Bjjonesmylife. Book 2

I talked for an hour with Robert and his team trying to figure out why the post and comments on the dark web site bothered me.

To me it looked like the post and the responses were too well scripted, and after a lengthy discussion Robert agreed. Robert suspected the posts were instructions and the replies were acknowledgment or request for clarification after viewing the post. If this were true, they had developed another or a series of encrypted codes to be used by fighters in different locations around the world.

Another area that I talked Robert into looking at was the sex slave for sale. Again there seemed to be something irregular about the wording of the descriptions on some of the posts and the questions submitted to the seller. There were also instructions and links to other dark web sites. I was betting that nothing good was carried out there.

Robert and I decided a new direction and approach was needed to the web sites and their posts. I was sure there was a new code and encryptions they were using. I also suspected that there was a connection between the poster and the blog responses as if they were one and the same; possibly leaders passing out orders.

Ben-David called and requested a meeting tonight with Robert and me after I returned to the office. I knew they had the links and was sure they had noticed the same thing by now.

I called Ben to come into my office. I needed to tell him both Bobbie and I were off tomorrow. Bobbie had left at noon; it was easy to tell she was looking forward to the weekend. Bobbie was to help Dan finish up the things so they could go with us to East Water Cay. We were planning on leaving at 0800.

We needed to plan for the four days next week that I would be here and then for transferring the chair to him.
We planned and talked about all the open investigations that still needed follow-up. Both of us needed to spend time with Alyssa to sign off cases on Monday. There was still the possibility of warrants if the investigators were done and Mike’s new and improved department was finished with the electronic investigation of email and text accounts.

We had been at it for two hours; it was 1400. With Bobbie gone I was answering my calls without the normal screening she did. I did not realize just how many calls came into the office that were just bull crap calls. I finally gave up and assigned one of the other clerks to answer the phones so Ben and I could get the work done.

We were interrupted by a knock on my closed office door. It was General Ingram. This time he pulled up a chair opposite the desk as Ben left.

“Here is the classified file that contains the full investigation into the missing and recovered nuclear materials, including the recovery by JBG.”

“Look it over when you have a chance. I have scheduled a meeting Wednesday morning – if it works into your schedule – to work out any changes on the recovery you think it needs before it is sealed forever,” he added.

“Who is he trying to kid; nothing is sealed forever in Washington,” I thought to myself.

The right media, the right judge and the public’s right to know eventually overrule the necessity of state secrets. The only way to guarantee anything was to feed all the copies into the shredder. I wondered how many copies there were of the completed report and folders of discovery notes that were used to put it together.

“The brown sealed folder in the back is a proposal we in the DOD would like you to review and give serious consideration to accepting. The President may think he has used the best of you and your organizations talents but we think only the surface has been touched,“ General Ingram said.

“I will look it over and let you know on Monday when I get back,” I replied.

It was time to go when the General left; I still needed to meet with Robert before supper.

As soon as I was in the Suburban I opened the sealed folder and started reading. The proposal was fifty pages long and interesting. I thought it would be just an extension of our existing Air Force contract. I was wrong; it was a lot more. I needed to do a slow read and then let the rest know, especially Jenny.

The ride home went fast as traffic was light. That was a miracle in itself.

The weather was going to be bad for the weekend with a major late March snow storm. I expected the roads and stores to be packed with people taking in provisions home for the long haul.

We girls were going out for supper tonight to the big Italian restaurant in Annapolis. We had not been out for dinner – other than the airport restaurant – for weeks; tonight was going to be different. The OPs team that normally drove me, drove all of us to the restaurant.

All the men and ladies that made the daily trip to Washington and their family had been invited. Those men and ladies had put in long varying hours and never complained; they were the same group that had weathered the attack on the highway. They had extracted revenge in South Africa as I had. In a few more days we could get back to normal.

I had rented the largest room and it was just big enough. Their wives and families were there already. For three hours we ate all kinds of Italian food and samplers accompanied by beer. It was the best time I had with the men in six months. I was determined there would be more.

At 0600 we were packing for our trip to East Water Cay; an hour later we were going through customs with all the others who were also going to the Cay. Dan and Bobbie were at Morton when we got there. I shepherded them through the line ahead of us. By going through prescreening at Morton, it would be a breeze to get through customs at Freeport International.

The girls and I along with the boys, Dan and Bobbie, were in the seats at the front of the plane. The girls and I made plans for the three day weekend. The first order of business was to meet with Tug while groups of the guests were carried to the cay.

It was during this conversation that I fully learned of Lorrie’s solution to the horrible hour van ride over much less than desirable road and then the boat ride from the big island to the cay.

Lorrie and Marcy had teamed up to buy a nearly new Sikorsky s92 executive helicopter. I listened while they told me of their plans and advantages of the purchase.

The S92 was set up with fourteen passenger executive seating and it would carry all the passengers that could make the trip in one of the G5’s; there was even some storage for reasonable amount of luggage. It had enough range to make the trip from Freeport to Miami Florida.

From Freeport to the Cay was fifteen minutes in the S92. Between the two of them, Lorrie saw the quick trip to the Cay for our high revenue guest and us.

Marcy saw paying sightseeing tours and passenger traffic to the other Cay’s, and there were plenty of those. Then there were possible flights to Florida for the well to do patrons of the Grand Bahamas that did not want to wait on scheduled flights or the hassle.

I could always count on Marcy to see a way to make money. I wondered if, in her desire to diversify the income streams, she was getting a little overzealous? I would soon have time to more closely watch that.

She even had a pilot and copilot rotation figured out; it would be two weeks in the sun doing a working vacation. It was volunteer duty; the three month roster filled up in the first hour.

We were on the ground parked at the general aviation terminal. We sent our paying guest through customs first and then on the chopper to the East Water Cay. That was where Ching Lee was waiting with Tammy Tittles to see if all the changes they had made and were planned would work out.

We met with Tug to complete the purchase of the three houses and two of the lots. We also reviewed the completed task list for the previous owners; they were ready to collect some of the escrow money.

While we were doing that, the rest of the group finished with customs and made the flight to East Water Cay. Just the five of us were left when we finished with Tug and the chopper was on the way back to pick us up.
Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

Not only did Kurt Allen step out of the elevator but also the town’s commissioners, town manager, Mayor and the head of the sewer and water department. They all were carrying files, folders and blueprints.

“Oh my, what have I gotten myself into,” I thought as we showed them to the meeting room.

The blueprints were maps they had drawn up today with the proposed location of the truck stop. The Mayor and town council obviously wanted to lock down an official agreement before anyone could stop it.

The town engineer – Charlie Backwater – had all the numbers and estimates for water and sewage flow for the project. They wanted to make me aware that there would need to be a pressure booster for the water supply and two pumping stations for the sewer.

I informed them that they did not have all the information on the proposal. I explained that the water for the site would be supplied from the Morton Field water tower. That would reduce the cost and what I wanted was to connect the Morton Field sewage and the truck stop to the plant.

Charlie countered and asked if we would be open to connecting the Morton water tower to the Qtown water system. One of the town’s wells was marginal and needed replacing at a cost of over a million dollars and two years worth of delays and permits. If the Morton water met state quality standards, Qtown would be willing to negotiate on the sewage treatment cost and pay the cost to run the fresh water pipe from Qtown to Morton.

I knew that Marcy would negotiate aggressively.

I also explained that I knew about the pumping stations and the extra cost associated with them was expected. Jake had told me that they would be needed.

I already knew that the water met the standards; it was tested quarterly because of the restaurant and the Crash Motel.

With the extra information they left and with the good faith check. They were going to start the plant upgrades immediately because of the long lead times. The town was going to begin the process with the state for the permits to place the pipe along the highway. A JBG contractor would install the pipes.

I was sure we could get it done a lot cheaper than letting the town getting it done, and then reimbursing them. Everybody likes to overcharge government and that never ending bucket of taxpayer cash.

Once the sewer pipes were in and operational, the town would accept the ownership of them and all maintenance costs for the sewage pipe and pumping stations. JBG would retain ownership of the fresh water pipes from Morton to the truck stop. It was a better deal than I had hoped.

The pumping stations would be built with the same equipment as the town already had; spare parts would be on hand in case of failures. I wanted no part of sewer repairs and keeping spare parts on hand.

The second meeting group had been from Cville; they were sitting in the lobby when the Qtown group left.

“Unless you change your sewage plans and the grant for the proposed site to the town of Cville, we are going to sue and tie your project up in court for years and also fight the zoning,” the town commissioners said.

“You will never get it built,” one of them added.

