by Don Bendell
“I understand, Mr. President,” she said. “But don’t you feel any guilt about ruining his career?”
He laughed out loud. “Lady, if I had my way, we would decriminalize dueling and I would shoot the son of a bitch. I was not joking about him committing treason. We have plenty of proof positive.”
She asked, “Then why use me?”
The president said, “Ms. Caruso, look around you. Do you know how many important decisions affecting the world have been made in this room? Decisions by great Democrats and great Republicans? Decisions to go to war, many wars, and to sign peace treaties, to form alliances and to end them, to abolish slavery, to provide for women’s rights, to initiate certain taxes, and to eliminate certain taxes. So very many world-altering decisions have been made in this very room. I do not even allow visitors to enter the White House wearing blue jeans, because of the storied history and tradition in these halls. Yet, we had a president who got blow jobs in this room by a twenty-one-year-old wide-eyed intern no less, and afterward there were people who laughed about it, minimized it, and still lionized the man as some kind of hero. That will not happen to Weatherford. I will bury him politically so deep, he will have to use a two-story ladder just to see daylight.”
“You have made yourself very clear, Mr. President,” Ronnie responded. “But how do you know you can trust me? What if I did go to bed with him and told him everything?”
He looked her straight in the eye and said, “I am the most powerful man in the world. I will have you assassinated, simple as that. As I said, I will do whatever it takes to protect this nation. Any more questions?”
She started to cry again. Veronica had proven she definitely feared death.
The president gave her the plans that had been made. A senator from his party would take Weatherford out to dinner at 1789 Restaurant on Thirty-sixth Street in George-town.
In its own words,
The 1789 Restaurant is the quintessential Washington, D.C., dining experience. Chosen by readers of Gourmet magazine as one of America’s Top Tables, its inspired creativity is delivered in a relaxed country-inn elegance. Decorated with American antiques, period equestrian and historical prints and Limoges china, its five dining rooms offer comfortable surroundings in a renovated Federal house.
Regionally acclaimed chef Nathan Beauchamp joins the masterful wine pairings of William Watts to create a premier dining experience unique to the nation’s capital.
General Perry and the president both got hungry just speaking about the very classy and popular restaurant. Because of its popularity, and its dining elegance, the president felt it was a sure bet that Weatherford would agree to a free dinner there. The senator, who was a friend of the chief executive, would only know he was to get Senator Weatherford there, and he would assume the president was up to some clever political scheme, but would also know enough and be politically astute enough not to ask any questions.
Veronica was to show up at the restaurant for dinner with a beautiful girlfriend and then seduce the senator and videotape the event.
After she left the Oval Office, General Perry looked at the president grinning, and said, “May I ask a question, sir?”
The president laughed, saying, “Would I actually have her killed?”
The general said, “Yes, sir.”
The commander in chief responded, “Of course not. I’m not a murderer, Jon, but I damned sure will lie if I need to do so to protect this nation. I was just being a bully, because I read her demeanor and felt it would work. Obviously, it did.”
It was three days later when Sen. James Weatherford and Sen. Thomas Atha met outside the 1789 Restaurant and went inside where they were seated and offered tasty wines.
Both men selected Lobster Cioppino with braised fennel, roasted tomatoes, clams, and sourdough croutons.
They both started with a first course of Yukon Gold potato soup with lobster and pickled chanterelles, and then for the second course, Weatherford ordered Foie Gras Torchón, hazelnut biscotti, huckleberry jam and cardamom caramel, and Atha ordered Cavatelli wild mushrooms, poached farm egg and mascarpone.
During the main course, two ravishing women in low-cut evening gowns appeared at their table, and both men jumped up, recognizing Veronica, a national television celebrity. Veronica introduced her “close friend” Suzette to both men and laughed to herself watching both men drool.
She leaned forward toward James Weatherford and caught him looking down at her ample cleavage twice.
The second time, she grinned at him and winked, whispering, “Watch it, Senator. I am a mind reader.”
