Bjjonesmylife. Book 2

Word press has started aggressively pushing paid sites and that is the reason for the sudden increase in adds, popups, video and other nuisance things.

To end this add assault for my valued readers as of today I now pay for this blog and may soon have a more direct dot com site.

THERE SHOULD BE NO MORE ADDS ON MY WORD PRESS SITE OTHER THAN THE WORD PRESS HEADER AT THE BOTTOM.
Jack

I was early; I was learning to drive more like Jenny in heavy traffic and went straight to Section 12 in the subterranean 4th floor. While driving I used the hands free to call AAGH to check on my men.

There was no change from last night; even those that could be released were going to be held for a couple days. The doctors were worried about all the out of control diseases in central and southern Africa, especially since the skin had been broken, increasing the chance of infection.

Some of my people were already in Section 12 pouring over all the charts and trees that they had put together on Friday. I took the time to stand with them and listen closely at the things they wanted to do as cross checks.

They all asked how my men were, genuinely concerned about their injuries. They had seen the news reports and the live landing of the plane.

Slightly before seven I logged into VCATS and paged Andy. The first topic was to update him on his men. From there we talked about the condition of the embassy, the grounds and the Ambassador’s residence.

The embassy building itself was built much stronger and was in far better shape than the residence. We both opened the picture file and went through them together, pointing out the obvious things and repairs needed.

“There is a small lumberyard not far from here. I am going to send some men to get supplies to fix the roof to keep the water out of the embassy,” Andy said then added.

“If they have any tarps and an extension ladder that they will deliver, I will try to get a tarp over the roof of the residence to keep it dry until decisions are made,” Andy said.

“The G650 is still in Angola; I will get Lorrie to send it to you. I don’t know how many seats are in it but send back that many of the RRS team if you are comfortable doing that. It will help with your overcrowding. How are you on money?” I asked.

“We have been going through it buying food for this many. There are only going to be five that will be able to go back; we need to keep the staffing here at the 40 person requirement,” Andy replied.

“I will have the pilot leave his cash bag with you,” I replied. “You know Marcy.”

“Oh yes, receipts!” he replied.

“Where did the dirt come from to fill the sandbags?” I asked.

“There is a new hole for a pool or pond in the back corner. When we empty the bags it should be filled back up,” Andy replied.

“We used the gun drones to silence the mortars. We found them on a hill in a remote area of a park a mile north of the embassy. It looked like they had been using the site for a while. It was high enough they could do visual spotting and control. We are still watching the site to see if anyone shows up to collect any remains or weapons.”

“We did not have to use any of the drop devices from the drones; the LZ17B worked well. They gave the sharp shooters the ability to be more selective.”

“Have you heard anything from the local authorities?” I asked.

“Supposedly there are a couple of missing men they are looking for. Other than that – nothing – and they had no comment as to why they did not offer any help or protection,” Andy replied.

“Oh, no wonder at that,” I said.

“We are continuing to fill in the holes in the yard and fix the gates today, you are going to need another new Suburban; one of them is beyond repair, the other didn’t get a scratch. The chopper was not bothered at the airport,” Andy said.

“Send that to Vicky and any other things you need so she can work on the logistics. Have the pilots do a complete check on the chopper before they fire it up for sabotage,” I said.

At seven I went up to the Oval Office to update the president on my conversation with Andy and this morning’s report on my men.

The President, Vice President and all the top level staff were there, with the exception of the assistant chief of staff. I gave out reports and passed out damage pictures of the site. I updated the condition of my injured.

A general discussion followed and everyone seemed happy the meeting was over. I was getting ready to return to Section 12 when the assistant chief of staff came in.

“When did you get updates from Namibia?” he demanded almost breathing in my face.

“0700 Saturday, yesterday and today; it is noon time there at that time here; it lets them get the day sorted out. If there is something they need or an emergency, they can call. I have received no such calls. This office has had updates of every call,” I replied.

“I don’t believe that! I think you are a lying whore!”

Those were the wrong words from his mouth, no one calls me that if I am standing and I was. My reaction was immediate.

My right hit him in the mouth, my left in the throat and the right in the middle of the chest, knocking over a fancy leather chair and him with it. I started around the chair only to be grabbed by two Secret Service agents.

“You are lucky; the last man to call me that is dead,” I said.

“Not afraid to kick ass when it is necessary and can do it swiftly. They didn’t lead me astray on that one,” the President commented.

“Troy, you have been told about your mouth. You better apologize to the lady or I just might order the room cleared and let her have 5 minutes alone with you. And for Christ’s sake, stop dripping blood on the carpet,” the President said.

Apologize he did with difficulty – his voice was hurting him – and then left. The President apologized again.

I went back to Section 12, stopping along the way to get an ice pack from the first aid kit in the hall. My right knuckles were bruised and starting to swell.

Five minutes later texts were flying and the whisper campaign had started.

There was also a rush of people from the other departments down here who needed a refill of coffee. They were discreetly casting glances at my hand wrapped in the ice pack.

30 minutes later the swelling was going down and the bruising on my right hand was not going to be that bad. Hitting teeth and bones cause bruises.

Bobbie brought me another ice pack, “A lot of people think the lesson you gave him was past due.”

The rest of the morning was spent with the tech people working on the phone numbers.

A little before noon, Len sent a number of compressed video files. They were video from the Walmart at Coons Rapids. I sent copies to the guys with the high speed facial programs. If they could find them fast, it would narrow down the search time. There were sixty files that captured the time period from all the different cameras.

The group working with phone numbers was making progress as well; so far one hundred and fifty numbers were prepaid burner phones that were no longer active.

There were an additional 100 so far that were active and there were thousands of calls on the 100 phones, each one had to be researched. With every active phone, the numbers kept multiplying.

In my mind the numbers of phones with hundreds of calls on them would be dead ends. They would be just a friend who called and had no knowledge or participation in the events. The phones were slowly coming back to legitimate people with regular jobs. The numbers pulled off them went the same route; legitimate people, places and jobs with complete paper trails.

We ordered out for lunch, none of the men or ladies wanted to quit. Of all the things they could order, they went with pizza and Pepsi.

This morning’s drone report was more of the same; no activity. I wondered if we should just go ahead and raid the place.

I decided to stay with the plan; second guessing will get you every time.

By the end of the day we just had more mystery, the video files from Coon Rapids did indeed answer a few questions and raised many more.

All six were dropped off at the Walmart from the same public transportation bus. Emmit was still on the phone with the Anoka County ride, trying to find out what kind of records and video they kept.

They never went into the store and walked directly to Diya’s SUV.

The two SUVs with the explosives met Diya there. We already knew they were stolen the day before. They had turned into the Walmart from the north; from the direction of the farm where the explosives were packed into the SUVs.

They parked in a way that blocked the cameras. There was enough movement to indicate that the four women were fitted with the suicide vests at that time. Saif’s car was parked with the group and they all left together.

It shouldn’t have taken that long to install the vest. My bet was they were getting the final pep talks; reading from the Koran and prayers for success. So all this for now, led nowhere.

We were getting ready to leave for the day when the assistant chief of staff knocked on the door and walked in; the room got deathly quiet.

His mouth was still swollen, his lip split and his nose was swollen; I had gotten him good with the first punch.

“They said that you had lots of pictures of the embassy this morning. If you have a minute I would like you go through them with me. I promise no more explicit comments,” he said.

We sat at the big table so I would have witnesses if I nailed him again.

We went through the pictures of all the damage and discussed each one. Andy had sent me video from one of the drones of the embassy grounds. I did not have it when I spoke to the President’s team this morning. I played it on the big screen. There were high overviews and close-ups of the grounds showing the damage to the embassy and residence.

“Taken from a drone?” Troy asked.

“Yes, Andy had several at his disposal. JBG has some expensive ones with very expensive equipment to go on them.”