“You are the ones that eliminated yourselves from consideration and did it in the most public way on the county TV channel. The contracts have been signed. Our attorneys are prepared for anything you try to do. So go ahead – make my day – and I will make yours just as miserable! I’m sure the taxpayers will remember all of this in November,” I replied.

We spent two hours in the gym before going to the house, but not before refusing to give a statement to the media that came into the lobby, demanding that I do so about the torture allegations. I wish I had personally shoved Balthazar into the furnace against the President’s wishes. It was too late for that now.

I stopped by the EIT as we made our way through the basement headed home. Robert had a file tray for Vicky, Ching Lee and me for things that we needed to look at; critical things were handled by phone calls as soon as they were unencrypted.

The Iranian web sites were getting more active. Robert and his group were busy trying to find the ISP locations of those in the US that were posting or commenting on the sites. I read the pages and put them in my portable office to study tomorrow. There was something about them, but I could not put my finger on what it was.

I worked the smarter than smart phone all the way to Washington; by the time I arrived I had finally mastered the updated version. In the process I sent a text to Robert that I wanted him to call me closer to lunch.

I wanted to have time to reread the papers that he left me yesterday and try to figure out what made me uneasy about them.

When I stepped out of the Suburban, the media was at the fence yelling questions. I waved and walked inside.
This morning I was to testify for the last time in front of the Senate committees for the school and college security bill. The vote was on the schedule for 1400.

I spent the first hour in the Oval Office going over the latest developments from the UN and the media.
With an escort of Secret Service and FBI I made my way up the steps to the Senate, ignoring the herd of reporters trying to block my way.

I had three committees to give testimony to before noon. The first two were about the college security funding bill. The committees wanted clarification of some of the provisions and minor adjustments before the final votes. Things went smoothly and fast with those two.

The third one not so much; it was closed to the public. This was the last update I was to give to this National Security policy steering Senate committee.

I gave an overview of all the domestic terrorist attacks that resulted in mass casualties for the last eighteen months. There had been at least one attack a month until the Thanksgiving learning center raids. The US had been free of mass causality attacks for the last five months. There had been the cycle bombers but there had been no causalities with those.

I finished the overview and waited for the inevitable question and answer session, expecting the worst.

I was not disappointed. “Ambassador Jones, what to you attribute the last five month decline to?” Senator Hall asked.

“There are several factors, the first is that all the agencies are working much better as a single unit when It comes to terror related gathering of intelligence, response, investigations and sharing that information in a timely manner,” I replied.

“The second is we are taking every report of a potential attack as being a fact and devoting resources to it immediately to determine the credibility of the report. There was a time when the agencies waited for several tips or reports before devoting the resources. In today’s fast moving reality, waiting can cost lives,” I added.

“There have been reports of the task force using questionable means to get intelligence. Just how much information was gained from water boarding and other various tortures of prisoners?” Senator Kalhid asked.

“The task force is not in the business of interrogating prisoners. The arresting jurisdiction has custody. As for water boarding, past practices have pretty much proven the information gained to be unreliable and of little use by the time you go through multiple sessions to get it. That and also the fact that it is highly controversial,” I replied.

“Just what do you consider to be acceptable?” Senator Kalhid asked.

“Blasting the Simpsons into the cell 24/7 might get anyone to talk. If that did not work, 24/7 of Judge Judy surely would do the trick,” I replied to a chorus of laughter.

“Is the investigation into Senators and Representatives completed?” Senator Axle asked.

“No, those investigations are being expanded because of new Intel,” I replied.

“Just how many are being investigated? I question if the task force has the authority to investigate the hill. I believe that is to be investigated by the ethics committee,“ the Senator asked.

“I won’t give you an answer to that question and no, I won’t tell you if you are one of them,” I replied.

“Treason will be investigated by the task force, and our DOJ partners in an arena that carries the death penalty, not censure. However, I will tell you that it may be to the advantage of several dozen members of Congress to retain counsel experienced in such matters,” I replied as a hush fell over the room. One that a pin hitting the floor would have sounded like a MOAB; (Mother of all Bombs) being dropped in the street outside.

With that I left while they were still pondering my answer as well as looking at each other trying to guess the guilty parties. I had just entered Section Twelve when Robert called.
Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

The ride to 1600 Penn Ave was one of deep thought and work. I fiddled with the smarter than smart phone trying to work on emails. The thing seemed to have a mind of its own after Robert had deleted all the trash, unnecessary folders, completed the scan and updates.

It was just one more reason I hated the necessary evil of updates on the computer and the phone. They always changed something, creating a new learning process when I did not have time for it.

I kept thinking about the truck stop and dealership and wondered if I had handled it right. I was still wondering why all the county commissioners seemed to be on board so quickly.

I could only guess how badly the Cville town manager was getting his ass reamed this morning. His immediate response last night was a serious error on his part. It also prompted my announcement of the grant in retaliation for being interrupted. The grant was to be part of later private negotiations, but then I was worried that Qtown might jump and follow his lead. For the moment things were settled; tonight there may be whole a different take on things.

In Section 12 Ben had arrived before me and the first pot of coffee had just finished. I made the copier busy with the printouts Robert gave me last night.

In the talk over the first cup there Ben made no mention of being sworn in next Thursday afternoon and I did not bring it up. I wondered if Ben knew, or had that decision been made within the President’s inner circle in a planning session? That would certainly narrow down the possible leak.

Staying with the routine Troy, Frank, Eric and the President appeared at the door with a mug in hand.

“Come into my office; we need to have a private discussion.

“Ben, Frank; what have your agencies learned from the Prince’s computer? You have had them for two weeks now,” I asked.

“Best I can say there is a lot to analyze; the DOD is looking at the military things. We are still dissecting the things the generals sold the Prince and the international ramifications,” Frank replied.

“The NSA is still working on all the linking of the net traffic from the Prince to those US individuals, closing the loose ends,” Ben replied.

“Have you assigned anyone to investigate the dark web connections that were found and the growing connections to international terrorism?” I asked.

“I have a couple people looking at it, but it consumes so much time and the protocols they are using change so often,” Ben replied.

“I’m not getting a good feeling with where I think this is going,” Eric replied.

With that statement I passed around the first paper with the websites and the first post – the one about the cancellation of the first bounty. Robert had written on the borders the ISP location and other notes.

Then the pages with the new bounty on all of us and the forums. The discussion afterward was not one to be remembered but to be feared.

The next page I handed out was the one about Ben’s swearing in.

“Mr. President, what day did you have that closed meeting?” I asked.

“It was two days ago and just my inner circle,” he replied.

“So in twenty four hours the Iranians have it posted on a terrorist web site. Don’t you think alarm bells should be ringing? You still have a traitor in your office. Your complete cabinet needs a shakedown,” I said.

“Frank, Ben, Marty and Eric should have a new priority assignment right now,” I added.

“We need a list of names who attended that meeting and anyone that has access to the meeting notes,” Eric said.
I saved the information about Iran’s complaint to the UN for last.

“Here is the one that is really going to make your day and it is going to happen at the UN today. You may want to call the ambassador and prepare him,” I said.

“Robert is trying to follow up on which legislators are being emailed and back track to the planned protest. I think there may be crimes being committed but that will be up to Ben and Rodney Marks to figure out,” I added.

The discussions, conference calls and meetings lasted until lunch. UN ambassador Charlie Marcus reveled in one of the conference calls that Iran had requested the general chamber floor at 1300. We would be watching.

“It is time to up the ante. I will have Alyssa work on the charges for Balthazar starting with terrorism, spying, possession of weapons of mass destruction, participating in terror attacks, visa violations and anything else we can think of,” Frank said.

“Some of those charges carry the death penalty and can be tried in the secret terrorism court,” Frank added.

“Good idea, that will give us reasons for taking a hard line with them. If they want to play chess so can we. Transfer him from the DOD back to federal prison and end contact with the Egyptian ambassador; the talks have been about more than a swap. We can allow him access only to his lawyer,” Eric said.

At 1300 Iran’s UN Ambassador gave an hour speech railing about the US task force using various tortures including water boarding and other physical violence at multiple locations. They accused the US of kidnapping Iranian officials in Mexico and Africa.

They also identified Gitmo and Andrews Air Force base as the locations of torture but were only able to say at other secret locations.

Our Ambassador denied all allegations and countered that we had arrested an Iranian spy on US soil who was working with terrorists by supplying training and weapons.

Balthazar had been bagged both times he was moved. With enough interviews and time they would eventually be able to name Morton and Fort Smith as one of the locations.

Iran did not identify their missing and supposedly tortured individuals. To do so would be a major blow to the IRG’s command structure and flag similar individuals in other countries.

The news media was asking questions in the daily White House news brief. Harry was on his own today; I was not making an appearance.

