CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tom and Ron watched Azzaam’s motorcade arrive right at eleven a.m., just as he had said it would. Garza’s men opened the gate and allowed the first two cars into the compound, while the last two remained parked out front. The two cars out front carried a total of eight men, who quickly exited the vehicles and trotted around the sides of the compound, providing extra perimeter protection for their boss.
Both Tom and Ron sat behind sets of binoculars on tripods several feet back from the open French doors to their balcony looking toward Garza’s villa, hoping to catch sight of this mystery man Azzaam; but once again, their view was blocked by the trees.
Pam was having far better luck, for she sat listening to the bugs they had planted in and around the villa. The bugs picked up the two men exchanging pleasantries as Azzaam exited his car, and Pam was extremely pleased when the bugs continued to work perfectly as the men entered the villa. It got very interesting when Garza told his men and girlfriend to get out of the living room area of the villa and to leave him and Azzaam alone.
“Can I get you some tea or fruit juice?” Garza asked Azzaam, trying to take the man’s religion into account. He had heard somewhere that Muslims are forbidden to drink alcohol.
“A drink would be appreciated. Make it Jack Daniels,” Azzaam stated boldly. “Put some ice in it!”
“Ah… yes, but isn’t it forbidden?” Garza asked.
“Only for practicing Muslims,” Azzaam stated as he looked out the window at the sea.
“Oh, I see. You can be like the Catholics then. Some are still Catholic, but they don’t practice all of the supposed requirements of the religion.”
“No, I’m nothing like a Catholic!” Azzaam quickly retorted as a sneer crossed his face, clearly offended by the comment.
“Oh, forgive me… I meant no disrespect. I was only trying to understand what is truly a complicated subject for which I’m not educated enough to understand,” Garza quickly apologized and tried to explain away his faux pas.
“Oh, shut up!” Azzaam stated sharply, taking the drink from Garza. “I want to know what has been done about acquiring the Costa Rican government’s cooperation. Will they allow us to build a road through their eastern mountains? We cannot move our people north to Mexico without it. The Mexicans, as you told me, agreed to provide transportation to the American border for the hundred million that you offered, plus the right to claim sovereignty over the southwestern United States, which they lost in the Mexican-American War in the 1840s. They accepted a minor fee of thirty-five million after I assured them that we would back their claims to both Texas and the other southwestern states, should we be able to force the end of the U.S.”
“It is a very good deal for them and for us! We will have over two million men occupying their country, and if we cannot cause the immediate downfall of America, we can take control of Mexico!” Garza stated his true intentions as he choked back his anger over the Arabs meddling in what he considered to be his operation.
“So, what of the Costa Rican government’s cooperation?” Azzaam asked forcefully.
“All is arranged except for a small matter of the Costa Rican president’s fee for the cooperation. I believe, though, that I can gain his support with a slightly higher gratuity of around fourteen million and written promises that he can remain the leader of this country. He suspects that we will be trying to forge a much larger country comprising the Central American countries, after we have caused the downfall of the United States. He is wise man and only wishes to protect his family’s interests in the new order of things,” Garza explained.
“The man is of no consequence. Pay him and give him any assurance he asks for,” Azzaam quickly dismissed.
“I take it the recruiting goes well?” Garza asked in an attempt to make small talk.
“It is going according to schedule. I have recruited large numbers in Peru, Ecuador, Chile, Bolivia and Brazil, over a million men who will march on the States next January. Currently, we are training in the mountains of Bolivia and Chile. Of course, most of the men will be transported north on ships we are retrofitting in Indonesia. We will sail them north to Mexico where we will disembark and then march on the border. Have you accomplished the development of the covert army in Mexico as I have ordered?” Azzaam asked.
Now on the spot, Garza choked a bit on his drink and then replied, “Well, I’ve recruited a large number of men, as well. Currently, I have over twenty-five thousand men and women who are in training or have already moved across the border into the States to prepare for missions, as you dictate. I hope to recruit another twenty thousand to join with the troops you have already recruited in South America.”
Azaam looked at Garza like he had just insulted his mother. “This is completely unacceptable!” Azzaam yelled. “I want you to recruit at least twenty thousand men and women from each of the Central American countries and have them ready to go by December. Offer more money per man if you have to, but get it done. The powers that be want the army to be at the border on January first, two weeks after President Starks declares martial law in December, inshallah,” Azzaam stated. “They must cross the border at midnight to deliver the right message to the Americans and the world.”
“Yes. Yes, of course, I will double my efforts to ensure required soldiers will be ready. After all, that is what you are paying me for, no?” Garza chuckled.
Azzaam gave Garza a sideways look of disdain, knowing he would be one of the first men killed on the day of the attack; but until then, he had a purpose and so he would let him live. Maybe.
Swallowing the rest of his drink, Azzaam asked about the other key Costa Rican government officials and their positions on the crossing of their eastern mountains. Garza said he had played golf with the police commandant several times during the past month and that he was confident the man would do as he was paid to do. He explained that the defense minister had chosen to haggle over the price, but once he saw how Garza dealt with a rogue lieutenant, the man had accepted the ten million he was offered and pledged his agreement.