There was one more file in my email from Robert. I decided to look at it at home. It was marked ‘Classified – top secret – for your eyes only’.

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

Sunday was the big family breakfast for me and my mates; relaxed fun time. We were all up at 06:00; it was just habit.

At 09:30 Dad and I went to feed the prisoners. I used the excuse that Dad needed help for a few minutes with a project.

I put together two trays from the Morton restaurant, bananas, oranges apples, pastries and a couple of pancakes that they would have to eat dry. They weren’t getting anything they needed utensils for along with more bottled water and tea.

The first one was getting his sight back. He immediately looked at me as I unlocked the chains and his eyes followed me as I took the trash out from last night’s meal. He also kept looking at Dad holding the shotgun on him.

Last night before I zipped up the body bags and threw them in the dumpster, I checked the pockets. The only thing I found was prayer beads which I handed to them with breakfast.

The other prisoner was the same way. I chained the doors again and we left. The doc was coming at 1800 to do the interrogations with me.

When I got home, the girls and I went to the office. I had a firm limit of one hour desk work then I was going to spend the rest of the day in the gym. I was feeling sluggish and down and I was sure that it was because I had only managed at most a few minutes this week in exercise. I was just yuck.

I was still in the gym at 1730 when the doc called to say he was on the way. I had told the girls that I had an important meeting at 1800 that would take a couple hours. Vicky and Jenny asked if I wanted anyone to come along.

“No, it’s not going to be a good meeting and not for the squeamish; just keep supper warm for me. I will call you when I finish,” I replied.

The doc and I unloaded a dozen pieces of medical monitoring equipment into the exam room. Then he and I walked the first one over to the medical building.

When in the exam room, we stripped him down and put an adult diaper on him; he was getting combative now. We strapped him tightly to the exam table with wide leather straps.

An IV was started and let drip while the doc set up the rest of the equipment. Syringes with different drugs were filled and placed in order. The shock paddles were set on a table and checked out. An automatic blood pressure cuff was connected.

The doc placed sticky things on his chest, head and legs and they were hooked up to two different monitors.

“Everything is ready. You know this carries risk that he could die at any time. Start asking your questions,” the doc said.

“Consider him dead anyhow; it will be no loss either way,” I replied.

I started asking questions in Arabic.

“What is your name?” I asked.

“You are a whore,” he replied.

“Who paid you to attack the embassy?”

“Infidel,” he replied.

“Who gave you the weapons?”

“You will die a thousand deaths at the hands of Allah,” he replied.

I relayed the question and answers to the doc.

Just as the doc picked up a syringe, there was a knock on the door.

Who in the hell can that be, I had locked the gate and the door both so no one would come in.

I opened the door and stepped out to be facing Vicky and Frank.

“Neither of you should be here,” I said.

“We both need answers and I assume you are going to get them, in ways I never can. I need to hear them for myself,” Frank replied.

“Vicky what goes on here will cause you to have sleepless nights and nightmares; you need to go home,” I said.

“You do what has to be done – I need to be able to do that – you cannot shelter me forever. I want to be able to be as hard as you are when it is necessary,” she said.

The three of us walked back to the table.

“He is refusing to answer. The doc is about to influence that.”

I nodded to the doc then he pushed the plunger in a tiny bit. The table jerked and he went ridge under the straps, his face contorted in pain. The doc watched the monitors and waited then pushed a little more on the plunger.

He groaned and screamed then passed out. The doc continued to watch the monitors. A couple minutes later, he broke an ammonia capsule under his nose to bring him around.

“Are you ready to answer my questions?”

“Who paid you to attack the embassy?”

There was no response.

“Who supplied the mortars and guns?”

Again there was no response.

“Who is controlling your group?

“Go to hell; Allah will send you there, you infidel whore,” he finally said.

Again I relayed the answers to the doc.

The doc changed syringes to a larger one with a different color ingredient, placed it into the IV plug and pushed. The man lunged against the straps and the table shook and continued to shake.

The monitor nearly flat lined; as soon as it started to return the doc pressed the plunger a little more. When he started to turn blue, doc turned the oxygen on and put the pieces in his nose. Then he shoved a long needle into his heart and pushed the plunger.

Then doc shocked him with the paddles. It was five minutes before he relaxed in the restraints, then he got another ammonia capsule as the blips returned to normal on the screen.

When he returned to normal I asked, “Are you ready to answer my questions or did you want to have another dose?

“What were the questions?” he asked.

“Who do you take orders from? Who supplies the money?”

“Crown Prince Sultan al-Zahab,” he replied.

“Who supplied the weapons?” I asked.

“Prince Abdulraouf al-Zahab,” he replied.

“Who gave the orders to attack the embassy,” I asked.

“Abu Barazan,” he replied.

“Where is he from?” I asked.

“Saudi Arabia,” he replied.

“When are the Princes coming to Namibia?” I asked.

“They never come to Namibia. We meet them in South Africa,” he said.

“Where is Abu Barazan?” I asked.

“He comes in a private jet and leaves, never stays after dark,” he replied.

I looked at Frank, “Do you have any questions?”

“The crown prince involved in terrorism; I think you are lying to me. I’m going to have the doc give you a bigger dose,” I said.

“NO, NO in the name of Allah NO MORE; it’s the truth. May Allah strike me down if it is a lie,” he said.

“No, let’s swap them out and see if you get the same answers.”

I carried one to the jail and I mean carried – it was all he could do to walk – and brought the other back. We repeated the questions and had to go through the same procedure. We ended up with the same answers.

We helped the doc load up all his equipment, “Vicky can go with you to help unload. Don’t put it away too deep; we may need it again any day,” I replied.

“I don’t need any help,” the doc replied.

Damn, I wanted to get Vicky out of here. I guess it was not meant to be.

In the lights from the Suburban, the two became chum for the catfish in the pond. We loaded the trough with chlorine and fire wood, then ran thousands of gallons of water through and over it to clean it.

Before we split from Frank I asked, “Are those three on your friends or enemies list?”

“I don’t know, but I will find out. I do know where they are on your list without asking and I would not want to be them,” he replied.

Vicky had recorded the last part of the interrogation and the answers to my questions. Tomorrow she would give the names to Robert. For now it would go on the back burner. I was more interested in Saif; he was a much more immediate threat.

The Princes would curtail activities for awhile anyhow, to see if they had been exposed.

I expected to have problems with Vicky as soon as she realized what she has seen and participated in.

At supper everything was normal, like nothing out of the way had happened. There was no screaming in the night and breakfast was as normal as could be. May be I had under estimated Vicky’s strength, resolve and determination. Only time would tell.

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

At 1800 we were at Morton field putting final touches on arrival needs.

The girls had contacted a local private ambulance company and had all 10 of their ambulances coming, and then the county EMS was going to supply 5 county ambulances with medics. Local fire companies were going to supply the last 10, one each for the counties volunteer fire departments and 4 from adjacent counties.

A JLG lift with a platform was waiting to unload the injured. It was easier to put an ambulance stretcher on the platform then raise it to the aircraft door and lower it than to fight the stretcher up and down the stair truck.

The plane was 150 miles out when it contacted the tower; it would be on the ground in 30 minutes. All the ambulance drivers had received instructions on how this was to be done. They were all parked together waiting.

Hanna and Sylvester had ridden the JLG and then sent a report to the station. The report contained video of all the parked ambulances and the preparations to receive the injured.

The 737 landing lights were a couple miles away on final approach when I was tapped on the shoulder. When I turned, Frank and Eric were both standing there.

“We thought you might need a little moral support, everything OK?” Frank asked. “Although it looks like you have everything well covered.”

“We are good here with this part, just going to be a long night and tomorrow. As soon as they get the men headed to the hospital and everyone gone from here, I can use some off the record help if you can wait around,” I replied.

“Namibia is claiming that over 200 people were killed. They want an international investigation,” Frank said.

