, the blast and explosion burned my neck and left small pieces of shrapnel imbedded in my neck. The doctors there removed all but a few deep pieces that are going to require specialized surgery to remove,” I replied.

“In a few days when things have settled down, I will hold a press conference to answer your questions. Thank you,” I added.

What I did not say was the surgery was scheduled for tomorrow before the pieces had a chance to do any nerve damage. Doc Burns already had a specialist from John Hopkins to do the surgery tomorrow afternoon at 1400.

After a tough night talking with the girls and family and then the muted pleasure of little boys and holding Takeo and Sara, I had a restless sleep.

At 0700 I was in Roberts’s office picking up all the papers in my tray and then went to my office to find my desk with stacks of things that needed my attention.

At 0800 the girls and I met with Jason, Mischief and Mayhem (Rosanne and Corry) – they were never going to escape those nicknames – from HR. The process had already been started to get the death benefits to the families. I listened while the complete package was gone over for anything forgotten or missed.

JBG carried life insurance on all the employees assigned to the embassy division. The beneficiary would get a one million dollar payment and one year of full salary as weekly paychecks. The spouse would get lifetime medical and children to the age of 26 as required by law. Each child was to get two hundred and fifty thousand in a college trust fund to pay for college. If they did not attend college they could not get access to the funds until the age of twenty five.

At 1000 we met the families; after much discussion it was decided that if a suitable place size-wise could be located there would be one large funeral for the men at one time. It would make logistics so much easier for everyone.
I called Duke Justice and told him what I needed; I wanted to use the high school auditorium for the funeral service. The high school auditorium could hold seven hundred.

“I’m not sure they will do that, the school board is an independent thinking bunch,” Duke replied.

“Influence their thinking. If they refuse to cooperate I will have a legal team deliver freedom of information requests to the judge tomorrow. For say the last ten years of the board’s budget and itemized expenditures, hiring practices, grading system, school bus contracts, building and renovation contracts, to be audited by an independent group.”

“Then I would take out a full page ad in the Gazette every week with the discrepancies found. You know just how happy that would make old Elmo. I know of several individuals that could be paid to write opinions critical to the board’s processes and heaven forbid if the auditors find any mismanaged pennies or inappropriate expenditures,” I relied.

“Let me call the other commissioners; we are to meet in 30 minutes and we will go pay the board a personal visit with your request within the hour,” Duke said.

Andy and I along with four other men went to medical building to see the General.

“General, I see you have weathered the night, I trust the food has been to your liking,” I said.

“I demand to see the Russian Ambassador immediately. I need better medical treatment than I am getting,” he demanded.

“You are in no position to demand anything! You will have visitors coming to see you tonight; important people. You can air your complaints to them, not that it will help much,” I said.

Duke called back and said the school board reluctantly approved my request and wanted to meet the director of the funeral home at 1400 to make the necessary arrangements.

I turned that over to Jason and asked if he would attend that meeting on my behalf.

At 1300 one of the Blackhawks carried Vicky and me plus a few guards to John Hopkins for the surgery on my neck. It was an hour surgery done under some kind of continuous x-ray. There were three rows of small stitches on the back of my neck when he finished. Vicky only needed one row.

At 1600 I sitting in my recliner with one of those soft jell ice packs on the back of my neck. Jenny, Marcy, Jason and Ching Lee were filling me in on their visits to the injured men today. With the first group from Portugal and the last six from Israel we had ten men in various hospitals.

Before they were finished Director Dorin called to say that he would be on time, landing at 1815 our time.
At 1630 I started making calls; the first was to Ben Smith, “Be at Morton no later than 1810,” I said.

“I have an important meeting at that time,” he replied.

“Unless it is an appointment with a world class hooker it is not as important as this one; cancel it. Be at Morton at 1810,” I replied and hung up.
`
Then I called the rest on my list including Ben-David. I had asked Director Dorin to tell no one I had the General and the Colonel – not even Ben – explaining that I would tell Ben to be there under different pretenses.

On my list were Frank Love of the CIA, Eric Robinson of the DHS, Marty Coeburn from the FBI, and Art Cummins of the NIA. Last on the list was General Ingram.

When I called the General and told him to be at Morton he implied he was busy. “You need to get not busy and bring your two Iranian experts; there is someone you desperately need to see.” He decided he could make it.

At 1815 they were all in my office when my phone rang. It was Director Dorin, ” I am five minutes out they are telling me,” he said.

“No problem, I will send someone to meet you at the plane,” I said.

I sent Albert to meet the plane. “Bring the gentlemen directly here, bypass the customs station. They are late for my meeting.”

Ben immediately stood as soon as Director Dorin and his guest walked in and made the introductions. Assistant Director Dorin had brought his boss Director Able Gerber.

After the introductions and with a lot of people wondering what was going on, “Let’s go meet the guest for tonight’s entertainment,” I said.

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Book 2 Chapter 3
“Hezbollah is demanding that their UN representatives have access to all hospitals tomorrow at 0600 to verify if any Hezbollah fighters have been admitted and if their needs are being met. It is part of all the agreements relating to the occupied territory with the UN,” the Director said.

“We have been monitoring their communications since the attack. Things went wild after the vehicles returned without the Iranians. Iran is sending a team to the Golan to find the men and interrogate the drivers,” he said.
“We need to move them to another location; it cannot wait until Sunday,” he said.

I knew what he was doing; they now wanted to keep the two, do their own interrogation themselves and save the two as bargaining chips for later on.

I called Lorrie, “Find out how far the C130 is from Tel Aviv and the arrival time,” I instructed and then I was placed on hold.

“Its five hours out, will land at Tel Aviv at 0200 your time,” Lorrie replied.

“It’s going to be a fast round robin, pick up two passengers, fuel and run. If they are out of flight time or need the rest I will send Max and Toby to fly it back. They would have to stay until the G5 is ready to return. Let me know ASAP,” I said.

“Director Dorin, have the two to the airport by 0200, they will be gone by 0300,” I said.

From the expression on his face, it was not what he wanted to hear but I did not care. The cooperation between Mossad and JBG along with my White House connection was far too valuable for them to risk throwing a shovel of hot coals on it.

I was sure he knew we would get every bit of information there was from them or else. He just would not have them for a bargaining chip later because when I was through with them, they were going into the furnace alive.

“1800 hours Monday at Fort Smith – located at Morton Field – if you want to be in on the fun,” I said.

