Keren hollered; “What the hell is that racket up there? Is everything all right?”
“Seems like there is another plane getting a bit too close.” Petris answered. “Strange, since there hasn’t been any traffic or notices from air control. Maybe… OH SHIT!” The Learjet was violently buffeted as another jet passed scant feet above it coming from behind and causing violent gyrations as the wash from the overtaking planes’ exhaust disrupted the Learjet’s control pattern.
“Seems like we have come unfriendly company, “ the Crown Prince observed. “I recognized the markings on that bird. It is a trainer from the air wing of the National Guard. It makes sense of one of the conversations I had after we took off.
A unit has gone rogue and are attempting a coup. Petris, my friend, I believe that it would be best if you were to allow me to take the controls. In my youth I was trained as a fighter pilot in our air force. Like I said before, flying is like you people say about riding a bicycle, you never forget. Keren, are you and Ted securely strapped in? This ride is about to get interesting.”
“Ted is strapped down with three seatbelts across his body since he is laying across one of the couches. I’m as strapped in as I can be.”
“Your Highness, are they going to attempt to shoot us down in US air space?” Petris asked.
Before the Crown Prince could answer he put the Learjet into an extreme right-bank and dive maneuver as the aggressor airplane was headed at them head-on. It passed above and to the left as the Prince first brought the Learjet level and then executed a loop to attempt to get a visual on the other plane.
“They’re not equipped to shoot us down, Petris. Those trainers have neither guns nor missiles. They will be trying to ram us and cause a fatal collision. You can believe that I am going to do my best to screw up that plan.”
For the next five minutes the two jets engaged in a deadly ballet of rolls, loops and evasive maneuvers. Petris was concerned that the Learjet airframe was not going to be able to take the strain and that they would suffer a cataclysmic equipment failure.
He also noticed that the Crown Prince was showing fatigue similar to a heavyweight boxer who has gone more rounds than he was conditioned for. His reflexes were slowing and it was beginning to show. It must have become obvious to the aggressor at that point, since the Saudi trainer was lined up at about the two o’clock position and closing fast.
Petris barely was able to whisper a prayer when the trainer was hit by two air to air missiles simultaneously in an “X” pattern and in the blink of an eye was reduced to a shower of falling burning debris.
“D-CGFI - SA2810 are all hands OK?”
“SA2810 – D-CGFI all hands are fine. Advise status”
“D-CGFI – SA2810 myself and SA2811 will escort you to safety. Info is Scimitar 1 is aboard. Can you confirm?”
“SA2810 – D-CGFI affirmative Scimitar 1 is aboard. We have fuel to make BKG. Can you escort there?”
“D-CGFI – SA2810 affirmative. We will escort to BKG. BO78-310 will be on site to extract Scimitar 1.”
After taking a few minutes to allow the adrenaline to dissipate and his blood pressure to come back down somewhat Petris turned to the Prince and said; “Do you have any ideas about what the hell just happened and how two of your Air Force fighter jets just happened to ride in like the cavalry to save our sorry butts?”
“Well, my friend, I’m not 100% sure, but I can hazard a couple of educated guesses. First off, it is obvious that there was a unit in the elite guard that attempted to stage a coup and either assassinate me or, at the very least, kidnap me. I suspect that you knew something of that plot since it was you who called me and suggest that I allow you to spirit me out of Las Vegas by meeting you at the Tropicana.
As far as the F-15’s, as you know, we do joint training with the US military. Most of it is done in the Kingdom or at other bases near the Kingdom. But we also participate in specialized training here in the United States. Not only the big annual get-together at Nellis, but also special operations training. I am fairly certain that our two chaperones were part of a Saudi contingent at the US Air Force Special Operations Command stationed at Cannon Air Base near Clovis, New Mexico. It was just dumb luck that they were close enough to intervene on our behalf.”
“Branson Tower - D-CGFI you are cleared to land. Wind west at 8 knots. Please taxi to VIP apron upon landing.”
“D-CGFI – Branson Tower, thank you sir.”
Rolling up to the VIP apron they were greeted by the sight of a Saudi Apache gunship, a Medivac helicopter and a Taney County squad car containing a very upset Sheriff Jimmie Russell.
For the next hour they were subjected to the Sheriff barking like an overwrought terrier but still showing deference toward his Royal visitor. He kept hissing at Petris; “What the hell were you thinking boy? Creating an international incident and bringing it here into my county. I have half a mind to arrest your ass and throw you into the drunk tank on a charge of aggravated mopery.”
It took the Taney County Ambulance District paramedics a bit longer than usual to triage and redress the gunshot wound and remove Ted from the plane into the waiting helicopter. They boys were laughing so hard about Ted being shot in the butt, having a tampon inserted in the wound and being given a Midol for the pain that they nearly dropped the stretcher, twice. It was decided to take him to Cox Hospital South in Branson rather than fly up to Springfield.
The Crown Prince expressed his deep thanks to both Keren and Petris for all they had done. “I assure you that I will not forget that had both of you not gotten involved in this adventure my life would have been forfeited. As soon as I get back to my country and take care of a few pressing details which need to be addressed, I will make certain that you both are adequately rewarded for your efforts.” He bowed to Keren, hugged Petris and kissed him on both cheeks, wheeled toward the waiting Apache and in a few seconds was airborne.