“The international body needs to investigate where their damn police and military was. They showed up in force after the shooting stopped,” I replied.

“Did Andy learn anything from any prisoner’s,” he asked.

“Very few prisoners; ask me that question in a couple days,” I replied.

The plane was parked and the injured being unloaded. I went to each one of my men and talked to them and their family.

A convoy was formed and off they went to AAGH. The doctor had already made all the arrangements with the hospital for x-rays, MRIs and other treatment. He had spent a lot of time on the phone getting things set up on the way home.

I sent Jenny home to relieve Lisa from baby sitting and the other four girls to the hospital to take care of the paperwork, which I was sure there would be plenty of.

The tarmac was now void of people with the exception of Dad; he was bringing one of the baggage carts behind the Gator as I opened the cargo bay. When the cart was parked close enough, the four of us slid the two coffins onto the cart. I followed the cart with my SUV.

Dad backed the cart into the maintenance building where all the grounds maintenance equipment was stored. There we placed the coffins on the floor and I opened them. With a slight kick I found out both were still alive.

“You made them fly in a body bag in a coffin for 8000 miles. You have a cruel sadistic mind,” Eric said then he added, “I kind of like it, just right for them.”

“It was the only way I could figure to get them out. If you don’t want to find out just how cruel, don’t be around after they are interrogated,” I replied.

“Dad, would you go the restaurant and get two hamburger meals with several bottles of water? I’m sure these two are hungry. Take it back to jail at Camp Smith; we will meet you back there,” I said.

With Dad gone, the three of us took the first one out of the coffin. I opened the body bag and removed his shoes. I was sure he had crapped all over himself in the 12 hours he had been in there.

With a heavy duty pair of vinyl gloves on, I stood him up, stripped off his clothing and wiped him down as best as I could, leaving everything in the body bag to go into the dumpster.

The bay next to us was a wash bay. I found a bucket, a bottle of Dawn soap and a medium/soft bristle scrub brush. With him standing on the concrete floor, I soaped him up and used the pressure washer on low setting to rinse him off. He did not like that at all.

I gave him a towel and told him in Arabic to dry himself off. I also handed Eric my Glock, “If he tries to run, shoot him.”

It was unnecessary; I could tell by the way he was acting that he still could not see. I cleaned the other one the same way. I sent Frank to get the clothes from my SUV. I had brought gym shorts, sweat pants and a sweat shirt for both of them.

With them cuffed with regular cuffs, we loaded them up to meet Dad back at Camp Smith.

Camp Smith had undergone a series of improvements after multiple agencies that contracted to do training there wanted special additions. Parts of the portable buildings had been relocated further from the runway. The camp itself had been expanded to meet the various requests.

One of those was a small concrete block jail; four cells complete with bars and bed springs with a thin mattresses and pillow with a stainless steel crapper in the corner and an interrogation room. It was used quite frequently when there was no training going on in the camp by certain enforcement agencies.

It was the same agencies that used some of our Florida houses as safe houses from time to time.

The agencies found it unnerving and helpful for those waiting interrogation when the authentic mid-eastern African jungle music – complete with chants and screaming – was played on the large speakers.

“Ask no questions and I will tell you no lies,” was the buzz word for anything that happened at the jail.

The other was a medical building. Training in full SWAT gear in 100 degree and extreme cold had caused problems. The medical building had four hospital beds and several cots. It had an exam room with one of those damn cold hard stainless steel tables. It also had basic medical equipment, oxygen, BP equipment, heart shock paddles and a supply of first aid supplies.

The medics who worked the gym were also responsible for the medical building. In fact, most of the contracts now required medically trained people to be in the building when they were training in large groups.

Those two buildings were the only two buildings in Camp Smith that were fully functional with running water, sewage, electric and air conditioning.

I walked each prisoner into the cell, since they could not see. I had to explain the cell to them in Arabic.

“You are in a jail cell 3 meters by 3 meters,” I backed him up to the bars. “Count your steps and walk ahead; stop; to your left is your bed; feel it with your leg,” then I turned him and sat him on the bed.

“Two meters ahead of you is a small table and chair for you to eat from, count the steps to the table,” I said as I walked him over to the table.

“All the way back to the right is the crapper for you to do your functions in,” I said as I walked him to it. “There is paper to wipe your butt with right there,” as I moved his hand to it after I pushed him to sit on the crapper. “You make a mess in the floor and I will see that you eat it,” I said.

“Make your way to the table,” I said as I guided him to it. When he was there I pushed the chain to the back of his legs. “Chair, now you can sit.”

Dad was back with the food; I placed it on the table and un-wrapped the burger, placing his hand on it. “Beef burger on bread, these are fried potatoes,” as I touched his fingers to them.

I took his left hand and touched the water bottle, “The round bottles are water, the square one is sweet tea. Do you want me to open one of them for you?” I asked.

“I don’t need any women to open it for me,” he replied.

“Who gave you the orders to attack the embassy? Who put up the money and weapons?” I asked.

“Go to hell; I will never tell,” he replied.

“Tomorrow you will meet a man you will not like. When he is through with you, you will gladly answer any question I have and more,” I replied.

I did the same thing to the other prisoner.

I wrapped a chain around the cell doors and put a padlock on it that only I and the girls had a key to. I set the thermostat to 72 and dimmed the lights.

On the way out I placed the ‘In use no admittance’ sign on the door and locked the second deadbolt that again, only we girls had a key to.

I drove Frank and Eric back to the terminal to get their cars. We had a gentle conversation with the ride.

That began with “You have you own freaking jail,” Frank said.

“Yeah; won’t the wimpy triplets be impressed,” I laughed. Then I realized the seriousness of his remark and where he was going with it.

“You do know that the New York office of YOUR agency was the one that requested, designed and paid for it,” I added.

“Oh, hell no; damn!” he replied. “Do they use the chipper?”

“No need to; they have the New York harbor,” I replied then added, “But they have been trained on how to use and clean it.”

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

We were up early I cooked a big breakfast for my mates and the friends that had stayed over for the wedding.

At 07:00 I motioned to Vicky and Lorrie and we went to den and called Andy on the satellite phone. Andy and I had agreed on this time yesterday. We both agreed that the attack would most likely be over by this time.

“Howdy boss, how serious are things?” I asked.

“We started clean up operations at day break. I have wounded some serious, no fatalities thanks to the tools you sent. They have a lot of dead and there are a lot of bodies inside the compound; our marksmen were very efficient as per your request. We are taking pictures of the dead and wounded as you requested.” Andy said.

“Are the wounded able to come back sitting in a G5 or they need cots,” I asked.

I asked that to see if Andy was holding anything back. I knew things he did not.

There are 20 of my men and ladies that have serious shrapnel wounds; there are 5 that are more serious they took bullets through the extremities. As crowded as we are here it would be best that they all go home. I am sending you an attachment with their names and extent of their injuries as evaluated by our medic.” Andy replied.

“I will check to see if the airport is open for business. If it is the 737 is standing by in Angola and will be there in 2 hours or so,” I replied.

“Wow OK I should have known you would plan ahead, I have two leaders bagged, gagged and cuffed for you to interrogate at your convenience,” Andy said to my unasked question.

“10-4 Boss I will call you with an update in a few minutes,” I replied.

A quick call to the FAA international flight control center in Virginia and verified that Windhoek International Airport was in full operation.

Lorrie called Cowboy to tell him to proceed on to Namibia. She had sent two full aircraft crews with the plane so it could fly around clock. That was not the only thing sent; seventy seats had been pulled out and replaced with hospital beds and fastened down. The company doc was on board with four nurses and so were the medics from the gym.

There were 10 coffins and a dozen body bags in the cargo hold that no one but Lorrie, Vicky, the plane crew and I knew about that.

I called ambassador Fauntroy; I knew the British also had an embassy in Windhoek and explained my needs. Then I called Ben David and explained the same.