I went back to reading the information in the bag. If Director Dorin kept his word I had Guardian General Fayeez Mohammad of the Iranian Republican Guard, head of their intelligence division. Balthazar’s father, if the reports were right and the mastermind driving black web sites – or at least Robert and I suspected.

What in the hell was someone of his level doing in the field with a raiding party? After a second thought, what the hell was I doing in the same area? Both of us must have had a plate of dumb yesterday morning. The only thing that came to mind was he was there to help Hezbollah improve intelligence collection. He had been suckered in to watch a successful raid against the IDF.

Me, I was just hardheaded and fearless. I wondered how many lives I had left; was nine the actual allotment?

The other was Colonel Abdullah Kassis from the military science group. His specialty was small rockets and explosives. That flew red flags immediately. I wondered if the two rockets that took out the two armored vehicles were something new that Iran was experimenting with or had just made available to Hezbollah. More questions to ask them later.

I went to bed and slept on my stomach until 0100; at 0130 Vicky and I were carried to the IDF hangar to wait for the C130 to land. The C130 was just pulling up as Toby and Max arrived.

The pilots on the C130 were well past the flying hours for the week plus they had flown thirty hours continuous without a break. They were just landing at Morton and took the emergency flight here. You just cannot knock the dedication of some people – and I had a lot of them who were dedicated.

I asked Toby “Are they were going to be able to handle the in-flight refueling?”

“Piece of cake; I have done so many I could do it in my sleep,” he replied.

It was then that the ambulance with the two Iranians showed up. I walked over to them to make sure there had not been a switch pulled.

“Well General, are you ready for a long plane ride?” I asked.

“I know who you are now, do you really think you can get away with this?” he replied.

“I already have, I survived your attempt to kill me and turned the tables on you. It’s my ball game now and in the end you are going to be the one to die,” I replied.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked.

“To America; I have very special interrogation methods you are going to experience there and I will enjoy applying them to you,” I replied.

Toby and the pilots finished the plane discussion and the fueling was done. Thirty minutes later they were gone. On board with the two prisoners were two IDF field medics to make sure the two were alive at the end of the flight. Vicky and I went back to bed. For two hours.

At 0600 the pilots of the 737 called to say they were two hours out. We had just enough time to eat and go check on the wounded men to see if the doctors would allow them to travel.

It took three hours to make the connections and get all the approvals from foreign doctors with different ideas on how things should be done. Then it took another hour to get enough ambulances to carry all of them to Tel Aviv.

When we arrived back at the plane we had to wait for the hearses that were delivering the coffins to arrive. It gave us the chance to board the plane and talk with the Doc and all the medical people who came.

The morticians at the Air Force base were experienced in their job. The base there as well as the one in Germany and Dover handled casualties from the Afghanistan, Iraq and those killed in Syria and other wars for years.

They had used the latest JBG ID pictures to do reconstruction on the bodies as best they could do. I was told the funerals would have to be closed casket.

As they were unloaded and placed on a stand until they could be positioned in the cargo bay, Vicky and I placed, fastened and smoothed an American flag on each. They were all ex- military; they deserved the honor.

Vicky had never had to do something this difficult; people who we worked with, who worked for us and were guarding us were dead.

As we finished she broke down and in a hug cried on my shoulder and that was all it took for me to lose it. I whispered words of encouragement, sympathy and understanding to ease the grief that we both felt.
Today was bad and worse was yet to come.

It was recorded and broadcast by the media and hundreds of cell phones from the terminal building.

The coffins were stowed while the ambulances arrived. The six injured were carefully transferred to stretchers able to get through the plane door and then to the hospital beds that had been put on board.

Departure time was fifteen minutes away when Director Dorin arrived with the Prime Minister. We had a brief conversation and the usual series of photos. I needed a few to put in an album, not that I would need a reminder of the last few days. But I was sure I would never come here again.

Twenty minutes later we were in the air for the long flight home and the dreadful reunions on the tarmac.

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Book 2 Chapter 2
The day went downhill from there. Medics with the arriving IDF did the best they could do. Those in the most serious condition had been the first flown out. They put some foul smelling salve on back of Vicky and my neck then wrapped our necks with gauze. The stuff stank worse than the burnt hair.

Vicky and I stayed at the site until all my men were flown out. We were all carried to the trauma center at the huge Haifa medical center. It was one of the busiest trauma centers in the world because of all the continuing violence in the area.

We flew in the chopper with Director Dorin, “I don’t want anyone to know that we captured the two Iranians,” I told him.

As we got closer to Haifa my cell phone started working. I called the girls and Andy back on a conference call for an update; it had been two hours.

“General Ingram called and said we could get the airworthy sealed coffins from the air base outside Tel Aviv. The 737 has been in the air for about thirty minutes. We removed a lot of seats and there is hospital equipment and staff on board. Doc Burns and two of his doctors and several nurses are on board. Two of the county med units EMTs with equipment are on board,” Marcy said.

“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?” Jenny asked.

I ended the call by saying we were landing and we were. They wanted me to lie on a stretcher but that was not happening, not with my neck so I sat on a gurney as they wheeled Vicky and me in.

Word had been leaked out to the media; they were there in force. My worst nightmares were on display for the world to see live. My dead men were being transferred to the hearse, the severely injured being rushed into the trauma center.

I asked the doctor about the condition of the first three men sent in. He shook his head and said, “It was too late, the injuries too severe.”

“I need to see the bodies, NOW,” I replied.

A Mossad agent walked me to the morgue. I needed to verify who had died and that there was no mix up.

Tom, Alan and Walter – as I suspected – were covered with sheets and in the cooler. I walked out into the hall and made another gut wrenching call to the office.

“Get someone to the families; I want them to find out from us, not a news person. The procedure has been written out; act quickly,” I said.

The procedure was not that complicated; if they were members of a church call the minister to meet the JBG representatives at the residence; have the state police or sheriff’s office to send a unit to keep the neighbors from interfering. A JBG Representative was to stay the day to assist.

All of our HR people had the training on how to handle situations like this, always hoping you never needed it. Today we did.

I went back to the trauma unit to be check out and get updates. My burnt hair was clipped short on the back of my neck and the burn cleaned. Then they removed most of the shrapnel, put in multiple stitches and a better salve applied with new gauze and tape. At least this time my neck was not wrapped like a mummy.

