Bjjonesmylife. Book 2

The first thing I did after Ambassador Abelman and his group left was to call Ambassador Dansky and thank him repeatedly. I even asked what gifts I could bring him from the states.

I put the thumb drives in my computer and started reading. There was nothing new on Aadam that I did not already know.

Dagar Daharr was another story; there was a trove of information and I did not understand why Frank had so little. In the reading there was reference to reconnaissance being done at the university where we supplied security. Not only was a reference there but a list of planned targets on the campus.

They were planning to attack the university when Dagar returned from his trip. The trip to Africa was leadership, tactics – and worse yet – explosives training; an exercise in how to pull off the big one.

Then one more question; why did Israel have all this information? Did they have agents in Minneapolis? What was the connection to Israel? I suspected there was a connection to problems that were close to Israel.

I called Ching Lee, “Come to my office now!”

Robert was next; I showed him and Ching Lee what I was reading. His group had a new urgent assignment; find all Dagar’s associates and contacts. Find out what was going on? How complete was the planning, and when and if the planned attack was still on?”

Alwaleed bin Salman Al Saud was the grandson of the king; he had the biggest file so far. It was hundreds of pages – almost since birth – and he had been a trouble maker and wild child from the beginning. He was 26 when he died at 515 and had been involved in terror plots and attacks in Somali, Iraq, Syria, also Jordan as a fighter, planner and financier. He killed the first time when he was 14; a 12 year old Somalia girl who had offended him; he killed her in front of her family.

He liked young virgin girls and boys, preferring them to be Egyptian, Libyan and Syrian; rape, sadistic torture, and when he was finished with them, he killed them if they survived the torture. His security team kept him supplied with new victims and disposed of the bodies.

I was willing to bet the four unidentified persons in 515 were his body guards. That was another note for Robert.

The king had dispatched Saudi security forces to look for him, but too late. All the bodies from the embassy attack had been buried or cremated by the time they arrived to look through the morgue.

Saudi Arabia was supposed to be our ally, yet had trained and supplied so many terrorists to attack us. I was willing to bet our state department had made the pictures of the dead available to the Saudi secret police. Or had the CIA tried to work a deal of some kind? People were expendable – including me – for a piece in the bigger picture.

I wrote more notes for Robert and his group. I wanted everything coming out of Saudi Arabia read with a magnifying glass. The more I read, the more things I thought of.

I wondered it there was some warning in Ben-David’s statement after all. Maybe, just maybe, I was wrong to leave existing JBG employees in place and add people to bring up the numbers. Maybe I should have swapped out the entire groups, moved them around to break up any possible traitors.

Could the Morocco attack have been helped by inside information? I put more notes on the paper.

Investigate all the individuals that were assigned to Morocco at the time; Robert knew what to look for.

I refreshed my coffee before I continued reading. As I was walking back, it finally dawned on me that our allies were beginning to pull back on information sharing. Our government’s poor showing on being able to stop hacking and leaks of our secret data was making them skittish.

Our homeland was isolated by two oceans; our land borders could be – when the need, necessary and the political will – nearly closed. Europe, the Middle East, Africa, South America and Asia did not have that luxury.

I would bet that many things were now on a case by case need to share. That was why Frank did not have the intel. He had routinely held back on JBG and now they were holding back on the agency in the same fashion. They may pass on the headline but were holding the details as not to give away their collection methods or people, in case of hacking.

My reading and thoughts were interrupted by a call from Lorrie. The C5 was on it way back, but Frank had changed the plan. It was now doing a stop in New Mexico at an Air Force base that had been closed for years, according to Google.

“All things are not as they seem or are reported to be,” I told her. “Have Marcy bill the flight accordingly, adding for the standby time.” The C5 came home some time after midnight.

We girls went out for supper at the Inn again; family, friends and boys. Then we had a late night in the hot tub with wine coolers.

Crash spent the night with Marlene again, his age was showing and his health slowly going downhill and he knew it. He was still going on flights when he felt like it but not nearly as often. He wanted to go on a short flight on the C5, if there was one.

Crash had already taken a tour of the cockpit and was in awe at all the instruments and controls. He had even sat in the pilot’s seat – speechless for a long time – before he finally he said, “Makes that B29 I flew look like a Jenny.”

Saturday was normal; clean the house, boys and time together without work. We needed it; Monday was going to be a cluster fuck from sunrise on.

Before we were ready, it was Monday; all of us were going to the Morton Field restaurant for breakfast. Lorrie, Vicky and I were staying with Marcy, Ching Lee and Jenny going back to the office.

Eighty more new employees were showing up there this morning to start the process; HR, the Docs, then starting the training. Then 80 more were coming tomorrow; that would fill both the Crash Hotel and the Horsey House.

The push was on; we were two weeks into September now.

We were finished eating when the C5 crew came in; they went straight to the plane and started the process of loading. They were loading the same as last week; six choppers and two Suburban. On this flight they were taking 80 security men with them.

Vicky and I were in the meeting room with the 80 that were leaving on the C5. They had already chosen their assignments weeks ago with the housing confirmed; once they landed at Bamako Mali they were taking local flights to get to their destination country. The choppers would arrive up to four days later. There was no need to pay them to sit around and wait on the C130 to carry them and the chopper.

I gave them a pep talk and then we were taking questions. I was finishing up when I heard the tower talking to the two C130s from the Iowa National Guard; moments later they were landing.

I had left word with the ground controller that they were to be parked over by the super hangar, making it easier to be loaded; that was where all the completed choppers and Suburban’s were being stored. They were each going to carry two Suburban’s, making this combined flight a matched load of six choppers and six Suburban’s. All three planes were going to Bamako Mali.

The C5 was returning as soon as it was unloaded; the agency wanted another flight, this time to South Korea. I had long understood the agency played a big role in a lot of clandestine things around the world, but never to the extent that I was seeing now with all the flights we were doing for them.

Both our standard C130s flew every week for the agency to Central and South America. This was the second trip for the agency in as many weeks with the C5; the pilot group said the plane was loaded to the max with the first flight.

Adam sent me a text that they were on the way to the terminal with the Iowa crews to do the flight planning. All the equipment was loaded and the cargo masters were securing it. The C5 had been refueled earlier and the two 130s were in the process. The aviation shop had a scissors lift covering the National Guard decals with JBG decals.

When Vicky and I walked out of the meeting room to go to Lorrie’s office in the terminal, there were suits that I did not recognize sitting at a table by the windows, drinking coffee. They were awfully interested in the activity outside on the tarmac and runways. My attention was on Adam and the Iowa crews who were walking towards me.

The two captains and their crew in National Guard flight uniforms walked to and saluted; a show of respect for my former marine rank, I was sure. I returned the salute out of respect for the honor they had showed me.

“Ambassador Jones, Ma-am, here are our orders; we were instructed to present them to you.”

“Thank you captain, I shall review them momentarily; there is hot food and coffee in the restaurant. Just tell them to put it on the JBG tab; it may be the last American food you get for a few weeks. After that, Adam is going to go over the flight planning with you,” I replied.

I broke the seal on the orders from General McVee; they were straight forward and pretty simple after the list of names of the officers.

“Transfer to Jones Business Groups (Ambassador Roberta Jones) for two weeks for training including transatlantic flight, risk assessment, coordinating in-flight refueling, and international relations with our allies, foreign adventures and intrigue. Put them through their paces Ambassador.” Both sets of orders were the same. As I read them I handed one to Vicky to read and one to Lorrie.

When I looked to the big windows that faced the runways, I noticed that the Marine recruiter was there waiting on me. Today was the official launch of the recruiting posters with my pictures in the posters and TV ads.

Major Radcliff and another officer were setting up the display; they had asked if I would do a few pictures for the Marine Magazine Leatherneck.

On the display was the large poster; the top picture was me in my dress uniform from the ball and the bottom picture from the roof of the Kampala embassy.

The caption with the top was “The Marines are always looking for a few good men and women.”

Master Sergeant Roberta Jones was on the picture in the corner. In the middle between the pictures “We turn them into exceptional men and women.”

The bottom caption was, “Once a Marine always a Marine. US Ambassador Roberta Jones on the roof of the US embassy in Kampala after the terrorist attack, still defending America.”

Across the bottom was, “Join up. Be exceptional. The Marines.”