Israel had an outpost as Ben David called it 50 miles south- south east of Windhoek. Close to the border of Botswana and South Africa. Terrorist were involved ivory poaching and diamond trade to finance terrorism in the Middle East by various groups. The out posts were used to flush out the illegal trade and eliminate the traders.

And then the call to Andy, “Boss help is on the way; the 737 will be landing in two hours. They are to call you when they land, the British embassy is sending 4 cars and Israel is sending six; they will be Mossad and will be the ones to take the prisoners to the plane,”

“Place the prisoner’s; double tie their hands with flex cuffs first in body bags to get them out unseen. In the cargo bay there are coffins; leave them in the bags and place them in the coffins prop the lids and unzip the body bags enough so they can breathe,” I instructed.

Then I added, “After you rest, send me complete pictures of the damage including aerial from one of the drones so I can assess what needs to happen to put the place back together again. Then and only then plug in all the servers and cameras to put them back on line.”

“The Windhoek police showed up after the shooting stopped: they are having the bodies carried away. I have crews carry the ones inside the compound outside. I am not allowing the police inside the compound. BJ, I
have plenty of pictures and video to send to you of the fighting and aftermath” said. Andy said.

“How do you want me to get them to you? Andy asked.

“Put it in a diplomatic bag and have it delivered to Cowboy with instructions that he gives it only to me,” I replied.

I printed off the list of the injured and asked Ching Lee, Marcy, Lorrie and Jenny to call the families and make whatever arrangements necessary.

I made one more call it was a five party call; the president, Secretary of state, Frank Love CIA and Eric Roberson of the DHS and me with Vicky listening in.

“The battle is over, we won another skirmish. I have 25 wounded and all are in serious condition. My evacuation plane is two hours from Windhoek it was pre-staged in Angola.”

There are dozens if not hundreds of terrorist dead; it is going to be hard to get an accurate count because they were hauling the wounded and dead away during the fighting. You may have to rely on Namibia for a count.”

“Ambassador Reddick has informed me that he thinks the internet and video streams and other communication will be back up in a couple hours. Tomorrow he is to send me a complete picture and video assessment of the damage.”

“I will have my contractor look at the film and give me a professional opinion, estimate and repair time,” I said.

“You have a contractor that would be willing to travel there to immediately do the repairs?” the president asked.

“He does anything I ask him to do anywhere; all it takes is a big checkbook,” I replied.

“So you have been in constant contact with your people and did not keep us informed?” The president stated.

“My first contact since yesterday, when the site went dark, was this morning at 07:00 an agreed upon contact time in case the place was over run.”

“I hire the best people I can find then train them to be best they can be. I gave Andy and his people an order. I do not micro manage and they did not need the distraction of a micro manager from 7000 miles away.”

“As a result I have 25 wounded and no deceased after a 12 hour mortar and RPG attack and a charge of several hundred fighters that are now mostly dead. I think that most of your generals would be pleased with that kind of out come in any battle,” I replied.

“There is a busy day for everyone, and I do not expect any more updates until 07:00 tomorrow another agreed upon time unless something drastic happens. I shall keep you informed if it does. Some of my men there have had no sleep in 48 hours; that combined with shelling takes a terrible toll on the physical and psychological well being of an individual,” I replied.

“The evacuation plane should be back some time tonight at Morton field,” I replied.

“If that is all I need to go,” when there was no additional comments I closed the window.

The wedding was at noon we had 4 hours the get everything ready.

With fancy dresses, tuxedos and limos the wedding went off without a hitch. After the reception and food the bride and groom and Allie left in one of the Cessna 55 jets for a 2 week honey moon in Cancun.

The 737 left Windhoek at noon for the flight home with the injured. It was a 12 hour flight and with the time zone difference the plane should land slightly after 19:00.

I finally had time to meet Bob to look at the office to look at all he had accomplished.

The tunnel to the house was completed and the yard restored. The elevator from the gym was installed at the house and the enclosure built. The emergency stairs was installed and the doors to hide all of it in the garage were completed. The elevator would work as long as the generator over at the concrete box was running.

The utility company could not be budged; it would be six weeks before they would install the transformer and wiring to the meter panel that was to go on the outside of the new building that was to be constructed on the box. The generator would handle the task until then.

Even though the basement was far from finished, I was amazed at the work that had been done; most of the walls been painted white and the LED lights installed – they were bright. The floor was being painted with an industrial floor coating as each section was finished.

The walls had been removed to make my command center that I wanted.

There was a main electrical panel by the tunnel, then several sub panels along the length of the basement. Outlets, switches, conduits and all kinds of things had been done.

Bob explained the changes that Marcy had made. Where I was going to leave all the storage rooms open, Marcy wanted all of them closed off with double glass doors like businesses used at entrances. Marcy was planning on moving a lot of things down here it seemed. I had no problem with it and told Bob so.

Marcy also wanted one of the complete bays made into one big meeting room. The room was finished and the huge flat screens were waiting to be installed all around the room.

That room would be easily as large as the biggest meeting room at Morton Field. I assumed that Marcy was going to eliminate one of the meeting rooms upstairs to gain office space.

Marcy also wanted a card controlled door installed at the beginning of the tunnel and one to close the box end to the house in case of emergencies; another good idea I had not thought of.

The elevator to the offices upstairs was in the assembly process. It looked to me like all the main components were in place.

“Bob, how long do you think it will take to finish this project?” I asked.

“I think another week to ten days to full completion. I have already started sending some of my contractors back to other jobs. As soon as all the big door frames come in and are placed in the basement, the enclosure you wanted to hide all this can be built.” Bob said and then continued.

“Do you want it so it can be lifted off the box with a crane? That may be necessary if you ever want to put something larger than the elevator can handle. It will be easy to do at this stage of construction,” Bob said.

“Good idea, do it that way,” I replied.

I went back to the house to have a few hours of family time before the 737 was to return at 1900. Lorrie, Marcy, Ching Lee and Vicky had been working on the arrangements prior to and since the wedding.

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

By the time I closed up and reached the Capitol steps, the two secret service agents were taking steps two and three at a time to meet me.

One had me by the arm and the other took my portable office as we hurried to the limo, with the news people who were trying to stop us for an interview left standing and up to the White House we went.

Back in Section 12, I put the feed on the big screens even though everyone on the task force could see the action. The explosions were almost continuous from the mortar fire and RPGs.

A mortar is primarily an anti-personnel weapon. They simply hit the ground and throw shrapnel to disable and kill – and they do a good job of it. It will also disable light or unarmored vehicles with a direct hit.

Once a target area was determined and a placement round is fired to determine the adjustment for accuracy, an experienced fire team could grid an area with mortar bombs, as the rounds were frequently called.

A RPG (rocket propelled grenade) developed by the Russians was effective against armored vehicles, even known to disable tanks if the round was placed in a soft spot and the right explosive head was used.

It could be used to penetrate concrete walls if successive rounds were placed in the same spot. I could see on the camera that is what they were trying to do.

An RPG was credited with striking and crashing several helicopters in Afghanistan, including the one carrying Seal team 6 who had killed Ben Laden, killing most of them.

I was looking for Andy or any of the men and ladies. I found many of the staff in the tunnel, armed and waiting. A slower and closer look around the courtyard and I saw Andy has constructed shelters in the corners of the court yard.

There were angled sand bags in each corner, at least 10 feet from each corner. I wondered where the dirt had come from and for that matter, the lumber to support the bags. There was no way it could have been trucked in.

The way defenses were set up, Andy had made a complete covering field of fire around the interior of the yard.

I wondered where the Windhoek police and Namibia military were. There were none seen in any of the sweeps I did with the cameras outside the walls. The streets were crowded with fighters and protesters.

There was no need to keep looking. I could not do anything about the events; now it was in Andy’s hands and I was not going to second guess his decisions.

