Copyright © 2011 Randy Reardon
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1456508288
ISBN-13: 9781456508289
E-Book ISBN: 978-1-61397-604-3
Library of Congress Control Number: 2011905422
What Readers are saying about Enemy Among Us;
ENEMY AMONG US by Randy Reardon is a solid read that should make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up because the plot the evil doers in this thriller are working sounds like something out of today’s headlines. It’s no stretch to imagine the madmen who fancy themselves the government of Iran doing despicable deeds in order to wreak devastation on The United States. Randy Reardon’s story is well-plotted, has solid characters you can feel for and credible action and technique. In short, ENEMY AMONG US has everything a thriller needs to scare the heck out of a reader. As authors of eighty-two novels ourselves, we recommend ENEMY AMONG US.
Just finished this book, what a great read. I couldn’t put it down. If you like Grisham, Baldacci, Patterson or Ludlum, this book is a must read!!!
I recommend this as a book that will frighten you!
Randy Reardon has created an interesting hero and solidly drawn subsidiary characters, all of whom reveal a depth of humanity. Most importantly, Reardon has hatched a complex plot that is scarily realistic, so much so that it will make you feel uncomfortable, because it could so easily be the headline on the seven o’clock news. In THE ENEMY AMONG US, the enemies of America concoct a convoluted plot that would never be expected and could not be guarded against, as it mines new depths of evil. The background detail — setting in particular — is very nicely laid out. This is a good, solid read you shouldn’t miss.
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Tweleve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Chapter Seventy-Four
Chapter Seventy-Five
Chapter Seventy-Six
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Chapter Eighty
Chapter Eighty-One
Chapter Eighty-Two
Chapter Eighty-Three
Chapter Eighty-Four
Chapter Eighty-Five
Chapter Eighty-Six
Epilogue
From the Author
Chapter One
ITALY
“Forgive me father, for I have sinned,” Jordan nodded toward the man, taking the seat offered. A moment of silence fell between them. Jordan looked at the wall and then at the Priest. “It has been six weeks since my last confession.”
The Priest again nodded and Jordan realized the Priest while making eye contact was not necessarily engaged. Jordan couldn’t blame him. It seemed it was a small parish, one of hundreds dotting the countryside of the Umbria region. Jordan wasn’t sure why he had picked this church. It had more to do with his desire to get this over with rather than any spiritual calling. He knew what he was about to say would snap the Priest back to an attentive mode. It always had that impact.
“I confess to the using the Lord’s name in vain,” Jordan started and the priest acknowledged, “and I killed six men.” Jordan thought the Priest was going to fall out of his chair and moved forward to catch him.
The Priest recovered and stared intently, not sure what to do. A man’s instincts take over regardless of their devotion or occupation. The instinct was to flee a room you found yourself in with a newly confessed killer. But as in every other case, this Priest recovered, gained his composure and made eye contact with Jordan.
“My son, you have confessed to the greatest of sins, before I can grant you absolution, I must ask you what drove you to commit these acts?”
“It’s my job,” Jordan quietly replied.
The priest shifted in his seat. Jordan could see the perspiration appear on the man’s brow.
“These men were sworn enemies of my country. If I hadn’t killed them, they would have killed many, many others.”
“I see, so you are a soldier?”
“Not really.” Jordan could see the hesitation return to the priest. “I work for a government agency that supports anti-terrorism efforts throughout the world. We don’t wait for the bad guys to come to us, we go to them.”
“I see. Do you do this often?”
“Whenever I’m asked.” Jordan sighed.
“We are often called upon to do things to protect others. Yours seems to have been an extreme version of that call. The men you killed were they Christians?”
“Not likely.”
The Priest nodded. “Yours is not an easy confession to hear.” Both men paused, which gave, which gave Jordan a chance to think about the events of the past day that led him to be in this room, within this church.
