Bjjonesmylife. Book 2

The courier quickly left. Mike Doyle opened the box; I could tell by his expression that it was not good.

I looked in the box; it contained a mass of computer parts, all disassembled. I was pissed but after seeing Ormond Mohammed Patel on the Prince’s payoff list, I was not surprised. That answered why the courier left so quickly.

I took the components out and started placing them on the table. I only had a few pieces left in the box when the light went on. The initial evidence pictures of Balthazar’s items were of a HP laptop; all the big pieces had the Dell logo on them. He didn’t even bother to at least put the same brand parts in the box. On top of that, there was no hard drive included. No matter; his goose was cooked.

I had Bobbie make copies of the file Robert had put together and then made a phone call.
“Troy; are you and the President able to come down here? Bring a General with you that has the authority to have other Generals arrested. By the way, have the Secret Service keep Lewis Hill from leaving until the meeting is over. You may want to lock down his security clearance until then,” I said.

“Kathy; get me an arrest warrant for Ormond Patel; the charges are treason, aiding and complicity in terrorism, along with accepting bribes from a terrorist. Then I need arrest warrants for all Americans here and abroad listed on the report I just gave you,” I said.

Kathy Shellman was the federal prosecutor assigned to the task force. She was getting a name in federal justice circles because of the sheer numbers of federal warrants she was getting and the Justice Department team assigned to her was getting convictions without plea bargaining. She knew I hated plea bargains with a passion.

Kathy and her two assistants were typing out requests for warrants as fast as they could. The process was not easy; each name had to be checked for state of residency and all the other rules that applied. Once the request and warrant went to the federal judge for his approving signature, then a warrant was printed out on the printer on the proper legal forms. When that was done a copy of the warrant was sent to Eric’s group in the DHS. It was sent to all DHS connected outlets to flag that individual, stopping him or her from traveling by air or rail. And to Treasury, any financial transaction by the individual plus the bank cams created an alert at the DHS.

The DHS connected all public information to the warrant, driver’s license, car tag numbers and now the car’s computer GPS and all highway cameras that have tag readers on their system.

Big brother was not only watching, it was following and reporting. The days of being on a federal list and hiding were long gone. The one problem was that there was only a tiny fraction of the manpower needed to monitor the system. Thousands of terabits of data were generated; never to be evaluated in a timely manner, if ever.

Fort Meade was a major storage site on the East Coast for all the data collected by the NSA, CIA, FBI, Defense Intelligence and other agencies. The five story buildings housing storage server farms were under continuous expansion. As soon as one was completed, another was started. There were thousands of analysts that worked around the clock making usable reports from critical data.

“Mike Doyle and I will make that arrest ourselves.” I said.

Everyone was looking at me puzzled as to what was going on.

As soon as the President, Troy and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs (Frank and Eric) had made it here and were in their chairs, I started to speak.

“The documents before you are similar to the ones captured from the computers at the New Jersey learning complex with a major difference. This list has only hi-level individuals listed; those that received more than two hundred and fifty thousand dollar bribes or payoffs,” I said.

“Mr. President, page twenty four has the entries you need to see. The third one down is Cabinet Secretary Lewis Hill. There are notes that describe the payments and what was expected for them,” I replied.

“The next entries that you need to look at are on page twenty eight, Senators Almost and Clements both have received multiple payments,” I said.

“Page thirty two has payments to five representatives; California’s Morse, South Dakota’s Harris, Delaware’s Boomer, Virginia’s Callaway and Georgia’s Mabry. All are on intelligence or military oversight committees with the highest level of clearance and all have made multiple fact finding junkets to Saudi Arabia and other Middle Eastern countries that correspond with the dates of the payments,” I said.

“General Ingram; the ones you need to look at are on pages sixty and sixty two. There are three Generals that have been paid. They are assigned to the US military bases in Saudi Arabia,” I said.

“They are Army Lt. General Albert Hoover and Lt. General Howard Custer, along with Air Force General Buzz Arden,“ I added.

“The rest of those in the US are having warrants drawn up to arrest them as we speak; those warrants will not be executed until DHS and the FBI have a chance to investigate them and any possible accomplices,” I said.

The discussion lasted an hour and looked like it would continue several more. Finally I had had enough.
“Bobbie, do you have the warrant for Patel?” I asked.

“Yes,” Bobbie replied.

“Mike, let’s go make an arrest; bring that box of junk. Lets watch a whole department squirm,” I replied.

“Just a minute; where did these files come from?” Troy asked.

I looked at Frank, Eric and Ben; I saw eyes looking to the floor and a very slow shaking of the head from side to side. They were expecting the bomb to explode. Marty Coeburn was staring intently at me; he knew very little of what they knew.

“They came from Crown Prince Sultan al-Zahab’s personal laptop just minutes before he died. That’s what happens when you get interrupted, don’t close programs and don’t log out. Hackers are just waiting to take advantage and they did. A lesson we all need to apply to our computing habits,“ I replied as I motioned to Mike to get the box.

A glance at Frank, Eric and Ben said it all; the massive look of relief, doing their best not to smile and to maintain that serious look. I thought about throwing a wink in that direction but was afraid doing so would have caused them to lose their composure.

The Secret Service with four GSA supplied Suburban’s carried us to the FBI IT lab. The lobby security agent had no problem poking fun at Mike Doyle carrying the box, ‘demoted to a lackey boy’, but he did open the door for us.
There were four Secret Service agents with us who did not see the humor in the comment.

Ormond Patel’s office was a reasonably new office in the corner of the large computer lab. I guessed it was so he could keep a close eye on what was happening in there. There was a long counter where things brought in could be catalogued. As soon as the bell rung that signified that someone had entered, it drew all eyes.

Ormond Patel was out of his office in a flash as Mike put the box on the counter.

“You are not an agent, Ambassador Jones! You are not allowed in here because of the evidence chain of custody rules. But since you are with an agent I will bend the rules. What can I help you with?” he asked.

“I ordered that all of Balthazar’s devices be delivered to the task force; at noon this box of junk arrived. I want all Balthazar’s devices now,” I replied.

“That is his electronics, we had to disassemble them to check them out, there was nothing on it. Sloppy handling wiped it clean,” he replied.

“Herein lies the problem; evidence photos from the scene show Balthazar’s computer to be an HP. This one is a Dell, there is no hard drive to even make this one a computer and there were none of the thumb drives included that were sent in with it. You simply threw junk in the box and sent it. That’s not going to fly,” I replied.

“If you are going to call me a liar you can leave and don’t come back,” he said quite loudly, bringing other techs out of their office.

“Oh, I’m going to call you a lot more than that,” I said as I did the one hand for support and jumped the counter.

He turned to run but not fast enough. I had a hand full of neck and slammed his face down in the counter in a pile of parts. Seconds later his left hand was in an arm lock shoved up to his shoulder blades. With the cuffs installed, I stood him up.

“I could call you a lot of things but I won’t; there may be delicate ears in here. But you are under arrest for treason, aiding and abetting terrorist, accepting bribes from a terrorist, destroying evidence, falsifying evidence, and giving false testimony to federal officials. That should do for starters,” I replied as I handed him over to one of the Secret Service agents.

“Who is the number two person here?” I asked the onlookers.

“I am Ma-am,” a lady replied.

“Get me all of Balthazar’s electronics. NOW. I still have many sets of empty cuffs looking for wrists to fill them,” I said.

There was a scramble looking for it.

Mike was picking up the equipment getting ready to leave when Marty Coeburn and another agent walked up behind us.

“Mike, you are the new interim director of this division. You know what needs to be found and I am sure, how to find it; get this place running like it should be. If you have any questions get with BJ, if she cannot answer them I’m sure she can get you to someone who can. I’ll carry the box for BJ. I have some questions I need to ask her on the way back.”

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

“Not only do I not want to ever play poker with you, add your mates to that as well,” Ben-David said.

“Why, you might win some money,” I replied.

“Lose my ass may be more like it. All of you have poker faces and voices made of stone. I was at Camp Smith Saturday and Sunday; when I asked where you were, the only thing they said was you were away on business for a few days and nothing else. Not even a change of expression,” Ben said.

“Balthazar gave away the two Iranian spies in Polokwane when we questioned him on Saturday. I sent people to look for them, only to walk into a hornet’s nest at the airport, barely getting away with their lives,” Ben-David said.

“Not only were the two spies gone, everyone connected with them is dead. Two Princes and every terrorist’s favorite arms dealer are dead. A Chinese arms dealer dead, his plane burned,” Ben-David said.