I played General and now I had to wait to see how many of my men died versus the bad guys, a wait that I was not enjoying.

I stopped by the Oval Office on my way out to give the President an update on Namibia. The Secretary of State and Ambassador Eaton were there. We watched the ZNN broadcast of the events going on there. It was an interesting talk and ran over in time. I was going to be late at the House hearing.

This time four secret service agents walked up the steps to the house with me. It was a good thing – the media was out in force, all of them surrounded the agents trying to get them to stop so they could ask questions.

At the top of the steps the House Sergeant at Arms was waiting, “You’re late; I will escort you to the room.”

There were more Representatives in this hearing than there had been in the Senate hearing this morning. They were all jockeying for TV time.

“Ambassador Jones. Nate Slick, Sweet Home Alabama. What progress is being made in apprehending the terrorist Saif?”

“The task force has only been in business 4 days. It is just getting its feet wet and in those four days we already have had to increase its size; there is so much data coming in to deal with,” I said.

“However, slow progress is being made in answer to your question. I just cannot go into details today,” I added.

“Ambassador Jones, Bridget Harper, Helena Montana. In your acceptance speech the other day you lightly touched on security improvements at all major events; has any work been done on that program yet?”

“Ms. Harper and fellow Representatives; I appreciate very much that you are identifying yourself and home state before your questions. Being new at this part of the Washington process, it really helps me familiarize myself with you and your state,” I said.

“To answer your question, there is only a brief outline of possible changes and suggestions at this time. As the task force moves forward in that area I will ask to address this body for guidance and suggestions before the policy is written in stone,” I said.

Make them feel important and they will think they have your ear, even if they don’t. My political skills were improving.

“The current focus of the task force is to stop Saif and all of our energies are in that direction,” I said.

“Ambassador Jones, Martin Sacks Nevada. On the international front, one of your embassy security teams is in a fire fight as we speak. Can you give us an update on that?”

“At my last update the fight was still going on, the embassy was taking heavy mortar fire from the terrorists with substantial damage being done to the embassy buildings and grounds. At this time that is all that I can say on the matter,” I said.

I answered more questions, reaching for another hour and a half covering domestic terrorism and my opinions on how to deal with the issues and uncertainties associated with it.

My session was ending when my phone rang. It was the President’s chief of staff, “You have done very well. Use this call as an excuse to end your testimony. Simply say you have been called to the White House. The limo is on its way to pick you up.”

“Ladies and gentleman, I have to say this has been a much different experience than I expected. Hopefully as the days and weeks move on I can make it a regular occurrence to update you on progress and to work at a dialog developing a national policy for security of public events and institutions.”

“I must return to the White House; my ride is on the way,” I said as I stood and closed up my notes.

I had to shake hands and pose for pictures with more Representatives again as I made my way out. The agents were waiting for me on the top step.

I would have gladly walked the two miles from the hill to the White House just to have time to clear my head. But that was not the case today. The driver had us back in 8 minutes. They had one of those controls that made all of the traffic lights green for them.

I went straight to the Oval Office where the President and his staff were watching ZNN news updates of the attack and the video that was still coming from the state department feed.

It was dark there now and there were just sporadic explosions; half of the cameras were destroyed.

I did not like the comments coming from the President’s assistant chief of staff; arrogant, impatient, demanding – a side of him I had not seen before. I quickly became sick of it. It was even worse when I found out the bastard had opposed sending any military resources to the area to be able to help.

Even though the US had military assets in Africa, there were none close enough to help now. With the 2 days notice there would have been, had the asshole not went out of his way to stop it.

I sent Robert a text, “Can you hack the State Department video link and take all the video from Namibia off line? Possibly making it accessible only to your and my ID? Or better yet, have Andy pull the power plugs on all the servers and unplug the cameras and any backup power supplies to kill them so they don’t record anything.”

I would put them in the dark; only my people were there anyhow. I took the elevator to down to the fourth floor where the task force was finishing up for the night.

The big table was covered in big sheets of paper, with family trees drawn all over them from phone number to phone number. They were in groups of three working with different numbers with the Celeste and Mona filling in the tree. Bobbie and Cassy were transferring it to a computer program.

On the charts, numbers were marked inactive or active and had notations about information from that phone. Progress had been made today in my absence.

The verbal motivation this morning had worked. All the alphabet soups had their jackets off and were working together, even sharing their departmental computers.

I estimated that the process was going to take two or three more days to really get a good handle on where the numbers were leading.

I logged into the Namibia video just to see if Robert had been successful, turned off the sound, and put it on the screens. It had only been on a few minutes when the screens went black.

“That’s not a good sign,” Smith commented.

“May not be as bad as you think; just think of all the good things that happen after dark,” I replied.

If Robert was successful at keeping the cameras off, Andy could pull out all the stops with ending the assault without worry of repercussions. It was my intentions to have Robert clean the servers or to have Andy unplug them and destroy them before he left.

I had two more hours that I could spend here, then it was Victor and Joni’s wedding rehearsal.

I answered my phone to hear Kent Dalton say, “The governor and I spoke at length today about the possible raids. We both believe that if the first scenario you described happens, the military should go in first with the State Police backing them up.”

“If it is an activity on the site generated raid, our SWAT teams will go in first and they have been put on alert status for the weekend. As far as your request, we will do our best to keep the media out. They have drones and a chopper so that may be tough,” he said.

“It is imperative to keep the media out of it. The longer Saif thinks he is still undercover, the more likely he won’t go underground. Use whatever means necessary,” I replied.

I worked with the force for another hour and we called it quits until Monday morning.

As soon as I left, I called Andy on the satellite phone, “Howdy boss, how are things?” I asked.

“In turmoil, they have run out of mortars and RPGs without seeing a surrender flag. It did not hurt that the gun drones found where they were firing the mortars from. A couple of sweeps took them out of commission. According to the radio, they are getting ready to storm the gates. I pulled the plugs as Robert wanted; are you sure you want to do that?” Andy replied.

“Yes, make sure everything is unplugged; that way where is no video to dispute what you say happened. Take no prisoners unless you think they are leaders. The doc needs one or two to practice on before Saif,” I replied.

The wedding rehearsal was happiness abound. I treated the after rehearsal dinner at the Inn.

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

I was up early; truthfully, I just cat napped most of the night. There were just so many things on my mind. I wondered what was going on with Andy this morning; it was already 10:00 there. No news was good news, I hoped.

Then there was the information out of Diya’s phone; would it help or was it just another dead end? After all, it had been three weeks since the MSU attack. How many of the numbers in there had been trashed?

The final straw for today was the two subpoenas I had to honor, even when I had more pressing things I needed to do. The Senate Embassy Steering committee was the first one at 10:00.

Bob was at the concrete box as I leaving. I stopped to say hello.

“Do you have time for quick tour?” he asked. Then he added, “Marcy added some changes.”

“No, not really; I have a very busy day today. I have to testify before Congress and have a lot to do beforehand. I’m hoping to get the chance over the weekend. I hear you have a lot of people working. I want to thank you for that.”

“Do you carry a tube of KY, or is that one of those where they just screw you over dry?” Bob asked just before broke into a laugh.

“Be careful, I just might let you go in my place,” I responded as I opened the door on my SUV.

I was making coffee in the second big coffee maker at 06:50 when the crew started coming in. There was already a group of people with coffee cups and mugs from the other offices draining the first one. They knew they were welcome to get a mug as long as we were not holding a meeting.

That was another thing I learned; most office managers in this underground complex didn’t want workers from other departments walking in and out of their offices.

Those workers seemed appreciative of the chance to get a few minutes with us. That was one thing about this floor – the coffee aroma traveled and drew people like a magnet.

The rest of the task force was now making the early start time. I suspected they were afraid they would miss something.

I had Cassy make copies of the reports that had come from Diya’s phone for each of the law enforcement agencies. The Department of Education people didn’t need copies, besides they were still trying to figure out how to run the reports I asked for two days ago.