I posed with Major Radcliff unveiling the poster while the other officer took pictures and video.

Vicky wanted pictures for the web site so I stood beside the poster at attention while she took them, she wasn’t the only one taking pictures.

Adam walked by “We are ready to go;” the Iowa men had been issued their JBG cards so I could track them if I needed, including the two Captain’s cash bags with instructions and company credit cards. The two buses carried the 80 men and their bags to the C5 and made a third trip to pick up the guard crews, along with the four mechanics and the tools they would need to reassemble the choppers and test them.

Vicky and I watched the men load up and the ramps close. Then the props came alive on the C130s, one engine at a time. The C5 moved off first to the south end of the runway. A while later the three planes were gone on their long flight. The waiting game was on again.

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

Thursday morning the C5 returned in time to be loaded by noon. The pilot group went home and the maintenance group stayed to check out the post flight inspection list. Lorrie’s text said it would take the rest of the day for that.

The day was a drag at KCC. I did text Vicky and Ching Lee to get them to check on more food to carry to Nimule. I was late on that one; there was already a hundred thousand pounds of soups and supplies donated from several different companies on the shore in one of the hangars.

When I stopped by Morton Field, all the crew from the C5 was gone. Major Culpepper was sitting in the restaurant drinking coffee.

“How did my guys do? Is there anything I need to cover with them?” I asked.

“Really good job; they are a very dedicated group of individuals. I hear we are going to South America tomorrow 0500.”

“That’s right, fly down and back,” I replied.

It was a great evening; hot tub, boys and my mates. We went to bed early; we wanted to see the C5 take off again, was the excuse. From all the moans, it was really just an excuse.

We were at Morton at 0430. Major Culpepper was strolling towards the plane with a go bag, a big coffee mug and whistling Yankee Doodle Dandy.

Lorrie handed Adam the refilled cash bag. At 0500 the C5 was rolling coal from the south end of the runway and was already a couple hundred feet in the air when it went past the terminal building.

This time we made it home in time for me to cook breakfast. With the dishes in the dishwasher we were over in the office at seven.

At 0730 Karen called to say that I had several visitors, “The one that speaks for the group is Ambassador Hagen Abelman,” she whispered into the phone.

“Give them a visitor’s pass and send them into the gym; I will be right there.”

“Ambassador Ableman, it’s good to see you. Welcome to my little part of the world. Let’s take the elevator and go upstairs to the office.”

The ambassador introduced me to his three associates, who were Israel intelligence officers; I read into that Mossad officers. They each were pulling a large travel cart on wheels.

“We have a mutual friend in Africa who suggested that you may be able to make good use of what we bring. Did you have time to get the things the email suggested?” Officer Ben-David asked as we were making our way to the EIT office.

“Yes, my men should have it set up per your instructions,” I replied.

After the introductions, Officer Ben-David said, “This is going to take several hours to get set up, run through then test. I will call you when we are ready to demonstrate and use.”

I took that as a polite way to tell me and the Ambassador to get lost for a while. I started with Marcy and we made the rounds through the office and a tour of the gym to watch some of the training that was going on. We finally ended back in my office where I got an in-depth lesson on Middle East politics; and the things that were going on behind the scenes.

The things in real life were a lot worse than were being broadcast in our media. In between conversations, we both had to deal with texts and calls. One of those texts I sent was to Frank, “Send me the file you have from Uganda with the 515 information.”

It only took seconds for the reply, “Why?”

“Working to build my bucket,” I replied. A few minutes later the file arrived in my e-mail; that I then forwarded to Robert.

We spent over 30 minutes talking about the American embassy there, the transfer to JBG security that was going to happen in the next few weeks and the difficulties we could expect.

I made a mental note to go through and hand pick my employees going there and to make sure they could speak Hebrew and the local Arabic dialect, if at all possible.

Israel was one of the areas that there had not been a decision yet as to if they were to get a chopper.

“We are ready for a live test and you’re the guinea pig,” Robert said as he was standing in my office door. With Robert’s entire group and Vicky there, the explanation and demonstration began.

First was the description of what was installed by Ben-David, “This system is several different systems linked together. The first computer has the bucket – as you named it – from Africa, the Middle East, Asia, and Europe. There is some on Americans if they travel abroad.”

“The information in your bucket will be 2 weeks old, meaning you will get an update every two weeks. That update will be sent on DVDs.”

“The second computer has the identification data on it, its files contain facial recognition, finger prints, DNA, and retina scans if they are available.”

“I feel sure you are doing DNA and fingerprints on all your employees on hard copy; you should add that and retina scans to the data on this system. It gives you instant recognition if you ever need it.”

“Some of the equipment I have installed with the third computer includes the newest electronic fingerprint reader, a retina scanner and facial scan, should you decide to use it.”

“By putting your employees in there, you will reduce the chance of moles, double agents, spies and someone selling your information,” he said. Then he added, “You can use the existing photos you have in your files from your ID cards.”

I wondered if that statement meant that we already had a problem and we were the last to know.

Robert took my picture with his cell, sent it to his email, from there loaded it to a thumb drive, put it into the second computer and began the search.

Before he could type my name into the first computer to search by name in the bucket, the facial scanner had found me and linked the two together.

It was going to be interesting to see what Israel had on me.

‘Send it to the big plasma Robert,” I said.

It was a complete file, birth certificate, school grades, Marine file, everything ever printed in the media, JBG and its history, my mates and their connection and info on our boys – and of course, my financial records.

“Robert, anything you did not know?” I asked.

“No, nothing new there,” he replied.

“Get Ben-David to show you how to run the DNA information I emailed you.”

We watched while Officer Ben-David made each one of my Intel Group input one of the files into the system and then we waited.

Aadam Mohamed was the first one to pop up. The history on him was indeed interesting; his last days – according to Israeli Intelligence – almost mirrored what Robert had found. Robert’s glance after seeing Aadam’s name told me he knew.

Dagar Daharr came up next, as I thought he would at some time in the process. Frank’s file on him was empty compared to what these files had. I handed Robert a thumb drive, “Copy his picture to the thumb and the bucket as well as any joined files – brothers, sisters, parents, contacts – I need to slowly read all that.”

The next connected file was Crown Prince Alwaleed bin Salman Al Saud, grandson of the King. I handed Robert another thumb that he handed back a minute later. Then said, “Take it to the last couple pages, I want to see the last entries.” The last entries placed him in Kampala both Saturday and Thursday, with no entries after Thursday. Then there were pages of official inquiries as to his whereabouts.

The computer was still dinging that it had found files. I handed Robert another thumb, “Put the rest on here; I have a lot of reading to do in my spare time.”

“Robert, print out the file header sheet on each one that gets identified, please.”

Robert handed me the papers, “I need a refill of coffee, does anyone else?” The Mosad men pulled the carts as we walked to the counter where there was a row of Bunn coffee makers and one big old fashioned percolator.

Robert and his guys took their coffee and went back to the EIT office. I invited the Israeli group to mine to finish our coffee and to thank them.

As we finished our coffee, I asked Officer Ben-David “Who updates the bucket?”

“Any Intelligence supervisor,” he replied.

I handed him the papers, “You can update these.”

“What’s the connection?” he asked.

“Besides all dying at the same place the same day and at the same time?” I replied.

“Kampala?”

I just nodded.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read By Bob W.

The day was quiet for the most part. Near noon Robin, Phil and Bob came to see me. I wondered if they were having second thoughts now.

“Is there anything that we need to do to prepare for the trip?” Robin asked.

“You need to get yourselves in good physical shape. You are going to have close to 60 or more hours in airplanes in just six days with a double dose of jet lag. The jet lag is going to be bad as well as 14 time zone changes in the same period of time. It will make adjusting hard.”

“The truck ride from Entebbe to Kampala to Nimule is six to seven hours each way plus the unload time. And that may have to be done two days in a row, depending on how people come through with donations,” I replied.

“Bob, I know you know how to shoot but I would like you to go to the gun club and qualify with one of our company Glocks. You just never know when you might have to pick one up and use it in that part of the world,” I said.

“What about us?” Phil asked.

“Maryland law says you have to be 21 to buy, but you can take hunting and gun safety training,” I replied.

“I have already had hunter safety and hold a hunting license in Kentucky. My Dad and I went pheasant and deer hunting all the time. I was a better hunter than he was; I killed more deer. It always made him upset,” Robin replied.