“There were remains of bodies in half a dozen places in the game reserve; the reptiles did not even leave enough to identify. Just how many people did you kill there? Everybody in Africa is out looking for blood,” he added.

“First, all the reports I have seen says it was ISIS. Second, it sounds like a Mossad operation to me. Third, what makes you think I was in Africa at all?” I replied.

“What was left of the Prince’s plane was found in Mexico today,” Ben-David said.

“Yes, I saw that report. The Prince was dealing with the cartel; we already knew that and so was his arms dealer. It looks to me like ISIS and the cartel turned on him for something. Blackmail, maybe blood money? Both are heavy into that business. Did ISIS just send the Kingdom a message to keep sending money or else?” I asked.

“BJ, you are throwing a good smoke screen; it may work with others. You expect me to believe the most wanted on your list is dead the same weekend you are out of town and you had nothing to do with it?” Ben David asked.

“I have no problem sleeping at night,” I replied.

“Look who you get sleep with, no wonder,” he said.

“You can feed me the juicy bits of the mission when I see you,” Ben-David said just before the phone went click.

At the office I ran into Robert. “Burt and I want to wait until next month to take the extra two weeks off. There is a convention on the gulf coast we want to go to then, if that is OK?” Robert said.

“That’s fine, just note it on your time sheet and block the weeks you want to on your schedule,” I replied.

“How are things in EIT land?” I asked.

“Very busy trying to keep up with all the email connections associated with the Prince’s computer. Stop by on your way through the tunnel and look at some of the more interesting ones,” he replied.

“I want all the emails printed out of the Prince’s account as far back as you can go, before the account disappears. I want a hard copy record. Make sure that laptop does not accidentally get online doing automatic updates or the like. Take the battery out of it,” I said.

“Already ahead of you on that. All his accounts were copied to files and everything printed. Burt did the same thing with the financial transactions. You may want to take a close look at Burt’s printout. I’m sure that you have not tracked down everyone he was dealing with in the US,” Robert replied.

“I put the printout on your desk with the computer. We have already cloned everything on it. I left the bank transfers making it look like he did them by leaving the computer online for an hour after he was dead. I figure at some time you may want to turn the computer over to someone. There is a lot of very good information on the first few pages you should look at. I am sure it will help you,” Robert added.

I put the folder, printouts and computer in my portable office; I would look over them later today if I had the chance.

I sure hoped that we or the task force was getting to the end of some of the trails! I wanted things to slow down.

Of course I was wrong, those things were not going to be slowing down for a while. Acknowledging that we had Balthazar was a mistake. The Prince told me that Iran has hundreds of agents in the US. As soon as the IRG knew, orders for all of them to get mobile would go out.

Within hours they all would know and scatter, destroying any Intel that we could use against them or to find them covering their trails.

The FBI had Balthazar’s computer along with all the other evidence collected. As usual their IT department was slow, actually more than slow. Their lab had the computer for two weeks and still nothing.

As soon as I walked in Section Twelve I cornered Mike Doyle, our FBI rep, “I want to see all the evidence collected at Balthazar’s apartment, rental unit and car. I want all the electronic devices delivered to the task force before noon today; ALL OF IT; ‘Get on it’,” I said as I put my portable office on my desk.

“Wow, somebody is in a bad mood today,” it was Troy who came for his morning mug fill up.

“You have not seen a bad mood yet. Oh, wait a minute, you have at that,” I replied with a grin.

“How did being on the receiving end feel?” I asked.

“It was not a feeling that I want to repeat any time soon,” he replied.

“What’s got you in such a bad mood?” Troy asked.

“I should have fought harder to keep Balthazar a few days longer. I have indications that Iran may have as many as two hundred Balthazar’s in the US; he may be able to give us names of a few,” I replied.

I had more faith in Robert finding names in the Prince’s computer. If they were there, it may give an indication on just how long Iran and the Prince had been working together.

Then there was Balthazar’s computer; what was on it? Two weeks and the FBI IT department still could not tell us. Why?

I spent the rest of the morning with the group of the task force which were working on the college funding reports I would need next week for my appearance on the hill. The numbers were a mess but were beginning to come together.

The White House chef sent down one of his signature salads to me for lunch. In fact he brought it down himself along with my favorite dressing. He also brought a big mug.

“Do you mind if I get a mug of your coffee? I hear rave reviews on it; I would like to try a cup for myself,” he asked.

“Help yourself, thanks for the salad,” I replied.

I had seen the mug before. It was one of a kind and was usually being carried by someone else who always came with a mug in each hand.

As I ate I read the folder that Robert had left on my desk at the office. The more I read the more I would like to have had the Crown Prince at Camp Smith for a few days.

The Crown Prince’s ledger – from his account only – included payments to terrorists and terrorist organizations or individuals that were above two hundred fifty thousand dollars. I guess anything less was play money.

The good thing was they were broken down by area. Another thing was there was a note column by each entry.

There were almost four hundred entries for the US and over five hundred worldwide. Some were marked as closed. When I read the names I knew why. We had either killed them or arrested them.

The six learning centers and the leader, Saif, the New York and West Virginia training centers and the leaders all were marked closed. All told there were almost a hundred marked closed in the US. I recognized some of the names from the list of federal employees who had been arrested earlier.

I wondered why some of them were being paid the larger amount, but not for long. They were in positions to influence policy and government actions. As I sorted out the names, more issues and difficulties became apparent and answered several questions at once.

As I looked through the names I felt my chest tighten. I saw two Army LT. Generals and one Air Force Major-General, all three stationed in Saudi Arabia. There was one staff member on the President’s inner circle.

One name at the FBI stood out like a beacon, Ormond Mohammed Patel was listed with five entries of two hundred thousand or more in the last six months.

Ormond Patel was the supervising director of the FBI’s IT department and its computer lab.

“CRAP,” that’s why we were not getting any real information on any computers we sent there and why my EIT group was faster and more accurate. He was scrubbing the data and informing the Prince of what we knew before he was sending the data to various agencies.

My lunch was interrupted by a courier from the FBI IT department. “This ought to be good,” I thought.
Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

“Why don’t you want to tell the King that his son’s were financing terrorists all over the world and working with Iran, his arch enemy?” Frank asked with a cocked eye brow.

He was baiting me: “It’s over my pay grade,” I replied.

“That’s true but I doubt that would bother you,” Frank returned.

“You’re right, it would not and if I knew the King was supporting terror in the US like his sons, I would cut his throat, King or not,” I replied.

“Wait a minute. You knew that Crown Prince was funding terrorism for sure?“ Ben asked. And then he added, “That’s why the blacked out boxes on the screen whenever we were at your command center. That’s why you were looking at South Africa on Google a few weeks ago. You knew what they were planning and when. That’s why you were off last week.”
“Oh my God. You?”

“Careful Ben, you are getting into areas that it would be better if you didn’t know anything about,” I replied.

The conversation ended when Troy called and asked if I could come to the Oval Office.

“OK, I will be right up,” I replied into the phone.

“Gentleman, I need to go upstairs, you will have to excuse me,” I said as I stood and closed the folder.

In the Oval Office there were three Senators from the President’s opposition party.

Senator Sloane was the first to speak, “We have been promised for weeks that there were recommendations coming for the college security upgrades. These things are going to take months to implement. Where are they?” he asked.

“The task force has been extremely busy as we all have. The preliminary report will be released in a week to 10 days after the President’s team has a chance to review it for policy adjustments,” I replied.

“The first release will deal with general campus security; armed guards, more guards and reduction of available access to the campus grounds. Very few of the colleges seem to be interested in stepping up security to the levels needed; many are not even at minimum basic levels given the challenges of today.” I said.

“One issue is funding; a good security package nationwide is going to cost several billion. No one seems to want to address that issue; the colleges are waiting for handouts. Even the ones that have hundreds of millions in trust funds and endowments are not going to pay for it,” I said.

“We have to pick numbers – and haven’t done that yet – but I cannot see any college getting funding if they have more than ten million in investments, trust, or endowments. There are so many other small colleges that are county and state or self funded that are going to need financial help with the security changes,” I replied.

“If funding is to be provided, all should be provided for; I won’t have it any other way,” Senator Almost replied.

“So you are saying a major college with sports programs making millions and hundreds of millions in investments should still receive funding for the more expensive system at the expense of the smaller colleges,” I replied.

“Why of course, the small colleges should be eliminated; the students there forced to go to the bigger better equipped schools. Those small schools get funding that the larger schools can put to better use,” he replied.