I spent the next hour with men and my Mossad ladies. Like me, they had received only minor injuries compared to some of the men. The six seriously injured and the two Iranians would be able to travel back if all the right equipment and staff were on the plane. The trauma team would not release them until that was verified. The rest of us were discharged, free to leave. The Mossad agents were carrying us to the hotel.

The two Iranians had kicked up such a stink demanding diplomatic privileges that the staff had heavily sedated them; they were out for the count.

I had told Lorrie to send a C130 for them. I wanted them to have a long and bumpy, painful plane ride to Morton to meet the Doc.

Director Dorin handed me a bag as Vicky and I stepped into the helicopter, “This is all the things collected off the two Iranians. You are going to be surprised who you have. Ben said I should ask for an invitation to participate in the interrogation.”

“Monday night Morton, 6 PM sharp”, I replied.

I had the drivers drop me and my remaining security at the US embassy. The next few hours was going to be tied up on MTAC and VCATS.

The first hour was with the girls, it was rough. All the families had been notified and as expected, that did not go well.

With that part of this terrible day past us it was time to put together a news conference that included facts. Washington was still struggling with third hand information; first from the Israeli embassy to the US embassy, then to Washington. I would soon end that. The Israelis had been slow to respond at my request since we were picked up.

With the girl’s help I worded the statement for the news conference and the pictures of the destroyed convoy we were riding in. Once we were finished I added the White House to the call.

I only wanted to tell the chain of events once. When I was finished, the White House decided it would hold off the day’s press conference and do a live feed from the JBG conference with Ching Lee and pick it up from there.

Andy wanted to send a complete new group of security for us. I shot that idea down; we already had too many planes involved in this venture. I was going to take ten from the JBG detachment at the Israel embassy and the Mossad was going to supply ten more. We were only going to be here until Saturday afternoon – a day and a half – we had it covered.

My G5 was staying until the six in the hospital could come home on it.

Back at the hotel room we watched Ching Lee’s press conference and then Harry’s update. Then we watched the local news coverage and their slant on the attack.

Then – for a different prospective – we watch Al Jazeera news and got the other opinion with a chanting mob in the streets of Beirut.

Finally after a solemn supper I opened the bag of items taken off the two Iranian prisoners and started reading. Oh crap!

I reread it all again. Double crap!

It was then that Director Dorin called on the phone; he was in the lobby and wanted to see me.

“We have a problem he said.

“Just one; is that all?” I asked.

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Proof read by Bob W.

In the process of falling out the door I grabbed at an M16 that was in a rack. It had a bandoleer of loaded clips attached to it. I had grabbed several slings instead of one. I had fallen beside Vicky just as all hell broke loose over us.

The Humvee disintegrated, the doors and top landing barely past us. The same happened to the rest of them. We were wearing IDF supplied body armor and helmets. The heat and fire from the explosion over us was so intense that it had set Vicky’s hair that was not under the helmet on fire. I was trying to put it out.

I could smell and feel my hair and skin on the back of my neck burning from the flash and shrapnel.

I looked around and my men were lying on the ground. They had either made it out of the Humvees or were blown out. Some of them were moving; a temporarily good sign I hoped.

The terrorists had started shooting with small arms again. I started pulling my men away from the burning vehicles and down the embankment out of the line of fire. The Humvees were high clearance making it easy for us to be picked off under them if we stayed beside the burning vehicles.

Vicky was helping and so were some of my men as soon as their heads cleared from the blast. Of the sixteen JBG men with us six were dead and I was unsure if three more would make it. Several had started first aid on the injured.

Those of the IDF in the front armored truck were all dead. They had been trapped because they were unable to open the rear doors to escape; those that survived the explosion were burned to death.

Four of the six IDF drivers of the Humvees were alive and were desperately trying to get help.

The terrorists started chanting then demanding we throw out our weapons and surrender.

We did not need to have a discussion about that; it was not happening.

I threw the bandoleer over my shoulder, picked up one of the M16s and made my way along the embankment until I was hidden by the wheels of one of the Humvees. Then I made my way up the bank to hide behind the wheel to look under the Humvee.

There were about thirty insurgents slowly making their way towards us. Along with them were several men in uniforms that were out of place. They reminded me of pictures I had seen of foreign advisers to various factions, Russians to the Afghanistan’s, Chinese to the Viet Cong and North Korea, the US to South Viet Nam.

Back with my men we dragged the injured further away behind rocks and formulated a plan. We left the dead lying where they were for decoys. We had an M16 for each of us that were able.

I had seven of my men including Ed – Bill was one of the dead, five IDF and their commander were in the first vehicle among the dead – plus Vicky and me. The IDF – all of private or corporal rank – quickly decided they were going to follow my orders.

I left four of my men to protect the wounded, that left ten to carry on the fight until reinforcements arrived. I sent two to each end of the remains of the convoy to make sure that no one slipped around the end to pick us off.

The six of us worked the embankment until we could be hidden by the large wheels of the vehicles and play dead. When the insurgents were close enough we would roll left and right and shoot around the tires.

“Do not kill the two uniformed ones unless you have to; take their legs out,” I ordered.

It was a waiting game that I detested so much; if I was going to die, bring it on.

They were moving closer, yelling for us to come out and surrender. They were occasionally putting rounds into the burning vehicles.

“Go ahead, waste your ammunition,” I thought, “It will be that much less to shoot at me.”

Off in the distance I could hear helicopters and other heavy equipment coming. If they were going to come and get us they better do it soon so they can get back across no man’s land.

They heard the helicopters and threw caution to the wind. They decided to storm the vehicles looking for survivors and possible prisoners and ran towards us.

They were fifty feet away when I yelled, “NOW,” all of us rolled and started firing.

We had caught them by surprise; they must have thought we were all dead or injured by our silence. A minute later they were all on the ground, many of them dead or dying.

The two in uniforms were on the ground trying to crawl back in the direction they had come from; their legs would no longer hold them.

“Let’s go make sure they are dead,” I yelled.

There was no need. All of them were dead, my men and I had vented our anger on them. As it was I had used two clips on them, shooting some while they were on the ground; if they moved I put a three shot burst in their body.

I stepped on the hand of the first uniform and removed a sidearm from his hand; it was a nice one with lots of gold inlay and ivory grips. I removed the clip and the round from the chamber and put the items into a pocket on my gear.

I tied both hands behind his back and then he was screaming and yelling as I rolled him over, bleeding from both legs. I put tourniquets on both legs and pulled them tight. All those straps and cords on the combat vest of the IDF came in handy.