I slid Diya’s phone on the table, “The new pass code on this phone is 12345. This one is all the incoming calls. This one is outgoing calls. This one is the contact list and this is the text,” I said as I passed out the copies.

“I have to spend most of the day on the Hill. When I get back I want to see the results of your day. Use the tools at your disposal; check all the numbers to see if they are still active.”

“See if they were stupid enough to have activated the GPS. If they were, where were they on the day of the attack? See if there was a flurry of calls between any of the phones before, the day of and the day after the attack. Find out which phones were and are the most active among all the phones.”

“Between the possible GPS and all the cross-tower pings and the cross-number checks, you should be able to come up with some very useful data to tell me when I get back,” I replied.

“Yes ma-am we should, and then I want to know how you got into that phone and all this out of this phone in just 12 hours without court orders,” Rex replied.

“You have heard it before, if I tell you I will have to kill you,” I replied.

My phone started ringing, “Jones,” I said.

“Ma-am; Major Holland Dent from the remote flight operations center in Tucson; I was told to report to you every day at this time with a report for the drone flight over the assigned location. There was no activity in the last 24 hours.”

“I was ordered to request new operational orders from you Ma-am,” he said.

“Your existing orders are to observe and report, I amend those orders changing the reporting criteria. I am to be notified immediately anytime there are any changes at the property, visitors and any vehicle traffic. The second change is for there to be infrared imaging done at least once a day if that is possible,” I replied.

“10-4 Ma-am that is indeed possible. I will amend and publish the orders for all operators,” he replied.

“Thank you Major, that is all,” I replied.

It was 0900; I had sent a text to Kent Dalton and Len at 0700 that I wanted a joint VCATS with them at 0900. They paged that they were on line right on the money.

“I need to let you know that we think we have found where the suicide vests and truck bombs were made. I have an Air Force drone stationed over it 24/7 for a week. There has been no one there in the last 24 hours. If there is no activity in the 7 day period I will authorize it to be raided. If there is a sudden burst of activity it needs to be raided then,” I said, and then added.

“If they have abandoned the site I am concerned that it may be heavily booby trapped. After all, Saif was a master explosives maker for vest, car bombs and IEDs. Would you want your SWAT teams to conduct the raid or do you want me to see if I can get a bomb unit from one of the Army or Marine bases that have field experience finding those things?” I asked, and then added.

“I would not want to see one of your SWAT teams wiped out by an IED, and I would not want to have to give that press briefing.”

“If it goes the other way and there is a burst of activity, how long would it take you to put your SWAT teams on site? The site is a few miles from Page on 169,” I asked.

“I was good with the State Police handling the raid until the part about maybe being booby trapped. I need to talk to the Governor so I will have to let you know. As for a raid there – a couple hours – the teams would have to come out of St. Cloud,” Kent replied.

I closed the conversation and left for the Hill. Actually a White House limo carried me and my portable office from the steps and with the assistance of two secret service agents to help fend off reporters; I made my way to the security station. I presented the subpoena to the check-in agent at the security station and got directions to the Senate Embassy Security Steering Committee room.

I started down the hall to the meeting room 143 that was off the great chamber that was always shown on TV. Every few feet it seemed I ran into a Senator coming out of an office.

There was always an aide with a camera, “Can I get a picture of you with the Senator?” or a local reporter from their home town was getting the free tour today.

I understood politics and the need to be in the current news cycle and spotlight. That was one of the reasons I hated it so much. So many things were all for the camera; fake tears and anguish, promises they knew they would never keep and words that never amounted to anything but for the news print.

I also knew I needed to play politician no matter how bad the taste. I smiled for the camera and shook hands and did my best to be good at double talk.

When the oath was taken and the camera lights were turned off, the embassy steering committee got down to business. Amy Lockerman – associate director of embassy affairs – was sitting next to me on the left and Elmer Hobart from the State Department Appropriations was to my right.

It had been a while since I had a meeting with the both of them. Both were talkative, a lot more than usual.

Amy asked if there were any updates from Namibia.

“None since daybreak their time, everything was fine at that time,” I replied, and then I added.

“I am scheduled to video conference with Ambassador Reddick at 1300 if you want to sit in on it.

The meeting was started and for an hour I answered question after question dealing with embassy security. Then there was a short break that turned into another photo op.

Vicky should have been here to sit in on this meeting. She and I had discussed it in detail and decided since there was a subpoena only for me that I should handle it.

The flip side of that argument was that she needed to be at the office to coordinate with Robert and Andy if that situation went down hill.

After the break the questions changed to include the now eight South American embassies that had requested JBG security.

I listened while Amy and Elmer were on the hot seat responding to various questions about available space for the additional security personnel and requests for additional funding.

There was only one question out of that part of the session that was directed to me.

“Will JBG be able to put the manpower and equipment in place in a reasonable time?” the chairman asked.

“Yes; once the final determination of the staffing levels is made, the pieces will come together in a timely manner,” I replied.

I had learned government-speak and the art of double talk as well. I was listening to the final comments when my cell received several pages.

One was from Andy, “It has started.”

The other was from Vicky saying the same thing.

I quickly put the State Department computer on the desk and logged in to VCATS to get the video feed from Namibia. As soon as it went live, it showed continuous explosions in the court yard and automatic gunfire; the volume had been full up. A couple of the cameras were off line; destroyed, I had to assume.

It was noon here, 1700 hours there and darkness was not far off. That gave away their plan. A mortar and small arms assault to keep everyone hunkered down and then after dark, rush the entrances.

It was a copy of the assault used in Libya in which the Ambassador and his guards had died.

Amy, Elmer and I, with a couple Senators looking over our shoulder, watched for a few minutes as everything in the courtyard was destroyed by mortars and RPGs that were landing everywhere.

“Folks, I hate to shut down the feed but I need to get back to my office,” I said as I closed the computer and called my White House taxi to pick me up.

Edit by Alfmeister

Proofread by Bob W.

At 16:45 I was sitting at the meeting table with the girls – my first this week – and listened to all the things I missed so far this week. There were a few things that caught my attention.

First thing, the elevator was gone and the floor covered with a tarp. I had to lug my portable office up the steps. Damn, I was getting soft and it would be Sunday before I could spend time in the gym, unless I made it a midnight trip.

Mischief and Mayhem had indeed jumped on Andy’s request. We had list of prospective ex-military employees. Apparently the posters I had sent to the General were still up in the military installations and HR was keeping the applications on file.

Mischief and Mayhem, with the keen eye of Jason and Jenny, had picked 25 ops people from the Navy, Marines and Army. Vicky had looked at them but wanted me to make the final decision before HR called them to see if they were still interested in a job with JBG, or had gained meaningful employment elsewhere.

Robert had already done his computer thing and had an impressive folder on each of them.

I looked through the folders, looking at the pictures of the individuals attached to top and was surprised to see they had included four women. I knew that they were not former US Special Forces. It was not that women had not tried to get in the US special ops units; none had made it.

Then I looked closer at the information inside the folder; they were Israeli Special Forces and not former – they still had three months active duty. How did we end up with applications from them?

They spoke four languages; Hebrew, Arabic, English and Kurdish. I had questions for these four. Since they were still active, it would have to be done by VCATS. Of course, I could take that trip to Israel as I had promised.

Ben-David and his tech person arrived on time and we made our way to Robert’s office. All I could do was watch and listen as the computer geeks spoke their special language.

Ten minutes after the programs were installed, the phone was unlocked and the pass code changed to a simple one 12345.

An hour later I had four copies of four printouts from Diya’s phone. One was mine, one was Roberts, one was for Ben-David and the other was for the task force.

The phone kept the call logs for days. One was all the incoming calls, including international calls. The other three were outgoing calls, the contact list and text that had not been deleted.