“I think there are a lot of people that won’t see it that way. A few months ago you stood on a stage with me and declared complete support for whatever it took to make all colleges secure. Now are you going to stand on the stage and say only the best are worthy of that support?” I returned.

I was to go before several house committees next week – including educational appropriations – and testify. I would have the data completed by then. Half my team would have new direction to go tomorrow.

He never answered; just looked away. I went back to Section Twelve more determined than ever to expand and develop national standards and set funding levels for all college security, and then shove them down his throat.

I would be in the Senate the day the proposal was voted on. I was begged almost weekly to write op-eds for major newspapers and TV interviews. As much as I detested the media, I would use it against the Senators if I needed to.
Ben was right, my week off and the events in South Africa had left me with a mean streak that was growing and a determination that was dangerous.

Vicky called to tell me that Balthazar was gone and all evidence that he had been there was burned. The cleanup crew even wiped the bars down with chlorine to remove any DNA and had the mattress burned.

“Good job,” I replied.

Vicky was learning, just as all of my mates were. They were long past needing detailed explanations when we talked about or suggested something; it was like they were beginning to read my mind, understood why and they did not forget things.

We discussed several times about how the radio station that Hanna had told us about could work for our own advertising outlet. I did not know what they really thought and had not brought it up again. In today’s email dump I was CC’d on an email from the FCC to Jenny and Marcy that the ownership change, new format and call letters had been approved.

There were three land deed notice transfers in the paper, one for fifty acres on the Island. One of the others was further south on 301, right at the overpass and the third was for the radio station property. I knew Marcy had put a bid in for them.

Both properties were already zoned heavy residential and commercial. If the zoning was changed, the one on the Island could be a one of a kind project in the county and the whole shore; if not, it would be a development.

Marcy had eyes on the other property and several ideas for it. She was looking for an outlet to sell all the cars and trucks coming in from the rental and leases other than at wholesale auctions. If that one did or did not come through she wanted to build a major truck stop on the highway.

Lorrie had input on that plan; being at the airport she always heard the truckers at the restaurant complaining there was no easy location to get fuel, food and access to load brokers in the area. The only places on the island to get diesel were the WAWA and they were not suited for OTR (over the road trucks). The over the road guys need a parking /rest area to be able to meet the sleep requirement.

The one the state had in the area was small. Not more than a dozen trucks could park there and the concessions and bathrooms closed at night. The truck drivers would pull in there to get their mandatory sleep hours. As if that was not bad enough, the DOT officers would roll in, banging on the doors, waking them up to check logs and licenses.

Marcy and Lorrie envisioned big, like the ones on the major interstates out west and down south.
JBG was a truck dealer for three major brands for the utility leases and the chassis were dropped shipped to the body builders. There were so many complete units delivered that needed an address instead of the final end user. She wanted a place to establish a dealership for them.

The current setup for the heavy trucks was through a dealer in Georgia and he was getting greedy and lazy. The last order of chassis missed the deadline by the body installer because the dealer was a month late processing the order on the chassis. Marcy was pissed; the Georgia dealer was not going to get a second chance to do that. Marcy absolutely hated to apologize for other people’s mistakes.

Either way the properties were going into Lorrie’s real estate division. The accountants would be happy; they were always fussing about needing more deductions.

I was going to stay quiet and wait to see when they were going to tell me.

I called Bobbie into my office and closed the door. I pulled the sticky note off the letters she had typed and held it up. “Talk to me,” I said.

We had a good talk – open, frank and to the point – it lasted an hour. I learned a lot about Bobbie and her aspirations. I invited her and her husband to come to Saturday dinner with me and the girls.

I was closing down to meet the men taking me home when my phone rang.

“I do not want to play poker with you. Ever!”

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

I had tried to send the entire OPS team home yesterday for two weeks for R&R, but they were the die-hards. The girls were going to convoy me to Washington today. When the garage door went up, ten of them were standing there waiting.

“Bob wins the bet, he bet you would try to go the Washington today without all your security,” Bill said.

“Put the heavy vest on; the boss ladies can go along for the ride but we are taking you,” Bill instructed.

“Wearing gloves today are you? I didn’t think it was that cold,” Bill added.

“The tribal designs have not completely washed off the back of my fingers yet; it is going to take a few more days and I tried everything,” I said.

I was wearing white thin dress gloves that I could do most things in if I needed to.

The ride was quiet and went fast. It was a pleasure to be able to talk shop with Marcy, Ching Lee and Jenny on the ride. Vicky and Lorrie were in the SUV behind us.

I was early; the ride had gone so fast. I had the coffee done and was sipping on the first mug when Ben and the group came in. I had been watching the ZNN morning update on the African Massacre. That was the name they had given the Crown Prince’s killing. They were still giving no real information, not that I needed any.

ISIS was still being blamed, they were stupid enough to take responsibility through a spokes person and that fired up half the Middle East that was aligned with the Saudis. The other half was laughing at the plight of the kingdom.

Another report on ZNN implied that there was a secret request to the US from the Kingdom for an emergency sale of 500 billion worth of weapons and bombs on top of a public order for billions in fighter jets yesterday.

The day of mourning didn’t make it a full day before there were two car bombs exploded in Riyadh. Again ISIS took credit. If I was betting, the money had been destined for the ISIS and now they were pissed that they were not going to get it.

Now they were vetting against the pay masters and for the sudden change by the kingdom because of the airstrikes. It also led me to believe they had no other connections in the King’s group.

“Well, you are here! You are back in time to watch a fire storm,” Ben replied.

“At least it is them this time and not us. We are just going to watch from the sidelines on this one,” I replied.
“What have you learned from Balthazar?” I asked to change the subject.

“DOD has learned plenty; they want to take possession of him,” Ben replied.

“Well he is a federal prisoner arrested by federal agents so there are some fine lines intersecting on him that have been crossed. It has been drug out long enough. If I had my choice he would be going into the furnace today; I want it cleaned up and case closed ASAP. I want him out of Camp Smith” I said.

“This one will be a rat’s nest before it’s over,” I added.

“A week off has not made you any more mellow, has it?” Ben replied.

“Actually it made my mean streak a little stronger. It’s amazing when you have to do things you do not like, how it toughens the mind and body,” I replied.

“I am sure the joint chiefs will be down to discuss the matter with you before the day is out. They tried to get me to commit yesterday. I told them they must have thought I was crazy if I was going to get involved in that dispute,” Ben said.

“They would be with the President now trying to make their case but the Saudi thing has them pre-occupied,” Ben said.

“They have learned all they are going to by now if they asked the right questions. He will start playing them and they are too enthralled to see it,” I replied.

What Ben and the DOD did not know was that the Mossad had interviewed Balthazar Saturday and Sunday while the Pentagon boys were partying and getting drunk.

Ben David had sent me a text this morning thanking me for the opportunity to do so and that the two sessions had been very helpful.

Frank and Eric came into my office and closed the door; they had been followed by the President and Troy but both of them had made a pit stop at the coffee and pastries.

“The good news is the agency wants to thank you for the two Iranian spies; they have been helpful. The bad news is much greater though. The Iranians are raising hell about their missing people. They know that we have Balthazar and are making demands both at the State Department and the UN,” Frank said.

“I told you the DOD could keep no secrets,” I replied.

“Worse than that, the President and the State Department wants the DOD and the Agency to take custody of him. They think a trade and concessions from the Iranians can be made,” Frank replied.

“We always get the short end of any trade or concessions anymore,” I replied.

“Frank, go get me a fresh cup of coffee and close the door behind you,” I said. Eric was sitting, looking at me confused.

I took a blank piece of paper and wrote out several paragraphs then called Bobbie Canterberry – my secretary – to come in.

“Type it up all official looking right now for me please,” I instructed.

Frank returned with the cup of coffee followed by Troy, the President and several of the joint chiefs.

The conversation lasted two hours. All the scenarios were discussed including the repercussions. The State Department had high hopes that a trade could be made. It was an unlikely prospect in my opinion.

Bobbie knocked on the door then handed me a folder. I assumed it was the letter I had her type up.

I called the Doc and canceled tonight’s and any other sessions. The FBI was going to pick up Balthazar in an hour. He was theirs and JBG was clear of him. The Egyptian ambassador would meet with him tomorrow.

I was pissed and I let them know it, Balthazar was a foreign terrorist on US soil. We could not prove he had detonated any devices himself. He had built them and people he had trained placed and detonated them. At a minimum he should spend the rest of his life in jail or better yet, shoved into the Doc’s furnace alive.

The powers had decided and I was a minor player. The discussion was over; the bad taste in my mouth was going to last a while. The joint chiefs left the meeting.