I finally had a chance to take a good look at him; there was Iranian IRG patches on the uniform and he had full set of General stars on the collar; he was a Major General.

“You’re an American, what are you doing here?” he asked in Persian.

“I was on vacation but I guess I am working now. What the hell are you doing here besides getting ready to fill a coffin?” I asked in Persian.

Ed had done the same thing to the other one; he was a Colonel.

Ed went to check the area they had come from to see if there any vehicles or other men waiting; he arrived at the top of the hill in time to see a cloud of dust. The drivers had abandoned their officers.

By now there were helicopters landing and IDF trucks coming. When they arrived I had time to finally sit down and get my thoughts together.

I called the girls and paged Andy to the call when they were all on line.

“We were attacked again, Bill, Brad, Sandy, Chaffee, Manfred and Harold are dead. Tom, Alan and Walter are critical; I doubt they will make it. Six more are seriously wounded. Vicky and I – well, the rest of us have all have some injuries.”

“Send a jet capable of getting us and the caskets home. Have it land at Tel Aviv; put a rush on it,” I said.

Just as I was about to say more the arriving IDF forces raked the hillside with heavy machine gunfire.

“Call you later when I know more,” as I hung up.

There was a line of helicopters picking up the wounded and dead. I had lost men before but this hurt.

We had dragged the two Iranians closer so there would be no mistake in them getting killed accidentally. It was going to be a slow painful death for them.

A General had arrived and Director Dorian of the Mossad, “Stop the bleeding on the Iranians, don’t bother to do a whole lot else. I want them to go back to America with me; they are my prisoners. Ben-David can help with the interrogation there. I will get more out of them in day there than you can in a month here,” I said.

“We have notified your government that you were attacked, they want you to call,” he replied.
My satellite phone had been constantly ringing. I finally turned it off a while ago.

I called Troy, “Six dead, three critical and won’t make it, the rest of us are wounded or injured.” The IDF was raking the hills again at things they saw moving – or not – as I hung up the phone without saying anything else.

I took pictures of the burning and damaged vehicles; I knew there would be questions. I also walked around to take pictures of the dead insurgents. The IDF was doing the same thing.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

Book 2 starts tomorrow hopefully.

The flight to Tel Aviv was four hours long; it was dark when we arrived at Ben Gurion International Airport. I had called Ben-David before we left Madrid so he could inform his friends that I would be seeing them tomorrow morning.

I wanted another night of rest. The ribs were better as long as I was careful.

We landed on the main runway and were headed for the general aviation terminal when we were diverted to park in front of what was obviously an IDF (Israel Defense Forces) hanger. As the plane engines shut down and the APU fired up the place was flooded in light; I wondered what was going on.

Police and Mossad agents were assembling outside as Ed and my security detail exited the plane first to set up positions – as was now the new order of the day. Ed located the agent in charge for discussions and then the VIPS began to appear.

While that was going on I called the office on VCATS to talk with the girls. Marcy was first, “I just got off the phone with Ben-David, and he booked rooms for me, for all of your team at ‘The Norman Tel Aviv’ on the top floor. I approved payment,” Marcy replied.

I asked Jenny how the boys were doing and was glad to see them recognize me on the VCATS. It was amusing to see them trying to tell me the things they had done today in little boy gibberish. One day soon they were going to connect thoughts to words and make real sentences and then we would be in trouble.

I got to see Takeo and Sara napping in Ching Lee and Lorrie’s arms after just nursing.

“Robert said he wants to talk to you if you call in. I just paged him,” Marcy said.

“BJ, can you talk for a minute?” Robert asked.

“A quick minute, yes,” I replied.

“You were right, the sex site is coming productive. The initial part of the planning was made today. We have figured out the part of the sequencing patterns they are using.”

“Some of the travel plans for the women were arranged today. They are going to be interviewed in Paris France for poise and charm in two weeks. They have a training facility in the Muslim only section of the city. The best ones will be kept there for enhanced training,” Robert said.

“They made mention that the other sites would be announced soon,” Robert added.

“OK, that keeps things moving forward. Keep up the good work!” I replied as I closed the window.

Adriyel Dorin, who was deputy director of Mossad and Ben David’s boss, was one of the people. Eli Distel was director of the secret police was the other and they were the first to come into the plane. Both of them treated me like I was a long lost friend, lightly shaking my hand for the longest time and a gentle hug.

“Ambassador Dansky, Ben and others speak highly of your cunning, determination, skills and no fear attitude. Also, there were the rumors of the exploits of your organization. I’m looking forward to spending time talking with you,” Director Dorin said.

“That conversation can go both ways; it will be a pleasure,” I replied with a smile.

Another was US Ambassador to Israel, Mitchell Brown; after talking with Ed he came into the plane.

“We will have a security convoy take you to your hotel; I expect that you still need some rest after your ordeal yesterday. I was told your office has made the necessary arrangements,” Eli said.

“Yes, they have and I appreciate the escort,” I said.

“I still expect to follow the schedule that agent David and I worked out for my stay,” I said.

“I will see you at the embassy tomorrow Ambassador Brown,” I added.

The cars had pulled up to the plane to take us to the hotel. Vicky and I rode in a limo with Adriyel and Eli. Ed had worked out the schedule for his men to guard the plane while we were here.

“Never trust your enemies but watch friends with an open eye just as closely,” was a saying a distinguished diplomat once told me.

The Norman Tel Aviv was another five star hotel. The service was impeccable. As soon as I walked in the door and confirmed who I was there was a rush of busboys to carry our bags; one for each of us.

In the room they demonstrated how the TV, internet and everything else worked. Then they went over how to order from room service and an explanation of the menu items.

A very long hot shower and Vicky and I were out to meet the men in the restaurant for a late supper. I just did not want room service tonight. I guess that I was feeling a lot better. I was looking forward to doing things at the Mossad training center.

In that light I had the doctors in Portugal send the electronic scans to Doc Burns, so I called him.

“BJ, what they indicated was a crack is a healed crack from a previous fight you have been in. It is in x-rays from four years ago. There is calcification that indicated that had it has healed. I don’t know why he thought it was a fresh crack. Let’s see how sore you are from the bruising and let that determine what you can do,” Doc Burns said.

“One other thing BJ, I have used your Fort Smith first aid center to assist in an interrogation for the task force. Marcy approved it. We are to finish tonight. They want to pay me directly; I would rather you pay me and have you bill them. I do not want payments from the government intelligence services to show up on my books. I work for you only with this kind of project and want to keep it that way,” Doc Burns added.