“Maybe you should go deer hunting with my Dad. He goes a lot and I know there are deer where he goes but he never gets one,” I said.

“Ask him if he would like a hunting partner, I miss the outdoors!” she replied.

“What about you, Phil?”

“I’m not into guns – never shot one – but I will come to watch just for the heck of it.”

“I have seen you compete at sports. I bet if you did some trap or skeet, you would fall in love with it,” Robin replied.

“We have both at the gun club, that can happen but he needs basics first,” I replied.

I received a text from Lorrie that the refueling was completed on schedule. I breathed a sigh of relief on that one; I’m sure it was like falling off a log to the pilots but I still worried something would go wrong.

I also worried about revolutionaries, terrorists and radical governments shooting the plane down. To say some of the territory it was flying over was hostile would be putting it mildly. It was flying established commercial routes and it was silver and that was a good thing.

It was almost three when Marcy called. She and a couple of her administrators found the two trucks in Washington and the two trailers like the ones destroyed in Delaware. The drivers were carried to Washington to pick them up and then they were driving to pick up the trailers.

The decal shop we used was making up new decals to put on the trucks. Federal law and the dot inspectors looked for the identifying name and numbers on road side inspections.

Soon all trucks would have electronic driver logs, weights, inspection, insurance and cargo information that would be transmitted to the weigh stations and portable enforcement as the truck neared the sites.

The inspectors would know if they needed to flag the truck in for closer scrutiny or let it go by before it ever got there.

Marcy had called the auto shop that services the MAAR cars to remove that and the GPS equipment from the trucks. One more thing that was boxed up and given to the driver to be installed later.

Luckily both trucks were tagged in states that the tags could be transferred to new trucks with a phone call, a credit card and insurance numbers. Marcy paid off the remaining loan balance on the wrecks. The titles were coming to her.

It was an expensive lesson. The two trailers would be scrapped and the tractors would go the truck auction in Wilmington. Next time the takeoff would either be from the other end of the runway, or we would get the police to stop traffic on the road for five minutes. We had been lucky that this had not happened before with the C17 and the 787 takeoffs in the last month.

I was just about to leave when I got a cryptic email from a friend abroad on my State Depart Email system. It was a request that I immediately forwarded to Robert after removing all the gibberish and things that I did not want him to see and added TOP SECRET in the subject line. Top secret meant that it was strictly between Robert and me.

The email was full of diplomatic speak that I had gotten rid of. I was so glad that Ambassador Furnell had worked many hours with me on interpreting the hidden meanings in words and language that were used in diplomatic cables, speeches and press releases. I could just imagine the questions I was going to get from Robert when I got to the office.

I stopped by Morton Field on my way to the office; I wanted an update on the flight for my peace of mind. They were two hours from their destination and they were 30 minutes behind schedule because of trouble with the KC130 tanker plane.

I went straight to Robert’s office, looked in and then closed the door behind me.

“Everything should be here Thursday morning. I ordered all of it by special delivery to make sure,” he said.

Then he asked, “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“I’m not exactly in a position to say for sure right now. I have ideas but we will both find out the details Friday morning at 8. Do you have a place to put it after all the other stuff you ordered was put in?”

“Yes, after that wall into the other office was removed, we have plenty of room. You do know we have plenty of room on the new system.”

“Like I said there is a reason, I just can’t tell you everything I know right now and I am sure there is a lot more I do not know.”

“Follow the setup instructions in the email,” I replied.

I headed for the meeting; I really wanted to listen closely to Marcy’s financial report tonight. We were hiring a lot of people every week and now every week a number was being added to the charges to the State department. I hoped that we were back to maintaining a balance between the two in the revenue stream.

By the time our meeting was finished there should be another update on the flight.

Adam called in on the satellite phone and it was all good news. The refueling boom on the tanker had stuck in the stowed position and required some unconventional tactics to get it working.

The hangar lived up to the pictures and specs; all the electric controlled doors opened and closed, all the locks were in working order, it was visible by the control tower and was on the airports security check every 4 hours list as I had asked it to be placed.

The other part of the news was that they were making better time unloading the choppers than they thought it would take. Adam thought they would be done unloading when the fuel trucks started the fill up for trip home and would be airborne in a couple hours. That would put them back at Morton 9 AM Thursday.

There would be just enough time to load, go home and get some sleep, and then leave Friday morning for South America.

Frank knocked on the door just as we were finishing up, “Afternoon Ambassador, when you finish up I need a couple minutes.”

In my office behind closed doors, “The freight for the Friday flight is going to be delivered tomorrow. The C5 is going to Guarani Paraguay. They will be met at the airport by our people.”

“There may be a stop in Arizona on the return trip but right now it doesn’t look promising for that to happen,” Frank added.

“By the way, there is nothing new on the 515 group. I have to go to another meeting at the hangar; as soon as I hear something I’ll let you know,” he said as he headed for the door.

As we walked across the street to the house, I informed Lorrie where the next flight for the C5 was going so she could start the process. Part of that assessment now was a close monitoring of our fuel supplies.

Lorrie had assigned someone to monitor the fuel farm and now there was a daily fuel usage estimate based on daily and weekly flights. There was a delay from the order to delivery, sometimes two or three days. Preorders were based on the usage estimate routine.

To go along with the refueling, we now had three trucks of our own. With the daily freight flights, a fuel truck breakdown that could shut down the operation was unacceptable. Lorrie had bought new truck and a second used one to match the one we had gotten from the military surplus site. Everybody hated the new one with a passion; just too many bells and whistles.

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

I walked to the elevator to greet whoever was coming to see me, just as door was opening.

Phil, Robin and Bob Jackson stepped off the elevator.

“I get another look at the inside of the lion’s den; you have expanded a lot since I was here last time,” he said.

“Yes, we have and all of Lorrie’s division was moved to the Morton building; she has offices both here and there.”

“Bob, are you going as chaperone?” I asked.

“Yes. Mr. Gifford sent an email that the medicines being donated for Nimule were being shipped to you in two weeks. He CC’ed me on the mail asking if I could finagle a seat on the plane to take video and pictures for them. I knew there would be plenty from you but he carries a big stick, if you know what I mean,” Bob replied.

That conversation ended as Rachael and her parents stepped off the elevator.

“Glad you made it, so you are up for a challenge?”

“Yes, I so glad you asked me to go with you. I was so excited when Dad asked if I wanted to go. We are not late, are we?”

“No there is plenty of time! The doc is waiting; Maryann is going to lead you where you are going. But first I need you to understand we are going on a military type transport plane. This is not first class fare.”

“That’s OK, that will make it more fun,” Rachael replied.

“Are you three OK with that?” I directed at Bob, Robin and Phil.

“I don’t know about fun but it sure sounds like an adventure,” Bob replied.

“Well, let’s get the process started; follow Maryann to the docs,” I replied.

“The shots are being billed to JBG,” I stated.

Our company Doctor Greg Burns’ practice had grown as JBG had. When we first started we went to him because he had been the family doctor to both the Jones and the Coles. It was a small practice; one doctor and a couple of nurses.

Now it was located in a new building with four doctors and several Physicians Assistants with a nurse for each one. There was a lot of medical equipment that usually was found in emergency centers. They could do x-rays and blood testing in-house.

The good thing was they billed us direct at a cash price for all the new employment physicals and shots. They had agreed to keep all of our employee records off the system because of our security status. Marcy even bought the filing system for them.

I was ready close down the computers and go to the house with the girls, when my phone rang one more time.

“Jones”

“Ambassador Jones, Johnson Black; I made some calls and I found the response time for Mr. Pope’s office to be unacceptable and changes are being made as we speak. Mr. Pope will call you personally to apologize for the long wait and the response from the north-east service center personnel to your request.”

“There is a standing policy that if an area cannot handle a customer’s needs they are to request help from the other service centers. Work load fluctuates; we have other centers that are not working up to capacity and can use the work.”

“The techs you requested will be there Monday morning. They are flying out of the Southern and North Western service centers direct to you. I also took the liberty to look at your account to look at your parts purchases for the aircraft you have repaired. They will bring multiples of those parts with them and anything else they think they will need to speed up the repair process, based on your descriptions,” he said.

