“There’s no need to get so excited, Mr. Judd. Threatening the president is not usually a good way to win friends and influence people,” came a voice on the other end of the line.
Panic seized Judd. The voice confirmed that his previous calls had been purposely ignored and now he’d stuck his foot into his own big mouth. It was improbable that he’d be able to extricate it without suffering some very damaging consequences.
“I…I…I…just wanted…” Judd couldn’t find the words to answer the staff member or whomever the hell he was trying to talk to.
“Cat got your tongue, Mr. Judd? You seem to be at a loss for words. You had plenty to say just a few seconds ago and now you don’t even seem able to put a sentence together,” was the reply to Judd’s stuttered attempt to speak.
“I…uh…I’m sorry…It’s just that I…uh…I’ve been trying to get through for several days now and I’m getting the impression that…uh…no one wants to hear what I have to say,” Judd said as he attempted to regain his composure.
“Maybe your impression that no one wants to talk to you is correct, Mr. Judd. Did it ever occur to you that your position as a minor economic advisor to the president is about as significant as a grain of sand on a beach? Maybe, just maybe, he really doesn’t give a rat’s ass about what you want,” the still unidentified voice continued. “Perhaps you should stick to the job he asked you to perform—you know, like writing economic packages and figuring out ways to stimulate the economy so that the workers and those who bear the burden of production on their backs can have a chance at a better life away from the indentured relationship they’ve endured at the hands of the wealthy for so much of our history.”
The unknown man on the other end, although not making a verbal threat, was nevertheless implying as much by his increasingly hostile tone—a tone that was obviously meant to intimidate.
Judd was shaken, but he had recovered enough from the initial shock of hearing the unexpected response to his tirade to respond, “May I ask with whom I am speaking?”
“Yes, you may,” came the reply.
“Well, who are you?” Judd continued.
“I said you could ask. I didn’t say you would get an answer,” the unidentified person responded.
There was now no doubt that the man speaking to Jonas Judd was ramping up his effort to cow the “insignificant” caller who had left the rude and threatening message on the chief of staff’s voice mail.
“Look, I am a presidential advisor. Regardless of your assessment of how important I am in the scheme of things, I am still an advisor and demand to know who you are and by what authority you think you can talk to me in such a manner.” Judd was at last in control of himself as he continued, “Now, tell me who the hell you are.”
“I am involved in the business of presidential security. That’s all you need to know. I will forward your sentiments to the chief of staff. He will decide whether or not you will receive the attention you are requesting or any other attention that the president, the secret service, or others who may have the capacity to see to you or your problem decide is merited. Now, my advice to you is to hang up, settle down, go home—if you’re not already there—and refrain from making any more calls to this office. If and when someone decides to make contact with you, you’ll know.”
“But…” Judd was cut off by the dial tone. The nemesis, whom he’d created with his unwise outburst, had already hung up, leaving him with nothing but the anxiety of wondering what lay in store for him. Not only did he now have a rampaging killer to worry about, but he’d pissed off some unknown official at the White House, the very place he’d hoped to get some help. Now, thanks to his big mouth, he had the additional burden of worrying about problems from that quarter as well.
Taking a memo pad from his desk, he scribbled a “To Whom it May Concern” note and documented his growing fear that the killer of the Delgadillos and Hayward might be coming after him. He added that, should something happen to him, authorities should not only investigate this angle but should go a step further and look into the possibility that someone in the White House security detail may have caused his demise. He qualified his assertion by describing the confrontational phone call he’d just concluded with the unknown individual in the chief of staff’s office.
After placing the note under a paperweight on his desk, he turned on the nightly news. Lenin’s Legion and its members, both living and dead, were being discussed, analyzed, and argued about by a panel of pundits. They were trying to guess who might be next on a hit list being checked off by the murdering maestro orchestrating the assassinations.
CHAPTER
36
The valley adjacent to the eastern slopes of the Blue Ridge Mountains just north of Roanoke, with its fields and nearby forests, provided the ideal setting for a small organization of men known as “The Group.” Its members required the privacy of an out-of-the-way place to plan their next mission.
The Group was classified as “nonexistent” by its founders, all members of the national intelligence and military communities who were dissatisfied with the restrictions placed on covert operators by a government more interested in the rights of terrorists and subversives than protecting the country.
After thoroughly reviewing the employee records of former operatives from the government’s various intelligence agencies, the founders of The Group handpicked its members from among those deemed willing to bend the rules, by any method necessary, in the interest of national security. Any means to an end was justified so long as it protected America.
“Existing” entities—such as the NSA, CIA, DIA, MI, and FBI, and a multitude of other covert organizations within the system—operated under strict rules of conduct. Those rules were in complete contrast to the methods used by The Group. Because of its nonentity status, the members were free to waterboard, use electric shock, pull out a few thumbnails, and even kill if necessary. Foreign leaders considered supporters of terrorism were, contrary to federal law, eligible for assassination by The Group.