“No problem, I will take care of it. We need you to continue working with us,” I replied.

Dinner was fabulous! Vicky and I both slept soundly. At 0500 we were in the restaurant having breakfast with a group of VIP’s from the Mossad, the US embassy and my men.

After breakfast we were carried to a secret facility in a closed meeting on terrorism. The meetings lasted all day and into the evening. I was careful what I shared and I know they were. We both had levels of classification restrictions we did not cross.

‘Trends’ was a repeated word in the talks; it was the new focal point everywhere. We all faced them because the terrorists were sharing the design of the things they were making and communications that also worked.

They were using social media, Twitter, Face book, YouTube, x tube, adult video sites – anywhere they could post and get away with it even for a short time before the agencies shut them down. Complete instruction on homemade explosives and how to build bombs were online on multiple sites.

When one site was taken down the information was posted elsewhere in a matter of hours. The task force had been lobbying for laws to allow sites to be taken down faster but Congress and the courts were stonewalling.

As soon as a new tactic appeared, in days or weeks multiple countries faced them. There were stabbings, shootings, attacks on groups of people by cars, the motorcycle bombs and a number of others that were kept from the media until they could be properly researched and evaluated.

The motorcycle bombs had been improved with help from a chemist somewhere; before they were a nuisance, now they were extremely powerful. They had not shown up in the US yet but France and Germany had seen six in the last two weeks.

I was surprised at the number of attacks that were not making the media. I was even more surprised at the growing list of materials that were easily available in the supermarket and hardware stores that were being made into bombs and chemical weapons.

The days of chlorine and battery acid were long past even though they were still being used.
It wasn’t just the homemade explosive components; there were also methods of getting them into high traffic areas where there would be high numbers of casualties.

Backpacks and pressure cooker bombs were losing out to more sophisticated methods in the coming attacks in developed countries.

Another advance the terrorists were taking advantage of was the big step in electronics for timing and triggering devices. The wind up dryer timer with limited set time had lost out to miniature programmable triggers the size of a thimble that allowed devices to be put in place days in advance without large batteries and bulky wiring and were easily concealed.

Super explosives were being supplied by China, Russia, Iran and North Korea that made even very small devices even more deadly.

Then there was the big advance in wireless technology that was transferable from TV remotes and other domestic appliances. The garage door remote and cell phone were no longer alone. Components were being taken from remote control toys or even being bought as kits from hobby shops, Amazon, eBay and others to trigger bombs. They were small, reliable, effective and cheap.

The world was led to believe that with the downfall of ISIS that the labs had been destroyed and their scientist and weapons experts killed or captured. That was clearly not so; somewhere there was an extensive lab providing research for the terrorists.

I was sure I knew where it was originating, it was the same organization that was building the dark web sites and partnering with the remnants of Al Qaida, Hamas and Hezbollah and others.

I had boxes of samples, pictures, and instructions to take back to Maryland with me. The JBG training programs were going to require massive updates as well as finding suitable countermeasures for the embassy security groups.

Some of the information would be shared in an appropriate time and manner with the federal agencies. The issues and problems were doing it in a fashion so that the hackers couldn’t determine the source of the information. I knew the federal agencies would be hacked.

Wednesday evening there was bad news from Ben. In Chicago there had been a large house explosion in the slums. At first it was thought to be a meth lab explosion. The investigation revealed some chemicals not used in meth production.

When he read me the list I knew they were making bombs. The chemicals were the new combinations I had learned about today. The meth lab was used to generate money to build bombs. I suspected the interactions of either disposing waste in the same container or vapor interactions caused the explosion.

Either way, we would never know; everyone in the house was dead, either burned to death or killed by the explosion. The rooms where the office was had burned up completely. The investigation would take months that we didn’t have; if there was one there, how many was any one’s guess.

Thursday we spent the day at the Mossad training center; I had recovered enough to actively participate. I learned a lot and so did my men; the trainers had new things to teach in the retraining and recertification at Fort Smith. It was a productive and rewarding day. Tired and sore, I had a state dinner and an hour on VCATS with the girls ending the day.

Friday was sightseeing. We started early; there were dozens of places Vicky and I wanted to see, the Western wall, the Temple Mount, the historic ruins, the Dead Sea, Jerusalem and the many old cities. We spent all day on the road under the watchful eye of the Mossad.

To see those places and to walk the paths of prophets, I could feel the history. To see the places in the bible stories from when I was little was moving. So many people had died over such a small piece of ground and would continue to until the earth burned to a crisp. Wars and the rumors of wars till the end of time.
It was well after dark when we called it a night at the motel.

Friday morning we started again going first to the US embassy and then to IDF facility to meet our escorts for the day who were from the IDF and Mossad. Today’s equipment was Israeli modified Humvees and a couple of recent additions to the IDF fast response unit.

They looked like a cross between the newer American wheeled armor vehicle and the German version but with a lot more fire power. They were to lead and be the last vehicle in the convoy with me and my men in the middle.

First we went south to the Gaza strip for a tour of the checkpoints and the tunnels that were always in the news. After several hours inspecting Gaza we headed north along the coast to Haifa and Acre to meet some people they thought I should meet and to have lunch.

Then we went across the northern border with Lebanon where Hezbollah was launching rocket attacks against Israeli cities and had cross border excursions. Then we went on to the DMZ with Syria and on to the Golan heights.

It was here that things went bad. We were traveling on a built up road with a slight ravine to the right that was used for patrols, when an anti-tank rocket took out the lead vehicle. By the time everything had stopped we were all bunched together when another anti tank rocket took out the rear heavily armored vehicle. It was the classic tactics used against most military convoys in Afghanistan and Iraq when I was there.

The sides of the Humvees were now being riddled with small arms fire. The drivers were trying their best to break us out of the jam.

I looked out the side window to see six terrorists standing with RPGs several hundred meters away. These armored HumVees could handle small arms but not RPGs. I watched and I saw the puffs of smoke indicating they were being fired and the projectile on its path towards us.

Seconds to live and that was all.

“GET OUT, GET OUT!” I screamed as I pushed Vicky out the door; we weren’t going to make it out in time.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

This is the end of book one. I would like to thank Alfmeister and Bob W. for their great work making my story into a great story that people wanted to read.

I would also like to thank Joe H. for his critique of many of the early chapters and continued encouragement and comments.