The rest of the day was a single meeting to decide on what to do about the new bounties.
Nothing.

We were already doing all the security we could do for the task force members, short of housing them on a military base or jail.

They were getting the same level of security supplied by the FBI as I was getting from JBG (with the FBI picking up that tab). Their houses were being watched as mine was by my security.

One more day this week and then three in the sun with four left and I was done. I was looking forward to the weekend in the sun.

At the office I was in time for the last part of the meeting and appointments that had been made for me. My calendar was getting full for the week after next. The girls were loading me up with all the meetings they did not want to go to.

Marcy had me going to the county and business association meeting. There were county individuals from a couple departments who were still sore about the settlement that the federal judge had handed down about the original airport fiasco and the tax determination. They had been giving Marcy some problems.

I would see how they acted with me there instead of her.

Tug had been given the assignment to buy back the lots and the three houses that had been sold on East Water Cay if he could. I thought the lots would be easy to buy back. I was wrong; not one of the lots had been bought back but all three house owners had agreed to sell. It was one more thing we had to do on Friday when we were there.

The three houses had been built to be rental units, either as a single unit or split units. That had been the selling point East Water Cay had used to sell the lot and having someone build on them. The home owners would make money. The problem was East Water Cay was unable to keep their units full without adding the other three houses. In the four years since they had been built they had only been rented a few times. Tug had offered them a profit on their investment and all three jumped to take it.

It was a good thing too; with the ad campaign those three houses would be rented for the weekend under the old agreements and the East Water Cay properties would be full for the first time in three years. All of the guests were coming from the Washington/Baltimore area and flying out of Morton. That presented a little problem in that there were more people than the G5 could carry. It was either two G5’s or use one of the Bombardier 200’s.

One of them had just been put back in service after a factory four month rebuild and refit with new paint. Lorrie said it smelled like a new car. She had opted for a lot of the bell and whistle passenger comfort upgrades. It now had extra padded seats, WiFi, the airline style TV’s and an improved galley for a fifty passenger plane. The 200 it was.

Lorrie had been dealing with questions from various local media all day about the truck stop. One of the first things she had done today was bring all her administrators up to speed on the project so they could take calls.

The commissioners wanted the display we had carried to the meeting to stay in the administration building until after the next meeting.

The lobby attendant called to say that the first group was here for their appointment and were coming up in the elevator.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.
Thanks to Alfmeister and Bob for putting the final touches on each chapter.
Jack

Chapter 543
“Do you really need parking for 200 trucks?” someone asked.

“It is easier to over build it now than to try to figure out how you are going to expand it later; let one process handle it all. We believe that with all the over the road trucks on 301 and with the expected increase because of highway improvements in Delaware, a major truck stop is needed,” Lorrie replied.

“You need an exit ramp over 214 heading north to connect traffic to 301; it will take decades for the state to agree and fund that,” the local state highway manager said.

“In order to save time and be able to make reliable statements for this presentation tonight, JBG short circuited the process and went directly to the executive level of the state highway administration in Annapolis and to the Governor. We did that because we knew that it would take decades working from the local level, going up the ladder,” I replied.

“Our corporate attorneys negotiated a letter of agreement with the State today stating that JBG could build the exit ramp as long as we used a state approved contractor and submitted the plans for review. Those plans will be completed and the bore testing completed within thirty days,” I added.

“What are you going to do with the sewage from the site? There is no sewage plant on the model or did you forget that tidbit?” the local environmental activist from the Bay Foundation asked.

“We haven’t approached the two local towns to work that out,” I replied, then was loudly and rudely interrupted by the Cville town manager.

“Cville will not have anything to do with the sewage from this project, so don’t ask,” he stated.

“As I stated, we have not formally approached Qtown to negotiate a sewage agreement yet. The agreement we are going to offer them is that JBG will pay for the necessary piping plus give them a five million dollar grant to upgrade the sewer plant to handle the increase,” I said.

Qtown had just completed a new sewer plant a few years ago and it was in trouble already. Growth had been more than anticipated and sewage flow at the time under estimated when in the design process. It was exceeding the plant capacity and was close to violating the discharge quality the state would allow.

The plant was a modular design that could be easily upgraded as demand grew. The problem was funding; they had used all available state and federal grants and were not eligible for ten years for another. The only way was to raise town taxes substantially or sell bonds, not a good prospect for politicians. The grant would cure that problem and have money left over.

We also knew that we were running to the wire with the sewage system we had put in for Morton with the addition of the Crash Motel; we were having the system pumped every few days now instead of a couple times a month.
The pipes to the truck stop would come not only by Morton but the gun club, allowing a cure for that problem millions of dollars cheaper than building a new sewage plant. Getting discharge permits from state could take years if the bay nuts fought it.

The water tower at Morton could supply the water to the new project. They would only need the sewage pipe run from the town to Morton and then two pipes for the rest of the way.

We always looked at the big picture when we made plans.

Qtown manager Kurt Allen didn’t hesitate; he walked directly to me. He saw a solution to their problems and did not need anyone to explain it.

“We can do a gentleman’s handshake agreement on your offer tonight, if you like, and consider it a contract,” he said as he extended his hand, and I did.

“Wait a minute; I may have been a bit hasty in rejecting that offer so outright. The town elders may be interested,” Cville’s manger said. His phone had been getting texts like crazy.

“It’s hard to retract a statement like that when you put your foot so deep down your throat in such a public manner,” I replied.

Cville was in a twist all of its own making; for years the town had remained a small town county seat and the old town politicians wanted to keep it that way.

Growth had been restricted by a variety of methods; the growth took place outside of the town limits. As a result, town taxes went up every year. The old political clique slowly died off or they were finally booted out of office; with that, change came.

A strip mall shopping center came and there were two developments; one on the north end of town, a bedroom community of several hundred houses. The owners mostly worked the western shore and commuted but voted in the local elections.

The other was on the south end of town. It was a retirement community by a national developer. The residents were 55 and older, very wealthy, well educated and were from all over and used to getting their way; the usual money and power influence. They voted. Both developments were annexed into the town for sewage and water.

The six people for the town council included four members from those two communities. I expected the retirement community to fight to stop the project.

“Kurt, stop by the office and pick up a two million dollar check as a good faith advance on the project,” I said in front of the county council and media.

If they cashed the check the deal was done for sure. The only way Cville could stop it then would be to annex the property into town, which I doubted they would do. But then I had a counter for that.

A few more questions from Elmo and Hanna, then a group picture with the commissioners. I was surprised when the commissioners wanted a group picture of us all shaking hands around the display.

We had just stepped into the house when all of our phones went crazy with texts; Ching Lee had sent a few pictures and wanted a VCATS conversation.

Ching Lee filled us in on two days of happenings. The audit on the books was not going good at all. Lexi Morgan had found discrepancies, big ones. The number of days, weeks and weekend rentals were properly recorded in the backup set of books Tammy Tittles kept at the island.

The set of books the group used at the sale and matching deposits were different. One would have thought they would have been elevated to show they were making good money.

Just the opposite was true; all the guest numbers and corresponding receipts were reduced by four visitors each week. At the price they were charging that was $32,000 a week or $128,000 a month during the season. They still would not have been making any money but nowhere near the losses they were showing.

The credit card transactions and approvals for the guests to stay were processed at their Florida office. Someone in the office was skimming money from the Cay account.

It did not change our purchase but Lexi was going to turn over her findings to an IRS friend after we finalized the purchase. Getting the IRS and Florida’s State attorney involved before that could tie up the sale for months.
After that bit of news we started on the more pleasurable things; pictures! There were lots of pictures in the emailed file. There were plenty of pictures suitable to use in the ad campaign. All the ladies and gents who went were perfect examples of beautiful people having fun in the sun, sand, snorkeling and fishing; the things ad campaigns are made of.

Everybody was obviously having as lot of fun with and without swimsuits or topless. Sadly for them, they were coming home Friday afternoon. The rest of us along with invited guests were flying there early Friday morning. The jet was going to lay over until late Friday to give them a full week there. Ching Lee was of course staying for another long family weekend.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

I ate lunch with a group of Senators including Harrison, Whitby and Fordes in the Congressional cafeteria. I had known them since our first contracts with the State Department and the CIA.

We had serious conversations and then some lively ones that were joined by others who pulled up chairs to join in. It was the most jovial time I had seen from this bunch in the six months I had been here.

The time broke things up as all hearings slated for the afternoon session started at 1400. I made my way over to the House chambers to testify and be on hand for the final vote on first round of funding for the college security program. The vote was scheduled for today.

