Reprisal!- The Eagle's Sorrow

by Cliff Roberts

  “Were any storms in the area?” Al-Ghazi asked.

  “The weather was very good and seas were light. We did receive a partial transmission from the freighter six hours later, stating that they were having radio problems and that a sub was following them. They also mentioned that there had been a large explosion in the water. The transmission cut off at that point, and we unable to raise them again,” Al-Fazad stated.

  “Did we send a rescue plane to the area?” Al-Ghazi inquired, knowing that it should have been if it wasn’t.

  “Yes! A plane was dispatched immediately after the base commander received the message. The plane reported seeing only a small amount of debris some one hundred miles from where the transmission is believed to have originated,” Al-Fazad informed his cousin.

  “You are aware that the clergy had a special package on the freighter for delivery to Somalia, are you not?” Al-Ghazi asked, referring to the Al-Qaeda fighters on board.

  “Yes, I am aware.”

  “They will not be pleased,” Al-Ghazi stated the painful and obvious truth.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  “Steven, its Bob. I’m on the secure line. I’ve got some info you might find interesting,” Bob Westlyn greeted Steven Howard when the big boss answered his phone in his office.

  “Hi, Bob. What have you got?” Steven replied.

  “I’ve been data mining with friends in Europe for the last few days, and we found something very interesting. I took the account numbers from known terrorist bank accounts in the U.S. and was checking for cross-references with any accounts we had found, and I got a hit.”

  “Really? Who?” Steven asked quickly.

  “There is a bank in Cyprus that specializes in doing business with shady characters. We believe one of their accounts belongs to the Brotherhood. This bank wire-transferred one million dollars to another bank in Cyprus known for not being too particular about who they do business with, either. So I started running back checks on that account, and you’ll never guess which account popped up. Come on, guess!” Bob teased.

  “I don’t know. The king of Saudi Arabia?” Steven guessed, but only to move the conversation further along.

  “Well, maybe that is where the money came from, but the money went to our old friend, Bascome.” Bob let the bomb drop right in Steven’s lap.

  “What? It went to Bascome? What’s our proof?” Steven excitedly asked.

  “I went back and checked all of the transactions that had to do with that account in Cyprus, and there it was! Bascome’s account number for his account in the Cayman Islands—the same one he’s transferred over a million dollars from to this account in Cyprus over the last year. The transfers started right after the election, and the last deposit came from the suspected terrorist account the day before the terrorist Ashrawl was killed by the supposed NSA operators. Bascome claims the order used to get access to Ashrawl was a fake, and that neither he nor the NSA had anything to do with it. So, his buddies over at the CIA and FBI let the matter drop at that point. It sure seems likely to me that Bascome has taken a bribe for the murder of Ashrawl. Plus, the same account just received a ten million dollar deposit from the same account at the same bank as the known terrorists operate out of. ” Bob finished and waited for Steven to speak.

  Steven let things sink in for several moments. “This changes everything! We now have a murder-for-hire ring working from within the White House! They aren’t just taking money and letting foreigners dictate policy. They are working with them to undermine the sovereignty of the nation. This is treason!” Steven practically shouted into the phone.

  “Yeah, I thought the same thing, but how are we going to get this out to the public? It means nothing if we can’t force someone to act and kick these clowns out of office and then prosecute them!” Bob added.

  “You’re right about that. We’ll have to figure out a way to break the story. In addition, we have to share it with members of Congress who are in line with our way of thinking and share it with the military brass, so they can get their ducks in a row before Starks does something that causes the shit to really hit the fan,” Steven thought out loud.

  “I’ll leave it to you to inform Chip and Bill on this issue. I can inform the senator if you’re busy. Then we’ll still have to get together with the Joint Chiefs and get their reaction. Steven, if any of this gets out before we are ready, it could get very dangerous for you and your family. You better have Chip add to your protection detail,” Bob suggested.

  “Yeah, I’ll have to let him know to do that. I’ll also have him beef up yours and Bill’s, as well. Do you think I should send someone to watch the senator?” Steven asked.

  “It would be a good idea, but you had better make sure she doesn’t know unless there is a problem. The less she knows, the less she can share. It’s not that I don’t trust her, I just don’t think she would be comfortable knowing too much about what we’ve found and what might happen.” Bob tried to softly warn Steven that he didn’t completely trust the senator or her staff.

  “Okay, I’ll tell Chip I want covert watchers and protectors for her. She’s going to freak when I share this info with her. Can you get this into some form of a written report by tomorrow?” Steven asked.

  “Sure, I’ve already got most of it written. It’ll be on your desk by five tonight,” Bob answered.

  “Just how are we going to prove the money came from the Brotherhood?” Steven asked.