I reached for the folder to see if Bobbie had typed anything different than I wrote. On top of the letter was a big sticky note and in big red letters she had written, “Please don’t do this.” I left the folder open.

Frank and Ben both were close enough to read the large letters upside down. By the curiosity on their faces, I knew they did.

Eric – on the other hand – immediately knew what it was. He closed his eyes, lowered his head and moved it slowly from side to side.

Well it wasn’t over, they weren’t leaving.

“King Al-Zahab is requesting that we help with the investigation into the killing of his two sons,” Troy said.

I look at Frank, Eric and Ben; Ben had not been in any of the conversations about the Prince that Eric, Frank and I had. Both of them were looking at my hands and the little light came on.

“We have no time to get involved in an investigation that far away, we have more than enough to do,” I replied.

“There must be some information that we can help them with,” the President said.

“Any information that we share with them runs the risk of closing several important lines of intelligence. Intelligence that can only come from one source. I am not willing to risk it,” I replied.

“Just review what you have and see if there is something you can share,” Troy said.

“OK, I will look over the file,” I replied and that seemed to satisfy the two of them; they left stopping by the coffee maker.

Ben stood to leave.

“Sit down Ben,” Frank said as he stared at me.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

I woke up when I heard the landing gear lock down. We were landing at an off-the-way strip in Cameroon to refuel and layover for the night. The idea at this stop was for the plane to be seen.

Sunday morning we flew to Rabat Morocco to refuel – to be seen – and then on to Caracas Venezuela – again to be seen. The Crown Prince had terrorist contacts there so a landing would not be out of the way when the powers started checking his email, if they found them. I was trying to make it look like the cartel was involved.

Monday I donned the burqa and getup again as the plane landed at the remote Atlantic banking island at noon. Burt had sent a text that everything was ready for me to pick up.

The pilot called a cab to come to the plane to pick us up. Abra, Ziva, Andy and Bill were going to the Island bank with me.

We were met in the lobby by Alfred Drake. Apparently, few wealthy clients actually made the trip to the island, depending totally on electronic banking.

“Ma-am may I ask your name and business with the bank?” he said.

I went through my name in Arabic then for good measure in broken English.

“I am Crown Princess Fayza al-Zahab. I am here to receive my withdrawal bonds. I am told they would be ready,” I replied.

“Yes they are ready; your treasury official was thorough. Everything was completed as he instructed.”

Ed and Bill each had a fancy leather business case with the Kingdoms seal inlayed in gold on them from a storage locker in the plane. They opened the cases on the counter.

“Do you wish to count the documents?” Alfred asked.

“No, if there is a problem someone from the King’s treasury will come and extract the variance in blood. You are the one who needs to make sure they are correct,” I replied.

“I can assure you they are correct. They are banded in lots of one hundred and we have counted them several times,” Alfred replied as he began putting the bonds in the two cases. I signed a scribble with my left hand; folded the paper and placed it in the case without bothering to read it.

From the island the plane was flown to a short remote strip of blacktop in La Jarita Mexico, twenty miles south of Laredo. This was one of those strips used by the cartels. It was nearly dark when we touched down. Ed and team 4 were waiting for us in four wheel drive SUVs.

After transferring everything, the pilot full throttled the jet and short hopped it off the end of the runway several hundred feet into the sand and gravel. That gave the appearance that the pilot had botched either the landing or takeoff.

Howie placed several incendiary charges at important places in the plane; one was right at the junction of all the fuel lines. We were five miles away when we saw flames in the night from that direction. With the circuit breakers tripped on the fire suppression system, the multimillion dollar plane would be a pile of melted aluminum in a matter of minutes.

We went through the border crossing with no problem and drove to Laredo General Aviation airport where my G5 was waiting with another of our pilots – who did the CIA flights – at the controls to take us to Morton.

I had faith that the CIA approved pilots knew how to keep their mouths shut. Just to make sure, Lorrie had ordered that there were to be no entries in the plane or pilot logs. It would be early morning Tuesday when we landed. I had two more Buds and went back to sleep. I slept until the tires touched the runway.

All the airport security cameras went offline as my G5 approached. I wanted no visual records of anything we off loaded. We had left the Russian guns in the belly of the Prince’s plane to be burnt.

I sent all the men home for two weeks of rest and recovery and to clean up. I went home with my mates; all of them were waiting as I got off the plane. Behind closed doors we made up for being apart. The boys seemed as glad to see me as the girls.

I needed the time to unwind, clear my head and put the things I had done into deep memory. Several large cups of coffee and time with my family did the trick; after all, the bastard had tried to kill me four times. He deserved what he got four times over.

After a quiet lunch we went over to the office via the tunnel. I carried the two fancy leather cases. In my office they went into safe without opening.

After a better job of labeling, the three mason jars joined the others. A thought flickered in my mind, a note to all men; never piss off a lady with a knife and a gun and an attitude. I wondered if I should have that made into a poster and put on my wall.

The jet carrying team 3 and the rest of the loot was in the pattern at Morton. I had Lorrie order it pushed into the hangar and locked down; we would go after dark and remove the valuables from the cargo hold.

It was almost 1600 when the crap hit the fan. ZNN as well as every major station was carrying the news.

BREAKING NEWS FROM POLOKWANE SOUTH AFRICA “Crown Prince Sultan al-Zahab – the second in line to be king of Saudi Arabia – Prince Abdulraouf al-Zahab and Abu Barazan- a reported middle Eastern arms dealer with all body guards – were killed by ISIS terrorists in South Africa. The beheaded bodies were covered with ISIS flags.”

“Bodies were found at multiple locations at the former Polokwane Hilton hotel and airport. There are reports of bodies being found several locations near the National Game Reserve. There are some unofficial reports that some of the dead were known to be associated with international terrorist groups.”

“There was another report that there were four Chinese citizens who were also found in the room, there has been no other information on that report.”

“Tiaylaa Duchene, for the International News Network at Polokwane South Africa.” The reporter closed the segment.

From the news desk at ZNN, “Saudi King Al-Zahab has ordered a national day of mourning and pledged to increase assistance in fighting International terrorism.”

The response told me that the King may have known after all what his sons were doing and just decided to see where they would take it. Now that they were dead he was going to change course.

Another sign of a course change was that the kingdom had reportedly stepped up strikes against several terrorist organizations in Yemen, Somalia and Ethiopia with nearly a hundred strikes carried out today.

These were the same organizations that the Prince was supporting, based on the email hacking Robert had done.

It was after dark when the four Suburbans driven by Marcy, Vicky, Ching Lee and Lorrie made our way to Morton to get the treasure. Marcy, Vicky and I did the work while Lorrie and Ching Lee acted as lookouts.

Back at the house it took two trips to get it down the elevator. Dad and Jake had shown up at the right time and were drafted to help. I had to commandeer another room in the basement to put it in. We had no safe big enough at the office to put it in. It would have easily fit into the gun vault at Morton but I did not want it there.

I chose the room that had some heavy duty tables next to Vicky’s extra hardware and vest storage to place the 10 crates at three to a table. The smaller box with the gems and the briefcase with the bonds would go into the safe.

“What the hell have you got here?” Jake asked.

With a hammer and bar from Roberts’s tool box that he kept in the computer room, I opened one of the crates. Why he needed a hammer in the computer room was beyond me; I thought I was the only one that wanted to use a hammer on one.

I pried the top off and handed the hammer and bar to Jake, “Open them all and stack the gold on the table. Look for anything out of the way, electronic tracking devices, things like that,” I said.

It was not that I did not trust them, but I did not trust any of them at all.

I directed Marcy to open the cases with the bonds and precious stones in it and check them out while I went to retrieve the other two cases from my safe. If any had tracking devices, it would have been those. I wish I had thought of checking things out sooner.

“Dad,” I asked.

“I know, burn everything as before and do not ask any questions,” he replied.

I just nodded.

Marcy was counting the first of the treasury notes that had come from the case with the jewels. I knew there were 68 there unless the Crown Prince had changed plans. I doubted he was going to short-change the arms dealer. That would not be a smart move.

I went to the table and looked at the stacks of the bonds I had picked up at the island. There were one hundred to a bundle at five million each; half a billion dollars. There were forty bundles; twenty billion dollars in the Prince’s terrorist account, way more than I expected. There must have been one hell of a deposit made in the last day. What the hell was he planning?

Twenty billion was more than the fifty smallest countries budgets all combined together. Twenty billion was equivalent to beer and slave money for the Crown Prince. The kingdom was reported to have trillions in US bonds and cash in its vaults from decades of oil sales; what’s twenty billion to them? Chump change.

