“What the hell did the African Guerrilla Brotherhood have to do with Lenin’s Legion and the campaign you’ve been waging?”
“Nothing. But the Black Socialist Army—the separatist organization that the two Brotherhood pukes who were offed at Q belonged to—did. They were members of that organization when they killed an old sergeant friend of my grandfather who had taken me under his wing when I was living at the Catholic boys’ home.”
“How’d they kill him?”
“They sent a Lenin’s Legion slut by the name of Janet Hanoian into the district station and had her make a false report that she’d been raped. The old sergeant rounded up some patrolmen and went to a vacant house that was supposedly the rape scene, and when they opened the front door, a bomb blew up the front porch, killing my mentor and wounding a couple of other cops.”
“And…?”
“After the bombing, a shootout occurred with some other cops who had answered the call for assistance. The driver of the getaway vehicle was killed and the slut was mortally wounded. The two survivors, Albert Jefferson and Anthony Upton, were captured and sent to the joint.”
“And that’s where they belatedly died,” Markowitz concluded.
Ryan nodded.
Markowitz looked at Hatcher and then Tucker.
“I’m going to consider O’Hara here as vetted. I’m making that determination based on his history of deadly accomplishments. You’ve both witnessed his willingness to kill traitors. Furthermore, Hatcher has vouched for him.”
Markowitz extended his hand to Ryan, and as the two men shook, Markowitz smiled and said, “Now you can be assured that I am pleased to make your acquaintance, O’Hara.”
With the pleasantries over, Markowitz looked at his watch. “I was going to wait until the others got here, but this story is progressing faster than I thought it would. It’s time for me to call the media.”
CHAPTER
47
Ralph Richardson was getting frustrated. He’d been back at the newsroom in Portsmouth for just fifteen minutes and it seemed as though every affiliate in the country was calling at the same time, demanding more information on the demise of Vidor Orosz.
On top of having to deal with other journalists, Richardson was being besieged with calls from kooks wanting to confess to the crime and others who were sure they knew who had brought about the demise of the Hungarian.
“Yeah, yeah, right. I won’t forget. I’ll get back to you as soon as I develop more information. Yes, you can count on it. You’re welcome,” Richardson said before he hung up the phone and headed for the door. He needed a few minutes outside to clear his head and collect his thoughts but was interrupted once again by one of his fellow reporters.
“Ralph, you have another call on line one,” yelled Herb Cannon.
“Take a message, Herb. Tell whoever it is that I’m out of the office,” Richardson responded.
“The caller’s insisting that you come to the phone. He even told me not to give him the usual line of bull that you’re not in. Says you’ll regret not talking to him. Something about it being the biggest story you’ll ever cover.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake. Give me the goddamned phone then.”
“Ralph Richardson speaking. How may I help you?”
Sterling Markowitz, using a voice changer, replied, “You can help by listening to what I am about to tell you and then reporting it verbatim.”
“Okay, I’m listening. But first I’d like to know whom I’m speaking with,” Richardson requested, knowing full well that the probability of the caller revealing his identity was less than zero.
“My identity isn’t important, Mr. Richardson. But what I have to say is.” Markowitz continued, “If you want me to wait for a minute while you summon your colleagues to listen in, I will. I know that’s what you’re going to do anyway. You also have my permission to record what I am about to tell you. In fact, for the sake of accuracy, I insist on it.”
Richardson signaled to Cannon and a couple of other reporters to pick up their extensions and listen in. “Okay, they’re all on the line and you’re being recorded. What is it you want to tell us?”
Markowitz began, “As you’ve been reporting, the Hungarian traitor is dead. He is one of many who were killed last night in several different locations throughout the United States. As you’re aware, your colleague in New York, Mr. Travis, has already reported on the executions of people in Dearborn, Seattle, and Portland.”
Richardson interrupted. “Yes, I’m aware of those incidents and know that there is already speculation that they may be connected to Orosz.”
“Not maybe, Mr. Richardson. They are connected to Orosz.”
“Okay, I’m listening. How are they related? Oh, by the way, why are you referring to them as executions? The way I see it, they’re murders, plain and simple.”
“They’re not murders, Mr. Richardson. To be classified as murder would connote that a crime has been committed and that’s simply not the case. The only crimes that were committed were carried out by the decedents, who were committing treason, supporting terrorism, and attempting to bring down our government. We, as guardians of the legacy handed down to us by our forefathers, took it upon ourselves to salvage our nation and rid it of those with designs on dismantling it. Therefore, as patriots, we prefer the word execution to murder. Traitors are executed, not murdered.”
“So how do Vidor Orosz, a billionaire philanthropist, and Rashid Youseff, a respected Muslim civil-rights advocate and renowned banker, fit into your definition of traitor?” Richardson asked.
Markowitz let out a sigh followed by a slight chuckle. “My, my, Mr. Richardson, you certainly take liberties with words such as philanthropy and civil rights.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Richardson pressed, somewhat irritated at Markowitz’s condescending tone.