Based on the times of the last calls and text times, Diya made them and then turned off the phone and hid it seconds before the SUVs made the run toward the field house. The last calls and text were to his father and brothers.

Ben-David was reading down the list of numbers; Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, Somalia, Egypt, Syria, Palestine, Lebanon, Uganda, Sudan, Saudi Arabia, and Israel.

While he was doing that, I was reading the US calls to at least 40 states.

“These international numbers are going to connect a lot of things together,” Ben-David said.

“The big thing now is to find out how many are burner phones and lead nowhere; the task force will have plenty to keep it busy tomorrow,” I replied.

The girls were still waiting for me as I walked Ben and his tech people out. Things had been so busy, they wanted to go out for supper; no one felt like cooking.

They wanted to go to the new Texas Steakhouse in Middletown; that was fine with me. I could use a good steak – the salad I had for lunch did not last long.

We packed up the boys and made the 40 minute trip in my armored Suburban. It was just one more night that I was not going to be able to check on the progress with the gym basement.

I shouldn’t have been concerned. Marcy had made a passing comment in the meeting and it went right over my head. My head was partially still in section 12 at 1600 Pennsylvania.

That comment was that that 100 of Bob’s people and contractors were working night shifts in the basement. The other 50 plus contractors were working 12 hour day shifts. I had not paid any real attention to the yellow safety tape stretched between the house and concrete box.

It was the end of October; November 1st was Saturday; the day of Victor and Joni’s wedding. It was dark when I left home at 0530 and dark when I got home at 1730. There was always equipment and vehicles parked along there anyhow.

At the steakhouse we had to wait a few minutes, even though we had called ahead for seating. I had asked for a table in a corner for a little more control of our situation and it was not ready yet.

The place was busy even though it was after what I considered it to be dinner hour, but there was room for us to put the carriers on the bench seats and for the girls to sit; I stood.

Middletown was 30 miles from Dover Air Force base and home to many civilian employees and air force personnel who lived off base.

Middletown – like all of Delaware – was growing like gangbusters and had been for awhile. Delaware had no problem with growth. Houses, developments, condominiums, highways and shopping centers were building everywhere.

Delaware understood what the government of many Maryland eastern shore counties refused to accept. You can get tax revenue two ways; raise taxes to the point that people kill growth and leave or give growth a green light, increasing the property tax base and creating jobs that boost revenue through income and payroll taxes.

In the back of the waiting area there were six Air Force men in uniform; their patches indicated they were E3 and E4 rank. They were discreetly talking and looking us over and pouring over something on their smarter than smart phones. It did not surprise me. Since the Kampala party dress shopping trip for me, a lot of higher end business outfits and fancy dresses had become routine wear for the girls at work and when we went out. My mates just looked great all the time. It was cool enough that we were all wearing light jackets.

All of us were carrying, Vicky, Ching Lee and I liked the shoulder holster; Marcy and Lorrie liked the back pack that placed the holster in the lower back at the belt line. Those made jackets necessary all the time.

The Air Force men’s little box started flashing that their table was ready. I moved back so they could get by but instead they stopped in front of me.

In a loud and booming voice that drew attention, “Ma-am, when you find that SOB, you kill him nice and slow – over two or three days should be about right. As a former Marine in the sand box, I’m sure you know how to make it take that long,” he said.

“I hear you loud and clear soldier, thank you for your service,” I replied as I saluted and then shook their hands.

The food was great; salad, steak and lobster and the cold beer before the meal hit the spot.

We were not bothered but there were plenty of people who seemed to need to walk along the adjacent isle and of course there were the phone cameras.

Our days of eating out in public places were over. From now on it was to cook at home or go to restaurants with private rooms or places we could control, like the restaurant at Morton Field. Even going to the inn with private rooms offered no privacy. The last two times we were there, people were waiting for us when we came out.

The restaurant at Morton Field was nice and had a fair selection. I was sure I could force a menu expansion and change for the evening meal. I would take an open minded look over the weekend to see if some changes could be made to make a couple of private dining rooms.

With the open sitting arrangement, there would be no privacy as soon as media and people saw us there regularly.

The ride home was enjoyable; Marcy drove to give me a break. I played faces and little finger games with little Jacob. Little Robert was sound asleep. The ride home went fast and before I knew it we were pulling into the garage.

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

“OK: do you need me to resign or what?” I asked.

“Oh no; not that – it is a State Department problem.”

“There are all kinds of international agreements that cover embassies. One of those agreements says that an official of the government must be present at all times to carry out business of the guest country. If all officials of the guest country are removed and no official representative is present then the embassy must be closed,” the President replied.

“The Ambassador and his assistant are landing in Reagan National in hours. There is no official representative of the US government in Namibia; it is a violation of international law to keep the embassy open,” the Secretary said.

“You want me to fix that for you?” I asked.

“We thought if anyone could – on short notice – you would have a solution,” the President said.

I logged into VCATS again and paged the Namibia embassy. Josie was still working the console.

“Josie, can you find me a Bible, page Andy and find a couple of additional people to be witnesses on your end?” I asked.

“Sure, there is a bible in the recreation room. Andy will be here in a moment,” Josie said, and then she went to get the bible.

“Mr. President, you sit in this chair that the camera is focused on and Mr. Secretary, in the other one and I will stand to the side of you,” I said.

Andy came in and sat in the chair in front of the camera.

“Boss, we have a little bit of dilemma. It was an oversight on our part. International law requires that there be an official of the United States able to handle embassy business at all times. If there is no official the embassy must close. Once closed it could take months to go through the process to reopen. That said, do you think you can handle an additional title for the time you are there?” I asked.

“BJ, I will do whatever you need me to do,” Andy replied.

“Stand, raise your right hand, place your left hand on the bible; Josie, hold the bible. The Secretary will administer the oath,” I said.

“Mr. Secretary.”

“I don’t have the oath with me,” he replied.

“Andy, repeat after me,” I said.

“I Andy Reddick do solemnly swear,”

“That I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic.”

“That I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion.”

“That I will and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter; so help me God.”

My people in the room added the whistles and applause.

“May I be the first to congratulate you and call you Ambassador Andy Reddick of the United States of America?” I said.

“Thank you BJ,” Andy replied.

“Thank you boss; do you need anything?” I asked.

“We are good here, prepared as much as we can be, I think,” Andy replied.

“Be careful boss,” I replied as closed the window.

“Still talking in code?” The President asked.

“Whatever it takes,” I replied.

“Mr. President, I need you to send an authorization to General Walton to put a drone over a property in Minnesota for up to seven days; observe and report mission,” I said.

“It might be one more piece of the puzzle. I would send my own drones but they are elsewhere right now,” I added.

“OK, consider it done,” he replied as he told an aide to make it happen.

“Before you and the secretary leave we need to talk about salary changes for the new Ambassador so I can get the home office on the right page. Marcy is a perfectionist when it comes to keeping the numbers straight,” I said.

“Just double what you are paying him; hopefully it is only for a few days,” the Secretary said then asked, “Just out of curiosity, what are you paying him for this kind of assignment?”

“Andy is in charge of both the special ops and rapid response teams when they are on assigned missions like this; his pay is a base ten thousand plus a thousand a day on top of his regular pay,” I replied.

It was very quiet at the table and then there was a whisper, “That is 17 thousand for the first week on top of regular pay. I think I am working for the wrong company,” it was Ben speaking.

“No, you are working for the right people, they do not ask you to stand up and get shot at. That is what I have ordered Andy and his teams to do,” I replied.

It was almost time to leave and I had wanted to leave early today to see what progress Bobs Construction had made. They were working around the clock.

There was a call from the FBI forensics lab, “We are done; on the drivers door there was a factory pouch to put things in. The pouch had been modified so it could be lifted and under it was a slot cut in the door panel.”