What in the hell was the Prince going to do when this kind of money was suddenly transferred in a day? We would never know. It had to be payment for past operations or a new one in the works. But I knew they would not be using this money to buy arms or pay for terrorists now.

I stacked the bonds on the table – two bundles each – and covered it with a large fire blanket. One thing was for sure, I knew of no way we would ever be able to use any of it. The day I tell Marcy she has to put it in the shredder, I better have a full box of tissues handy; she would need them.

The rest of the treasure was covered as well. I wound a hardened chain through the handles of the doors and locked the chain. The door had a card lock that I was going to change the code on when I got to my desk.

I had another thought as the elevator door closed behind us, “Locks only work against honest people. Even electronic ones.”

I closed my office door behind me and started to deal with emails. It was going to be a long afternoon; tomorrow at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue may be a welcome break.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

Andy, Ed, Bill and I huddled and discussed the final options. There were the two at the plane who were not an immediate problem. Two had been left in the lobby; two more of Prince’s guards and four of the hunting group were in the hall outside the suite.

According to the camera video, the four from the hunting group were opening the ten crates on the tables along with three travel cases and putting it on display for the Chinaman when he arrived, I supposed.

The Mossad girls and I with Andy and a couple men went first to the lobby to kill the two there and dispose of the bodies. The kill was easy.

As soon as we were in the lobby Andy flew into a rage, first hitting me then Ziva and Abra. We tried defending ourselves then running behind the two men only to shove our combat knives deep into the chest cavity severing arteries. We managed to get them into the safe before they spilled any blood on the floor.

We found out why the safe door was never fully closed; it would not close all the way, something had shifted.

Then Andy, Ziva and I returned to the fifth floor via the elevator. We waited for the others in the hall by the elevator being loud, getting the attention of the six guarding the door.

We had their attention as the others returned to floor and we walked towards our end of the hall. Bill and several more men quietly came from our rooms up behind the six. With a combination of knives and Russian pistols with the latest Mossad silencers, the six died quietly without a whimper. The bodies were dragged into a storage room.

Now we were ready to storm the Prince’s suite. Only Robert stepped into the hall getting our attention.
“The arms dealer is going to be thirty minutes early,” Robert said.

That meant that I was not going to have as long to torture the Prince to exact revenge as I wanted.

With the Russian pistols at the ready at both doors that led into the suite – on the count of three – we burst in. Unfortunately I was the last in; Andy, Bill nor Ed were having it any other way.

The orders to my men and ladies were simple, kill everyone but Crown Prince Sultan al-Zahab, Prince Abdulraouf al-Zahab and Abu Barazan and they did. I had a painful way the others were going to feel before they died.

When I went in the three were sitting in chairs in the middle of the room. I walked to the tables holding the treasure; all the gold and what amounted to a bucket full of diamonds and rubies and assorted other precious stones. In a gold inlayed briefcase were the sixty five five-million dollar ‘Pay to the holder’ US treasury bonds.

I ordered Andy to seal the boxes of gold and precious stones back up and get it loaded up into a couple of the Range Rovers and guard it.

“Do you really think you can steal the Kings treasure and get away with it?” the Crown Prince asked.

I never answered.

Burt was busy transferring the Crown Prince’s wealth to the 10 offshore accounts they had set up for me using the Crown Prince’s laptop. There were also instructions for his account manager to convert the funds to US treasury bonds. The US treasury bonds were to be picked up by Crown Princess Fayza al-Zahab Monday at noon.

The little island boasted it handled billions daily and could handle any transaction for its discriminating clients. I would find out Monday if they could live up to their claims.

Ed had already called for the planes to pick us up. The times for them were varied. I needed to start getting my men out of here.

Bill and three others went to the Prince’s plane, to tell them the Prince needed them; that was the cover. They were to kill them and leave the bodies in the dumpster.

Back in the room the three men were tied to their chairs. I sent everyone out except Andy, Bill, Ziva and Abra to be lookouts for the last of our men from the hunting groups and any curious locals.

I put a big tie – strap above each right knee and pulled them tight. I stepped back and removed my burqa.

The Crown Prince went crazy; he was calling for his guards and tried to stand, even though his hands were tied to chair. Abdulraouf al-Zahab and Abu Barazan immediately followed suit. I shot all three of them in the knee that I had put the tie strap tourniquet on.

“Well I see you know who I am,” I said to the Crown Prince as I stood in front of him.

“I know who you are and am amazed that you are still alive,” the Prince replied.

“You have tried to kill me four times only to see me kill your fighters. I am only going to need this one time to kill you. I am going to exact revenge for what you have put my family and me through, as painfully as I can,” I said.

“Before you die I am going to remove your manhood to deny you your virgins; that is your belief, not mine,” I replied. The fear and rage was apparent; his eyes turned red he was so mad or afraid.

I walked to the chair holding Abu Barazan, “You supplied the guns to kill my men; for that you will pay with your life. I fired a round into each shoulder, then kicked the chair over in the direction of the Prince so he could watch and anticipate.

I flipped up the flowing cloak he was wearing and with my knife removed his under garment. From the bag of tools I used the scalpel the Doc had given me and sliced open the sack and cut off both testicles. I did not use the crimpers, I just let him bleed.

Each time he screamed and passed out. Each time Ziva brought him around with an ammonia capsule, he started screaming again.

With a battery powered red hot surgeon’s scalpel I removed his cock; the smell of burning flesh filled the room. I placed the body parts in one of the mason jars of formaldehyde, courtesy of the Doc.

With a very sharp medieval looking ax and I ended his pain and suffering by removing his head with one swing and placed it on the table looking at the Crown Prince.

I heard a jet land; Andy indicated it was the first one of ours to pick up team three. They were packed, ready and waiting to make the extended deceptive four day trip home. It departed minutes later.

Even before I stood in front of the younger Abdulraouf al-Zahab Prince, he started screaming. He had already thrown up twice all over himself.

I repeated the same procedure on him that I did to Abu; his head was now on the table looking at the Crown Prince with black lifeless eyes.

I placed a tie strap on Crown Prince Sultan al-Zahab’s other leg and put a round through the kneecap.

After a capsule and the screaming stopped, “How did you know I was behind the attacks?” he asked.

“A slip up here and there made me suspect it was you. Capturing the two from Windhoek gave you up. Then there was Saif and the ones from the New Jersey learning center. They couldn’t stop talking; told me everything they knew before they died a slow horrible death.”

“Colonel Faaz Fayeez Mohammad provided the final bullet,” I said.

“Then you do have him. His family is connected with the Iranian leadership; he is the son of the IRG commanding General. They will get you! They have many agents in your country just waiting,” the Prince replied.

“Why did you kill my brother if you knew I was controlling everything?” he asked.

“He was just waiting to fill your footsteps. You have been sending messages with the repeated attempts to kill me. I’m sending a message that that there will be consequences for funding terror no matter whom or where; it will only be a matter of time until it is administered,” I said.

“You have tried to kill my family; turnabout is fair play in love or war. Revenge is a dish best served cold,” I added.

I kicked the chair over. I did not shoot him in the shoulders; I wanted him to feel every slice of the knife. I watched the fire drain from his eyes as I dropped the parts in the jar and wrote his initials on the lid.

“No virgins for you, it’s a good thing I don’t have my strap-on or I would rape your ass as you have done to so many boys,” I said.

He had no response as I placed him across the chair. One swing of the axe and his head joined the other two on the table.

Another jet had landed and left; team four was gone. The lookouts called in; another jet was inbound and it was not one of ours. I expected it to be a large jet; instead it was a small one, far too small to bring any of his products to demonstrate.

The China arms dealer was stepping off the plane. A couple of Andy’s men made nice and met him with one of the Range Rovers.

There were only four of them, pilot, copilot, the dealer and an assistant. As soon as they walked into the room they were all dead.

The mission was over; all the key players were dead. Now to escape.

I broke my rules and made two phone calls, the first to Vicky to ask if the Colonel was still alive. He was.
“Keep him alive. I will fill you in later,” I instructed.

The second was to Frank, telling him who the Colonel was and to pass it to the joint Chiefs. I did not give him a chance to respond before I killed the call.

Another jet was landing; team five was leaving with all the money from the Prince. It would not land at Morton until Monday, empty; it would be diverted to Mexico City and lay over a day there. The men and money were changing to a JBG jet at a small private strip in Panama tomorrow.

All the changes were to throw off anyone trying to track the movements.

As Burt was leaving, “You are going to be surprised on Monday!”

I wondered what the hell that meant.