Sheriff Russell had finally calmed down enough to understand that neither Petris nor Keren nor the Prince had violated any Federal laws or state or county statutes and growled at Petris; “Just keep your nose clean, boy,” he got into his squad car and left the apron. It was all Keren could do to stifle a giggle.
“Well Keren, all we need to do now is get the car and load the luggage and get back to Totentanz.”
“I don’t think we’ll have to load the luggage Petris.”
“Sure we do Keren,” said Petris. “They don’t have Skycaps here at Branson Airport to take care of your luggage.”
“I don’t think you understand, Petris. Look,” she said, pointing toward the belly hold of the Learjet which stood gaping open, it’s hatch clearly missing.
“Well, that’s a shame. There was some valuable hardware in those cases that I hate to lose, but better the hardware lying there in the wilderness and not our bodies. Let’s get back to the house and I’ll take you into Branson tomorrow to get some things for your trip back to Chicago.”
12 A WAKE OF VULTURES
“Practice is when everything works, but nobody understands why.”
“At this station, theory and practice are united, so nothing works and nobody understands why.”
Dallas Federal Reserve Bank president, Richard Fisher
The prince had left as had the sheriff and Ted was on his way to the hospital. Keren and Petris were alone by the general aviation hangar.
“Keren, are you OK?”, Petris asked in a concerned voice. “You are pale, sweating and jump at every little sound. Were you cut or wounded during all the excitement?”
“I’m fine, Petris, just alert, very, very alert. I feel like I have ants crawling inside my skin.”
“More than likely you’re experiencing an adrenaline hangover from our little adventure. You should be back to normal in an hour or two. If you’re not back to being yourself by morning, we’ll drop by Cox hospital ER to have you checked out.”
The drive back to “Totentanz” was an uneventful fifteen minutes but Keren
was still jumpy and on edge. Once inside, Petris suggested a snack and a cup of herbal tea before retiring, knowing that Keren’s body was still keyed up from the skirmish and the air attack. The adrenaline had burned up most of her glucose reserve and a light snack would go far toward re-balancing her metabolism.
He reasoned that she would also benefit from an informal “debriefing” that would help her to better process what they had just gone through.
He got Keren settled in the dining room and quickly ducked into the kitchen where he brewed up a pot of Lavender and Lemon balm tea, sliced up a loaf of banana bread and assembled all of it with cups, plates and utensils on a tray which he carried into the dining room.
“Are you feeling any better Keren?”
“Some, Petris, but I’m still a bit shaky. I’m trying to sort through what we’ve just gone through to try to make some sense out of it all. Were we really in the middle of a terrorist attack tonight? These things aren’t supposed to happen in the US.”
“If you check the news on your cell phone, I’m sure that there is all kinds of coverage on tonight’s party in Las Vegas. Why don’t you do that for a few minutes while I pour the tea and slice some banana bread for you?”
Keren took out her call phone and brought up the 24-hour news stream. It was apparent that the reports were recaps of the Las Vegas events liberally peppered with conjecture and opinion. Much of it had no commonality with what Keren and their group had experienced.
“A man unleashed a barrage of gunfire from a hotel room onto an outdoor music festival in Las Vegas last night, in what appears to be one of the deadliest mass shootings in American history.
The events played out on two stages on Sunday: the streets and festival grounds that became a killing field, and the halls of the Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino where the police sought the gunman.
As the gunman sprayed bullets from the 32nd floor of the hotel, concertgoers began to flee. In a video taken near the concert stage, panicked screams can be heard amid bursts of continuous gunfire.
As victims fell, people ran or ducked for cover. Many concertgoers jumped fences to escape.
The gunfire interrupted the performance of Jason Aldean, a singer at the Route 91 Harvest Festival, a three-day country music event.
Concertgoers described hearing round after round of gunfire. “This shooting was going on for at least 10 minutes,” said Jake Owen, a country singer who was on stage with Mr. Aldean when the shooting began.
Maurice Bernard Laughlin, the gunman, killed at least 50 people and wounded more than 400 when he unleashed a shower of bullets from a hotel room balcony on a music festival in Las Vegas on Monday, is not connected to any militant group and likely acted alone, Clark County Sheriff Joseph Lombardo told reporters.
Laughlin, is believed to have checked into the hotel room at the Mandalay Bay Hotel and Casino last Thursday. Ten rifles were found in his room, which he shared with a 62-year-old woman who was initially regarded by authorities as related to the case.
An unidentified source in the Clarke County Sheriff's office told the Associated Press that Laughlin's foreign travel has become part of the ongoing search for a motive for the mass shooting. Authorities have learned that Laughlin took some 20 cruises, many of them in Europe and the Middle East.”
Keren muted the phone and laid it down on the table in front of her.
“Petris, these reports don’t make any sense to me. Why is there no mention of the Prince? Why aren’t they talking about the armed military attackers? Why are they concentrating on one guy holed up in the Mandalay Bay?”