Then he added, “I am terribly sorry that you needed to go the route that you did for a solution. From my viewpoint it is somewhat depressing. We spent so much time, effort and money to improve service and then one hard head can wreck it all in one call. I can promise you it will not happen again.”

“I appreciate your help; thank you,” I replied. Only time would tell for sure, I thought.

We were up at three; all of us – including Crash – wanted to see the takeoff. Crash had Lorrie take pictures of him and the plane with the crew; he wanted them framed and placed in the terminal building by his original crop duster.

When we arrived the crew was stowing their luggage and finishing up preflight inspection. Major Culpepper was checking things behind them, looking over their shoulder.

We walked Adam off to the side after they were finished. Lorrie handed him the lockable cash bag that we sent with all out of the US flights. There were some places in the world that did not take credit cards or they added large fees to take the card.

For this flight the bag contained 200 thousand dollars that Adam signed for. The C5 held 50,000 gallons if the tanks were empty; at 4 bucks a gallon, one fill up would wipe out the 200k.

The flight planning they had done called for an air tanker from the US air base at Moron Spain to refuel just off the coast of Africa to top off the tanks, replacing the estimated 25,000 gallons they would use. That would allow them to make the destination without landing.

If there were technical difficulties that prevented the in air refueling, they would have to land to do it, most likely at Morocco. The same thing had to happen on the return flight.

It was a lovely arrangement for JGB either way; the Air Force cross-billed the state department, then they billed JBG, then we billed the state department plus add on fees to the logistics support part of our contract. Even if we used the card or cash, the add-on applied.

We wished the crew safe passage, luck had nothing to do with it; it boiled down to training, equipment and planning for any contingency.

From inside we watched the engine run-up and listened to the tower instructions for the IFR flight, and then permission to take off.

The big turbofans started screaming and the big plane started rolling, picking up speed, lifting into the air well before the end of the runway. It was exactly 0400.

We decided to go back home and nap before we had to go to work; as we turned onto 301 N there were police and fire trucks blocking the road. There were two tractor trailers lying on their sides blocking the roads directly across from the end of the runway.

“Oh crap,” the jet blast from the C5 had blown them over from 75 yards away; they must have been empty. I guessed we were not going home after all.

I wondered what time Bob and his engineers started work and if they would be eating in the restaurant this morning. The rest of the takeoffs with the C5 would be from the other end of the runway until a blast deflector could be built near the highway. The only thing that could be blown over on that end was soybeans.

A state police car followed us back to the terminal building.

“Did you have any planes take off from the airport earlier?”

“Yes we did; a big one. Was anyone hurt?” I asked.

“No, both trucks are pretty much junk, no freight though; both were empty,” the officer replied.

“Were they independents or fleet owned?” I asked.

“They were both independent operators,” he replied.

“We need to replace their trucks so they can keep making a living. Let’s go see what they had and what we can find when the truck dealers open up,” Marcy said.

Marcy and I followed the trooper back to the highway in time to see wreckers flip both trucks upright.

Both trucks were only a couple of years old; one was a Pete 389, the other was a Kenworth 680. I originally thought both trucks could be repaired until I got close and had a good look at them. Both cabs were twisted pretty badly; the best thing was to call a salvage company and part them out.

Cars and trucks were Marcy’s thing so I left it to her to take care of it. We were at fault and self insured, so it made more sense just to replace the trucks and trailers fast than deal with lawyers and litigation paying for lost revenue, down time and anything else the lawyers could think up.

I made it to KCC on time by leaving the girls to take care of the truck fiasco.

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

A day early. I think the internet will be overloaded tomorrow.

I went back to Robbie’s office where I explained tomorrow’s flight, the arrival of the two Iowa Guard C130s next Monday and the need for two mechanics to accompany each plane.

“That means the numbers of completed choppers will drop,” Robbie replied.

“Call Sikorsky; I know they have a world wide maintenance system, tell them you need 10 techs for 6 weeks to come here to help you keep the numbers up. If they don’t give you a satisfactory answer, call me; I will be in my office,” I replied.

I went to the office; that would be the last place the major would turn up as that would be to get his ID cards. I had one international call to make while I waited on him. I left word with HR that I wanted to see him ASAP.

I closed the doors to my office, connected my VCATS and placed an international call.

“Ambassador Dansky; Ambassador Jones – it’s good to talk to you again,” I replied.

“We have missed you at our galas; you are so charming and added spark and flare to the evening. Not to mention that you made all of us old men wish we were younger. What can I do for you?” he asked.

“I’m looking for information on the Saudi Royal family and I can’t think of anyone more qualified to answer the question than you or your intelligence people. Have any members of the family, children or grandchildren gone off grid or gone missing in the last few months?” I asked.

“That would be in Franks bucket as you call it.”

“LOL – you have heard about the bucket.”

“Yes and the crumbs and blind mice. It is refreshing to hear how different generations name some of the things that we do.”

“I do not have access to Frank’s bucket. I only get alerts related to embassy security. Everything else I have to develop on my own. I don’t really need the whole bucket, I just need Africa and the Middle East where I have men stationed. I think your geographic location demands you have the latest Intel there is. ”

“I have approached the topic delicately but after Snowden, wiki leaks and the Clinton fiasco, I don’t think it will happen,” I replied.

“Snowden has been an embarrassment to your government as well as Clinton; unfortunately, there is much more coming,” he added.

“I am really surprised that as much as you have been involved in thwarting terrorist activity, your organization does not have access – especially when so many third party people do.”

“I will have my Mosad officer investigate the question for you and I will do some checking on my own,” Ambassador Dansky replied.

“Are you coming back to Africa soon?” he asked.

“Yes, in 5 weeks; I chose Kampala as one of the central locations. Our C5 is going to drop off a load of Blackhawks and Suburbans. Our C130s will disperse them from there. I have rented a temporary hangar at Entebbe.”

“I am also going to bring more supplies for Nimule along with three students from local schools who may be interested in humanitarian careers. I am going to try to be there in time to attend the Gala for old time’s sake. I assume I have an invitation to attend,” I replied.

“You have an open invitation to attend any time you want,” Ambassador Dansky replied.

I had just finished the call when the Major knocked on the door.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. First, how did you make out today?”

“I thought you were trying to kill me until the gun club, and then I realized you were just out to humiliate me. Do you really require all your security employees to score 95 on that test?”

“Takes all the fun out of it if you shoot the wrong person or get shot,”

“No doubt about that.”

“What exactly are your orders?” I asked.

“I am to observe flight operations and if I see reckless operation, including potential damage to the plane, property or crew, I am to shutdown the operation.”

“I am to make no records of any cargo or destinations unless there is something that requires shutdown for documentation. I do understand that you work with other government agencies that may require confidentially,” he said.

“They are finishing up loading the C5 now; it’s leaving for Lusaka Zambia at 0400. Adam is at Morton if you want to check in to coordinate things for departure.”

“We do have rooms if you want to stay overnight on the island instead of driving to the western shore. The JBG ID card you were issued will get you into most JBG areas and you can charge meals at the gym or the airport restaurant to the card.”

“There is another flight Friday to South America and another one Tuesday to Africa.”

I had just finished with that when Robbie called to say he had no success with the Sikorsky service department. They would send us no people and the service manager had an attitude.

“Give me the guy’s name,” I said, that I wrote down on my pad.

I researched Sikorsky to confirm that it was owned by Lockheed. How convenient, I thought; their headquarters was listed as Bethesda, a hundred miles away. I had a VP’s name in my file from the two 130 rehabs in Canada.

Clyde Hausas answered his cell and remembered me, and then he began the normal sales conversation and asked how happy we were with the two C130s.

“I’m quite happy with the C130 but I am terribly unhappy with one of Lockheed’s other business divisions. So unhappy that I want you to give me the name and phone number of the corporate level head of the customer support division for Sikorsky,” I said.

“Alexander Pope, VP customer service, 310-555-1999” was the name and number.

“While you are at it the guy in charge of Sikorsky,” “Johnson Black, Senior VP, 405-999-6050”

“The president of Lockheed?” I asked.

“310-555-1800, Joseph Kane.”

I started with Alexander Pope and explained to his secretary who I was and what I wanted. I suggested that she write my name and number down in case the call was lost. The elevator music was still playing 10 minutes later when I clicked off the speaker phone to kill the call.

The next number was Johnson Black. Again, I explained the difficulties I was having to a secretary and she started the tale about how busy Mr. Black was.