Azzaam then asked how the actual construction of the road was coming along. Garza explained that the jungle was much denser than they had thought and the progress was slow, but he was confident that he’d make the deadline.
Azzaam reminded him that if he didn’t have the road completed, he would have outlived his usefulness. This struck Garza cold, and if it had been any other man but Azzaam before him, he’d have killed him where he sat. But Azzaam was a golden goose who would be slaughtered soon enough, once Garza had fleeced him of all the money he could. He failed to share he had gotten the president to agree already for five million and that the rest of the fourteen million was for Garza’s private accounts in the Caymans. He also didn’t tell him that the defense minister had accepted a million dollars, and again the rest had gone to Garza. The largest non-communication was the fact that he had recruited twice as many men than he had admitted to Azzaam. He would be well protected by his private army when the time came to execute Azzaam, thus ending the overbearing Arab’s attempts to bring his precious Allah to the lands devoted to Jesus Christ.
They then spoke about the amount of cocaine that Garza had sold to Japan and China the last month and how much profit Azzaam would receive. Garza tried to explain the problems he was having with some small time officials, and again Azzaam erupted in anger. After he ranted for several minutes, he suggested that Garza take matters into his own hands and kill the men who were interfering with the sales. Garza explained that was exactly what was happening. His men were busy killing the men who had betrayed him as they spoke.
Azzaam then ordered Garza to have someone travel to Honduras and get the MS13 gang to follow through with the pledge they made to create a civil war in that country. Garza replied that he just had the leader here for a day of golf and was assured that they would begin within the month. The shipment of arms that they expected from Cuba hadn’t arrived as planned, and their conta
ct was stalling them. Azzaam seemed to understand that and stated he would have someone talk with the Cubans to get the arms moving.
He then asked if Garza had begun training a team for the attack on the Panama Canal. Garza assured him that the team would be ready and that he even had arranged to have a second team ready to go if the first team ran into trouble. Either way, it meant the canal would be closed on January 1.
Azzaam ate lunch in the Garza villa while they discussed minor issues in vague terms, and then he and his caravan left by one o’clock. Ron had managed to get a small GPS tracker attached to one of the cars left out front by jogging by and faking a fall as he passed the car. He fell face first to the ground and quickly stuck the tracker under the car on the frame as the guards ran up and pulled guns on him. He explained in Spanish that he had just tripped and that he wasn’t a threat, but they patted him down anyway and glanced under the car before they shoved him around a bit and told him never to run by again or they’d shoot him dead. Ron smiled and limped off down the road before doubling back to the villa.
*****
Pam reported the GPS was working five by five and that Azzaam was about to leave as Ron came back in. So the three of them, Tom, Ron and Pam, sat watching and listening to the goodbyes and then tried to brainstorm about what to do next.
“Holy shit!” Tom swore loudly after Ron had gotten a drink and the terrorist Azzaam had driven away. “Can you believe this?”
“I know it’s hard to believe that so many people would be willing to attack the United States. There are a lot of jealous people in the world,” Ron replied.
“Quiet! Garza just called in his two top lieutenants, Primo and Anastas Soto!” Pam called out. Tom and Ron quickly pulled up chairs and sat to listen with her.
*****
“Well, patrón, what did the Arab want this time?” Soto spoke curtly, his dislike of the man showing clearly in his voice. Primo, though, remained silent, waiting for Garza to begin talking.
“It was the usual bullshit. He wants this and he wants that! I don’t need him to reach my goals. He needs me to reach his! But he acts like he doesn’t need me. He disrespects me and thinks I’m too stupid to know that he will try to kill me when I have given him what he wants, but I will kill him first,” Garza snarled.
“Soto, I want you to work up a plan by the end of the week to do away with our Arab friend. Primo, be sure all our money is protected from his spies, and open another couple of accounts in the Caymans. Then wire that asshole and tell him I need ten million more for the Costa Rican interior minister, and once we have it, put it in the Caymans, as well. Too bad he’ll never know that I got the minister for a mere two hundred and fifty thousand dollars U.S.,” Garza snarled, a twisted smile crossing his face.
“He doesn’t think we are capable of controlling our own lives and our little corner of the world. He is wrong, oh, so very wrong. The Arabs think if they give us some money, we will just do as they say and walk ourselves into their prisons to be beheaded because we are Christians. They are even bigger fools than the Americans, who think if they give freedom to the peasants, they will be happy. They foolishly think that by giving money to the powerful dictators in Central and South America, they are winning the hearts and minds of the peasants. What fools!
“The powerful don’t want the peasants to be free or happy. They want them to be dependent upon them. Just as they are dependent upon the money that the Americans give them. It is the only way they can keep Central America under control,” Garza ranted.
“I think I will be a great dictator and that all of Central America will be my country after I take control of the two million trained and provisioned soldiers that the Arab is providing me,” he concluded.
“Do you think he suspects that you will take over his ‘Army of the Oppressed’ and use it to take over Central America instead of the United States?” Primo asked.
“No. I think he is so far up Allah’s ass, he can’t see anything other than the seventy-two virgins waiting for him after he becomes a martyr. I find it funny. So many men would be willing to die so foolishly, just so they can get to heaven and screw seventy–two virgins. What kind of shit is that?” Garza asked his two lieutenants.