“Keren, what you are seeing is not poor reporting but intentional disinformation, most likely directed by government people for their own purposes. What we experienced was the result of a failed assassination attempt and a terror attack, but also an attempted coup in Saudi.
The LVMPD knows the motive behind the attack, but the FBI will not allow the release of the motive because it implicates the government in illegal arms deals and supplying arms to terrorists within U.S. borders.
Maurice Bernard Loughlin was an undercover government agent who took part in multiple illegal arms deals in the Las Vegas area in a gun running entrapment scheme similar to Fast and Furious.
Loughlin thought he was engaging in another routine arms transfer, but the "bad guys" had learned about the scheme and Loughlin’s identity from another rogue government operator.
In Las Vegas, Prince Al Waleed owned the upper floors of the Mandalay Bay resort, including the 32nd floor. That was one point of shooting at the strip.
I say one place because the witnesses were all correct. There were other locations too.
The Mandalay Bay has a helo pad on the roof. That's important, because that was the escape route after the carnage.
Loughlin was a pilot and a gun runner between the Philippines and the US.
He was running guns for Prince Al Waleed. He didn't win at the casino. Those millions came from smuggling.
Last night we know that the Crown Prince was in Las Vegas. He was at the Tropicana. The FBI knew Loughlin was running guns because they received a tip.
What they didn't know about was an assassination attempt on The Crown Prince.
Loughlin brought the guns as he normally did. Instead of getting paid this time, they killed him. He was victim one.
They shot up the country music venue. That was to create chaos and distract from the real target who had moved over to the Tropicana.
The assassins shot from Mandalay bay, but as we know, they also were at the Tropicana trying to kill the Crown Prince. That explains why there were shooters on the ground and in the air.
Remember the helicopters flying over? Why would a helicopter be there when there was a shooter high up? It wasn't news, or cops. It was the assassins who ran up the stairs to the roof from the 32nd floor.
They killed Laughlin and carried out the massacre and then fled the scene.
Yes, there was more than one shooter.
Yes, there were shots from helicopters.
Yes, the Saudis were involved.
The alleged shooter, our boy, Maurice Bernard Loughlin, was really a patsy and was shot as a cover-up.
The Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department Sheriff lied to the public about events which occurred last night during the shooting.
However, it’s also important to point out that the sheriff did not lie by choice but rather lied due to the fact that the Department of Homeland Security deemed the terror attack a ‘matter of national security’ which is why an FBI Special Agent was subsequently assigned to the sheriff as his handler.
Meanwhile the assassination attempts on the Crown Prince failed.”
Keren sat there slack-jawed hardly believing what she had just heard Petris explain although it all tied in with what they had gone through in Las Vegas just a few short hours ago.
“Petris, if all of what you say is true, and please understand, I believe that your version of what happened makes sense. Much more sense than what the media is reporting. But if so, we need to tell someone in authority. Somebody, the FBI or the Department of Homeland Security, somebody needs to know and take action.”
A look of sadness crossed Petris’ face. Keren, like most Americans, had been brought up with the idea that the government was the “good guys”.
Perhaps misinformed at times, wrong-thinking at times but still the good guys in the white hats, never-the-less. The reality was disconcerting and upsetting, especially to folks who equated belief in the governments’ goodness with patriotism and love of country. He took a deep breath and began to explain;
“Keren there are a few difficult facts that you need to consider. We know that down through the annals of history small groups of men have conspired to bring the reins of power into their hands. History books are full of their schemes. Even the major media believes in conspiracies like the MS-13 where men conspire to make money through crime. Back in the 1990s the media did a series on the Cosa
Nostra informer named Joseph Valachi. Valachi testified before a Senate committee making public many things that had been held close for years.
Most of us didn’t know that the organization was called La Costra Nostra, (Our Thing). Until Valachi testified we all thought that it was called the Mafia. That’s how little we knew about this group, despite the fact that it was a century-old and had operated in many countries with a self-perpetuating clique of leaders. We didn’t know it by its proper name or the reach of its tentacles. All we were aware of was the results of its nefarious activities. What we haven’t seen, at least so far, is a Joe Valachi type informer regarding the Deep State conspiracy.
Everyone knows that Adolph Hitler existed. No one disputes that. The terror and destruction he inflicted on the world is universally recognized. Hitler came from a poor family with no social position. He was a high school drop-out and nobody ever considered him to be cultured. Yet he tried and came very close to succeeding in conquering the world.
Joseph Stalin also existed. No one disputes that. Like Hitler, Stalin was poor, of low social status. He spent a great part of his life in poverty yet he was responsible for the deaths of millions of human beings and the enslavement of nearly a billion more. He managed to conquer a large portion of the world. We know this to be a fact.
It is more than theoretically possible that a billionaire could be sitting in a penthouse or a boardroom in say, Manhattan or London or Paris or Rome and dream the same dream as Stalin and Hitler. It is not only theoretically possible, it is a dead-bang certainty. History is littered with unnumbered conspiracies to wrest power and control. Julius Caesar as a wealthy aristocrat did it by forming alliances and associations with other like-minded men.
A Wake of Vultures Page 15