Most of these men had resigned their positions in national service after becoming disillusioned with regulatory constraints that, at least in their eyes, impeded job performance. Prior to being recruited into The Group, several were employed as independent contractors and made lucrative incomes assisting in the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. Several were also former military special operators.
The discussion on this particular day centered on the problem of American citizens who traveled abroad for the purpose of engaging in activities inimical to the interests of the United States and its allies. Of particular concern were those individuals and groups who were, without apparent censor, suspected of engaging in the shipment of arms to Islamic terrorist organizations throughout the Middle East.
The latest supply mission had precipitated an Israeli commando assault on a freighter traveling from Turkey to Lebanon. The raid had resulted in the death of one Israeli soldier, nine of the ship’s crew, and the wounding of several others on both sides. Small arms, rockets, mortars, and a vast cache of ammunition were found and confiscated during the raid. After removing the contraband weapons, ammunition, and surviving crew-members, the ship was rigged with explosives, blown up, and sunk. The message was clear. Israel would employ deadly force against the crew of any ship refusing to allow Israeli defense forces to board for inspection purposes.
Intelligence gathered about the terrorist shipments revealed that a network of Americans, financed in large part by a billionaire immigrant from Hungary, was supplying the bulk of the logistical support for these operations. The billionaire, Vidor Orosz, was an enigma in that he was a Jew helping Muslims bent on destroying the Jewish state.
As a teenager in his native land, a young Vidor had survived the Holocaust by revealing the hiding places of his fellow Jews to the Nazis.
The financial aid that Orosz provided to terrorist groups in the Middle East was just a small part of a much larger endeavor that he was putting in
play to facilitate a new world order. His vision was the dissolution of the world’s sovereign nations and their replacement with one world government with himself as its leader.
Vidor Orosz was looked upon with disdain by both the acknowledged and “nonexistent” intelligence community. Not only was this ungrateful Hungarian bastard—who had reaped all the benefits of his adoptive nation—using his wealth to perpetuate terrorism and carnage around the globe, he was using American citizens to help carry out his sinister plans.
Orosz’s destructive imprint was evidenced in all aspects of American life, especially politics. He helped rig the presidential election by financing corrupt groups that registered non-eligible and in some cases illegal-alien voters. His help went a long way in assuring victory for a non-vetted community organizer with questionable credentials and little in the way of a résumé who looked upon the presidency as a means to impose a socialist system on the country.
Additionally, this Hungarian transplant was financing front groups and foundations that served as depositories for funds collected for use by subversive organizations. With varying motives, their collective objectives included the dismantling of the United States and all other free nations of the world.
Among the many beneficiaries of Orosz’s corrupt aid was the Movement for Revolutionary Change. The MRC was comprised of former members of the Students for Revolutionary Change and Lenin’s Legion.
Yet another Orosz beneficiary was the Messengers of Medina, a supposedly moderate group with the stated purpose of assuring the civil rights of Muslim Americans. Its real purpose, well documented by national security and intelligence agencies but ignored by the American media, was the forced conversion of all humanity to Islam and the universal acceptance of sharia.
CHAPTER
37
Seated around the large table in the dining room of the rented farmhouse that served as their headquarters, The Group was brought to order by its leader, Sterling Markowitz, formerly of the NSA, who wasted no time in getting down to the business at hand.
“Good morning, gentlemen. Thank you for coming here on such short notice. I’m glad you were all able to attend,” Markowitz began. “The reason you were summoned to this meeting is to discuss our next mission, which, in a nutshell, is going to be a coordinated movement against key people in the Islamofascist/communist alliance. We will be targeting leaders of the Movement for Revolutionary Change and the Messengers of Medina. The mission is going to be one of termination. Our purpose will be to send the message that death awaits anyone involved in causes meant to disrupt the good order and security of the United States of America.”
Markowitz continued, “We all agree that as volunteers, our oath of fidelity mandates that we dedicate ourselves to assuring the preservation of the republic. When we swore to live by the words of that solemn pledge, we acknowledged a shared commitment to the elimination of anyone whose goals center on the destruction, transformation, or replacement of our constitutionally protected way of life with something foreign to what was bequeathed to us by our forefathers.
“The targets that have been chosen as the focus of our efforts are located in various parts of the country. We will converge upon them simultaneously at a given hour on the same day. The action will be coordinated from this command post after the green light to proceed is given to each individual team leader prior to commencement. Before departing from this location, we will synchronize our watches to Greenwich Mean Time—or Zulu, as you former military intel people like to call it. We will stay on this setting until the mission is debriefed following its completion.
“In the folders in front of you are detailed reports on the subjects who will be visited by your teams. If you’ll please open them, you will find written biographies and descriptions of your targets as well as information about their family members. Also included are photos, locations of residences, places of employment, and other areas they frequent within the borders of the United States, to which this particular operation, unlike some of those in the past, will be confined.”
Markowitz looked at the man directly across the table from him and said, “The most important individual on our list of targets is in your sector, John. He is a person all of us are familiar with and whose activities have been responsible for much of the misfortune that has fallen upon our country and many others in the Western world.”