“I don’t know,” Soto replied thoughtfully. “Couldn’t they get the same thing in Guadalajara on a Saturday night?” The three men chuckled at the comment.
“They are indoctrinated from birth to believe this shit! They are rarely educated beyond their religious studies, so they know nothing else. It is how the sheiks keep control over there. We would be wise to do the same here, after we take control,” Primo answered.
“What’s this ‘we’ shit!” Garza angrily spat at Primo.
“It was only a figure of speech, patrón. Of course, I meant after you take over,” Primo back-pedaled.
“Don’t you forget it!” Garza snapped.
Ron and Tom sat quietly pondering the intelligence they had just discovered. This wasn’t quite what they had thought was going on between Garza and the terrorist from Al-Qaeda or the Brotherhood or ISIS. Shit, if this Azzaam managed to avoid being killed by Garza and then managed to get his “Army of the Oppressed” to the border, it probably would cause the U.S. to collapse. An army of two million armed drones would be impossible to stop. After several minutes, Tom grabbed his secure satellite phone and called the boss.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Senator Bains slipped out of her house in Gainesville, Georgia at seven a.m. and drove the two hours to Bryson City, North Carolina by herself. Throughout the trip, she checked her mirrors, trying to see if anyone was following her but didn’t see anyone. If they were there, they were good at it; or maybe they had placed a tracker on her car and were hanging way back out of sight. Steven and Chip had both warned her to be on the lookout for anyone who was hanging around her car and to have the Secret Service check it every few days for GPS trackers and other listening devices. In theory, it was a good plan, but she was just too busy to drive her Georgia car to Washington to have the thing checked for bugs. She’d have Steven’s people check it today in Bryson City.
They were meeting to discuss the latest terrorist attack in Germany and some intelligence that Chip had about an Al-Qaeda incident that Kilauea Corp. was involved with. She was looking forward to the meeting because she had some intelligence they might not have, and that would be a first.
When she arrived, Chip and Steven were already there waiting with Bill and Bob in the conference room. Chip was sitting with a big map before him and was pointing at a couple of different spots that were in the middle of the ocean.
“So what are you boys up to now?” she teased as she walked in the door.
“Good morning, Senator. How was your trip?” Steven asked as the others smiled and nodded towards her.
“The trip was beautiful as always. This is the prettiest country and there’s never any traffic to speak of. So it was just great!” the senator shared before she asked again, “What’s with the map?”
“I was showing them where the Rip Tide had encountered the first of the Al-Qaeda freighters and how she sunk it. Captain Hodson is one fine skipper, and the best part is, no one knows what really happened. The ships just didn’t make port. The Crescent Moon was lost during a typhoon about here, west of Sri Lanka. It was carrying supplies and armaments bound for the Port of Suez and Hamas, but not anymore!” Chip grinned with satisfaction as he finished explaining.
“You really mean we committed an act of war and sank a ship? What about the crew? Did we kill them, as well?” The senator sounded sanctimonious with her accusations.
Chip just smiled and said, “You’re damn right! They don’t give us any warning or quarter; we’ll not give them any, either.”
“You have no doubt that ship was being used by the terrorists?” she asked, looking at Steven, who looked at Bob.
Bob smiled in return, stating, “Not a doubt in the world. They were dirty, and they needed to be eliminated. Once we start ta
king enough of these freighters out of the picture, no one will want to take shipments anywhere for the terrorists, and that will put a big dent in their operations.”
“Okay, then. I’ll have to take your word for it. What’s next on the agenda?” she asked.
“We haven’t quite finished with the submarine adventurers. Yesterday, we had a second bit of action,” Chip shared.
“Where did this new action take place?” Senator Bains asked.
“The Rip Tide is station-keeping in the Arabian Sea.” Chip beamed as he continued briefing the group on the submarine activities. “They are waiting off Somalia for another freighter that has over fifty Al-Qaeda foot soldiers on board with an unknown amount of weapons. The whole mess is headed for Somalia. The target ship is called The Emperor of the Sands. It’s yet another Libyan registered freighter that has ties to the terrorists. Once the Emperor arrives on scene, the Rip Tide will sink it, giving them a total of two freighters sunk. That’s pretty impressive for a navy that doesn’t exist.” Chip continued to beam satisfactorily as if he were a proud parent.
“When will we know what has happened with the Emperor?” the senator asked.
“I can’t really say. We just have to sit and wait for the ship to come by on its way to Somalia,” Chip answered.
“That doesn’t seem all that efficient,” she replied critically.
She seemed to think you could plan an attack on the open sea down to the minute to maximize expediency. Chip’s beaming smile faded to a scowl.
“Anyway…” Bob commented, “the news out of Germany isn’t very good, is it?”
“Oh?” the senator turned away from Chip and toward Bob.
“Yes, there have been dozens of attacks on Middle Eastern immigrants in almost every city in Germany. Estimates are that over a hundred people have been killed by these roving mobs,” Bob stated.
Reprisal!- The Eagle's Challenge Page 8