“Well, if Mr. Black is too busy I have one more number I can call; a Mr. Joseph Kane I believe he is President of Lockheed Martin your parent company.”

“Let me take your name and number in case the call gets dropped and I will check on how long it will be before Mr. Black can talk to you.”

I guess she thought she had put me on hold; I could hear the complete conversation. “Look this person up on Google.” Followed by, “She is? Check out JBG then.”

“Go find Mr. Black and do it now”

After a couple of minutes of waiting “Is Mr. Black back in his office yet? I have a VIP call waiting for him.”

“Ms. Jones; Mr. Black will be with you in a couple more minutes, he is on his way to his office now.”

“Ambassador Jones, Johnson Black; it’s good to hear you are back in the States again and well. That was quite a scare we all had while you were there. How may I be of help to you?”

I explained my need for Sikorsky repair technicians and then reviewed my issues with the Sikorsky service department, it employees and the dead ends as I went up the ladder.

“I can understand why that would be upsetting. It should not be happening in our company’s new customer first structure. Since I have taken over, Sikorsky customer service and parts have become our number one priority. Some parts were on back order for 18 months; only in extreme cases are back orders over 10 days now and service is in 5 days or less,” he said.

“We have 17000 employees; I can see no reason why ten technicians cannot be sent to assist you. Give me the list of people you talked with and I will follow up and call you back,” he said.

The fecal material was about to run down hill, from the tone of his voice. My experience with that was it tended to stink and stick to everyone it touched.

I had just finished with the call when I was paged that visitors were on their way up to see me.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.

Monday we were up early – it was going to be a busy day. Another group was leaving for Africa; the Bombardier was leaving at 7 for Dulles to get them there for a 9AM flight and I wanted to be there to give them a motivational speech.

The C5 group was going through a loading exercise to see what they could get into the cargo bay and prepare the plane for its first flight tomorrow.

It was a good thing the Air Force had sent a tow bar to move the plane around with. We did not have anything even close to being heavy duty enough to use. Big Bertha – as big a tug as it was – struggled to move the C5 from the front of the terminal to the tarmac in front of the super hanger.

I was so thankful that we had agreed with Lorrie’s request at the first of the year to expand the fuel farm. The C5 and two C130s could hold up to 70000 gallons in just one fill up; that was 10 tractor trailer loads of fuel.

Then there was Major Culpepper coming. I left a note for Cindy with a list of the things I wanted done with him today.

First put him to the front of the line and send him to the Docs for a company physical and get any shots he needed. I wanted to make damn sure he was healthy enough to be sent to Africa and do all that flying. I had no idea how long he had been flying a desk. I did not want him to have a heart attack in some African rat hole.

Second was to run him on the treadmill and find out just how good of shape he was in.

The third thing was to send him to Jamie’s weapons class to certify him with a hand gun and M16. He may have been skilled, but for insurance needed to be certified by our instructor. Then to subdue his enthusiasm, a trip through the shoot don’t shoot course.

And fourth – when all that was done – HR was to issue him a JBG ID card and State Department contractor ID card. He was going to have a busy day and sometime in the afternoon, there would be a firm decision made on if there was to be a flight tomorrow and what time. If that happened, he needed to pack for a four day trip minimum.

Major Culpepper arrived before I left for Morton Field for the pep talk with Cindy. I explained what process he was going through today.

I was late getting to KCC. The pep talk and the question and answers after took longer than I expected. From now on I was taking Mondays off when we had departing security teams.

I called Bob Jackson and explained the humanitarian part of a chopper delivery to Kampala. I also discussed the possibility of taking Robin Parsons and Phil Jameson on the trip. I explained that if it could happen I needed them to get shots ASAP. Then I asked about their other classes they would miss.

“Their parents have already signed a host of release forms to participate in off premise functions and trips. I will check with legal to see if they will suffice. How many seats are you going to spring for?” he asked.

“Depends on how many JGB personal go; there are 80 seats available on our C5, I have been told,” I replied.

“OK; I will get the release forms checked out. For a field trip like that to Africa the professors aren’t going to say much but they will be envious as hell,” he replied. “I’m even envious.”

“You can go as their chaperon but you have to decide quickly; you will need shots and they need time to work,” I replied.

I checked what classes the two were in and went to find them. Professor Holcomb was staring at the door as I stepped to it and looked in. “Somebody is in deep manure when the Director of security comes looking for them personally,” he said rather loudly.

“Who are the guilty parties BJ?”

“Robin Parson and Phil Jameson – it will only take a couple minutes, they don’t need to bring their books,” I replied.

Out in the hall, “In 5 weeks there is going to be a resupply mission to the refugee camp at Nimule. Do you want to go as student representatives from KCC?” I asked.

It took all of 5 seconds to sink in before Robin was jumping up and down, “Yes. Yes, what do we have to do?”

“Shots and vaccinations tonight so they have time to work, and then passports,” I replied as I handed them a card with the gym address on it. “As soon as classes are over go there. One of you has a car, right?”

“Yes I do, we will be there and I have a current passport,” Phil replied.

“I have a passport. I will get mom to send it to me,” Robin added.

As I was walking away I heard the professor ask them, “Do you care to share that burst of excitement with us?”

I worked on the KCC security department budget for next year, even though I would not be here – it still needed to be done. I worked on it until noon, then I left for the gym.

Paul McBride called while I was driving. I explained the trip that Rachael could go on as a student representative from the Advanced Education School for gifted students.

“A decision needs to be made ASAP because multiple vaccinations are needed and they need time to work. Our company doctor can give them; all he needs a copy of her medical records and your permission. There are two seniors from KCC who are going and they are getting the shots tonight.”

“One of them is a female who shares a deep interest in humanitarian missions and becoming a missionary. I am sure she and Rachael will get along great.”

“Yes, I am going,” I replied to his question.

“Let me call the wife and discuss it with her, then if it is a go I will get Rachael to stop by the doctor’s office and pick up a copy of her records. I will call you as soon as we talk.” The phone clicked.

I had just pulled back onto the road when I answered another call with the On Star thing. This one was General McVee, “The governor approved; I can have the two extended versions at your airport on Monday.”

“That’s perfect! The C5 is being loaded today for its first flight tomorrow, destination yet unknown. That decision will be made in the next hour,” I replied then added.

“Your two planes will carry equipment to Africa as well,” I said.

I stopped at the airport for updates; on the drive from KCC I had a brain fart that I needed to ask Robbie about.

I drove around by the Crash Pad, past the fuel farm and down beside the super hanger to the tarmac where the C5 was sitting with the ramps down.

In the back the crew was strapping everything down; they had shoe-horned six choppers and two of the new shorter environmentally friendly Suburbans in the cargo bay. I wondered if the ramp would close and the door shut.

“We already checked that out; it’ll close,” Adam said. “And there is room to take the tow bar.”

“Are you going to fuel it today or wait until in the morning?” I asked.

“Last thing before we leave today; I would like to leave early, at least by 0600,” he replied.

“OK, let’s go plan a flight then; I will be in Lorrie’s office when you finish up and come over.”

I had barely warmed up the chair when Frank called, “Have you come up with an opening in your flights yet?”

“The C5 is leaving here in the morning – 0400 possibly – for Lusaka Zambia and should be back sometime late Wednesday night. We should be able to do your flight Thursday afternoon, Friday for sure,” I replied.

“OK, that would be good. I’ll get the freight headed your way; it will be waiting in the agency hanger. Oh, it will be going to South America.”

Adam and the other three pilots came in with coffee from the restaurant.

“You’re going to Lusaka Zambia. Plan the flight while Lorrie and Cindy are putting the final touches on the information packet for you. FYI there is another flight scheduled for South America as soon as you get back – needs to be done late Thursday or Friday,” I said.

Lorrie placed everything she and her clerks had put together in front of me to look at. There were copies of the hanger rental contract, the contact person, the utility agreement, and a set of keys to unlock the hanger. Other items were close-up Google pictures of the airport showing our hanger location and all the information on the airport.

Lorrie had already made the contact with the officers in charge of the aerial division and had all the numbers and info. As soon as Adam completed the flight plan, they could be called to set up the location, time and amount of fuel they wanted.