I want to say thanks to all the readers that sent emails – some 4000 over the length of the story, some critical, a few outright abusive. The majority were supportive, encouraging and helpful.

Book two will be a continuation of plot and characters and will answer some of the email questions. It will tie some loose ends together and bring the story to a close.

Thanks again to all.
Jack

There was real security on the steps now. I counted thirty five of the forty JBG embassy security force lining the steps in full JBG issue gear that was used for hostage rescue. It was complete body armor with helmets. They were carrying MP5s or M16s.

If I didn’t hurt so badly, I would have been doubled over laughing although I shouldn’t. Ambassador Taylor was standing outside the door in gear, vest and a helmet that was at least two sizes too big for him. He was about as out of place as a donkey at a cattle auction.

“My god BJ, are you all right? They did not tell me you were shot twice; they just said to get over here,” Taylor said.

“I’ll live,” I replied as Calvin and James picked me up and started down the steps.

At the bottom of the steps there was an ambulance with a stretcher behind it waiting with my six uninjured bodyguards. In front of the ambulance were three of the embassy cars; the Suburbans and another car were behind.

All of this and my bloodied jacket were captured by the media pool that had grown tremendously. By the time I was down to the stretcher I was surrounded by my security as they moved down with me, nearly cutting off visual access to me.

There was a quick convoy trip to the hospital with police escort. Then there was a quick trip to x-ray. While I and all the guards who would fit were waiting on the results, I watched my exit from the Presidential Palace on the lobby TV in Portuguese.

No broken ribs, just bruised and one partial crack. A surgeon came in and looked at the two puncture wounds. He stitched them up and then covered them with a large Band-Aid. He gave me a tube of ointment then sent me on my way.

Thirty minutes later we were back at the embassy, just in time to watch Ching Lee give the news conference.

I called into the office and dictated an update to be given to Ching Lee so she could finish out the news conference.

An MTEC call to the White House was on order and lasted an hour before I finally ended it. Dick James was going to notify the Spanish Secretary of State that I would be in his country in a couple of hours and stay overnight for a visit to the US embassy tomorrow.

The US Vice President was rerouted to attend the funeral of the Vice Prime Minister.

Dick booked the entire floor for me and my security – including those on the way – at a Madrid five star hotel the diplomats used.

I should have rested for a day in Lisbon but given the events and the escalating rhetoric in the local media, I thought it best if I left ASAP.

The local media was pressing for an interview. Then there were others demanding to know how this could happen in their diverse city. Then there was other group demanding that I be held responsible for agitating the extreme factions of the populace under obscure laws that had been put into place.

My plane was being readied for takeoff and the flight plans were getting filed. The plane Andy sent with the additional men would be landing before we took off to make the man-power swap. The four injured men were going back home and the extra men with me.

Once the swap was made the flight to Madrid was an hour with another hour to get through customs. This time there were no surprises; thirty of the JBG employees of the US embassy Madrid were on hand plus the sixteen with me and Vicky.

Media appeared while we were waiting; the only thing they got were pictures at a distance. Ambassador Martin Mills arrived with several Spanish officials who were with him.

In Spanish they asked, “Is there anything you need? We have been assigned to assist your security and fill any request they or you have.”

In fluent Spanish I replied, “Neither I nor they have any special needs at the time. I am tired and sore; I intend to order a meal and retire for the evening. I do not want to be disturbed unless there is an emergency. I will begin to fulfill the needs of my trip here tomorrow and try to answer any questions or concerns your government has if they get them to me by 1400 hrs. I will be at the US embassy.”

The embassy motorcade – along with a police escort – delivered us to the ‘Hotel Unico Madrid’; it was the most expensive hotel in Madrid and I was paying for the whole penthouse floor.

The cheap rooms here were a five hundred a night; I could only imagine what the top floor was costing.
Spanish police were in the lobby, standing guard at the elevator, in the elevator and on the penthouse floor when the elevator stopped and we stepped off. My men picked rooms; there were enough for them to each have a room if they wanted it.

Vicky and I took the honeymoon suite; Ed and Bill took the rooms on each side. Ed and Bill worked out a duty schedule to patrol the hall. Even with the Spanish police there, they were taking no chances.

I had a hot bath in a huge heart shaped tub with Vicky; she was joining me to wash the parts that I could not wash because of the pain. I sat in a huge easy chair and rested.

Vicky brought me the menu from room service. I ordered a fancy named salad, a steak and seafood combo with hot apple pie that included vanilla ice cream, wine and a beer; three hundred and ninety dollars. This was a once in a lifetime stay here for me and my men. They were told to order anything they wanted off the menu.

I called home and talked with the girls; it was good to hear their voices. Ching Lee and I talked at length about the press conference and the question and answer series after. I thought she had done an excellent job and said so repeatedly.

We talked at length about how Takeo was doing and I spent an equal time talking with Lorrie about Sara and Lorrie’s day.

Marcy, Jenny, Jason, Dad and Jake were gone to the Commissioners meeting; tonight was the final comment period and the vote to approve the truck stop and dealership.

As expected the retirement community had threatened to fight the project but reasonable arguments won out. Of course, there was money to pay for more noise abatement on their property and they were now happy.

I took some Tylenol and then Vicky and I went to bed.

Fortunately I rested better than I expected and my natural clock didn’t make the time zone change very well. I was up at 0500 Eastern Standard Time but it was 1000 here. Room service still delivered breakfast; I didn’t bother to look at the check.

At 1030 the motorcade carried us to the embassy and the routine questions began again. This time I had some help; Ed had sat in on some of the interviews at Lisbon and quickly brought Bill up to speed on what I was after. They were recording the interviews so I could watch them later if I needed to.

The interviews proved that nearly the same identical scenario was being played out with the US Spanish embassy. Ambassador Conley was a long time public servant with decades of service but the deputy Ambassador was again appointed by a previous administration. Deputy Ambassador Faisal Hamad conducted the interviews under the same pretense as had been done in Lisbon.

Jesse Hibbs had conversations with Thad and followed his lead on placing our own secret camera in the interview room. I had more videos to get facial recognition to work with.

Now I decided that I needed to search the State Department database and determine just how many deputy Ambassadors had been appointed by that administration and find where they were working and what duties were assigned to them.

I was willing to bet the problems in Egypt and Morocco were of the same making. Heck with it; I sent Robert a text to have someone do it for me and send me the report.

Just before my 1400 deadline it was announced that there were a group of individuals from the Spanish government in the embassy lobby to see me.