John Cervenka, formerly of the DIA, looked at his file and smiled. “Yes, of course, the Jew who can’t make up his mind as to whether he wants to be a Nazi, a communist, or a Muslim while sustaining himself on the tit of the capitalist cow he longs to slaughter.”
Markowitz nodded. “I figured you’d be pleased with this target, John. I’m just glad he’s in your sector because I made the assignments based solely on geographical considerations—nothing more and nothing less. You’re fortunate that he happens to reside in your area of operation,” the leader observed, careful not to indicate that in fact the most valued target was being given to Cervenka and his team because his abilities were felt to be a cut above the others in the room.
“That’s fine by me, Sterling. No matter the reason for the assignment. I’m just happy to be the one who will be able to carry it out. Now all I have to do is to decide on the most appropriate method of bringing about Vidor’s exit from life.”
“I don’t care how you carry it out, John, as long as it’s done as quietly and expeditiously as possible,” Markowitz replied.
“Understood,” Cervenka acknowledged.
Markowitz shifted his attention to the man sitting next to Cervenka. “Larry, you may have to sit this one out unless we can find a place for you on one of the other teams. It seems that an unidentified person or persons with some animus toward your targets have carried out your assignment for you. Whoever it is got the jump on us and took out Professors Bill and Brenda Delgadillo and their nephew, Hugo.”
Larry Wohler, late of the CIA, appeared disappointed but said nothing.
Markowitz looked around the room and continued, “I assume you’ve all been reading the papers and are already aware that the professors were cooked in their Chicago brownstone. Is there anyone here who doesn’t know the backgrounds of those two pukes and the roles they played in Lenin’s Legion? If not, then, are you all familiar with their nephew, Hugo, and his involvement in South American communist revolutionary causes?”
Their lack of response was evidence enough that all members of The Group were very familiar with the Delgadillos and their nephew.
Wohler finally broke the silence. “Someone must have been awfully angry with the professors and their nephew to have turned their home into an oven. I suppose whoever it was did us a favor. We won’t have to expend our assets on the task, but I must admit I’m really going to be let down if I’m not part of this operation.” Looking back at Markowitz, he went on to plead his case for inclusion.
Wohler succeeded in making his case, and upon reconsideration Markowitz said, “Okay, Larry. On second thought, I’m sure I can find something for you to do. If we haven’t found a team that needs an extra body, I’ll just have you remain down here with me to help out with command and control.”
“That’ll be fine. Anything I can do to assist in this effort will be better than doing nothing. Although, I must say, it would have been much more satisfying to be the one who ended the lives of those Marxist assholes in the windy city,” Wohler mused.
“Yeah, some people have all the fun. Whoever did it has apparently been very busy. According to the news reports, it looks like the person or persons who carried out these acts may be responsible for taking out a couple of other former Legion members. One of them, Gilbert Hayward, was killed in Sedona, Arizona. The other, Patrick Finnegan, got wasted in New York City,” Markowitz said.
“So are you suggesting there’s some type of vendetta taking place, highlighted by hits on former sixties and seventies radicals?” asked Frank Tucker, a retired FBI agent who was considered The Group’s foremost auth
ority on domestic terrorism.
“Looks that way, Frank. The only thing is that each killing or assassination, if you will, was carried out using a different MO. We’re looking at a combined shooting and arson in Chicago, a bombing in Arizona and—get this—a massacre in Finnegan’s New York City pub—possibly staged to look like nothing more than a bar brawl that got out of hand. Four people, including Finnegan, a couple of camel jockeys, and a small-time crook, were found shot, knifed, and stomped to death in that one. So far as anyone’s been able to determine, Finnegan was the only former member of Lenin’s Legion among the dead. The others had no known ties to radical groups. Although, relative to the Arabs, that possibility can’t be entirely ruled out.”
Markowitz continued, “The various police agencies aren’t playing up the angle that these killings are connected, at least not publicly. But the press is, with the help of Finnegan’s widow. It looks pretty obvious that the motive could be the same in all three of the incidents. This brings me to your target, Frank.”
“My target?”
“Yes, your target. It just so happens that your target, one Jonas Judd, was also a member of Lenin’s Legion. Like the dearly departed from Chicago, Arizona, and New York, he was also one of the group’s leaders and was involved in numerous bombings and other acts of terrorism during its active period.”
“So how and why does he fit into our plan, Sterling?” Tucker asked.
“Judd was one of a number of Lenin’s Legion members, along with the Delgadillos and Hayward, who escaped prosecution because of FBI misconduct committed during the retrieval of illegal wiretap information. The agents, knowing full well what the rules of evidence entailed, nevertheless decided to cut corners and failed to obtain the necessary warrants. I’m sorry that I have to expose some of the dirty laundry from your old organization, Frank, but in order to familiarize you with the character of the guy you’re going after, we have to get his profile and history up in plain sight. No offense intended.”
The Rampage of Ryan O'Hara Page 16