The fuel from the Air Force would be cheaper than buying fuel from an airport authority, but the delivery charge was a wallet buster. It was either lose two to three hours landing somewhere to refuel or do it in flight. The plane would be several thousand gallons short to complete the flight. In-flight easily won out.

We met Adam and his group in the pilot lounge.

“We plan to leave here at 0300 and do the in-flight refueling to top off the tanks off the coast of Africa; that is about half way. That would put us there at 1800 Eastern time and 1100 local there. Half the crew is going to sleep in flight. All of us will help unload. Nothing we have not done before.”

“Everything has wheels on it so we should have it unloaded in quick order. I’m thinking we should be back in the air no later that 1700 their time. I will access the fuel and if necessary buy some there. Be best to plan on the South American flight for Friday, just to be safe.” Adam finished.

“Sounds good; I would fill the tanks there and schedule an aerial refuel as soon as you clear the coast. As soon as the Major finishes his routine for today, I will tell him.”

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

All of us were at the office early; the boys decided they were hungry half an hour early this morning and let the house know it. Once fed and burped, they went back to sleep. They were now in Jenny’s office resting in their carriers.

I looked to make sure all the tickets had been purchased for the group on Monday’s flight to Africa and confirmed they were expected. This group was filling the manpower requirements at existing embassies that had choppers and Suburbans. Next week’s group of 80 would complete that part of the contract. That would be the last small group of trainees.

After that they would be big groups – 120 and larger – depending how fast they adapted and grasped the training.

Everything looked good for that part of our business for today as I closed out of the computer program.

At the Monday afternoon meeting – after I found out for sure what the Iowa Guard was going to do – Lorrie and I would plan the first flight for the C5.

Marcy, Lorrie and Vicky had spent time yesterday finding space to keep the choppers and Suburbans in at the airports we had picked as centralized locations, until they could be moved around by the C130s.

JBG was now the proud lease holder of 5 hangers in some not so savory places in Africa. At least they were at rather large airports, a requirement necessitated by the C5. The runway had to big and thick enough to hold the heavy beast.

Jack had helped Lorrie verify that those airports could land a plane that large.

Then I went back to the e-mails that I always seemed to be behind on. I was surprised to see an e-mail from Roger Gifford, president of New England Pharmaceuticals. It had been so long I had forgotten I had even sent the e-mail to him.

Dear Ambassador Jones,

I am terribly sorry to be so slow in getting back to you but your request had to go through channels before it was sent to the executive board. The board approved your request yesterday.

I am writing this e-mail to inquire if you could supply a list of additional drugs and medicines the DWOB may need at Nimule to include with the shipment.

It will take about 3 weeks for us complete and acquire the necessary federal approvals to ship the meds to you. We will need a US doctor’s ID number for the paperwork. I assume you have a doctor who you have been using for this purpose. Please respond as soon as possible with the numbers. With the approvals, we can kick this in high gear.

R. Gifford

I called Ambassador Morrison; it was afternoon in Kampala. I asked him to call Dr Palermo and get an updated needs list. I would be back in the area in four or five weeks and that I had a promise of more meds for them.

Then I had a thought; I wondered if the Advanced Academics School would allow Rachael to go on a week long field trip. Then I thought about the two from KCC – Robin Parsons and Phil Jameson. I would see the two of them on Monday.

I had an email address for Rachael and sent her one saying to have her Mom and Dad call my cell ASAP. I would see Robin and Phil on Monday.

I had just finished up when Frank called to say he would meet me at Morton Field in 30 minutes. All of us went; the girls wanted to look at the inside of the plane again.

When we arrived I was surprised that the people we had sent to pick up the plane were working on Saturday. They had unloaded all the spare parts and equipment the Air Force had sent with the plane and were busy cleaning up the inside of the plane.

Adam was giving us a tour of the plane – now that we could walk around inside – when Frank walked up the ramp.

“Sure is a beauty. How long are you going to have it?”

“Long enough to get all the equipment to Africa for the embassy contracts,” I replied.

“In between those flights can you do a couple for the agency? We can use the Air Force but they ask too many questions for certain things we need to move and where they are going. We have some things in the works I would rather they not know about that are too big for the C130,” Frank said. Then he added, “And then we still have to pay the premium price after all the BS.”

“Well, that might be a problem because there is supposed to be an Air Force officer on each flight for evaluation purposes,” I replied, then I added “We don’t have any idea what the costs are going to be on operating this thing yet.”

“I’m sure after the first flight Marcy will have some kind of number. I bet she already has a SAP number (standardized accounting procedures) in the computer and charges against it,” he replied.

“You are right Frank, on both accounts,” Marcy replied as she walked to us. “Give me one more flight to average the cost and I can give you a number,”

“Don’t forget add-on charges,” he replied.

“Work out your schedule and give me the openings for at least two flights in time enough to get the load shipped from the depots in New York and Virginia,” he said.

“Have you made any progress with the DNA on any missing people?” I asked.

“So far we still have no more information about the DNA from Kampala, but we are still looking,” he replied, then walked away.

I met Adam at the ramp, “Monday, put together a load and plan to leave Tuesday. See what kind of combination of choppers and SUVs you can get in this thing. An equal load of each would be nice, but not a requirement,” I said.

“I think we can carry 4 choppers and 2 SUVs or 6 choppers or 10 SUVs. Don’t forget that we can carry 75 passengers at the same time,” Adam replied.

“That will work out great on the later flights; Marcy will love the savings. If we could cancel Monday’s airline tickets, I would put them on the plane with you,” I replied. “On the next flight you will carry passengers.”

“The agency wants two clandestine flights and they don’t want the Air Force Officer on there. Can you figure out a way to ditch him or does he seem to be one who can be told to keep his mouth shut and will?” I asked.

“He will follow orders, so you need to ask him to produce them, read them and see what he was actually told to do. He likes guns, hunting and fishing.”

“You might gain some points with him by sending him through the weapons training and hostage rescue; tell him his life may be in danger some of the places he will be going.”

“Well that really won’t be a lie; it looks like all of Africa is slowly going to hell in a hand basket,” I replied.

“Remember that most Air Force people who fight are in a clean war from 10,000 feet and above and 95 % of the force is in maintenance or logistics. We fly a war bird 4 hours and 6 men work on it for 10,” Adam said.

“Good point! I will send him through the weapons course and issue him a JBG ID card and Glock; I will also tell him to ditch the Air Force uniforms and gear; that it will only make him a target,” I replied.

“Where is he staying? Did you get a phone number from him? What kind of physical shape is he in?” I asked.

“202-555-1610 is his cell; he is staying somewhere in Washington. Major Brandon Culpepper,” Adam replied.

“Major Culpepper; BJ Jones of JBG. I understand you are the evaluation officer for our C5 flights.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“I need you to be at 1001 Summers Road at 0700 Monday morning. There are some things that need to be done for our insurance company and legal department. HR and medical will also need a list of vaccinations that you have had that are current. There is also some training that we will require,” I said.

“OK, I will be there,” he replied.

“I would not come in your uniform; jeans or casual, something you can work in and don’t mind getting down and dirty in would be best. You may want to get out of the habit of wearing the uniform while you are with us. Some of the places you will be going, it would make you a target.” Then I added, “I will see you Monday morning.”

The rest of the weekend was golden, cleaning the house, a cookout for just us girls, with time in the hot tub and intimacy, and of course babies!

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

All of us left to go to the airport; we were going to eat at the restaurant tonight and wait for the plane to arrive from Texas. It was scheduled to land at 6 PM. The general had called shortly after Frank left to go back to Washington to say everything had gone smoothly and had been approved.

I had forgotten how busy the restaurant was on Friday nights. We had trouble finding a table for all of us. It seemed like all the county department heads and wives were there as well as law enforcement from several neighboring counties. They were always scheduling the meeting rooms for late afternoon meetings so they could add a business meal to their expense account.

I guess the restaurant being lower key than a lot of places on the narrows meant that it was come as you are. Everything from a farmer out of the field to someone in a suit and tie could be found there at any time.

We were in the middle table surrounded by groups of friends and business groups at the other tables. Conversation was plentiful and enjoyable. The back and forth banter was even better. We were finished and socializing when Lorries phone went off.

It was Adam Elliott, “We are 15 minutes out; you said you wanted to be called.”

“Thanks Adam, I’m going to try to film the landing,” Lorrie replied.