Standing, Ronnie said, “Gentlemen, I am sorry to bother you, but you are both famous lawmakers, and Suzette has always had a secret crush on you, Senator Weatherford, and just had to meet you.”
At another table, a man in a gray pin-striped suit dialed his cell phone. He was wearing an earpiece.
Thomas Atha’s cell phone rang, and he said, “Hello.”
The man said quietly, “Senator Atha, the president would like you to say this is an emergency phone call and excuse yourself.”
Without missing a beat, the senator said in a distressed voice, “Oh, my gosh. How bad was he hurt?”
The man said, “Great job, sir. No wonder the president speaks so highly of you.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much,” he said. “I’ll head right to the hospital. I’m just glad he’s going to be okay. Good-bye.”
He stood and said, “Ladies, Senator. I am so sorry. One of my kid’s best friends was in an accident. I need to get to the hospital. The kid’s going to be okay but is like a part of our family. Rain check, Senator?”
“Absolutely, Thomas. I am sorry. You go right ahead and call if I can be of any help,” Weatherford said, secretly relieved.
He shook hands with the senator and said, “Don’t worry. I have the bill.”
Atha headed toward the door, saying, “Ladies, nice to meet you, Suzette. Always great to see you, Veronica.”
They bid him adieu and Weatherford, still standing, said, “I have nobody to accompany me for dinner. Why don’t you both sit with me, please?”
Ronnie whispered in his ear, “I don’t know if that is such a good idea, Senator. Suzette is such a fan of yours, I am afraid she won’t be able to contain herself.”
“Holy hell.” He laughed. “All the more reason for you two to join me. Please, dinner is on me.”
After moving from their other table, both women ordered, and Veronica, with touches, hair strokes, and flirty pouts, made it clear to him that she and Suzette were much more than simply bosom buddies. By the end of dinner, the normally smooth senator was the one who could hardly contain himself.
Ronnie had previously told Suzette that she wanted her to help her seduce Weatherford, so she could get news stories from him. Suzette thought it would be great fun and was more than game.
The entire dinner was one big game for Suzette and Ronnie, making the senator go crazy, so at the end of the dinner, when he suggested an after-dinner drink, Veronica leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Why don’t we go to my condo and have a drink?”
The senator was beyond ecstatic. Veronica had a condo in Washington, which was supplied by her network, and she also had her own penthouse apartment, overlooking Central Park in Manhattan. He followed Veronica to her place, and they all went in together, both women hanging on his arms. On the way there, the two women made sure he could see their overly friendly antics in the car.
Suzette had no clue about the two cameras hidden in Veronica’s bedroom. Ronnie excused herself while Suzette poured drinks. The news woman changed into a flimsy nightie, a very flimsy nightie, and turned both digital video cameras on.
When she came out into the living room, she said slowly in a very husky voice, “I hope you don’t mind, Senator, but I just had to slip into something more comfortable. Wouldn’t you like to slip into something more comfortable?”
“Oh my, oh my!” he said. “W
ould I ever!”
Suzette snuggled up next to him, unhooked his belt and pulled it from his trousers.
That night, Veronica got the president over an hour of digital video, which was more than he ever could have asked for.
11
THAILAND
Bobby and Bo actually got to spend two days honeymooning at the four-star Rama Gardens Resort Hotel in downtown Bangkok.
Bobby said, “Honey, you wanted to stay in an authentic Bangkok resort hotel, and not just an American chain hotel. This is the real deal.”