The rest of us loaded up on the Prince’s jet after a complete sweep, clean up and wipe down of the rooms we had used. Everything was burned; every scrap of paper, the nitrile gloves we used; everything. One of the pilots who flew our planes for the CIA was at the controls.

I was ready for the winding trek home; there were only a couple more stops to make, all of them dangerous. I needed to unwind and crash. It was a good thing the Prince’s plane had a well stocked liquor cabinet with good cold Budweiser. I downed three before I fell asleep.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

We women were put in two Range Rovers at the direction of Andy, with the men leading the way in another.

The hotel was bad and it was easy to tell the rooms had not been used in months; dusty, dirty, stale. The water had to run for thirty minutes before the yellow rusty color went away. Well, we are not drinking that stuff without putting in sanitizing pellets or boiling it.

We had brought plenty of bottled water and MRE’s so we would not have to venture out.

There was a sign in the lobby that the restaurant would only serve the supper meal and the bar was closed by order of the local government. That translated out that they had not paid enough bribe money to the local officials.

This hotel was listed as belonging to a major international chain. Yeah, right; that was the lie of the century. I guess in this part of the world corporate could not force then to stop advertising past connections or force them to take the signage down.

The elevators did work; I also noticed that when we walked by the security camera panel was black. That was a setback in a way; Robert was planning to hack the camera system so we could keep an eye on the Prince when he arrived and then disable it when we wanted.

Robert and Burt had came prepared for setbacks, each of them had a suitcase with a portable satellite dish for communications and several wireless cameras they were going to put in the hall.

Robert was with my team and Burt was with team five staying in the other hotel that was within seeing distance. Burt reported that hotel conditions were not any better over there. We were prepared for whichever hotel the Prince met with the arms dealer in.

The two teams had long range radios – the kind hunters used – so we could communicate. Burt was still monitoring the Prince’s banking and Robert the emails.

At 1400 I turned on my phone and made the call to Jenny letting them know we had arrived and were on schedule. I received an update on the interrogations. I would turn the phone on again at 1600, 1800, 2000 and 2200 South African time. 2200 would last of the day, 1500 at Morton – barring any emergencies.

I did have a clean laptop I could do emails with if I really had to; it had come from England. Robert had installed a stripper program to clean it every time it was shut down and the operating system I would use was on a portable hard drive. Robert and Burt were using the same type.

Wednesday morning the men – with the exception of Andy, Robert, Burt and the Mossad ladies – and a couple of guards and I met their hunting guides. That carried the last of the prince’s terrorist supporters out to the boonies.

Thursday was more planning and finalizing the last details as best we could. I began to wonder if the meeting between the Prince and the Chinese arms dealer was going to happen. I had expected some kind of communication between the two but all was quiet. I was getting nervous and paranoid.

All that changed about dark; Robert intercepted a dozen emails among the four.

We already knew where the diamonds, rubies and gold the Prince was to get was hidden. It was in the hotel safe; the two Iranian spies gave it up when they thought they were going to die. The small treasure was in three travel bags. The gold was in 10 wooden boxes, 50 kilos to the box.

The mines apparently were still very productive even after the owner was told there was no gold left in the ground. That is, unless the real owner of the mine was the Kingdom and this was another terror financing scheme by the Prince.
Crown Prince Sultan al-Zahab, Prince Abdulraouf al-Zahab and Abu Barazan (the terrorist planner) were arriving from Riyadh Saturday morning at 1000. The Chinese arms dealer was arriving at noon.

The Prince gave the hotel and room where he was holding his meetings. We had guessed right. It was the same floor we were on, at the opposite end of the hall.

Robert began putting the rest of his plans together with the confirmation that the cameras and equipment that Burt had could be set up on this floor. We began trying to find a window or balcony where one of the satellites could be set up. With that small of a dish, the angle had to be perfect. The two satellite dishes had been in the materials that Ben-David had supplied. They were the best that Putin could supply the mobile Russian army with; made by Motorola in Mexico.

All of us worked following Robert and Burt’s orders placing and testing the equipment. We worked four hours then split into shifts for rest and duty monitoring the floor and outside. Someone went to the lobby and outside every hour. Rarely was there anyone at the lobby check-in counter during the day and never after 1600.

I made the last call of the day to my mates. Then I did my four hour stint; Andy and the Mossad ladies refused to allow me to go outside. When they went they always had a male with them as was the custom in this part of the world.

It was a long night and when my four hours was up I slept like a baby. I was awakened at 0600 by the ringing of Andy’s satellite phone. The safari hunting groups four and five leaders had left camp at that time saying they had an important meeting to attend.

The leaders had tried for an hour before they left to contact hunting safari groups one and two. The theory was that there were problems with the radio equipment, maybe it had gotten wet.

On my orders Andy sent instructions to Bruce Sloane and Jerry Christopher – the team leaders for teams three and four – ordering them to kill the hunting scouts and guides at noon and feed the gators, burn all their equipment and then come back to Polokwane in the Land Rovers by 1400 and stay out of sight of the airport unless called. That was two more groups taken care of.

The same scenario played out with teams five and six. The two leaders left for the airport to meet the Prince leaving the scouts and guides with my men. Andy gave them the same orders.

The next orders went to the men with Burt “As soon as the Prince comes into the hotel and into the room, send half of your men to the fifth floor to our rooms for backup. As soon as the Chinese arms salesman gets into the hotel the rest are to come to the fifth floor but keep enough with you for security.”

Now it was the waiting game that I hated so much. A dozen hotel staff appeared for the first time in days. They cleaned the Princes rooms and vacuumed the hallway. Food, ice, beverages and table and chairs were brought in.

Andy and I along with the Mossad ladies used the commotion to venture to the lobby and back, making inquisitive conversation along the way. The cleaning crew only knew they were prepping for a VIP but did not know who. They were given strict orders that they were to finished and gone from the hotel by 0945.

Two hours later the lookouts reported that there was a plane in the air. The tower had not been in operation since we had been here. Four Range Rovers drove onto what was a first class tarmac. The drivers had the traditional greeting then a heated and agitated conversation with arms flailing and fist shaking.

The jet landed and pulled into the parking area; a big fancy and flashy Hawker jet with the Prince’s coat of arms painted on the tail. Four Range Rovers drove to the jet and waited.

It would have been nice to overhear the conversation with the four Prince’s body guards that exited the plane to greet the men. Thirty minutes later Crown Prince Sultan al-Zahab, Prince Abdulraouf al-Zahab and Abu Barazan exited the plane.

The body guards and pilots began loading the Range Rovers with suitcases from the cargo hold of the plane. The Range Rovers went to the hotel with two of his body guards and the suitcases were carried to the suite. One of the guards stayed while the other one and one of the leaders moved all the things in the safe to the suite while the Range Rovers returned to the plane.

The wireless cameras Robert and Burt had placed were working great.

The Range Rover carried the last of the individuals to the hotel. There was Crown Prince Sultan al-Zahab, Prince Abdulraouf al-Zahab and Abu Barazan, six body guards, two pilots still at the plane and the eight terrorist hunting leaders present; that made nineteen of them. It was decision time.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

After a few minutes of social conversation I told the President of my plans to leave at noon, to take a week off and that Ben would be back in charge of Section 12. He did not question why so I did not need to tell him a lie.

I needed to be back at the office for the meeting with the attorneys of the man who was suing JBG. Jenny called this the discovery phase. It was where they pried into all your business looking for anything they could find to support their case.

The girls – along with our attorneys and me – were in the meeting room with several of my security staff when the attorneys were brought in. My security personnel were changing daily. I knew these men but had worked with them very little. The teams going to Africa forced the changes. The team leader today was Ray Boggs and, as usual, they were heavily armed.

Ray had the men checked for wires and brought in two bomb sniffing dogs. “Where the hell did they come from and when?” I wondered.

My men took and emptied the contents of their briefcases on the table and let the dogs sniff the cases and then the attorneys.

The attorneys were livid and let it be known that they had never been treated like this before.

“Has anyone tried to blow you up lately?” I asked.

For the next two hours they tried to get various confidential information that I denied them access to for security reasons. We gave them general information that was available publicly.

After the two hours Jenny asked for their client’s name and what position he had applied for; discovery works both ways.

Malcolm Wicks had applied for a job in the security department when we were adding manpower for the embassy expansions.

There were now five levels for employees in security.

Level one is mall and school security; I did not like that we were doing that but it was a joint effort by Ching Lee and Vicky under Ching Lee’s supervision, although we did not have too many of them yet.

Level two is college security with the team leaders being level three; all of them reporting to Ching Lee and Mark.