“Our new toy is landing in a few minutes; let’s go watch it and film it,” Lorrie said.

“Toy for you girls; that I don’t believe,” Duke said with the Sheriffs group and several others bantering with each other over toy; their minds were wandering into the gutter. “This I have got to see!” they all chimed in.

“Morton Tower this is JBG November Charlie five Mike inbound for landing heading 040 400 knots 30000 feet,” Adam radioed.

“Roger; JBG November Charlie five Mike change heading to 060 intercept waypoint ALPHA; descend to 10000 feet at APLHA change heading to 175 and descend to 2500 feet to intercept the ILS slope and begin landing sequence. Visibility is 20 miles; pressure is 29.96 at Morton field winds 0,” the tower replied.

NC5M repeated the instructions; we knew it would not be long.

Ching Lee took the commercial video camera from Lorrie and set the tripod up to be able start taking video as soon as it was in sight – which would be 5 miles out as clear as it was.

We watched as the speck grew and listened as the tower gave altitude and corrections to the flight path, until the auto landing system took over. It touched down right on the numbers, smoke rolling from the tires as they bit into the concrete.

“Toy – you call that big mother a toy – damn!” Duke said.

For some reason I had been expecting the olive green version of a C5 but this was silver, the same as our C130s. The American flag decal was still on the tail and the large JBG decals were on the side to replace the Air Force ones.

It went all the way to the end of the runway, made the turn onto the taxi way, slowly came back to the JBG tarmac by our hanger and then powered down.

It was a beauty; it was clean and shiny as we walked to it. I could not believe that in 90 days there was the possibility that it would be cut up in pieces. But that was government; damn I hated the stupidity of government sometimes.

By the time we made the walk to the plane, there was already a crowd around it. The night shift at the agency hanger had emptied out when all those tires chirped on the runway. The same was true with our second shift that made sure all the planes were fueled and ready to fly tomorrow.

The four mechanics and the pilot group exited the aircraft through the side entrance door.

John Bishop the senior C5 mechanic said, “We have got a lot to unload tomorrow. They sent a complete set of jacks and maintenance stands plus crates of spare parts. There are even a set of mounted tires. Someone was looking out for you.”

“Fly’s better than the day it was new. Whose arms and legs did you break to get an M model with all the up graded cockpit instruments? General Lacker said we could take it to Dover for the 120 day inspection when it was due,” Adam said.

I bit my tongue to keep from telling Adam that we only had it for 90 days and then it was the scrap yard for it.

One of the crew brought one of those rolling stairs and opened the rear side door so we could walk in and look at the inside of the plane and all the things they had brought with it. The plane was immense looking at it from the inside.

We girls talked with the pilots and crew while the crowd and bystanders walked around and gawked. By now a large crowd had gathered at the gate by the terminal. The landing sequence had carried it over two local towns at less than 5000 feet with flaps and gear down, left no doubt that it was landing.

I opened the gate so they could get a closer look, “Look and please do not touch,” I said.

When everybody finally left we went back to the terminal. On the way we decided on desert – hot apple pie a la mode.

I was just finishing up the last bite when my cell rang.

“I just received a picture from my guys in the hanger of something very big and shiny with your decals on it, sitting in front of your terminal. Tell me it is another one of your guy’s pranks,” Frank said.

“No, it’s no prank. Do you like?” I replied.

“I will be there in the morning to look at it. What time will you be there?”

We were going to be in the office early; another group was shipping out Monday and all things needed to be reviewed.

“Any time after 8 – call when you get in the area, we are working both places,” I told Frank; that would give us plenty of time for breakfast, even if we chose to cook or eat in the gym refreshment center.

We had just returned home when Alica and Allie knocked on the door and then came in.

“Miss BJ would it be OK if I stayed with Alica next weekend? Dad wants to take Miss Joni to a cabin in the mountains.”

“You’re not going with them?” I asked.

“Dad asked if I wanted to go but I said no. He and Miss Joni need some alone time. I think he is going to ask Miss Joni to marry him; he asked the other day if I thought she would be a good mommy for me,” Allie replied.

“Oh, what did you say about that?”

“I’m OK with it, Miss Joni treats me nice just like Mom did and we like to do a lot of the same things and like the same foods. She is so much fun to do girly things with. She loves to shop same as I do. Dad always seems so much happier when she is around,” Allie replied.

“Would you let Dad adopt Alicia so I would have a big sister?”

“That’s up to your Dad and Alica,” I said.

“You know that if they get married, you might get to be a big sister to a little brother or little sister” I replied as I winked at Alica.

“Sex; do you think they will have sex?” and then Allie covered her mouth.

“Most married people have sex. What do you know about sex?” I asked.

“We learned a little in school last year. I had questions and asked Dad but he got all nervous and could not answer them,” Allie said.

“If they get married, Joni can answer them for you. Sure, you can stay with Alica; if you want, the two of you can use one of the extra bedrooms upstairs. Just let me know,” I replied.

“OK great, I will tell dad I’m staying with Alica.”

It was another beautiful evening with babies, family and the hot tub.

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

Things had some sort of normalcy on Monday. The jet carrying the pilots and mechanics left in time to be plenty early at Travis AFB. There was excitement brewing with the aviation group. Everyone in Lorrie’s group knew something out of the ordinary was up, but knew better than to ask outright.

I stopped over to the gym before driving on to KCC. The gym was overrun with 80 men and ladies. HR had the first crack at them then it was to the doctor’s group for physicals. When they came back from there, they were divided groups of five with two of the RRTs to work through the training cycle.

Ching Lee, her administrators and clerks would be back tomorrow and would help with the training.

One of the Bombardiers carried the forty to Dulles to go to Africa. I didn’t envy them for the flight. We had flown direct and it was 14 hours. With the commercial flight, with layovers, it was over 24 hours.

At KCC today I was putting three different presentations together for the three professors as I had promised to do. I was going to do one each day and be off Friday again.

It was a real chore to come up with three different presentations that did not get into classified materials. But, by the time to go home I had it all on paper.

At our afternoon meeting the girls were already planning things to keep me busy when I was there full time. Marcy sent me a schedule of the county business association meetings. She wanted me to replace her with that group. I suspected there would be more as the time went by.

Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday at KCC moved like a snail; I spent four hours each day giving a presentation on the African trip to a bunch of spoiled wealthy brats. In the process I collected a dozen cell phones in one class. They were lucky I did not have a bucket of water to put them in.

The Thursday class was the best one of the three. They were graduating this year, with many of them looking for a place in the world. They asked good questions with a couple of the students really into the Nimule refugee camp part of the trip.

Where I had fast tracked some of the pictures in the other classes, Robin Parsons and Phil Jameson wanted to see each one and have me describe every one.

They were even asking questions after the bell with all the other students gone. It was a good thing this was the last class of the day. I stayed an extra half hour answering questions from those two.

On Friday I joined in on helping with the training; it was refreshing to get physical. Some of the new hires didn’t think so after they picked themselves up off the mats several times. That would change after a couple of weeks when the pieces came together.

At noon Frank walked in with a handful of folders. “I have everything that Uganda sent; let’s go to your office.”

With the door closed, “You were right Aadam Mohamed was in the building.”

“Damn, Uganda has had this information for six weeks and did not send it to us. It took a personal appeal from the Sec of State to get it.”

“There were 18 persons in the 515 Nubulagla Road house you blew it up, from the DNA they found.”

“The office is running the DNA on the master computers now. So far the only two they have identified was Aadam and Dagar Daharr; he was the son of the mayor of Minneapolis Minnesota,” Franks said.

“Daharr means darkness in Arabic,” I replied then I asked, “Has there been any indication that the family knew he may have been killed? Have they been looking for him, are there any signs of a funeral, memorial or a celebration of his passage to meet his virgins?”

“That is another good point to look at,” Frank replied.

“Can you get your group to run his name to see what they come up with?”

“Sure, but it will take some time. You are the one with the full bucket; my guys have to build the bucket as they go,” I replied.

“You and that damn bucket, you know you have half the department referring the data bank as the bucket now and they are always looking for crumbs and blind mice,” Frank replied with a laugh.

We spent the next hour looking at the data on Dagar Daharr. The DHS and agency both had him under surveillance for some time.

“Frank; if you had him under surveillance; how did he leave the country with anyone knowing it?” I asked.