The six of them were cleared so they were led to the meeting room off the lobby.

Spain is ruled by a Constitutional Monarchy with a King, the actual government is run by the council of ministers.

Six of those ministers who dealt with security, immigration and travel were seated around the fancy table. We talked for two hours about the new trends in tactics the terrorists were using and new communication methods they were employing. I based my responses and statements on how free they were being with equal information.

When I asked if there were any evidence with the terrorists they had captured of involvement with the dark web, there were glances around the table. The man in charge responded they had found no evidence. I knew they were lying and I closed that line of discussion.

Spain was faced with similar problems as the US. The King wanted the country to greet thousands of immigrants with open arms while the majority of the public were left to deal with increasing crime and expected intolerance, the disrespect, crowding and to pay the Bill. The immigrants expected and demanded that their wants and special needs be provided for.

My G5 was ready when I got to the airport for the flight to Tel Aviv. Vicky and I were going to spend three days there.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

People were scrambling everywhere trying to get out of the line of fire. I pushed Vicky to the marble steps just as two rounds hit me in the chest. I had turned to face the gunfire pulling my Glock. I hoped the vest had stopped them from penetrating; it was hard to tell, I was hurting so much.

Abra and Farah had attempted to shield Vicky with their bodies. Vicky was having none of it. She had pulled her Glock and was responding. Ed was starting to do the same to me until he realized I was shooting at the people with the AK’s. I picked one and put four rounds into his body before he fell.

The AK fire was responded to by handgun fire that I recognized as more 40 cal from my bodyguards. There were other smaller caliber weapons being fired but very few.

The AK fire ceased after a few seconds that seemed like an hour. Ed and the others who had been shielding us picked me up and hustled us inside the building, but not before I took a quick glance around.

There was blood everywhere, splattered over the front of the palace and on the marble steps. The Vice Prime Minister and several others who I had just shaken hands with were dead.

Inside a quick count and we were all still alive. Several of my men had taken rounds in the vest. The security detail was wearing the heaver vest. Four of my men had flesh wounds in the legs from near misses. Vicky was unscathed. She had emptied a full clip at two of the shooters as had everyone in my security detail.

I was sitting on a table with my blood seeping through my jacket. Ziva and Vicky helped me take the jacket, blouse and vest off to look at me. When they pulled the vest off I screamed, it hurt so bad.

Prime Minister Cordeiro had made it without getting hit and was standing there watching. He was yelling for his staff to find his doctor.

The light vest had both rounds imbedded in it. The bullets had gone through far enough that the points and force of the impact had deeply punctured my flesh and I was bleeding. If I had been twenty feet closer I would have been dead.

I had Vicky taking pictures of my wounds and the blood running down my breast, and the attempts to stop the bleeding. I was sure there would be plenty of people wanting damage assessment.

After ice packs and dressing to apply pressure to stop the bleeding, I listened as my men described what they had seen and done.

I sent Ziva and Ed – along with a couple other men – to check the shooters; I wanted all the information they could get before the Portuguese police closed down everything.

William returned with the portable fingerprint scanner; it was one of the staples that were packed with the bag of security tools wherever we went any more.

Ed took pictures of them and everything in their pockets and all their tattoos while Ziva took fingerprints. Robert would have all of it in just a few minutes.

All of our phones were ringing; my State Department phone was indicating it was the President calling. I answered the call.

“What the hell is going on there?” he asked.

“You sent me into a trap,” I replied.

I knew he knew nothing, I doubted anyone other than the four individuals involved knew anything. I suspected this was a thrown together plot against the Portuguese Prime Minister and me being there was the icing on the cake. They couldn’t have known I was going to be there unless there was a spy in Prime Minister Cordeiro’s inner staff. That was always a possibility.

There was a long silence. “I had no idea anything was going to happen. Are you OK?”

“I have been better and worse, I was hit twice in the chest and I am still bleeding as we talk; four of my men were also hit. I have more security on the way within an hour. I will keep you informed,” I said as I ended the call.
The bleeding had stopped and Vicky was applying gauze dressings and tape. The doctor was busy with my four men. Two were going to be transported to the hospital; there were indications that the bullets had hit bone and they needed to check for shrapnel.

Then the doc turned his attention to me and after removing the dressing and pushing and probing, he decided that I needed x-rays to check for broken ribs. The impact of those bullets hitting the light vest was like getting hit with a baseball bat.

While we were waiting for the hospital arrangements I called the office back. The attack was on all the news channels.

An official statement needed to be made. The six of us worded a public statement to be sent to all JBG locations and employees. That statement was to be sent moments before Ching Lee went live at the news conference.

Ching Lee was to send a press release to all media outlets that there would be a news release and press conference at JBG headquarters in two hours. I told her to send the release to Troy, Dick and Ben so they could watch ZNN because I knew they would break all records to get someone there.

Vicky was talking to Jenny, Lorrie, Ching Lee, and Marcy using the computer on a VCATS call on my portable office. She had already sent the pictures to the office while she was talking.

I called Andy and filled him on his injured men. Then I gave specific orders, “Send ten more security in a G5 ASAP; the injured men will return on the plane. Ziva has sent all the evidence collected, have Robert put a rush on it,” I said.
The place had turned into a madhouse outside; the ambulances had carried away the wounded. The dead had been covered with tarps until the bodies could be removed.

The Vice Prime minister, the Economic minister, the Cultural Affairs minister, chief of the palace police, minister of the national police, and two deputy ministers were all killed. There were eight others who had some form of injury; many were going to cause permanent disabilities. With so many of the Portuguese government dead I was sure they were the intended targets.

Ed removed the two bullets from the vest so I could put it back on; he handed me the bullets, “You may want to keep these and count your good fortune.”

There were blood stained holes in my blouse and my jacket. I did not want people to see where I had been shot but I had no other jackets with me.

The media was in a rage; several were dead including the ZNN reporter and several from local news outfits. One of the terrorists at the last seconds of life had turned and sprayed the assembled news persons and crowds with fire in an attempt to kill as many innocents as possible.

There was always the possibility that stray bullets fired by my team and I and the police had gone wild into the crowd. This was going to get ugly.

The Prime Minister and his remaining officials had retreated to a nearby room trying to establish order, a response and continue the job of governing.

Vicky, Ed, and I did the same thing; we decided to return immediately to the embassy after the hospital visit, where we could communicate with Washington and my command center by video.