  “Well, the bank the money came from is called ‘The Brotherhood Solution Trust.’ It’s headquartered in Khartoum, Sudan. In fact, that is its only office. After 9/11, the FBI and CIA tracked millions in Taliban money to the bank and from there to banks all over Europe and Southeast Asia. It was confirmed that several of the bank accounts were used to launder money for local terrorist groups, and with the World Court’s permission, we confiscated seven hundred million from the terrorist accounts. So, yeah, we’re pretty solid on the fact that this bank is the one used to spread money across the globe for the terror boys,” Bob confidently explained.

  “All right then. You can let Senator Bains know that we have proof—solid proof. That’ll make her happy,” Steven stated. He hung up the phone and immediately hit the speed dial for Chip.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  The president, with Jason Combs in tow, arrived at the NSA building (also known as the Puzzle Palace) for a meeting with Roger Bascome. It was their first visit to his office. They were met in an anteroom by Bascome’s secretary, an older woman with a few extra pounds, gray hair and glasses. The president greeted her by name—Rosalyn—which brought a big smile to her face, probably because the president knew her name and that gave her validation, Combs thought. As the men were shown into Bascome’s office, after leaving the secret service team in the outer office, Combs blurted out, “It’s like Star Trek in here.”

  Bascome’s office was in the rear right corner of the building on the fifteenth floor. Out of the floor-to-ceiling windows making up the rear wall of the office, you could see the glow of Washington in the distance.

  It was Bascome’s desk area, not the view, which had caused Combs to get excited. The desk itself was ten feet long and four feet wide with a sixteen inch overhang on three sides. It was made of mahogany and was built in the seventeen hundreds for some English lord. Bascome had picked it up at an auction in London a few years ago and had it refurbished, allowing for things like solid steel drawers with fingerprint recognition locks, computer hookups and secret gun holders. After hearing about it for months, Combs was actually impressed by it, rather than let down by an over-exaggeration.

  Next to the desk was a bank of twelve flat screen plasma monitors set into a curved console, also made of mahogany. The monitors were connected to the communications center downstairs and showed pictures of several different news reports, satellite surveillance updates and various print media that might have national security implications. After Combs made his comment, Bascome punched a button and the screens wen
t blank. Across from the desk was a seating area which he directed the two men to as he stepped around and greeted them.

  “Mr. President, how good it is to see you,” Bascome stated as he offered his hand to the president.

  “Roger, it’s a pleasure, as usual. What brings us to your office, today?” Starks asked, shaking Bascome’s hand.

  “I thought this would be a more secure setting for our little discussion this evening is all. My office is very secure, and we have the latest in white noise interference, which is why I can have such a great view.” Bascome waved his arm towards the windows. “The glass doesn’t allow for anyone to see in, even at night. It’s really quite ingenious.”

  “Well, it’s certainly unique and very stylish. That’s a beautiful desk,” the president commented as he sat down.

  “Thank you, sir. It’s an antique English desk,” Bascome stated flatly without any further embellishment.

  “I really like the bank of monitors,” Combs added.

  “They serve their purpose,” Bascome stated curtly.

  “So, let’s get on with this, Roger. I told the wife I’d be back before Letterman,” the president said, reinforcing that he had other things he wanted to do tonight.

  “Yes, I, too, have an appointment,” Bascome replied in an effort to impress upon the president that he wasn’t the only busy person in the world.

  “Not me. I’m up for whatever you two decide,” Combs added sarcastically as both men just looked at him with puzzled looks.

  “Be that at it may,” Bascome curtly replied, doing his best to dismiss Combs, “I won’t delay you too long, Mr. President. First, I’d like to update you on the sale of Christmas presents to our friends in the Middle East. They are willing to provide a substantial incentive for the sale of the mothballed strategic bombers, just as we suspected. The retirement cut will be forty-six million with a balance of three hundred and fifty million dollars going directly to the national debt.”

  “That is excellent work, Roger. What about Congress, Jason?” Starks fixed him with his stare as he asked for an update.

  “Congress…” Combs seemed to be struggling to find just the right words.

  Starks exclaimed, “Don’t tell me that you haven’t been able to line up the votes?”

  “I worked really hard and…” Combs struggled once more with his answer.

  “Mr. President, I can get the job finished if you’d like,” Bascome interjected.

  “Roger, I—” Starks started to speak.

  Combs, with a giant grin plastered on his face, interrupted. “I’ve got more than enough votes to get this done. In fact, I have fifteen more votes than we need to pass the sale,” he beamed.

  “Then what the fuck was that?” Starks shouted.

  “I was just having a little fun,” Combs chuckled. “I really had you going, didn’t I?”

  “Shut the fuck up! You answer me with the right answer when I ask for it, or I’ll fire your ass and keep it buried in a hole so deep you’ll forget what daylight looks like! Is that understood?” Starks screamed at Combs as Bascome just shook his head.

  “Yes, sir,” Combs sheepishly retorted as he glared at the president.

  “Now, what about Bains?” Starks asked as he looked at Bascome.