“If I could answer that question we would not be having this discussion. To put it plainly, a lot of somebody’s missed the crumb trail.”

“It doesn’t really matter now we know where he is. What matters is how many more are missing from the area that went with him. That is the question you should be asking your people to figure out,” I replied.

“I guess you have done all the normal things; cell phone calls, text, data, e-mails, contacts list and cross number checks?” I asked.

“No, we had no probable cause and no real reason to do so because no one had filed any missing person’s reports with the police,” Frank replied.

“Frank you do understand that they would never go to anyone outside of their beliefs for that; they would not go to the police.”

“If he were killed in the middle of the street that would be one thing. You can be sure someone knew where he was going; definitely the Imam for the blessings on his trip. He may have been calling home, same as Aadam.”

“If he was under surveillance and went missing, why didn’t that alone raise a flag? You have far too many holes in your system,” I said.

“Frank, you have a lot of work to do to a trail that grows colder by the hour. If he left the States without setting off any flags, that means he and possibly a group drove across the border to a Canadian airport and flew direct to India or Pakistan.”

“I doubt that any of those countries do any checking on incoming passengers.” I said. Then I added, “The real question is how many are active in his group that is still in Minneapolis that his martyrdom will stir up when it is finally known for sure that he has perished” I said.

We talked for another hour with several agencies including Eric at DHS. Frank was getting ready to shut it down when another possible identity from the DNA collected at 515 was materializing.

The technician on the other end said, “There is a 90% match to the Saudi Royal family. The victim is possibly a grand child by the markers to the King or his brothers.”

“Damn,” was all I could say?

“Has any of the family turned up missing or disappeared from sight?” I asked Frank. Then I added, “The only way we would find out would be by an accidental slip up.

Frank shut down his access on my VCATS, “I have a lot to do; I will call you with any updates,”

After Frank left I stayed in my office to think this through. I had killed another member of the Royal family and too many people knew. This had the potential to get messy, real messy.

Anton knew about the latest, too many in our government knew, especially when even classified materials were being hacked a hundred times a day.

It was only a matter of time before the Saudi family knew. They could retaliate or wise up and get out of the terrorist business and that was highly unlikely. They had lived and survived terrorists and terrorism from the beginning.

I needed to know more; a lot more that was updated frequently. I wished I could get more in the loop; with the embassy security contract all I had routine access to was the embassy alert system. Anything more was piecemeal and only case necessary.

I wondered if the new computer system Robert ordered was good enough to hack NSA and how big a building it would take to hold the servers that it would take to have a copy of the bucket that they had.

Then I realized that I did not need the whole bucket, only the part of it that covered the Middle East and Africa where my security people were working but how would one sort that out. That was something to work at later.

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read by Bob W.

HAPPY NEW YEAR.

Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday flew by, there was so much going on. Ching Lee and most of her staff were out west at the two new colleges we had added.

The transition had been hectic but there were only a few bumps in the road. So far none of them had been the result of our people.

The new card systems that East Coast Security had installed had glitches in the systems. Ching Lee had required East Coast to have a tech on site in the contract.

It took the experts almost a day to get it straightened out at each site. The good thing was it happened the first day when there were only a few early arrivals. Once the systems were fixed, complete backups of the programs were made and stored on a duplicate standby server and discs were made to go in our vault.

I took Friday off to help with set up the new training procedures and sites that were going to be used starting Monday. Monday was the first of a double group; 80 instead of the normal forty, made possible by the rooms at the expanded Crash Motel as it was now known.

There were two weeks of 80 and then it would be doubled again to 160 as the Horsey House rooms were put to use. All the RRT we put to use as trainers and they would be busy. We even moved the shooting backstops to Camp Smith so they could help Jamie with the firearms training.

Mid-morning I was called to my office for a SVOL conference call from Rochester. Abdul was with Kelly in the conference room.

“I feel sure you already know Rashid is being deported. I wanted to tell you I am the leader, at least for now. You had said that we could let the artist post again when a leader was chosen.”

“Yes, that is correct. The old agreement still stands, up Saturday morning, down Sunday night and no trash,” I replied.

“We are having a special event in two weeks; would it be possible to put the posters up Friday morning for that one time? I know you worked with Aadam when special things happened,” Abdul asked.

“Yes, that will be OK.”

“Kelly, put it on the daily broadcast sheet for that day that posting is approved,” I told him.

We chatted a few more minutes before I signed off.

I made a note on my pad to fill Ching Lee in tonight on our conference call. I was getting ready to call Frank to fill him in case Clayton Cheeks was still slow at his job, when in walked Robert with a sizable folder.

“Well, I think we have solved the mystery of Aadam Mohamed. Everything is close to what your CIA guy said, with a few differences.”

“Aadam did leave for Afghanistan 10 weeks ago on UAE flight 709. It made a layover stop in the Netherlands before landing in Kabul a day later. There he made several trips to the Pakistan Embassy before flying to Karachi.”

“There is not much on what he did but he spent a day at the Saudi Embassy and a day in a place called Thatta. There were lots of calls made on his cell phone from there.”

The next day airport security video shows him boarding UAE flight 1604 for Saudi Arabia. Again there were a lot of calls from his phone, both to someone in Saudi Arabia and in Rochester.

“He visited Mecca for a day and spent three more days in various places, by his credit card purchases and phone calls. He spent three hours in a call to Kareem Rashid.”

“From there he flew to Jima, Ethiopia and that was where things get dicey. He stayed there a week, it looks like. There were a lot of calls to Rochester and to Kareem Rashid. On Wednesday, there were a number of calls to a satellite phone back and forth in the same area, almost like they were testing the satellite phone. Then his cell phone went offline until Friday at noon. There were two rings and the phone went dead. There was a car bomb that killed 80 people in Jima at noon that day; the phone has not been active since and the satellite phone made the call to the cell. All of us think it was used to set off the car bomb.”

“The satellite phone was active a day later in Kapoeta Sudan and for several days there before it changed location to Kampala Uganda. It was there the day of the embassy attack.”

“It was very active with calls to Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Ethiopia from Saturday until 18:25 Thursday evening when it stopped transmitting. According to the satellite pings it was at 515 Nubulagla Road. I think you know the rest of the story,” Robert said as he handed me the file, then turned and walked out of my office.

Aadam Mohamed had gone to see his family in Pakistan and Afghanistan. While he was there he was radicalized; Aadam Mohamed’s cell phone was used to trigger a car bomb in Ethiopia just days before the embassy attack.

Aadam had participated in some way with the attack on the embassy then answered the call of the attack leaders to participate in a follow up attack on the embassy. He was in the house at 515 when Anton was there.

I had killed Aadam Mohamed and it was not such a bad thing, if he had turned radical. The calls to Rashid from Africa – who most likely was his financier and sponsor – set things in motion for Rashid to replace Aadam in Rochester.

I called Frank and filled him in on the college fence and that Abdul was now the leader.

Frank was not happy; Clayton Cheeks had not reported the events to Frank, even though he was on duty when Abdul and I were talking. Frank and I talked for 20 minutes about Abdul and then his problems with Clayton.

“Give him a little more time. I will put a bug in Kelly’s ear to get him in shape and up to speed fast,” I said.

“Frank, you can stop looking for Aadam Mohamed.”

“Why?”

“He is dead; I killed him.”

“WHAT? WHEN? HOW?”

“He was at 515 Nubulagla Road on Thursday night when it ceased to exist.”

“How do you know this?” Frank asked.

“Frank, you know better than to ask that question. Call Uganda and see if they collected any DNA from there,” I replied.

“It’s like asking the most popular girl in class for a date. You know what the answer is going to be, but you just have to ask again and again,” Frank replied before he added. “Yeah, that’s a good idea; we have his DNA on file,” he replied, “That would confirm it for sure.”

The final call of the day was from General Walton, “I just received a call from Dover. They certified all your men; the plane inspection and test flights were completed Wednesday.

“Have the mechanics and the pilots at Travis Air Force Base 0800 Monday. Send several sets of your big aviation decals; the crew there will put them on for you. Where you are going, we would rather the plane be marked as yours,” the General ordered.

I relayed the information to Lorrie so the arrangements could be set in motion today and all the people informed.

Friday I got to spend another round on the mats with Kathryn; I did much better. We called it a draw so we could quit.

Edit by Alfmeister

Proof read bt Bob W.