I presented the facts, observations and guidelines we had used in making the recommendations. The question and answer session was brutal and lasted for two hours. It was after 1700 when the vote hit the floor. It passed by a majority but not a veto proof one.

Tomorrow I was to testify before the Senate one last time before they voted on their version of the measure. Both versions were close but would still have to go before a committee to iron out the differences, if the Senate were to pass it.

All those people who tallied numbers for a living said the vote would be extremely close; their bet was the Senate bill most likely not passing.

I left to go home in the third Suburban tonight. On the Bay Bridge I received a text from Robert, “See me ASAP”; I wondered what all that was about?

Unfortunately I soon found out; I looked at the big screen in the command center while Robert flipped through new intercepted emails from the Middle East. It was a communications chain that included Iran, remnants of the Islamic Brotherhood in Egypt, the Palestine Liberation Organization, Hezbollah and dozens of other splinter groups.

This email group and link to two dark web sites were new. The web sites went online today and there was a flurry of emails to various terror groups worldwide announcing it. The groups had to apply for the passwords and had to have connections to ISIS, Hezbollah or the Islamic brotherhood.

Many of those email addresses were new, some were not; the ones that were not had come from the four computers we had taken in South Africa. Robert worked his way in though by using some of the contacts from the Prince’s computer.

One web site was to be a dark web news site for the terrorists, the other was to be a terrorist forum with links to their email server located in – of all places – the IRG headquarters in Tehran.

The forum was to be loaded with the latest tools for terrorists, tactics, how to explosives, coordination and planning. They were also going to post videos of their conquests and successes. Other things were to be weapons sales and auction site for used weapons and sex slaves.

The first post on the news site was an announcement that the five million dollar bounty on me and the one million dollar on the task force members had been canceled due to the death of the bounty sponsor.

The second post was the announcement that a ten million dollar bounty had been placed on me and Ben Smith and two million dollars on each of the other task force members and my five mates. The bounty was on deposit in an account and guaranteed by the Bank of Iran. It was the same account used for the blood money to pay the parents of suicide bombers on Gaza for successful attacks.

They knew Ben was going to replace me and when; in three days, early on Friday of next week. Ben was to be sworn in Thursday evening before I left. Even I had not been told that yet. I guess the White House was ready to cut ties with me. They still had a spy inside the White House inner circles; Patel was not the only one. Just when think you have made progress there are 10 steps back. The players get higher and the stakes get bigger.

I sent a text to Ben, “Has your phone had a security scan in the last few days?”

“No; why?” he responded.

“I will tell you tomorrow; use your backup for critical communications until it is scanned,” I replied.

Robert handed me my JBG phone back after being scanned. I turned off my State Department phone and pulled the battery then located the backup and turned it on. I sent the same text to Frank and Eric.

The FBI scanned all these White House phones. I wondered if Patel had placed a snooping program on selected phones in the process.

Without knowing who the stooge could be, I directed Robert to shut down all communications with the all the federal agencies and print off what he had found. I would give it to Ben, Frank, Eric and the President personally.

With the girls now included, that meant more of JBG resources were going to be needed to protect them. Luckily there were three with Ching Lee at the East Water Cay. We had left them there when we made the decision that Ching Lee was going back.

I called Andy, broader planning was needed. Jenny, Vicky and Marcy were safe at the office; the tunnel cured that problem. Lorrie would need an escort unless she decided to work from the main office.

We had one place to go tonight and that was the County Commissioners meeting in the courthouse.

We had a quick supper because we wanted to arrive early in case there was issue with us being armed and having bodyguards.

There would be sheriff’s deputies there and also would be additional JBG security there for us, whether they liked it or not.

The plans and blueprints for Marcy’s truck dealership and Lorrie’s truck stop had been completed yesterday and applications for the permits submitted this morning along with the fees paid.

Applications for new commercial building permits were read at the Commissioners meetings each week. The reason for that was that there would be a series of public hearings and a comment period before commercial applications could be approved. The Commissioners meetings were broadcast on the local county cable channel.

We had another ace that we were going to play tonight, to inject change in the normal process. I liked shaking up the county process. The engineering and design group at Bob’s Construction had a new toy; a 3D printer that made plastic models of projects.

The 3D model of the girl’s project was the first to be presented in this way. So far they had just used it for client proposals. This was also the first time a project model would be shown before the hearings at a Commissioners meeting. Bob’s group was on the way with the model.

I called Commissioner Duke Justice and asked permission as soon as I found out everything was ready for this afternoon.

“Do it, the meetings are so cookie cutter they are boring. You can shake things up and get away with it,” he replied.

A couple of rookies were operating the ID station, the x-ray and body scanner. I started through first; all the buzzers and beepers went crazy. I handed my Federal ID to the operator. He handed it to the other rookie, then called a sergeant who was in the hall.

“Good evening Sergeant Albertson; do you mind if we sit in the meeting tonight?” I asked.

Sergeant Albertson was a regular at both the gym and Morton restaurant.

“Ma-am, yah-all are welcome any time. I think you want to sit together and in a corner where your bodyguards can watch over you. Just follow me,” he replied.

Before we were seated Bob’s engineers arrived with the model of the project and Duke arrived at the same time. They set the table in the front and assembled all the pieces. Much of it snapped together, Duke and I looked on as the pieces were snapped together to complete the display. I was impressed; it was the first time I had seen 3D printed parts.

The meeting dragged on for two hours before they began reading the commercial permits. The permit for the truck stop and dealership was the last one to be read by the clerk.

The permit set off nothing short of pandemonium; they had to gavel the room quiet. Truck stops – for some reason – were frowned on in this county. There had been two when I was a young girl; one on the US 50 east bound just past the split and the other on 301N. Both were busy.

The one on US50 east had a mysterious fire just after the road was widened. The widening created congestion and accidents. The county and the state both fought the permits to rebuild it. The owners fared badly and after several court proceedings, filed for bankruptcy.

The one on 301N fared better for a while through several ownership changes. It was given the death blow by another road expansion a few years ago. The expansion and overpass should have helped, but for some reason it did not; it reduced the available parking, killed any hope for future expansion.

The county refused to allow them to install new signage that could be seen above the highway; with the new overpass a much higher sign was needed and was above the height limit for signs. Times change; this time the lawyers were better and other court cases eased the way. The state made large secret settlements to stay out of court. What was left was still operating and for sale. But that property was too small now for what we wanted.

After the gaveling, “BJ I think you have something you want to share about the proposed project at this time?” Duke asked.

“Lorrie or Marcy, do you want to do the honors?” I asked.

They looked at each other and both stood. Vicky connected her laptop to the screens and flipped through the drawings that the engineers had supplied while Lorrie gave her presentation.

“What we are proposing is a state of the art truck stop on the north end of the property adjunct to the 214 overpass with twenty five diesel pumps and ten gasoline pumps. The design includes parking for 200 trucks and there will be overnight parking for RV travelers including a dump station, fresh water and propane refill.”

“The retail section will be 70000 square feet including two 24/7 fast food restaurants and a grill. The shopping area will have a larger than customary quick market. The general retail area will have products for everything that travelers and truckers need to keep trucks safe and rolling.”

“There will be showers, bathrooms and a laundry for drivers. Freight brokers will be on site to direct empty trucks to where the freight is waiting,” Lorrie added.

“JBG is a licensed dealer for International, Peterbilt and Kenworth trucks in Georgia. That arrangement will be moved to a new building on the west end of the property. It will be a full sales and service dealership for those brands with the latest in hi-tech diagnostic equipment and state of the art repair shop. It will also provide services needed in partnership with the truck stop,” Marcy said.

The cover was pulled off the model. The print media and TV must have taken hundreds of pictures. All the commissioners gathered at the table along with all the county activists groups and the heated questions began.

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Proof read by Bob W.

I listened while Robert explained all EIT had been doing with the information from the two Princes and the two arms dealer’s computers.

The list of customers on the arms dealer’s computers was eye opening. I was sure that both Bens would be very interested in some of those countries and groups and what they had acquired.

I was more interested in the locations of the sales and deliveries. And then, what was sold and delivered there.

Small arms rifles and pistols were everywhere. Hundreds of millions made, sold, lost, captured all over the world. With every war, every skirmish, there was always a flood of rifles and ammo to both sides.

The Taliban was using rifles against the Russians that were left over from the WW1 and WW2 and later; American, British, Spanish, German and Russian bolt action, semiautomatic and machine guns. There were warehouses all over Europe and the world that were filled with crates of weapons and pallets of ammunition in case a new world war appeared overnight.

The Chinese and the Russians were the worst for selling old weapons to any group; the AK47 was a third world favorite. It was easy to disassemble and clean, and worked well in all environments. Nearly every rifle we had burned in the La Jarita raid had been an AK47.

