Land of Promise (Counter-Caliphate Chronicles Series Book 1)

by James Wesley, Rawles

  The Gulch was known for lack of church attendance, sporadic foul language, avoidance of contact with banks, and “shirts optional” fashions for women. Although this fashion was mainly practiced by waitresses at the bar and brewpub in town, it led to the hamlet earning the nickname Hooterville. Some of their brazen behavior very quickly got them shunned by people in the other communities in the Ilemi Republic. Because of this, the Gulchers were obliged to drive 140 kilometers to Lokichoggio, Kenya, for most of their supplies, or even farther to Torit or Juba. There was also some very limited shopping in the town of Nadapal -- the first town past the South Sudanese border into Kapoeta East, on the Torit Road. However, the standing joke was that the town was originally named Nadapal, because “The standard answer to any question that started with ‘Do you have any…?’ was, ‘Sorry, Nada, Pal.’” The Gulchers also did business with one HEMTT Tinker who valued profit more than discernment.

  Solid Rock Builders had built the road up to Gary’s Gulch under contract, back before they realized that Gary Keene and his neighbors were so stridently countercultural. After that, road maintenance up to the Gulch was handled by the residents themselves with an ancient D4 Caterpillar tractor, supplemented with picks and shovels.

  A creek flowed down the canyon nine months a year. A rainwater catchment system was installed in the first year, but it proved to be insufficient. The owner of Newton Bores refused to do business with Gary Keene, so eventually a well-drilling contractor from Torit, South Sudan, was brought in. They drilled two deep wells, but these wells had a combined output of only 35 gallons per minute. This made water a chronic problem for the community. A few residents bought EcoloBlue atmospheric water generators, but these required a lot of PV panels to produce just a few gallons of water per day in the dry season. For the residents of Gary’s Gulch, the latter half of each dry season was always anxious, and water conservation was their byword.

  Most of the residents of Gary’s Gulch were not blatantly anti-Christian, but it was obvious that they did not fit in with the rest of Ilemi society. The Ilemis were already “a people set apart,” but the Gulchers soon made themselves a “the people set apart from a people set apart.” This caused some social friction, but the Gulchers largely kept to themselves and coexisted peacefully. Most of the Gulchers were willing to do their annual IRDF Militia duty, although their personal discipline in the barracks was discordant, and a higher percentage of them declared themselves Conscientious Objectors and opted to serve as medics.

  There was a conscious decision to not establish any settlements near existing pastoralist towns. This was intended to minimize the grazing competition with the existing cattle herds. Contact teams, mostly Christian missionaries, volunteered to go work in villages with a population of 100 or more. These teams coordinated well bores, construction of greenhouses, cattle veterinary programs, cattle branding programs, community health programs, PV system installations, IRDF training programs, and “teach a man to fish” gardening and feeding programs. Quite soon, all of the villages prospered and their population figures jumped.

  The first large above-ground building constructed in Solus Christus was the Isher Trading Company warehouse, which belonged to a subsidiary of GlobalMAP. This warehouse was constructed on a leveled six-hectare pad and had roll-up doors on three sides. This warehouse handled a variety of merchandise but was best known as the initial depository of arms and ammunition shipments coming into the Republic before they were re-purchased and taken home by private buyers. There were large quantities of small arms ammunition in the warehouse, but for safety, all artillery shells, mortar bombs, rockets, and grenades were immediately dispersed in underground magazines south of the airfield.

  Just across the street from the warehouse was the Heston Bank and Vault Storage Company building. This was the first large underground building constructed in Solus Christus. It was built into a pair of parallel 30-meter wide by 200-meter long trenches. Only the trench excavation and the reinforced concrete floor were completed in the first dry season. The site then sat through the next rainy season, while materials for the next phase of construction were stockpiled at the Isher Warehouse.

  In the second dry season, the enormous vault was constructed, using countless kilometers of rebar and yards of concrete. The three-metric-ton main vault door was ordered from a company in South Africa and shipped at great expense to Solus Christus. The outer half of the vault complex was dedicated to Minting Floor Operations. Unlike most bank vaults, Heston’s could accommodate forklifts and even small trucks dropping off and picking up loads inside the mint. Deeper in the vault complex there were two smaller side-by side vault doors weighing nearly two metric tons each, which secured the safe deposit box room and the bullion room respectively. The latter was leased to the Ilemi government for a token of one Silmo per year for storage of the national treasury, which was predominantly gold and silver bullion and coins.