“The only philanthropy that Mr. Orosz engaged in involved the channeling of large sums of money to terrorist organizations. He did this with the help of Mr. Youseff, who used his position as president of the Bank of Saladin to launder the funds before distributing them to terrorist organizations in the Middle East. In addition to funding Muslim terrorists, Mr. Orosz was quite active in financing Marxist uprisings in Latin America, the Philippines, and Asia.”
“Why would a billionaire want to disrupt what little good order exists in the world and worsen the dilemma of nations that are already in desperate straits? I don’t see the logic behind your theory.”
“It’s not a theory, Mr. Richardson. It’s a fact. We’ve got solid evidence backed up by documentation of everything the Hungarian was involved in. He had a multitude of goals that, if successfully carried out, would have made national sovereignty a thing of the past and brought all nations of the world under the umbrella of a one-world government based on the principles of Marxism.”
Tucker motioned to Markowitz to take a time-out so he could speak to him.
Markowitz nodded and told Richardson, “I have to get off the line for just a moment. I’ll put you on hold.”
“Very well, I’ll hold.”
“Yes, what is it Frank?” Markowitz asked.
“While you have the reporter on the line, you might want to mention Judd and inform him that a couple of kids are tied up in back of his house. We promised them we’d get someone out there to release them. This is as good a time as any,” Tucker said.
Markowitz got back on the phone. “Are you still there, Mr. Richardson?”
“Of course I am. You don’t think I’m going to hang up on someone who’s giving me the story of my life, do you?” Richardson answered sarcastically.”
“No, I wouldn’t think so. At any rate, I may as well fill you in on some of the other targets we hit last night. So far I haven’t seen any of them mentioned on the news, so perhaps the bodies haven’t been discovered yet.”
“I’m listening. Please continue,” Richardson said.
“If you check out the home of Jonas
Judd in Chesapeake Beach, Maryland, you will find a young man and a young woman tied up out back. We promised them that someone would come and release them today. You might want to let someone down there know about them.”
“Okay, give me the details and I’ll see that it’s taken care of.” Richardson motioned to one of the other reporters to copy the information and call the authorities.
“I’d appreciate that. Thank you, Mr. Richardson.”
“By the way, who is Jonas Judd?” the reporter asked.
“Until last night, he was an economic advisor to the president of the United States.”
“Dare I ask what you were doing at Mr. Judd’s home?”
“I think you already know the answer to that question, Mr. Richardson, but just to make it official I’ll tell you anyway. We were there to kill him and that is exactly what we did.”
“Why on earth would you want to kill a presidential advisor?”
“Because he was a traitor who’d dedicated his entire adult life to causes designed to harm our country.”
“What specific causes are you referring to?”
“He began as a college radical who initially took part in demonstrations against the Vietnam War. That wasn’t fulfilling enough for him, however, and he soon advanced to rioting, bombing government buildings, and conspiring to murder public officials. At least one police officer, and probably more, were killed as a result of plots he was involved in.”
“If this is true, then why wasn’t he tried, convicted, and put behind bars?” Richardson asked.
“Because of sloppy investigative procedures and violations of the rules of evidence. But that isn’t really the reason he was targeted. Even though he certainly deserved to die for those acts, the activities and organizations he was involved with of late made it necessary to neutralize him.”
“What activities are you referring to?”
“I’m referring to his involvement in the development of the president’s costly economic programs. If carried out as planned, they will cause the collapse of our capitalist system and drive us into socialism. It’s all part of a scheme that was hatched years ago by a couple of radical professors—a scheme that is enthusiastically endorsed by the president.”
“That’s it? That’s the reason you killed him? Because he has a different idea of economics than you and your people do?”
“No, that’s only part of the reason. He was also involved in a Marxist organization called the Movement for Revolutionary Change. It is made up of former anarchists from Lenin’s Legion and the Students for Revolutionary Change, the radical Marxist organizations of the sixties and seventies that were determined to create a communist dictatorship here in the United States. He and the Movement have infiltrated academia with tenured professors who are indoctrinating young college students in the teachings of Marx, Lenin, and Mao. Their goal is to turn out future leaders who will carry on their vision. In addition, the Movement’s moles have infiltrated government and financial institutions, where most of them hold key jobs in middle and upper management and are in a position to adversely affect the social and fiscal policies of the country.”
“That’s it?”
“No, there’s more. Judd was also involved in the movement of arms to Middle East terrorists.”
“Was he involved with Orosz and Youseff?”
“Yes,” Markowitz replied. “He was part of the same network. Orosz and Youseff were involved in the financial and logistical part of the operations and Judd, along with some of his other associates—many of them from his days in Lenin’s Legion—were also involved.”
“What was their involvement?”
“They traveled extensively in the Middle East and helped coordinate the boatlifts and shipping of those supplies to Hamas, Hezbollah, and other anti-Israeli, Muslim terrorist organizations.”
“So what you’re telling me is that you and your people are an association of right-wing radicals whose sole purpose is to kill anyone who belongs to any group that is to the left of center, is that it?”