The U.S. Navy says of its Bravo Model Seahawk:
SH-60B Seahawk (Bravo):
The SH-60B Light Airborne Multi-Purpose System (LAMPS Mk III) deploys primarily aboard frigates, destroyers and cruisers, and, prior to the fleet introduction of the MH-60R “Romeo,” was considered the Navy’s most advanced helicopter. The primary missions of the Bravo are surface warfare and antisubmarine warfare, which it accomplishes through a complex system of sensors carried aboard the helicopter including a towed Magnetic Anomaly Detector (MAD) and air-launched sonobuoys. Other sensors include the APS-124 search radar, ALQ-142 ESM system and optional nose-mounted forward looking infrared (FLIR) turret. It fires the Mk-46 or Mk-50 torpedo, AGM-114 Hellfire missile, and single cabin-door-mounted M60D or GAU-16 machine gun for defense. A standard crew for a Bravo is one pilot, one ATO/Co-Pilot (Airborne Tactical Officer) and an enlisted aviation systems warfare operator (sensor operator). Operating Bravo squadrons are designated Helicopter Antisubmarine Light (HSL). HSL-47, an SH-60B squadron based at Naval Air Station North Island in Coronado, California, participated in the Navy’s humanitarian relief operations during the Indonesian Tsunami and Hurricane Katrina.
Because Bobby and Bo were carrying various weapons and surveillance devices, they could not fly down to Koh Samui on one of the colorfully decorated Bangkok Airways charters that flew several times per day. Instead, they were picked up in Bangkok and transported by a Seahawk crew flying off a big Nimitz-type carrier off the coast. The crew of the big bird could not have been more helpful, and the ship’s commander told them over the radio that he would have a chopper standing by twenty-four/seven in case they needed it. Apparently, word had come down through the chain that Bobby and Bo were “the man” and “the woman.”
They were dropped off at Koh Samui airport and an American civilian greeted them with a shiny red Jeep Wrangler and handed them the keys, telling them it was their rental car while on the island, and said to just drop it anywhere when they were done and leave the keys under the back of the front seat.
They got a place on one of the very white, beautiful, gently sloping sandy beaches. Koh Samui is an island fifty miles off the coast of southern Thailand, and its primary industries used to be coconut farming and fishing, but tourism buried both industries a long time ago. The island is about ninety square miles, covered with white-sand beaches, with a rugged, jungle-covered mountainous interior with magnificent rock formations, even on some of the beaches. There are rocky, beautiful waterfalls and gorgeous jungle flowers everywhere, and the island is covered by palms and coconut palms. The ocean waves are hardly the breakers one would see in California or New England, but more like the gentlest beaches in the Gulf of Mexico, because they are so gradual in their slant. Out away from the shore, however, is some very appealing scuba and snorkeling territory. There is a population of maybe 42,000 to 48,000 residents, with many being foreigners from all nations, but since 2000, many Muslims have moved in and opened businesses. And after the global War on Terrorism began, many members of al Qaeda moved into southern Thailand, including Koh Samui.
The most notable of these was Muhammad Yahyaa, and Bobby and Bo were going to seek him out.
Muhammad had a large but private apartment above a tailor shop on Chaweng Road. The tailor was an al Qaeda operative and people could either go up the back stairs to the apartment or go in and out the front door of the tailor shop without arousing suspicion. Muhammad always had at least five bodyguards in his apartment, heavily armed.
Niran Vanida was one of Muhammad’s Bangkok-born recruits who had been in training for over a year. He ran up the stairs and one of the bodyguards let him approach Muhammad.
He stopped and bowed in the Thai custom, with his hands up, palms together, and the hands raised up face level while bowing; the higher they were, the higher the authority he faced.
He said, “Sawadee kup, Muhammad.”
“Asalakalakum,” Muhammad replied.
Speaking English, the one language they both understood, Niran said, “Muhammad, my men have been watching at all the hotels and the American man and woman you want us to find have arrived. They stay at the beach at a hotel. They drive red American car, a Jeep. My men watch now.”
Muhammad pulled 10,000 baht out of a drawer, which is about $248, and handed it to Niran.
He said, “You did good. You give half of this to your men, and save the other. Tell them to kill this man and woman and give them the rest. I must leave, but I will return when they are gone.”
Thanking Muhammad, Niran put his palms together again bowing and said, “Kahm koo cup.”
He headed toward the stairway, saying, “We kill them. No problem.”
Meanwhile, Bobby and Bo put on bathing suits and wore tropical shirts unbuttoned over the suits. This hid the crisscross leather shoulder harnesses with holsters holding their Glock 17s tucked safely away under their left arms. They started jogging side by side along the beach, really enjoying the run, even though it was late afternoon and very hot.