“It must have been for emergencies; the only way to retrieve anything put in there was to remove the inside door cover and trim. We found an iPhone 5 and several thumb drives. There was a flip phone in the AC duct work on the driver’s side; the cover had also been modified so it could be snapped off to have access to the phone,” the expert said.

Then he added, “It is on its way to you; should be there in half an hour or less. What do you want us to do with what is left of this thing?”

“Hold it for a few days if you can; there may be more I have to do with it,” I replied.

“Two weeks max,” he replied as the phone went dead.

Ten minutes later one of the agents from upstairs delivered a box with the things from the lab.

“Tomorrows work for us has arrived,” I announced.

I put the flash drives, flip phone and iphone on the table. I tried the power button and as I expected it was dead. I plugged it in to one of the many chargers that had accumulated on the table.

“We will have to get a court order to get the data from the phone and then another one to get Apple to try to open it. They will make noise and that is going to take a while,” the FBI assistant director remarked.

I was reasonably sure the iphone was locked. I had heard they were the choice for terrorist and drug dealers because of their security features. I knew someone that was rumored to have unlocked the San Bernardino iphone.

“Shalom my friend; I pray you and our friends in Africa are well.”

“Yes I am well. I hear you are shaking things in Washington, getting people up on their toes. I also hear you have promoted one of your men in Namibia,” Ben-David said.

“How did you hear about that so fast – it just happened a few minutes ago?” I asked.

“Your state department just sent us a change in personnel update,” he replied.

Then I changed the conversation over to Arabic.

“I have an iPhone 5 that I need to unlock; I understand you have had success with that. I believe that the owner was Diya,” I said

“We have a couple different programs for the iPhone 5 that have been successful. Are you able to share the data?”

“Yes, of course. I also have pictures of the suicide belt fragments used in Arizona,” I replied.

“I will meet you at your office at 17:30; have Robert stay and I will show him how to use the programs. Shalom my friend,” Ben-David said and he was gone.

I stayed another half hour writing out tomorrow’s agenda for my people. I was spending my day on the hill.

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

Thursday morning the task force got off to a much better start. First off, the Assistant Director on the team from the FBI received a VCATS from the forensics lab and sent it to the big screens.

“We have a shot up and wrecked 2015 Ford Expedition that was delivered a few minutes ago with a rush tag on it from the Director and you are the contact person, Ambassador Jones. What do you want us to look for?”

“What everyone else has missed; first thing, it is new enough to have GPS factory installed? Pull all the GPS data out of the computer and send it to me. I want to know where it has been for as far as the data goes back. Then strip it; we are looking for SIMMs cards, flash drives, a missing cell phone and computer drive.”

“Pull the headliner, carpet, door panels, seats, remove the seat coverings, pull the dash and check the AC ducting, fuse panels, remove and dismount the tires and anywhere else you think a professional would have hidden something in the thing or where the accident may have moved them,” I replied.

“Ten four; gut it; we got it.” the tech replied as the screen went dead.

To help matters along, my computer had dozens of big files from Len; they were all video files from various public cameras around MSU.

“Kent is supplying four detectives for a week and I have the first four you met working on your request as well. They have a grid of the area and a plan,” the note from Len said.

To help in that line, the two trained investigators from the DHS started today, ready to go to work. Emmett Casey and Wayne Thompson were also trained on how to use the facial recognition programs. They had a lot of work to do and the files were still coming in.

To help them I had six pictures for them to run the base search with, Diya, Saif, and the four dead female bombers. The video cameras had several stills that were good enough to use from just before they blew up. It was not much but it was a start.

The NSA and CIA men were working on the embassy problem in Namibia. To top it off, they were still in the dark almost 24 hours later. But, they did agree that something was happening and now it was 48 hours or less.

I did connect to the embassy cameras and flipped through some of the cameras. I watched some of the preparations Andy was doing. I flipped to the control room and paged. Josie Cantrell answered the page.

“Howdy boss; how are things in Washington today? Are you getting your feet settled into place?” Josie asked.

“Progress has just started, everyday is getting better. How are things there? Packed in like sardines?” I asked.

“It is tight but we are making the best of it. Some of the guys are complaining about hot sheeting the beds but Andy has told them it is that or sleep on the floor in the garage,” Josie replied.

“Hopefully it is only for a few more days,” I said.

“Be careful,” I said as I closed the window.

I called Andy and talked for 30 minutes; the important thing was to make sure he got the manual and understood how to use the devices.

Ambassador Eaton and his family and staff were on one of the G650s due to arrive at Reagan International this afternoon.

The other 650 was sent to Luanda Angola to stand by until whatever was over and in case wounded needed to air lifted out.

It was almost lunch when the FBI lab called, “We finally have the GPS data out of the computer; it has been one challenge. We had to replace the air bag sensors, then clear all the air bag codes and then replace the seat belts and clear those codes to be able to reset the computer. Some of Ford’s better ideas; not,” the agent said.

“After all of that I finally was able to download the data; I ran it through a conversion program to change it from Ford’s proprietary stream to Google maps for you and then loaded into the Trident fleet maintenance program that you use on your rental fleet. The file is on the way. After lunch we will be on the rest of the list.”

“How did he know we used the Trident fleet program for tracking our rentals?” I wondered.

Lunch for me was a loaded salad from the White House cafeteria. One thing was for sure, I needed to spend a lot more time in the gym.

When I was back at my desk, the file from the FBI was on my computer.

I started on the day of the attack and followed the time line back and wrote down the GPS numbers of every stop, how long it was stopped and the route that it took.

Diya had left his father’s home at 0900, drove to Coon Rapids and waited there at the Walmart for 2 and a half hours before driving to the college. Coon Rapids was 7 miles from the college as the crow flies. Just two miles outside of the search pattern I had asked Len to do.

I linked the laptop to the screen, played the route and rapped the table. “New search – narrow your field down to cameras between Coon Rapids, Route 10 and the college, Diya met the suicide bombers at the Walmart in Coon Rapids,” I said.

I called Len, “We got a break; cancel the search pattern you are doing; start a new one. Diya picked up the bombers at Coon Rapids Walmart. Walmart should have plenty of cameras in the parking lots and in the store. The time frame he was there was 0800 to 1100 and then he drove straight from there to the college with no stops,” I said.

I changed days on the program; the previous day he had spent all day at the learning center and the Mosque. I printed out each day’s route as I checked them. There was an active discussion as we looked at each day’s travels.

For a week Diya stayed around the city driving very few miles. It was ten days before he made any trips; route 10 to SR169 and 66 miles north before he turned off and went up a farm lane to a farmstead a mile from the highway. The message that Robert had intercepted was coded. The mileage numbers had been inverted. What we thought were 99 miles was instead 66 miles.

I signed in to the State Department’s high priced earth maps system, typed in the location and waited while it found it.

A large farm house with 3 out buildings; one of those buildings was a large shed, large enough to hide the truck with the 10000 pounds of explosive they had stolen in Canada and several other cars and trucks. The farmland had not been tilled this year it looked like.

“We need to schedule a raid on that place right now,” Armie Ratcliff – the assistant director from DHS – said as he was dialing his phone.

“NO we are not; hang up the phone,” I said.

“General, I need a drone with live operators placed on station over a farm in Minnesota for at least 3 days; a week would be better. Where do I need to start?” I asked.

“What are you looking at?” The general asked?

“I think it is where the terrorist made their bombs, plans and possibly keep the explosives. According to satellite, no one is there now but I want to see if anyone is traveling in and out,” I replied.

“OK, I will get it in the works to get the President to approve it. What notifications do you want?”

“Every time someone goes there and leaves. I am emailing you the location now,” I replied.

It was 14:30 hours when the President and the Secretary of State walked in; everyone became quiet.

“We have made a terrible mistake and we have to rectify it immediately,” the President said.

“Well, I guess this is my last day on this job. I wonder what I did wrong,” I thought.

Edit by Alfmeisterr

Proof read by Bob W.