“No, that’s not what I’m telling you and you know it isn’t. You’re parroting the script of an American media that refuses to face the truth and would rather put labels on the few of us who are willing to put ourselves in harm’s way in order to save what’s left of our constitutional republic.”
“I resent that.”
“I don’t give a damn what you resent, Mr. Richardson. I’m speaking the truth, and it’s time that you and your colleagues in the media learn to accept it and report on it accurately. Now shall I continue, or do you want a few more minutes to whine?”
“Go ahead.”
“Thank you. In addition to Orosz, Youseff, and Judd, the other locations that were hit last night were in Portland, Seattle, Berkeley, Orlando, Philadelphia, Chicago, and Boston. All of the people in those locations were leaders in the Movement for Revolutionary Change and included tenured college professors, community activists, and local politicians. As I previously stated, they were dedicated to brainwashing young people into accepting the principles of communism. They often used race-baiting and other divisive strategies to accomplish their goals, causing a lot of unnecessary conflict between minority and nonminority groups in the country.”
“But how does that justify murder?”
“Again, Mr. Richardson, I must remind you that it isn’t murder. It is the execution of those trying to bring down our country. We can’t depend on our politicians to protect and preserve our way of life. Those prostitutes are in the pockets of the radicals, whom they support and pander to by inflicting destructive and harmful policies and regulations on the rest of us. We will no longer stand by while these useless elected officials allow our country to be destroyed. We will, as demonstrated last night, go directly to the source and remove the Marxist cancer that is consuming our country.”
“I’m assuming that we can expect more of these murders in the future, then,” noted Richardson.
“No, you can’t assume there will be more murders, Mr. Richardson. But you can assume that there will be more executions. They will continue until the situation has been adequately resolved and all traitors and treasonous agents have been removed from our midst.”
“Is there anything else I need to know before I get this report out?” Richardson asked.
“Yes, there is, but why don’t you start with what I just gave you and I’ll get back to you at a later time.”
“Very well, then. When can I expect your call?”
“When I’m ready.”
“Okay, but let me give you my cell phone number in case I’m out when you call. Feel free to call me at any hour.”
“Thank you, Mr. Richardson. I’ll do that.”
After writing down Richardson’s number, Markowitz hung up the phone and addressed Tucker. “So where were we? Oh, yes. Frank, how about filling me in on the Lutcher problem.”
“Lutcher isn’t our problem anymore, Sterling. He’s resting peacefully in the woods a couple of miles off the highway. By the time he’s found, there probably won’t be too much left of him between decomp and the local wildlife.”
“Was it necessary to go to that extreme?”
“Yes. He was too unpredictable. In this racket, we just can’t take a chance on someone like him. I mean, what if he got vindictive and decided to bring down the operation because he didn’t like the way we interpreted your instructions?”
“That doesn’t make sense, Frank. Why would he bring a house of cards down on himself? He was in it as deep as the rest of us.”
“Yeah, you’re right and I can see your logic, but you know as well as I do that if he decided to turn, the prosecutors would have to give him immunity in order to nail the rest of us. Without making a deal with him, they’d have nothing. After watching his behavior last night, I just couldn’t take that chance.”
“Agreed. I think you made the right decision and it can be a lesson to the rest of the group that we aren’t averse to employing our
own discipline when necessary. We don’t want mavericks in this group. It could be fatal, and I mean that literally.”
Wohler entered the room. “The crews from Oregon and Boston have arrived, Sterling, and I just got a call from the Chicago team. They’re flying in on a private jet owned by one of the team members. They should be arriving within the next few hours.”
“Good. What about Philly, Cali, and Orlando?”
“I haven’t heard from them yet, but it’s still early.”
“Okay, keep me informed. How’s the coverage coming along?”
“Same as before. Nothing more to report.”
Markowitz nodded and smiled. “Stay tuned. I expect a new bulletin within the hour. Something about a little mess over in Chesapeake Beach.”
Wohler turned to leave. As the door closed behind him, Markowitz continued the preliminary debriefing of Tucker’s crew.
PART 7
Fallout
CHAPTER
48
Responding to calls from reporters who had been alerted by Ralph Richardson, the first officers on the scene at the home of Jonas Judd found the presidential advisor dead in his hot tub. They also located the young couple, still propped up against the back of the residence, their hands bound and their mouths sealed with duct tape.
They’d been there for several hours and were cramped and exhausted, but as soon as their bindings were removed, they started talking over each other as they spilled out the details of their ordeal.
“They killed our dog and one of them wanted to do the same to us, but the others stopped him,” said the young man, who identified himself as Fred Clark.
An investigator walked over to where the dog lay and marked the animal as evidence. Recovery of the bullet from the dead canine would be crucial to the investigation. Returning to the couple, he offered his condolences over the loss of their pet and then began questioning them.
“Folks, I’m Detective Howard Doiron. I’m from the Calvert County sheriff’s department. Do you have any idea who these people were?”
The Rampage of Ryan O'Hara Page 22