As long as it was kept dry, ammunition could last a century or more. There was ammunition from the Spanish American war still showing up on the net. The weak spot was the primer. Some chemical mixtures used to make the primer to make the round to go bang deteriorated with time and would not fire.

The UN even tried to force ammo manufactures to come up with primer materials that had a life a shelf of no more than two years as a way to end so many conflicts and put an end to so many stockpiles. It was a foolhardy thought with billions of rounds already in warehouses.

Black powder used in Civil War and cannon balls were still as deadly as the day they were made, even if it had been wet and dried. Hikers were still finding stacked up cannon balls that has been left along the trails and battlefields during the Civil War and they were still deadly.

Just a few years ago a Virginia Civil War enthusiast blew himself and his house apart trying to remove the fuse and black powder in some he had found on the Appalachian Trail.

It was an arms cycle; every time armies were issued newer, more modern weapons, the older weapons went into the warehouses. A few were transferred to civilians while most sat in the warehouses until the next potential ally needed weapons for self defense; that is where the arms dealers came in.

They were the middle men. Governments let them handle the transactions, “You are to sell them to this group but not that group or country.” It allowed the politicians to deny direct involvement.

It was weapons from those arms dealers that had killed my men in Morocco and tried to kill them in Kampala and Windhoek.

It was one more reason I had a bad taste for politics, especially international politics – the worst of the bunch.

I looked over the sales closely for heavy weapons that could be used against the embassies; RPGs, mortars, shoulder fired rockets and Stingers. Those were all bad news and I wanted to know if they had been sold to any anti-American groups in those areas.

As Robert continued, things got worse. EIT had maintained surveillance of all the people who were in the contact list of the Princes, the arms dealers, Balthazar, and Saif’s computers. As with all things on the internet, when one link opened it led to dozens more. Over time they had been able to break the passwords.

The Prince’s email contained several leaders of Hezbollah; proxies of Iran.

Iran now knew I was responsible for the aggressive interrogation of Balthazar and that information was making the rounds. They were plotting revenge. They were planning to bring it up at the UN that the US and the task force was using torture and afterwards organizing a protest in Washington. They had operatives emailing sympathetic members of Congress as though they were US citizens.

I sent the list of operatives to my task force email. If these operatives were in direct contact with the Hezbollah terrorists, was there a possibility they were committing treason? It was certainly grounds for them to be deeply investigated.

I was even more surprised to see email chains from Hezbollah leaders to ACLU lawyers planning a defense strategy for several of the terrorists we had arrested.

In one case they were speculating what their clients could be arrested for – before the planned activities – and were actively planning alibis and cover stories for them. I had lots of questions to ask my new Federal Prosecutor tomorrow.

But first I ran all the emails by Jenny for another opinion. I ended up with lots of ideas to work with tomorrow.

We finished out the day in the gym then spent time in the basement playroom very carefully with Lorrie. She and Ching Lee both were just a month from delivering.

More cribs and baby clothes had been bought; Lorrie was having a girl so it had to be new clothes. Ching Lee was having a boy and we had plenty of hand-me-downs from little Robert and Jacob so only a few were bought.

Mindy was also having a girl; at least there would be two girls to play together and hold their own against their brothers when play got too rough. We had long ago decided it would be private schooling for the kids.

Even with all the new information that should have kept me awake, I slept well. Lorrie and I held each other close. Several times I felt the baby move against me. It was as close to that feeling as I would ever get.

I arrived at Section 12 at the normal start time on Tuesday and in time to start the coffee today. While I waited, I sorted all the emails Robert had pulled for me.

Alyssa Cotton was going to get her first challenge on her first day with the task force. I wanted to know if the lawyers working with the terrorists had committed treason and conspiracy. Was a grand jury needed to decide?

There were pros and cons to a grand jury. The part that interested me was that once convened the media would be reporting every day on the jury, especially if there were certain beneficial leaks. They would never leave it alone trying to land the next scoop. Just maybe put a little fear in some of those that think they are above the law and hide behind ‘I have a law degree’.

All the members looked at the emails and made my argument and then I left the debate to them. I went to the hill for another Spanish inquisition; this time on the scope of the powers of the new task force.

Two hours later I testified behind closed doors to the Senate intelligence committee on terrorism. It was the second update this month and my last before I left the post. The chairman wanted to schedule another in two weeks.

“Sorry Senators, six days to go,” I replied. “You will have to schedule it with the new chairperson.”

“You have not been asked to stay on?” Senator Knotts asked, very surprised.

“There have been no discussions. The term was for six months. I made that pretty clear in the beginning,” I replied.
After that, the closed session ended.

“Ambassador, there are ads in the noon media that feature you and your family. They imply that you have made a significant investment in a vacation resort. Is that true?” Senator Knotts asked.

“Yes, I made the statement at last week’s news conference; I was going to take some time off with my family. What better way to relax the body, rest the mind and refresh the spirit than sand, salt water, eighty degree days and sun mixed in with the occasional exceptionally chilled brew and the companionship of family. All of that will ease the fears and stress I and we have been under,” I replied.

“The threats against me and my family are still active. By buying the island we can better control the security. We had little choice,” I replied.

“That should certainly do that,” he replied.

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Proof read by Bob W.

Chapter 540
The President was sitting in one of the fancy chairs in the Oval Office. The President introduced me to Saudi Ambassador Rashid Dandachi who was in another, there was one left in the circle for me. There was no one else in the room.

For the next two hour we talked about a mutual fight against terror. I thought it was a little on the ridiculous side since the Saudi’s had funded so much terror worldwide and in the US.

Most of the 9-11 hijackers were Saudi. The shoe bomber was Saudi. All four attempts on my life were either by Saudi involvement or paid for by a Saudi.

But I played nice; there was no need to cause a stir on my way out. At the President’s request I had pulled selected emails of the Prince’s back and forth between Balthazar and Saif.

I was careful to choose only the ones in our possession that could easily be explained as coming from Saif’s and Balthazar’s captured computers and emails connected to them.

We discussed the email in detail and the connections to Iran and the Iranian proxies in the area.

The parting at the end of the meeting was cordial and ended with, “I suspect that there is much more that you cannot tell me,” Ambassador Dandachi replied.

“I am equally sure that I can say the same thing,” I replied.

He just smiled and nodded.

Since I was already on the ground floor I stopped by the cafeteria for a salad to carry to Section 12 and my desk to eat.

There was a crowd around the TV in the lobby off the Oval Office. I stood a few feet behind them; they did not know I was there.

“Back it up and play it again, Jim. Stop it at the picture,” I heard Troy say.

It was the first run of the ads that Ching Lee had put together last night. Her clerks were to put the finishing touches on it this morning and have it aired.

“That’s BJ and her family, no doubt about it,” one of the others said.

It was the picture that was taken of us on the beach minus clothing walking away from the camera. It was taken by Tammy Tittles. She walked part of the beach with us asking questions.

“Great picture, nice cheeks too, so soft. I like to feel them quite often,” I said with a laugh. All breathing stopped.

“Back it up to the beginning. The spot was not finished when I left this morning. Let me see the whole clip,” I said as there was a rush of air; they all started to breathe again.

No one objected.

The spot was one minute long; none of the pictures were on screen more than a few seconds.

” Not bad for the first run; Ching Lee is there all week with some great looking people making clips and pictures for different ads to run in the different markets,” I said.

“So that was the pleasure trip you took over the weekend. You bought an island and went to road test it,” Troy said.

“Something like that. It will be a great getaway. I told you that I was going to spend time somewhere where it was warm and could be access controlled,” I replied as I turned and walked to the elevator.

Bobbie followed me into my office, “Dan says he can get the day off; in fact he is taking Thursday afternoon off to do few things so we can go. What do we need to bring?” Bobbie asked.

“Why don’t you take Thursday afternoon off as well to help? It’s 80 there, couple pieces of summer clothing and a swim suit or not; everything else will be taken care of,” I replied.

After lunch I was again summoned to the Oval Office and asked to bring Ben and Kathy Shellman with me. Upon arriving Troy asked Kathy to take a seat in the lobby next to the Oval Office for a minute.

Troy led Ben and me into the Oval Office. Attorney General Dunne and Marty Coeburn were also there.

“BJ I am going to nominate Kathy to a federal Judgeship to fill a vacancy in the first circuit federal court. I wanted you to hear it from us. If you want to you can file a recommendation and an endorsement of the nomination,“ the President said.

“Of course that means the AG will have to send a new person to that position in the task force,” Marty added.

“Kathy was the best at the prosecutor position and will be missed. I am not familiar with the process but more than willing to recommend and endorse her nomination for the position if it will help,” I replied.