He had arrived at Leonardo Di Vinci airport on the overnight from Newark. Preferring not to stay on the large motorways he had exited the E-45 about an hour from the airport and plotted a route taking the SS3, passing through quaint villages until he spotted Trevi and felt the need to stop. Trevi, an ancient town situated on a sharply sloping hillside standing out in the flat plains of the surrounding countryside was visible from a great distance, rising from the earth like a sentinel and drawing you towards it like a siren of the sea. A walled city, with narrow streets and a large number of p
eople milling about, Jordan quickly found the first car park and left his vehicle. He wandered for quite a while knowing what he had to do, but needing to find the right place.
Trevi was a city of churches, Jordan stopped at six before he came upon the Church of St. Emiliano. A plaque by the door stated that Emiliano was the first bishop and Patron Saint of the town as well as a martyr. He entered through the main door and saw the man he needed to speak to enter a room at the side of the church.
Jordan snapped back to focus in the room when he noticed the purple Biretta on the table next to the priest. The cap of a Bishop. “Oh great, what have I done now,” he thought to himself. A Bishop may have a whole different idea of penance than a small parish priest.
Jordan noticed the man staring at him, staring at his cap.
“You’re a Bishop?”
“Yes, my son I am.”
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s a long story, but it’s where I’ve been assigned.”
“I see. My guess is you didn’t ask to be assigned here. Where were you before?”
“Rome, the Holy See.”
“This is quite a change.” Jordan stared at the Bishop.
“Politics are everywhere. I fought battles where men were not killed, but they were eliminated nonetheless. I bet on the wrong man and found myself in the position I had placed many others. Maybe we are more alike than you think young man. We both had to undertake tasks though unpleasant needed to be done to protect a greater good. I have no regrets for my action, and I don’t believe you should either.”
Jordan was taken aback. It wasn’t the response he would have expected from any priest, particularly one that was a Bishop who used to work at the Vatican.
The Bishop continued, “our world has many enemies. Some we can see, others we can’t. We have to battle both everyday. We are all soldiers in a cause. You must think of your duties and the greater good you bring about. Only when you doubt you are doing good should you question what you are doing. There seems to be something else troubling you.”
Jordon nodded. “Yes Bishop, you are correct. The man I was ordered to find. A man called Tahir is very bad. He plans and finances terrorist actions around the globe. I found him and he is in custody, but he told me something that has me very disturbed. He told me there are enemy cells within the US that have been activated and are in the final stages of planning their attack.”
The Bishop nodded. “Yours is a very hard job, my son. You carry a heavy burden. Remember there are those that will always be there for you. You should find solace with Saint Michael the Arch Angel and say his prayer daily. He will look after you. I know it may not be what you have come to expect. But tell me my son where are you headed?”
“I have a villa rented outside of Siena.”
“You’re far off track for Siena, even for someone on holiday.”
“I’m stopping off in Assisi.”
“I see. Paying tribute to St. Francis. A noble endeavor.”
“He also gets me through the day.”
“I’m sure he does. There is someone you should seek while you are there.”
Oh no, Jordan thought to himself, can’t I ever escape from him.
“Find a Father Marco, he would appreciate what you are going through. Though I’ve never gotten the full story from him, there seems to be some things in his background that are similar to yours.”
Jordan held up his hand with his palm flat out. “You can stop there. I know Marco well. I do hope to see him.”
“I see. I could ask why you don’t confess to him, but I won’t. But getting back to why you are here, pray the Act of Contrition with me and then I will absolve you of your sins. Pray a decade of the rosary and do start each day reciting the Prayer to St. Michael. It should give you comfort for what you are called on to do.”
Jordan recited the Act of Contrition. Thanked the Bishop, turned and left the room, found a pew and did his penance.
When he finished, he left the Church, holding the door for a frail elderly women.
“Is the Bishop still taking confession?” She asked in Italian
“I think he is.” He responded in the language he loved but felt he hadn’t mastered. She seemed to understand.