The Suburbans were brought back to the front of the palace. I was getting ready to walk out when Calvin Masters and James Carson from the night shift – another brute from the embassy security team – came wearing gear. I knew who Calvin’s gym partner was now.

“No, you are not walking out! We are carrying you out in a two man arm lift.” I was not going to argue with either of them as bad as I was hurting. I was worried about who might be outside.

When the door opened and they started to carry me out the door I had my first good look outside, “Holy crap!”

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

When I keyed up the MTAC call, Dick James – the Secretary of State – was already on the split screen with Troy and the President on the other side.

“What are you doing in Portugal?” the President asked.

“I am fulfilling contract obligations in our State Department contract, plus investigating complaints from my security teams. You are not going to like the results of the investigation report; there are serious problems to be addressed connecting embassy personnel to terrorists,” I replied.

“The Portuguese Ambassador is raising hell that you are holding meetings with other foreign dignitaries and that they were not notified or invited. He is on his way over here now demanding answers and to file an official complaint. What kind of meetings did you conduct at the airport?” Dick asked.

“We were all in the customs area waiting to go through the process and they recognized me and wanted to talk and take pictures. I didn’t think it proper to tell them to go to hell; after all they do vote with us some of the time at the UN. It was just general conversations about general topics,” I replied.

“When are you coming back?” Troy asked.

“Not for a week; I have three other embassies in the area with the same style complaints to check out, along with a courtesy visit and sightseeing tour of historic Israel before I head home. I intend to leave here and go to Spain after I interview the evening security team,” I replied.

“I have to step away to take a call from the Prime Minister of Portugal; stay on the line,” the President said.

While he was gone I gave a brief overview to the Secretary of State about what the investigation had reveled. He was as unhappy about the proceedings as I was.

“An operations assessment team just completed their work two months ago of the Portuguese embassy. There were minor problems but nothing reported like this,” Dick said.

“Who did your team interview? My men would have requested guidance from our office if they had been interviewed, especially if they thought they were going on the record. Our procedure is that they report operational concerns to us before they initiate actions there. Issues at one embassy certainly can involve other embassies. I received no request for guidance,” Vicky replied.

“I don’t know! If the directive was viewed as for leadership only, then the ball was dropped and we have horrible gaps in the assessment making it worthless. This assessment was result of the Korean embassy problem your people reported months ago. It was supposed to correct the problems that were brought to light there, yet problems continue it seems,” Dick said.

I did not tell Dick that I had with – the exception of a few – the videos of the interviews that Deputy Ambassador Barakat had done and green lighted their trip to America. I wanted Robert and the task force to run all of that through the systems. I wouldn’t be surprised to see a lot of the names already on the watch list.

We were still discussing the problem and how to deal with it when the President came back on the line, only to be interrupted.

Ambassador Taylor came busting through the door slamming it against the door stops, rattling the pictures on the wall into the MTAC center, “WHERE IN THE HELL IS THAT STUPID ASS BOSS OF YOURS AT?”

He came to a stop in front of the MTAC camera and screen; horrified when he realized who was on the screens.

“Just which boss do you want to talk to since you interrupted a classified private conversation?” I asked.

“Karl does the in-use light work on the outside of the door?” I asked.

“Yes Ma-am, checked at the beginning of each shift,” he replied.

I started to stand up.

Troy was yelling from behind the President, “BJ, don’t hurt him! He did not use any of the four letter words, just rough him up a little.”

“Taylor, sit down and shut up,” Dick ordered him.

“BJ – as you probably know – the Portuguese media has taken their total lack of information and blown it out the roof to damage the government; a little damage control is needed. Prime Minister Aleixo Cordeiro and I have discussed the situation and believe that a state visit to the presidential palace by you and Vicky is the best way to defuse the issue and smooth ruffled feathers.”

I hate to ask you to change your plans but can you make a visit to the palace for a discussion on terrorism with all the right individuals and a state dinner after? Prime Minister Cordeiro suggested 1700 hrs. I know it is an inconvenience; but please?” the President asked.

“Well, we will be there to smooth ruffled feathers, but you will owe me. I will send someone to get better clothes from the plane than what we are wearing. We did not expect to be doing state diners today,” I said with a smile.

“Dick – you and I need to have a face to face meeting when I get back; there are other issues you need to address ASAP and I’m not going into the details right now,” I said.

“I understand BJ; meeting at your office at the White House. BJ, will you excuse us while the President and I issue corrective verbal discipline, better known in lay circles as an ass chewing session with Taylor,” Dick said.

“Talk with you tomorrow,” I replied.

I sent part of the security team, two of the Mossad ladies and two men who would be our escorts for the evening back to the plane to get clothes suitable for Vicky and me to be at a state dinner. I was glad I asked all on this trip to bring at least two sets of upper crust clothing, just in case. You know that ‘Always be prepared’ scout motto comes in handy sometimes.

A text from Troy instructed that we were to go without Taylor. When he came out of MTAC he looked like a whipped puppy. Someone took the wind out of his sails.

“I’m sorry for barging in on your MTAC call. I have been recalled to Washington the end of next week for consultation meetings, one of which I was told that you are going to conduct. Troy instructed that I should stay at least out of arms reach of you for the time being,” Taylor said and then quickly left.

There were several more calls from the White House setting up the fine touches on my first state visit as guest of honor- or the pig in the barrel – depending on the point of view.

At 1630, the designated time arrival our convoy consisting of our two Suburbans and six Portuguese federal police and other cars stopped at the elaborate steps to the Presidential Palace.

The steps were filled with all kinds of reporters and dozens of TV cameras I even saw ZNN’s European unit. There were so many reporters that I was glad I was wearing the thin heavy duty vest that I liked so well.

A flash from my memory reminded me that not long ago an assassin had infiltrated the press pool at an affair similar to this one to kill a politician and was successful. Pig in the barrel may have been an appropriate thought after all.

There were dozens of palace police and I saw no weapons on any of them, other than the ceremonial sword. They were lined up on the steps, some facing the crowds and some facing us, giving us a clear path to the top of the steps where we were to meet and do the public greeting for the media.

My security exited the vehicles first and walked with us to the top steps to greet Prime Minister Cordeiro and a dozen assembled officials; all of them wanting to make the best of the free PR.

Vicky and I shook hands and were having a ‘how are you conversation’ with Prime Minister Cordeiro and the Vice Prime Minister when the distinctive automatic gunfire of several AK 47s erupted from down at the street level behind us. Bullets were ricocheting off the wall all around us.
Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.