Kathy was brought in and there was a discussion and round of congratulations that followed.

That was two that out of the task force who had been promoted. I was sure there would be more.

Alyssa Cotton was assigned to replace Kathy. I had met Alyssa several times and she had been at a couple terrorist updates I had given. She was always direct and to the point with her questions and observations.

As Ben and I were leaving I met General Ingram in the hall.

“Have you got a minute to step into my office BJ?” he asked.

“The transfer of items you requested has been approved. The shipment process will start in a few days; they should start arriving in a week or so. There will also be some pallets of spare parts this time; the depot needs to make room in the warehouse,“ he said.

We talked a few more minutes about a variety of subjects – mostly terror and military related – before we each went to our respective offices.

I was leaving early – in fact Andy’s men were already waiting. We had a lot of things to talk about tonight and would have every night this week.

Andy and Bob wanted my final approval on the changes to Camp Smith; the project was nearly finished. Vicky had been handling everything with them but they all wanted my final opinion.

Originally it had been surrounded with a chain link fence but since then there had been several expansions. Camp Smith was now almost eight acres instead of the original three. The jail and interrogation building had been added as well as the first aid and medical building. There was also a barracks with showers, toilets and bunks.

There were now three separate buildings with classrooms to handle all the training modules that had to be done.

More movable buildings had been built; neighborhoods with narrow streets had been added to simulate third world countries where my men had embassy duty. All the street names were in foreign languages.

There was even a replica embassy grounds with direct connection to the command center. This was to assist with detailed training for those that were going to man embassy buildings and communications centers.

Then there were the block buildings where the hostage rescue and simulated live fire exercises were carried out with explosive charges. Multiple federal agencies, state police and SWAT teams came to use the camp for a variety of reasons.

One was privacy, knowing they could train without their local media recording everything. Another was the gun club that was only minutes away where they could shoot everything in their arsenal without repercussion.

Another was the Crash Motel and restaurant on Morton Field. Marcy could give a package deal on rates and Vicky’s clerks could handle all the logistics. Another selling point was the MAAR rental car fleet at Morton when their work was done. For a few dollars in car rental, they could hit the Washington and Baltimore night life within an hour.

The real problem with Camp Smith now was nosy people, including county employees just checking things out. We were having problems with people walking or four wheeling a mile far too close to the airport to take a look. Another problem was the fear of a stray round going somewhere it should not.

The solution was an old fashion solid stockade wall twelve feet high to hide everyone inside and everything that went on there. It even had guard towers in the corners and midway. It had walkways around the inside like an old fashioned fort to hold soldiers to fire over. It was a cosmetic addition; its real purpose was to strengthen the upper part of the wall and provide bracing for high wind.

The generator was bigger; the electrically operated gate was bigger and also covered with heavy lumber.

It had been a work in progress for several months. Bob’s Construction worked on it as they had time and men available. It was finally near completion. I had been to the camp many times since the work was started but always with it dark or with no time to investigate the progress.

Today I met Bob, Andy, Ed, Bill and the girls at the camp. I walked the fence with them, looking, listening and climbing the stairs looking out the guardhouses. Bob had taken Vicky’s orders to heart when she told him to build it strong. In my opinion it was over built; but it should last forever. It was being paid for from some of the cash from the first Prince I killed in Morocco. All of it had been laundered by now.

Over coffee in the jail, “There are three things I want changed. I want two pillories outside the jail and a gallows complete with noose but no trap door. I want the sign out front changed to an arched sign over the gate with Fort Smith instead of Camp Smith. It looks like an historic fort; let’s complete the look. Other than that you have done great,” I said.

The meetings continued in the office. Before I could sit in my chair Robert said “You need to stop by my office before you leave for the day.”

I listened to an excited Lorrie describe her solution to getting from the Freeport to East Water Cay and then Marcy’s ideas on how to make money with it.

I was left with little choice after all that but to say, “OK make it happen.”

I explained that Bobbie and Dan would be going with us and why. Then I informed Lorrie that she needed to get the crane back to Morton, that I had some helicopters coming.

We put off the rest of the discussions until tomorrow night and closed the meeting. We needed to see what Robert wanted. Something told me it was not good.

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Proof read by Bob W.

Chapter 539

Shortly after sunup the girls and I along with two little boys were walking on the beach. Then we spent two hours working on tans and helping the boys build sand castles.

At 0930 we met the rest of the family in the clubhouse for breakfast. At 1030 we were going to meet with all the East Water Cay employees and then back to the beach for the rest of the afternoon.

Our meeting with the employees was an eye opener for us and them. There were a lot of questions and instructions given.

Lorrie was going to send two clerks and assistants on Monday to change and set up the computer systems and time keeping along with training on how things were to be done for the Florida rentals. East Water Cay would now have that information on their web site and the Florida rental site would be expanded with the East Water Cay offerings.

Once all that was done Lorrie was going to promote someone to oversee and remove herself from the day to day operations of the rental division.

Ching Lee was sending two more to change over and update the website with all new pictures and videos. Hopefully some of the ladies wouldn’t mind being the models in the pictures.

Then a thought hit me, why not send several ladies to be models – we had several who took advantage of free gym and tanning room as employees; four were an 11 on a scale 1 to 10 .

Mary Ann Johnson worked as a clerk in security and was single. Andrea Bush was one of flight attendants for Lorrie and her husband. Both were both fitness nuts; both of them would look good in the pictures. Kathy Hoss – one of the CIA pilots – at 48 could put most women to shame; her husband had just died in a snowmobile racing accident in Montana three months ago.

The other was Wendy Adams, the nudist who ran the tanning booths. I would bet there would be some great pictures with her. I called all of them to see if they would be interested in a week tropical vacation and modeling for a PR campaign.

Ching Lee decided she wanted to come back to be the photographer.

Marcy was sending two people, one was Hammond Price to set up the financials, banking and booking and payroll systems. The other – Lexi Morgan – was going to audit the last three years on the books with a fine tooth comb.

Lexi was a former IRS agent in their criminal division who had been shuffled around because of politics and finally had enough. She worked in our tax department with Robert Alderman. If there was a problem with the books, she could find it.

There were going to be surprised employees on Monday. The girls sent an email to their clerks and assistants they wanted to take with.

“We need five volunteers to go on a week long warm climate business training trip. Boyfriends or husbands can go along, passports and photo ID required and swimsuits are optional wear. They would leave Monday morning and be back Friday evening. Destination will currently not be disclosed,” the email said.

The rest of Saturday and Sunday went too quick, but we had a fun time mostly spent on the beach. We had a driftwood fire on the beach as the sun went down.

My security guys all but disappeared every now and then I caught a glimpse of them watching. They even went snorkeling and fishing with us.

It was 2100 when we landed at Morton to begin the routine again. At home with the boys in bed we planned tomorrow’s announcement. We hated whisper campaigns! Those things killed productivity tying up phones and email systems with texts and emails. All JBG employees would know by 0900. The office would be told by an announcement, everyone else by an email.

There were still several months to the bone fishing season. Tomorrow Hanna’s station would be the first to carry the ads and our radio station then stations in Washington and New York.

We were going to cut the price and include airfare from Morton, BWI or Miami International. We were sure that with so many similar offerings around the Bahamas, they had overpriced trying to cut their losses.

We were going to use some of the terrorists’ cash to finance the changes that were going to take place on the island. We figured we could safely launder some of the money that way. It was time to start using some of it.

We had already blocked out weekends and weeks we were going to spend in the surf and sand for ourselves. It was time to enjoy some of the fruits of our labors, the risk we had taken and things we had all worked so hard for.

Marcy wanted to diversify income; this would certainly help, please our tax department and give us the getaway we deserved.

At 0700 another G5 carried Ching Lee and the group back to the Grand Bahamas airport.

At 0800 Lorrie had all the Morton employees in the terminal building and Marcy all the office employees together on the gym floor and made the same announcement that we had written the night before.

“Over the weekend JBG made a significant expansion to the Florida Vacation Rentals division with the purchase of East Water Cay.”

“East water Cay is a twelve hundred and ninety acre resort island with miles of white sand beaches, including sparkling lagoons with some of the best bone fishing and snorkeling adventures in the Bahamas. There are private cottages, club houses and several ocean front town houses along with a marina and boat docks.”

“East Water Cay is located off the eastern end of the Grand Bahamas Island. There is still going to be a substantial investment to bring the resort to JBG standards and expectations and to full potential.”

“We wanted you to hear this directly from us and not a third party. Thank you for your attention.”

There were pictures from the Cay website and some we had taken scrolling on the big plasma screens. There were some pictures of us snorkeling or walking the beach naked – all side or rear view – with so much private beach, suits were definitely optional.