“I’ve got a good one for him today. I’m sure it will be the best one he hears.” She smiled and winked as she entered the Church.
He stifled a chuckle as he went to retrieve his car
Chapter Two
Mustafa Amadi grabbed the cell phone on the corner of the desk and flung it across the room, sending it directly into the second hand wall unit. On impact the back spun off, with the battery quickly falling to the floor. The rest of the unit took the full impact and fell in several splinters of plastic to the worn carpet.
He pushed back from the table, leaning back in his chair with his hands clenched in tight fists over his eyes.
“I cannot believe this. They are insane. They know nothing about how effective my team can be.” He threw his fists up in the air still leaning back in the chair. He shifted his weight and it brought him forward as he scanned his translation of the note just received. What was it with these people?
Two days ago he received the message, coded in an email that had been routed through several servers around the world to disguise its origin. To anyone reading the message, it would seem to be a note from an aunt to a beloved nephew in another country. However upon decoding, Mustafa discovered his mentor had been killed, or in his mind assassinated. Tahir Alfani had been like a father to him. He had given him this assignment when many had felt he wasn’t ready to lead such an important operation. He pleaded with Tahir to not undertake so many missions on his own, but to rely on others. A plead that was always met with laughter and being told to not worry, it was in Allah’s hands.
Now he was gone, and when he pushed his leaders to let him activate his team as revenge, the response he just received was the time was not right. The time was never right for these fools. Now with Tahir gone, he was almost certain they would never act. They were weak. They were bureaucrats in a battle that needed decisive leadership.
Tahir had spent almost twenty years training his team and getting them legally immigrated to the U.S. and they had assimilated into their neighborhoods. With the funds he had been given he was able to set them up in various businesses. Beyond anyone’s wildest dreams, he had actually been able to send more money back to the leaders in Iran then they had originally given. Capitalism was funding some of their violent activities and allowing them to grow their recruitment and training activities. But with all the success he wasn’t able to convince them he and his team were ready to carry out their mission.
Now his biggest regret was sending the money back. They didn’t know he and his team had generated such income from their endeavors. He wished he had kept it because it would have made him a very rich man. He could walk away from it all and get lost in this big country. Why not? If they weren’t going to let them do what he had been trained for, then why not just go off and live the rest of his life. The families of the team would be fine. They all had jobs and if he no longer required most of their profits, then they would have a very nice life. For all they sacrificed, it would be a small reward because they could never return to Iran and their true families.
But Tahir’s death would forced him to do something. No longer could he just sit there and do nothing. He would move forward on his own, but he didn’t want his masters in Iran to get credit. He pulled open the center drawer of the table and fished through the unorganized papers and cards until he found what he wanted. It was a business card of a man who had approached Mustafa several months ago. He had wanted to form a partnership and had promised it would be very enriching for Mustafa. Mustafa had first rebuffed this man, because he was still a warrior for the jihad. But now with Tahir gone, martyrdom seemed like a vacant cause, but helping someone creates greater injury to this country while enriching himself, seemed more appealing.
> He went over to the wall unit. The phone was beyond repair. He fished out the SIM card and went to the back bedroom. In the rear of the closet he opened a bin that had several unopened boxes of similar model cell phones. He quickly opened one and popped in the SIM card. He dialed the number.
“Yes.” Came the response when the call was answered.
Mustafa thought it was the same man he had met. “This is Mustafa. Is this Mr. Medina?”
“Yes, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call? Have your circumstances changed?” Jerome Fernandez-Medina replied
“They have and I think there is an opportunity for us to do business.”
“Fantastic, you will not be disappointed. Is your team ready and are you comfortable with the plan we laid out?”
“I am. It will work.”
“Great. We will begin the work from our end immediately.”
“We will be ready”
Mustafa heard the click on the other end.
Enemy Among Us-A Jordan Wright Thriller Page 1