“Darling,” Bo said, “isn’t this just beautiful? It’s a shame we are on assignment here.”
Bobby said, “I know. It is beautiful. We will have to vacation here, when we can, without working.”
They only planned to run a short distance and start to get acclimatized and check things out along the beach anyway.
“What is that smell?” Bo said.
“Burning coconuts,” Bobby responded.
“Really?” she said. “That’s a different fragrance.”
“Bo,” Bobby said, “keep running, but we are being watched.”
“From where?” she said. “I don’t have any visuals yet.”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “It’s that sense of knowing or feeling I have talked to you about. I feel it strongly.”
“I’m a believer, sweetheart,” Bo said. “You have proven yourself enough. What do we do?”
Bobby said, “First, we find out who’s watching us, following us, or whatever.”
He had noticed earlier two men on mopeds pass them far off to their right on the road paralleling the beach. They were under the line of trees, and he remembered seeing their brake lights come on. If they were ambushers, that would put them ahead of him just around the bend to the right. He stopped and Bo followed suit.
Bobby said, “We have to move fast. I think there is an ambush of two men right around that bend. It would put us out of sight of the resort and other buildings. They could shoot us from the trees and get out of there quickly. I saw two men on mopeds riding up a road there that parallels the beach. After getting that feeling, I remembered noticing their brake lights come on, which meant they had to be stopping up ahead. Both were wearing big backpacks, so they could have automatic weapons or anything in them.”
Bo asked, “How do you want to play it?”
Bobby said, “Turn you into bait.”
“Gee, darling. Thank you,” she said sarcastically, then said, “What do you want me to do?”
Bobby said, “Take off your shirt and holster.”
She did, and he threw the shirt on the beach, grabbed her Glock and stuck her two extra magazines in the back of his trunks.
Bobby said, “You go out in the water and keep jogging, but make sure you are far enough from shore that you are out of effective range of any rifles like AKs. They are men and you are jogging in a bikini. They will be panicked looking for me, but still won’t take their e
yes off you long. I will come up behind them through the trees.”
“What if they have a scoped sniper rifle?” she asked.
He said, “Then you’ll be dead, honey, but so will I right after you. We can jog back if you want.”
“Hell no!” she said.
He laughed. “My partner! They will get out of position to look for me. That will give me a chance. The second you hear firing, go in the water and get away from shore. Count to fifty, go straight out, then start jogging in the water. Questions?”
“Yeah, can I have a kiss?”
He kissed her and then kissed the tip of her nose for good measure, saying, “I love you. Don’t worry.”
She said, “I’m not, but don’t miss.”
He ran up into the line of palm trees and wove his way toward the direction of the moped drivers.
Bo counted then jogged out into the water, then turned right and paralleled the water. In a string bikini, she was going to provide a sight to the would-be killers straight out of the movie 10.
A minute later, Bobby’s theory proved correct, as two Thai Muslim men looked from behind palm trees as they saw Bo jogging along in the water. Both made comments to each other about her appearance and beauty as she bounced along. The larger of the two cursed their luck that she was so far out. They would have to come out of the trees to kill her. They both were standing now, one holding a folding-stock SKS rifle, and the other an American-made Ruger Mini-14 using a twenty-round magazine and standard NATO ammunition. Both weapons were converted to fire full automatic.
Suddenly, they heard a noise behind them and turned to see Bobby rapidly bearing down on them through the trees with a Glock 17 in each hand. Then they realized he was coming very quickly, as he was driving one of their mopeds. He had let go of the handlebars, and let out a primal scream as both men tried to raise their weapons. Before they could get their weapons up, Bobby was putting double taps, two shots fired in quick succession, into their torsos. Both, to their credit, remained on their feet and kept trying to raise their weapons, and Bobby kept yelling. He tossed one Glock aside and steered the vehicle toward the wavering man to his right front. Bobby jumped off at the last second toward the man on the left and did a flying side-kick, catching the rather large man right in the windpipe with the blade of Bobby’s foot.