  “Our surveillance on Senator Bains and Steven Howard isn’t yielding what we’d hoped for. The senator is making the rounds on Capitol Hill. She’s seems to be trying to build a consensus for holding hearings into the attacks on Houston and San Antonio, but so far, we’ve stonewalled her. Her angle is that you haven’t done enough to capture or kill those responsible for the attacks and that you are, for some reason, forcing the FBI to look in the wrong direction for the guilty parties. She also has met with Steven Howard twice a week for the last several weeks.

  “From the bugs we’ve placed, we discovered that she and Howard are trying to find evidence that we are doing something wrong, but they can’t get past keeping things from becoming illegal. That leaves them with news reports and briefing paper redactions.

  “The drawback to our operation is that we’ve only been able to place the bugs in the senator’s office, home and car. My men have had no luck at all with Howard’s office, car or home. His estate is like a fortress, as well as his office and his factories. He has top notch security,” Bascome commented with a bit of admiration in his voice.

  “Whenever the senator and Howard meet in public, we use parabolic dishes, but we’ve had only limited success due to the fact that they meet in very public spaces and whisper most of the time. The background noise keeps us from being able to hear anything clearly. Even after we filter it in the lab, it’s still mostly garbled.”

  It was Combs who spoke first when Bascome took a breath. “Did I understand you right? We’ve planted illegal bugs in the senator’s office, home and car? I thought we weren’t spying on a sitting senator?” Combs was clearly upset by the revelation.

  “Don’t start acting like a boy scout!” Bascome snarled at Combs. “You knew what I was doing. We all bought into it. If you’d done a better job at forcing her into line, we wouldn’t have had to take these steps.”

  “I’m doing the best I can with a handful of rumors and outright lies. I can’t help it she didn’t do any of the things we’re accusing her of. She just keeps bring up the facts of the situation and our rumors lose traction,” Combs stated defensively.

  “Then you need to watch and learn!” Bascome shot back acidly. “Sir,” Bascome stated as he turned his attention towards the president, “I’ve taken the liberty to develop a few documents that will help us force the senator to spend her time defending herself and not looking for flaws in your policies. They are minutes from meetings and interoffice memos between her and our good friend Senator Domitelli of Pennsylvania. The minutes show her trying to influence other committee members by suggesting that she could support additional campaign donations from the national committee if they would vote positively for the Kilauea system. She also suggested there might be some sweetening of the pot from an outside source if they did, but it doesn’t name the source. The memo clearly states that General Clarett has assured her that if Domitelli can see his way clear to vote for the system, there would be a very large contribution for him supporting his reelection bid,” Bascome concluded as he handed the false papers to the president.

  “These look perfect,” Starks stated as he looked them over.

  “But all they have to do to discredit these is produce the real minutes from the committee meetings, and we’re back to square one again, or maybe worse, involved with an ethics probe of our own,” Combs interjected.

  “The original records have all been erased,” Bascome stated casually.

  “Oh, geez, I don’t know. First, we’re having her followed and then we’re bugging her, and now we’re planting evidence. What do we do next? Have her killed?” Combs shot back acidly as he looked at the president for support. It wasn’t there.

  “Jason, I can’t believe your lack of balls, boy! This woman is doing her best to overshadow me and my policies. She won’t play ball with us, and she is potentially a major stumbling block if we can’t discredit her. You, of all people, know how this game is played; and for once, we’ve got all the advantages and we need to use them,” the president chided.

  “Roger, let’s get these into the hands of our press people, and try to get something on Howard if you can. Maybe some old employee with a grudge? Anything. Then have Senator Harcord from Massachusetts hold hearings, and make that bitch dance for a while before he allows any evidence to be introduced that might clear her of any wrongdoing. You know how to do this. Start the rumor, keep it on the front page, then hold hearings—again on the front page—and then bury the conclusion of no wrongdoing. Put as much doubt into the public’s mind as you can!”

  “My thoughts exactly, Mr. President! I’ll have it done for tomorrow evening’s news cycle. Plus, I think we can have a Kilauea Corp. memo discovered a couple of days f
rom now that will continue the front page coverage through the weekend,” Bascome stated firmly.

  “What happens if this doesn’t do it?” Combs asked.

  “Then maybe we do kill her,” Bascome stated flatly, shrugging.

  As the meeting broke up, Bascome walked with the president to the elevator with Combs a couple of dozen steps behind per the president’s request. Along the way, the president and Bascome spoke in hushed whispers.

  Just when the pair reached the elevator, one of the Secret Service men stepped up and thrust a cell phone at the president. “You have a phone call, sir.”

  The president took the phone, held it to his ear and acknowledged the person. Then he stepped onto the elevator and quickly turned around.

  Bascome spoke up. “Sir, I know you have feeling for the man, but I’m telling you, he is starting to crack. You can hear it in his answers and in his complaints about how we’re going to handle the opposition. He’s having second thoughts about committing to all or nothing. He has to be dealt with before he makes us look bad.”