Level four is Embassy security with the team leaders at level five and reporting to Vicky, Cindy and me.
Andy, Bill and Ed were senior director level and reported to me or Vicky.

Jason printed off several copies of his application and the results of the initial research into Jesse.
Malcolm Wicks applied for the level four position. The position as posted on our website had several requirements.

1. Must be 21.
2. Must have a US passport.
3. Must have prior security experience, military service or a law enforcement degree.
4. Must be fluent in two foreign languages at the time of employment and willing to learn more.
5. Must be height and weight proportional.
6. Must be able to pass the standard fitness test approved by the US Law Enforcement Association.
7. Must be willing to travel worldwide on four hours notice or less.
8. Must take all immunizations required for foreign travel.
9. Must be able to qualify with handgun, rifle and shotgun with a score of 97% or better and remain proficient.
10. Must pass the JBG self defense course and remain proficient.

I passed the job specs to the lawyer and then the resume that Malcolm had sent in to HR.

“Your client does not meet any of the job specs that he applied for. He refuses to get the necessary vaccinations and he put that it in writing,” I said.

“You could train him in the things he was lacking,” the attorney replied.

“We did not post looking for trainees. We posted for qualified individuals. We needed 800 qualified people immediately. If I remember over 3000 qualified persons applied for the jobs,” I replied.

“I need a breakdown of your employees by race, sex and nationality,” the attorney said.

“We do not collect that kind of information on our employees and, as for sex, that is medical information and we can’t give that to you even if we wanted to,” I replied.

“This is the discovery phase and I am not satisfied with your cooperation. I will get a judge to order you to supply the information. I will see you in court,” he replied.

“Be my guest,” I replied as I stood.

The girls and I went to have a last meal together before I left to pack and then for Africa. After the goodbyes, hugs and some crying I boarded the jet with team six at Morton for a deceptive flight to Polokwane. First we went to South America on Ajax International Equipment Company’s private jet with the first stop at Fortaleza Brazil.

There we were changing to a Brazil Mining & Minerals jet to finish the flight across the Atlantic to South Africa. B M&M had mining operations all over Africa and their plane made regular flights there.

I had met the company officials when I had been ambassador to Uganda and we had become friends.

All of us slept on the flight to Brazil. The change over to the BMM flight was done at their hangar. It was pitch black, a perfect night for the beginning of clandestine operations. I took that a good sign and hoped that it would continue.

On this final leg of the trip we began getting ready for our public appearance. The former Mossad ladies began putting on the marking on the back of our hands and fingers that are prevalent on women in the Middle East and Africa. Our cover was completed with the traditional Muslim burqa and chador; the only thing visible on us women was our eyeballs and the fingers with intricate markings and no polish.

Those marking were different depending on the sects and tribes. We had chosen markings of the tribes from Yemen that were aligned with Iran that Robert’s information indicated were in the smuggling business; another good cover.

It was bright daylight when we landed. Google had lied or the pictures were terribly old. This place was deserted, all but abandoned; there was one operating fuel truck. I was surprised that it was a fairly new one. The operator needed payment in advance; ten dollars American per gallon so he could go to the fuel depot 20 miles away to get the fuel.

We did not need fuel in this plane; it still had enough left to make its next stop to Gaborone Botswana. That was the next stop for it. But the other planes coming to get us out of here in a few days may need some.

I told Andy in Russian to give the man enough money to fill the truck; I didn’t want any of the planes getting the teams out of here having to wait a day on fuel if they needed it. When it became time to go, I wanted everyone gone as fast as possible. Looking at this place I doubted any other planes would come here except for the Prince.

Andy met teams one and two on the tarmac near the plane while we women huddled off to the side. That s that way life was for women in that part of the world.

Their mission was done early; the two different guide groups they were with were led by the two Iranian spies. At the hunting camps over the weekend the hunting guides/poachers had campfire conversations in Arabic that they did not think my people could understand.

They were planning to raid migrant camps for women and young girls to rape and then to sell to the Middle Eastern rich for sex slaves and servants to fund terrorism and their lifestyle. The ISIS tactics for funding were making their way across all of Africa.

Migrant camps moved following agricultural work or game and were always on the move. Several new ones had shown up on the edge the wildlife refuge.

The guides were planning to raid the camps Sunday night and set up a temporary camp until they had enough women to ship to Yemen. Teams one and two killed all the guides with the exception of the two Iranians. The bodies were left in the river for the crocodiles. All their weapons were burned before being thrown in the river to quickly rust beyond use if found.

Teams one and two were leaving on the plane we had just gotten off. In the process the two spies were being dropped off at Hangar 43 where the plane would be refueled for the trip back to Brazil.

I made the call to Frank – it was the top of the even hour – to make sure his people were there and waiting. You can say a lot in five minutes if you talk fast enough.

We had a lot of work to do and it started as soon as the jet left the runway.

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Proof read by Bob W.

All three Generals just stared at me while I was listening to the Doc.

“Are you available for the next few days until he or we are finished?” I asked.

“OK, just keep the meter running,” I replied.

“The Doc says that if it does not require heavy doses to get him talking or to get the truth from him, more should not be a problem. If it requires heavy doses, then one or two at the most,” I relayed to the Generals.

“You need to get me a number to bill the DOD for part of the Doc’s services; they come awfully expensive. You know how expensive R&D is. Have your men to the office at the same time and the same rules will apply as last night,” I said.

The next three days at 1600 fell in a quiet routine again and that worried me more than anything. The evenings and nights were something else.

Balthazar was interrogated for three nights in a row, needing almost no drugs. Every day I had people make nice to him as long as he was talking. I let him choose food from the restaurant menu. He received clean clothes and was allowed to shower every day.

The fourth night the DOD men, Ben and Frank took a couple days off to analyze all the information they had. Vicky and I questioned Balthazar for three hours about the Prince and the activities he was connected in.

Balthazar admitted the Prince was behind the attacks on me and the Prince was the paymaster. Things I already knew, but the confirmation was nice to have.

The questions and answers also confirmed that the Prince was acting without the blessings of the King. In fact the King was being shielded from any of the Prince’s actions.

That meant that either there were more who approved of the Prince’s actions or they were deathly afraid to oppose him. The power play in the Kingdom carried life and death penalties, if one chose the wrong blood line to support.

Other answers from Balthazar confirmed the Prince’s support of Al-Qaida and a path for some of the weapons for ISIS. This was not the first large purchase of weapons the Prince had made for his terror connections.

Balthazar also gave up two names from the Polokwane hunting camp groups who were spies for Iran. Andy ordered both to meet with tragic accidents before team six and I arrived.

I asked Andy to hold off until Monday before giving the order. The two Iranians that I had captured in the Kampala Embassy attack had given up hundreds of bits of information to the CIA; Balthazar was giving up so many things that I wondered if capturing the two in Polokwane might be a better thing than killing them.

Robert was still reading through the thousands of emails in the Prince’s accounts. Only two of the accounts were locked and accessible only to the Prince, the other two accounts were also accessed by his assistants and were used for business of the kingdom.

Friday night was the first long business meeting I had with the girls this week. Every night this week I had went straight to the gym floor to work out and train with the Mossad four or have planning sessions with Andy.

There were good things from the meeting; the South Korean housing project for the embassy security employees was moving towards completion. A big backup generator had been added in case things went ape shit crazy there.

The timeline for the men to move in was next week. The men we had brought back from there were finished training and had been given a free week for whatever before they were flying back with the additional manpower for the site.

The new tarmac was now completely cured and being used, alleviating the overcrowding at the terminal and super hangar.

Andy was working with the engineers from Bobs Construction for the next round of improvements to Camp Smith for all the training that was going to have to happen.

The training end was going crazy since all the publicity connected with my Washington venture. Police departments and security groups from everywhere wanted their SWAT teams and departments to go though our training. It was not just from the US, but also Europe, Central America, South America and Asia. Our website training link was being hit hundreds of times an day.

The good thing out of all of this was that after the Africa trip, there would be ninety special OPS men and ladies to use for trainers for both embassy compliance and the law enforcement training. The year was going to be busy and I needed to be here and not in Washington. There were just less than two more months to go.

The down side was the continuing request for me to speak at all kinds of police and law enforcement seminars, conventions and other events. I informed the President’s staff early on that I would do no speaking tours. That was simply not me.

There were some organizations that would not accept no and tried going through JBG. All calls of that nature were directed to Cindy who added the names to a list that I had no intention to EVER look at.