My security and I left for the White House shortly thereafter. I had a dozen of the new East Water Cay handouts with me. Ching Lee had in just a few minutes last night created a new one adding the ‘JBG Vacations and Resort properties’ logo to the front of it. Then she added the color pictures we had taken over the weekend to the ones that were already on the existing handout; I knew there would be questions so I was prepared. I figured by noon people would know.

In Section 12 Ben filled me in on Friday events; most of the day had been dealing with fallout from Patel. Every single conviction that had used any evidence from the FBI IT lab was going to be reviewed and most likely thrown out.

The argument the FBI was trying to make was that only the investigations that Patel participated in or led needed to be reviewed. Defense attorneys were not seeing it that way. They wanted every case that had submitted evidence to the FBI IT lab thrown out.

In the four years that Patel had been in charge there were over five thousand cases that the lab had processed evidence for, including all fifty states. Poor Mike had been kicked into the lion’s den with no sword or armor.

I was a little better off but not much; my next three days were to be on the Hill defending the task force recommendations for nationwide security guidelines. Then there were more days next week. Seven days to go; I was taking both Fridays off. We were going back to East Water Cay for another relaxing weekend this Friday.

It was nearly 1100 when Lorrie called on a conference call with Marcy. I listened for 30 minutes while they gave me an update on things happening on East Water Cay already today. Then Lorrie offered several more ideas on improving things to get from the airport to East Water Cay other than a fifty minute drive on crappy secondary roads and then a 15 minute boat trip.

I finished the call with Marcy and Lorrie while looking through the glass on my door. I was watching my secretary Bobbie Canterberry deal with a continuous stream of people – sometimes two and three at a time – all wanting something.

Bobbie had not missed a day or taken a day off in the six months I had been here. Then I remembered the talk that we had after I had her type up the resignation.

Bobbie – six months into her first pregnancy – had miscarried and lost the child just a month before I started my term. Bobbie had taken it very hard and talking about it was still difficult. Bobbie was trying to drown her pain in work by staying busy. I wondered if she had allowed herself to grieve at all.

As the days and weeks had moved along I could tell Bobbie was getting worn down and as frustrated as I was at times. I knew I needed a break and thinking about it now, I knew she did.

I sent her a text, “What have you and hubby got planned for the weekend?”

“Nothing much, snow still piled up in the garden and on the roses, too cold to do much of anything yet,” she replied.

“Do you think Dan can get Friday off?” I asked.

“Why do you ask?” she replied.

“The girls and I are leaving early Friday for a three – day weekend where it is warm. We have extra room and I would like you and Dan to join us,” I said.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

Before I could respond my phone was ringing, it was the President, “Can you come to the Oval Office? There is a VIP that would like to see you,” he said.

As I walked out I placed one of the East Water Cay handouts I had brought in front of Bobbie, “We are going there,” I mouthed and pointed.

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Proof read by Bob W.

Chapter 538

Friday morning Jake, Mindy, Jason, Lisa, Lorrie, Jenny, Ching Lee, Marcy, Vicky and I and two restless little boys along with six of my security flew in two G5s to Freeport Airport on the Grand Bahamas Island. We had decided that all the company executives would not fly on the same plane until we were sure our terrorist problem was over.

I had called and talked to Ambassador Murray Carr from the Bahamas embassy yesterday when I had a few minutes of free time. The talk ended up lasting an hour. He knew who I was as soon as he heard my name; I never had to say more than my name to anyone official in Washington anymore.

I explained that I was going to his home country, that I needed my bodyguards and that I as well as my family would be carrying personal weapons. After all of the attempts on my life and the fact that there was still a bounty on my life, I made it a requirement.

I also explained that the reason for the trip was to look at a secluded piece of property for a family getaway. It needed to be secluded enough that it would be nearly impossible for easy media access or anyone else that I did not want there.

I asked if there was a way to fast track my group’s way through customs and if there was a way to do so or eliminate the customs stop all together. Or, was there was a frequent visitors arrangement because we intended to make a lot of visits in the future if the deal went through?

“Yes there are provisions and I am sure the home office will work out something with the weapons issue. We do not get many officials that are interested in property who have needs as you do. When you get to Freeport customs and immigration, ask for Jeffery Harts. He is the manager there. I will call him and explain things,” Ambassador Carr replied.

“May I ask where the property is you are interested in?” he asked.

“East Water Cay,” I replied.

“Oh I know of the place – they have some great bone fishing and snorkeling there. I have it in my mind that the lots are small there,” he said.

“I’m not interested in the lots – not enough security or privacy – I’m looking at all twelve hundred and ninety acres. The current owner had gotten fed up with the hassle or couldn’t make enough off his commercial venture plans to make a go of it. I’m not really interested in it for the commercial possibilities, just for family, friends and as a perk for the employee package,” I said.

East Water Cay was on the market – all twelve hundred and ninety acres of it minus a couple of lots sold when the owners were trying to find a way to generate money. Other lots had been laid out and infrastructure installed. 11 had been sold but only three houses built.

The island had miles of white sandy beaches, clear blue water, lagoons and coral reefs for snorkeling, several boat docks, a pool, cottages plus several big dining halls and dozens of boats for shallow water that were designed exclusively for the best snorkeling adventures and fishing. There was a deep-water dock that could handle yachts up to 65 feet long.

Lorrie could add this place to the vacation rentals package to offset some of the maintenance cost. The people that could afford to spend time there were an elite group that we could do all kinds of checks on and would not balk at the price for this kind of getaway. The current week’s price for the deluxe package was $8000 a week and that did not include meals, all the extras or travel.

We could block out the weeks that the girls and I wanted. Weekends would be different; I could just reserve one of the residences to remain empty for our use.

There was a 40 by 4300-foot gravel runway that would need widening, and have to be paved with a few hundred feet added to it to land our jets there. It was a thousand air miles from Morton and 130 miles from Florida. If we had to we could land at Miami and helicopter to the Cay. There was even an arrangement for customs to meet large groups at a small building near the runway for an expensive fee.

In the customs building I walked up to an officer, and as I displayed my federal badge asked for Jeffery Harts.

“I’m Jeffery Harts, Ambassador Carr and I talked again this morning. Welcome to the Bahamas. I understand you are interested in East Water Cay. That is a nice piece of property. Have you contacted the Cay of your arrival?” he asked.

“Yes, they are picking my group up in 20 minutes,” I replied.

“Good; let’s go to my office. I have some forms to fill out about your weapons and to stamp your passports. Ambassador Carr suggested that I put you in contact with an attorney who specialized in international transactions.  He can eliminate much of the red tape you would have to go through.”

“I took the liberty of making a preliminary call to see if he would be available to meet you today and if you like, he can meet you later today over at the Cay. He spends a lot of time in Washington and is quite impressed with your work,” Jeffery added.

“That would great if you would do that,” Jenny said before I could answer.

We had finished the conversation when a couple of gentlemen walked up,” Ambassador Jones, I am David Holmes and this is Frank Bounds, we are the transportation specialists from the East Water Cay Lodge. We are to carry you to meet Tammy Tittles; she is the manager,” they said.

It was a fifty- minute ride then a ten -minute boat ride to the Cay across clear blue waters. The girls were already shedding the heaver clothes we were wearing; the sun and heat felt good. It was eighty degrees; it had been 40, overcast and windy when we left Morton.

After pleasantries and introductions Tammy was all business; we met her in the club house office. First were the books for the last three years with all the fishing party bookings and other paying visitors. I noticed that the bookings fell each year and I was sure that Marcy did as well. As they put prices up, vacationers went down. Booking bone fishing parties was not the reason I was here anyhow.

There were boat rentals, cottage rentals and other fees that went into the books. There were package deals that included snorkeling and fishing classes, as well as guided trips for both.

Then there was the information on the sale of several lots and a couple that had houses built on them. If we could buy them back we would.

The next step was to get everyone in my party into accommodations for the weekend. The girls and I chose one townhouse with three bedrooms; it was perfect for us right on the beach. Mom, Dad, Jake and Mindy took a three-bedroom cottage and my security team took another.

Then we began the grand tour, we walked the beach in shorts looking at beach front cottages, the marina, boat docks, the lots that had been sold and the houses that had been built. Then it was on to the pool and recreation area. Golfers would be disappointed. There was only a tee area to hit the balls out to a marker in the lagoon; no course. Part of snorkel training was to retrieve the balls and get a discount on the training.

The next part of the tour was on ATVs. We checked out the gravel runway that was not good for jets or helicopters. Gravel is murder on jet engines and rotor blades; it would have to paved. In my opinion, that would be a monumental task. Jake had a different opinion and an option on that. But then, who wanted jet noise anyhow at a place like this?