I finished up Friday on the mats with both Ziva and Abra; it took a full thirty minutes in the hot tub and then another thirty minutes on the massage table to work out the kinks and pains. If I did not know better, I would have thought they were trying to kill me.

Saturday morning the girls and I met with Andy, Robert and the men and ladies who made up teams five and six. The girls wanted and were entitled to hear the complete plan at this stage. The final plans would be made as needed. All plans were made to be broken.

Saturday night was subdued but it was still family night. We had a big home cooked meal to save the hassle of bodyguards. We included the Moms and Dads along with Jake and Mindy.

After everyone left and it was just us girls with the boys in bed, the night was filled with intimacy. We were touching, feeling, fondling, kissing, hugging and crying until we satisfied and exhausted. Even then we did not go off to our to bed. We stayed on the big couch all tangled together under a quilt, not wanting to give up on the bonding.

Even though I tried to display total confidence in the mission – as Andy was calling it – there were still huge risks. There were so many things that could go wrong. So many of the pieces had to be pulled off exactly right. I knew the girls could sense it.

Sunday morning we met the family at the church for the early service. Mom had been trying ever since the boys were born for us to be regular members. For some reason this Sunday felt like a good time to go. It wasn’t far so we only took four Suburbans.

Sunday quickly became Monday and I was at Section Twelve early again. Ben and Frank were already there working on Balthazar’s questions and answers, but had not started the coffee.

With the coffee percolating I called them into my office and closed the door.

“Well?” I asked.

“We think one more session may finish all of our questions; the military guys want one more too,” Frank replied.

“Do you have assets in South Africa and access to aviation in Botswana?” I asked Frank.

“That’s a tall order right off hand; no. What’s going on there?” Frank asked.

“That’s classified; you know, need to know,” I replied.

“Do you want two more Iranian spies to question?” I asked.

“How could we not want them?” Ben replied.

“Have your people at the Gaborone Botswana airport Wednesday afternoon, hangar 43, to pick them up,” I said.

“Ben, when I leave today you will be in charge; I will not be back for a week. Vicky is your contact for the Doc and all things connected,” I said.

“The girls will have a way to contact me for emergencies by satellite phone. The phone will only be turned on for 5 minutes on even hours at the top of the hour during daylight,” I said.

“That sounds like something from the Mossad operations manual,” Frank replied.

I just winked and smiled. I opened the door to follow them out to see Troy and the President standing at the coffee pot and raiding the donuts on the pastry plate.

That will save me a trip upstairs, I thought.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

The Doc did a physical on Balthazar Monday night and deemed him fit enough for questioning.

Tuesday was more of the same at Section 12. Tuesday night Ben, Frank, Agents Croft, Doyle and I questioned Balthazar while Vicky and Ching Lee looked on and learned. The session lasted three hours.

In a concession to Frank and Ben we video recorded the interrogation. But only Balthazar appeared in the video along with Ben’s voice.

Balthazar recognized me immediately. “You are one lucky infidel bitch. You are going to die a horrible death very soon at the hands of Allah’s servants,” he said just before the Doc hit him with the first dose.

Doc Burns used smaller doses, varying the doses and chemical mixture so as not to damage the heart or brain. Balthazar spent three hours in intense pain when he did not answer questions. It took the first 90 minutes to convince him he needed to be more forthright with his answers. We left him in the cell with the last meal of the day.

Tomorrow night we would do it again after dissecting his answers, comparing them to what we knew and what the men had learned at Gitmo. What we did know was that more arrests and search warrants would be in the works for tomorrow.
He also began to give us the military secrets of the IRG. Ben and Frank both wanted a foreign military intelligence person from the Pentagon to help in the questioning.

I was opposed and let it be known loudly. The more involved, the much greater the chance of leaks and fallout. After much discussion I finally relented with conditions.

The limit would be two. I needed to be careful about how many knew about Camp Smith and the goings on here other than the training we did there. Agents Croft and Doyle I trusted. They trained at Camp Smith and had worked the MSU attack and the raids on the learning centers. They knew the rules were bent as the situation called for it.

The Pentagon two would be checked for wires and they would be allowed no phones or other devices. They would eventually receive the edited tape of the questions they asked. They would be given a ‘what if’ scenario thirty minutes before they were picked up. What If we captured an Iranian military individual? What questions would they ask him?
Ben, Frank and I would use the connections we had within the Joint Chief of Staff to pick two tomorrow.

I spent more time in the tanning booth. I needed to be dark as if I had spent years in the sun; so did the Mossad ladies. Vicky and I were in there every night, after hitting the mats with the Mossad ladies. After three days I was able to hold my own against any of them, at least for a little while.

Wednesday morning, Tamim the cycle bomber was deemed well enough to be moved. He was going to the Federal Prison in Virginia for a short stay and isolation. The special terrorist judge agreed that he could be held as an enemy combatant; without counsel and no chance of bail pending a full review of all the evidence the various agencies had collected.

At 0900 Ben, Frank and I had a meeting with the joint chiefs. I thought they would take the lead in the discussion; I was wrong. I laid it out as a scenario and asked for names.

Major John Hoytman and Major Earle Brown were the two intelligence specialists that were finally chosen. They were ordered to be at the office at 1700 as were all the participants.

At 1730 we were all in the medical building where Balthazar was strapped to the table and the Doc was waiting.

“You must be so disappointed; I’m still breathing so no one has collected the bounty yet,” I said to Balthazar.

“Tonight’s session is going to be military questions. Do you need me to translate them to Persian or are we going to continue in English?” I said in Persian.

“I will do English,” he replied.

For the next three hours he answered questions only needing a few doses to keep him talking. Hoytman and Brown used maps, diagrams and other props to question him. At times they contradicted him when they knew he was trying to feed them lies.

The Doc finally ended the session; Balthazar was getting too weak according to his equipment. The military men were vocal that they needed to do another session after they had time to cross check what they had learned.

I needed a session to learn all I could about the Prince’s connections so Balthazar was going to live at least a couple more days.

After the session finished Balthazar was allowed to shower and clean up before he was carried back to the jail. At the jail I gave him his prayer mat and Quran that had been collected from his apartment. The Doc had x-rayed both of them to make sure there were no hidden weapons or suicide pills.

Thursday morning I was in Section 12 early; Andy picked the times he wanted things to happen. I just was along for the ride.

The second pot of coffee had stopped perking and I was on my second cup when the President, Troy, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs (who was a Marine), the Army Chief of Staff and the Commandant of the Marine Corps. Neither of the Chiefs looked happy. They did follow the lead of the President and Troy by getting a big cup of coffee before sitting down.

“You are on your own,” Troy replied.

General Jack Ingram Chairman JCS spoke first, “Yesterday when you talked with us the meeting was to be a scenario; this morning we find out that you have Guardian Colonel Faaz Fayeez Mohammad IRG in your custody and have apparently had him and been questioning him for more than a few days. Can you please tell me why the DOD is just finding out?”

“Sure; first you have to know and understand the operations were conducted under ‘The need to know protocol’ that is so often prevalent in matters of this level. He was arrested under the name of Balthazar Khamini as a terrorist in possession of remote controlled IEDs that were in the trunk of his car. Fingerprints and other evidence from Interpol said he was Gazi Asfour. We interrogated him as a terrorist.”

“With more in-depth investigation we found out he was Guardian Colonel Faaz Fayeez Mohammad. Our interrogations were beginning to be productive and moving towards the military arena. That is when we asked for your men yesterday,” I replied.

“Majors Hoytman and Brown indicated that you were going to allow them one more session with him. They think they need more,” General Ingram said.

“The drugs and tactics we are using take a terrible toll on the body and brain. The Doc has said that two or three more sessions and he will be dead. That said, I need one more session to clear up odds and ends for the task force; that leaves one for you; there may not be a third,” I replied.

“Just what the hell are you using on him?” Marine General Berger asked.

“Whatever mix and dosage it takes to make him talk; anything other than that is ‘Need to Know’ and you don’t need to know,” I replied.

“Mr. President; I protest. The military aspect of the interrogation is just too important to be limited to one more session,” the General said.

“I would not protest too loudly unless you intend to turn in your resignation, the Colonel is her prisoner and a terrorist; she is in control of the situation and out on the limb. She successfully argued her position and has been given carte blanche. Try negotiating; split the sessions up, work out something with her,” the President replied as he stood to leave.

The chairman went to the coffee pot and poured two cups; placed one in front of me and sat in the chair across from me.

“Where do we start? What can I offer you for a little more time with your prisoner?” he asked.

I called the Doc, “How many sessions are left in the Colonel before we kill him?”

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Proof read by Bob W.