We toured the maintenance areas next. Even though there was a power cable to the big island, there was a generator house with several big Caterpillar stand-by generators. There was a sewage treatment plant and a desalination plant. There were ATVs and maintenance equipment, including a crane and a small grader that I was sure was to maintain the narrow levees and dozens of boats and other equipment that went with the deal.

Back at the clubhouse we went over the employee list, their responsibilities, salaries and benefits. I was shocked at how low the base pay was; tips were to make up a large part of their pay. Tammy estimated that tips added fifteen thousand dollars to their income. Even with the tips it was still half of the base pay all JBG employees started at.

The tip thing would have to be changed. It made no sense for the staff to expect tips from my family, body guards and other JBG special guest when we owned the place and paid a base salary.

I would be ashamed to offer them the base salary they were getting with expectations that tips would make up the difference to have a good wage in an area with seasonal highs and lows. I wanted the best service without the amount of a tip affecting it.

We had finished the tour and were back at the club house when Tug Parsons arrived. He was the attorney for the international purchases that Jeffery had recommended.

Tug agreed to handle the transactions for us if we made the deal. In a conference call to the owners – who were in Miami – the deal was made. The bank holding their mortgage was the National Bank of Bahamas. They would be here before the bank closed.

They wanted the sale closed as soon as possible, as other investments were on hold and in a critical state. Even with them coming today to start the process, it would still take a month to close for us to have true ownership and a deed.

To me they wanted to stop the financial drain, as by Marcy’s estimate the island would have turned a profit without the mortgage cost; with it they were losing $150,000 a month and had been for the last three years. The mortgage was forty million. They had put ten million of their own money into the project and were making money the first few years.

By 1600 we were done with the letters of intent, transfer of ownership rights, bill of sale and a stack of other paperwork and contract defining that they were to pay property taxes for the year to date, to be withheld from the settlement.

At the National Bank of the Bahamas we paid off the mortgage and received a copy of the deed with the lien. Tug would do the legwork to get a clear deed.  They were given a five million payment today, five million went into an escrow account that Tug and Marcy would administrate. They were not to get final payment until all clear deeds and titles to the equipment were in Tug’s hands.

We were done just in time to spend a couple hours on the beach and then a meal in the club house with the other fishing party guests who were here.

The whisper campaign among the employees had started. Tomorrow after the breakfast we would call them all together and sort things out for them.

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

Tuesday morning at Section 12 was more of the same old same old, only at a slower pace. Literally thousands of files had been opened in the six months the task force had been in operation; now there was time to go through each one again, update each one and then close them. That process would take months on some of them, years on others as the court cases dragged out.

Ben made it a daily task to scour all intelligence reports from all agencies looking for anything the task force should investigate more thoroughly. With the Prince out of the equation things were slowing down. It was a trend that would only last a short while in my opinion.

I was willing to bet as soon as Iran came to grips and analyzed the things that had gone south with Balthazar, the two agents in South Africa and now the three off the Alvan, they would double down on their attempts to get into our defenses.

Ben was reporting a decline in net traffic from Iran that I was sure was from a temporary stand-down order from the IRG until they figured out how and how much of their intelligence gathering ability had been compromised.

It was near noon when Robert called me with some good news about Balthazar’s computer. Patel had indeed started to clean the computer, but to help his paymasters in Tehran he had made a backup of the hard drive.

In their haste to please me and to get rid of me when I arrested Patel, the IT people threw everything including the backup copy into the box. Robert would have names of more Iranian agents working in the US and possibly other countries as well in a few days.

The information was encrypted in the latest version that the Prince had used. Robert had broken the code within days when they started using it.

After lunch I went with General Ingram to the Pentagon for the classified policy forum and planning session. I was asked to give an assessment from the viewpoint of the task force and I did; a lengthy one including the trends as I had seen them grow. It lasted all afternoon and was an eye opener. Many of the things I was worried about were openly brought up by other attendees and discussed in depth. It was a good session.

In a private meeting with General Ingram I had a few questions for him. With the additional embassies I needed more helicopters. I asked if there was a way I could buy direct from the Arizona storage site instead of through third parties. Even though we still had connections through the CIA to buy from the government site, none had been listed in a long while.

“It would take a few days before I can find out,” he replied.

The trip home was uneventful again; Robert had left several files on my desk for me to take with me tomorrow. The EIT group was working reduced hours now; everyone had worked just so many hours in the last few months that Vicky and I both thought several short days would give everyone a needed break, that and four-day weeks for a month. The only people there were the two duty personnel. Two more would come in at midnight and relieve them.

Time spent in the gym with the girls was wonderful and then we had another light supper. After supper I explained what I had found on island retreats, what I was looking for and why. To my surprise, all the girls were very interested for all the right reasons.

I had the phone numbers and the contact information for the sales group. I would make the calls tomorrow myself.

Wednesday and part of Thursday was spent on the hill testifying to various committees, national intelligence, national security, education appropriation subcommittees and several more. I was on the move from the Senate to the House four times on Wednesday and twice on Thursday.

Thursday afternoon Robert sent the file of names off Balthazar’s computer; there were not hundreds as the Prince had said. There were a total of fifty; ten in Canada, thirty in the US and ten in Mexico.

AG Dunne had a direct link to the Canadian Royal Canadian Mounted Police Minister of Public Safety Ralph Goodale. I called AG Dunne then sent him the Canadian list and asked if they would hold off making the arrests until we could coordinate with Mexico to do a North American sweep of the spies.

More bad news came for Patel. This time it came from Mike and he was restoring faith in the FBI IT lab. Patel had been pressured by the Prince just days before he died to download a ton of classified materials; they were on his personal laptop. They were to be sent to the Prince on Monday; I had killed him on Saturday and the Prince’s death was blasted on the media on Sunday, so the transfer was not made.

Patel was so greedy he was trying to make contact on the deep dark web with the Iranians; apparently he learned some of the Prince’s secrets from Balthazar’s computer. According to Mike, Patel had been on the dark web just minutes before I had arrested him.

Working with Mexico was going to be a challenge, their federal police and many of the upper level officials had been the first ones executed on the steps of the federal building in the cartel uprising.

Mexican Ambassador Francisco Garcia was called and asked to come in for a conference by the President.
“You will be here at 1400 when Garcia arrives to explain all of this?” Troy asked.

“Just to keep you informed, I am going to be off again tomorrow, Ben will be in charge,” I informed Troy.

Troy looked at me with big eyes, “Oh no; do I need to prepare the President for anything on Monday?” he asked.

“No; a pleasure trip to the Bahamas, but it may turn into a news maker later on,” I replied. I didn’t think there was any way JBG could buy property there and not make the news. But then again Jenny might be able to run a trust through Midwest Bank to disguise the purchase.

“Pleasure? You? I won’t believe that. For someone that works 24/7 I don’t think you know what that word means,” he replied.

“You seem to have forgotten that in two weeks and three days I am done with all this,” I said.

“You’re right I had, you have become such a fixture in events around here. You have made every department take a step up. The task force comes up as a topic at every meeting. Everyone wants to know what you are doing every day,” Troy replied.

“You don’t think you are going to make a clean break from here do you? The generals asked today if there was some kind of appointment the President could do to keep you and your EIT team involved, at least as an advisor or consultants. That was after they couldn’t figure out a way to appoint or draft you themselves,” Troy said.

“The President, the AG, the Congressional leaders and the Cabinet have a meeting scheduled Monday at 1000 to finalize the makeup of the new Department. We will want you there too,“ Troy added.

“I will be there, I have been getting Ben up to speed and more involved in the decision making process. I assume he will replace me, at least temporally,” I said.

“You’re right on with that, he has my support,” Troy said.

AG Dunne and I were in the Oval Office when Ambassador Garcia was brought in. The conversation lasted two hours, but there were agreements. The Mexican President and military were still rounding up cartel suspects. One thing that had not made the news was that there were also multiple prison uprisings during the cartel attempt to overthrow the government.

Prison wardens had ordered the guards to shoot everyone involved; they did. Over a thousand rioting cartel members were killed in 20 prisons. There was going to be many nasty days ahead in Mexico for a long time.

There were conference calls between the Mounties, Washington and Mexico. Monday was ‘D’ day for the simultaneous arrest of the Iranian spies. That would give three days for them to be watched and located.

I spent an hour on the phone with the realtor for the Bahamas property. I made arrangements for us to spend three days there over the weekend to look the place over. There were multiple cottages we could stay in plus two master homes that would be available for us to use.

The trip home was slow; lots of traffic.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.