  The safe deposit box room held 8,200 keyed rectangular boxes, ranging in size from one liter to one cubic meter. The largest boxes were popular with perpetually-traveling Ilemi passport holders as a place to store both their firearms and their precious metals.

  The arched roof of the building, reinforced concrete and nearly a meter thick, was covered with EP357. After the installation of a sophisticated array of acoustic, seismic, and electromagnetic anti-intrusion sensors, the main portion of the structure was covered with a meter of topsoil. Atop this was a huge array of PV panels, which provided power for the mint’s presses, lighting for the building, and dehumidifiers.

  The bank had an outer customer lobby and offices that were not contained within the main vault structure, but that were nonetheless also windowless and constructed of reinforced concrete. Just inside the lobby door was a tall marble slab, engraved with the company logo; it spelled out Heston’s adopted name vertically in the form of an acrostic. The engraved letters, inlaid with gold, read:

  Honest Money: Gold, Silver, and Platinum -- No “Paper” Assets

  Equality: All Customers Treated Equally

  Safety and Security: Many Layers of Physical Protection

  Time-Resilient: Climate-Controlled Vault Storage of Valuables

  On-Demand: 100% Payment in Specie -- No Fractionalizing

  No Reporting to Any Government: Your Complete Privacy is Assured

  Heston’s bank soon drew the ire of the U.S. government, because they did not report any of their transactions in accordance with the Foreign Account Tax Compliance Act (FATCA). But publicity about the “outlaw bank” only increased the inflow of deposits. Soon millions and eventually billions of NEuros arrived as e-transfers or on debit cards for conversion into Silmos, Gilmos, Pilmo, and gold bullion bars for vault storage. These conversions were done at a small profit to the Heston Bank. The bank was always quick to make the conversion, since it did not want to be caught holding fiat currency in the event of a currency crisis.

  Within six months of the establishment of Heston Bank, the TAT airline saw half of its revenue come from transporting precious metals. Their regular “metals and cash” runs were to Johannesburg and Zurich, often with a stop in Rome, with flights three times a month. They also made bi-monthly flights to Dubai. Dubai and the United Arab Emirates were doing their best to keep themselves independent of WIS.

  The portion of the Mtume Plateau southeast of the airport was lightly populated. Most of this land was broken up into ten-hectare lots, and the majority of these were owned by absentee owners: the Ilemi Republic’s so-called Ten Hectare Ghosts. These ghost owners were nonresident and rarely seen -- hence, the name. Many of the landowners were wealthy and the subject of much speculation by the Solus Christus locals. It was rumored that the ghost owners included a large number of Hollywood and Bollywood movie stars, pop music stars, hedge fund managers, oil magnates, and mining company executives. Most of them were from the United States and Western Europe, although there were a few from Hong Kong, India, and Singapore. It was even rumored that some of th
ese parcels were owned by the heads of state of other countries and kept available just in the event that they were forced to leave their home countries.

  Some of the wealthiest of the Ten Hectare Ghosts made arrangements to build elaborate underground houses, furnish them, and stock them with storage foods -- all in absentia. Many of the Ten Hectare Ghosts hired caretakers, either resident in the underground mansions or others who divided their time caring for several properties in the same neighborhood.

  Evan Riley’s house was right on the south rim of the plateau, on an eight-hectare lot. As he drove home from work each day, when passing by the many Ten Hectare Ghost properties, he got in the habit of singing some lines from the old Joe Walsh song, Life’s Been Good. This passage of the song lyrics went, “I have a mansion, forget the price. Ain’t never been there, they tell me it’s nice …”

  Chapter 29: Appointment in Jerusalem

  “And I will bring again the captivity of my people of Israel, and they shall build the waste cities, and inhabit them; and they shall plant vineyards, and drink the wine thereof; they shall also make gardens, and eat the fruit of them. And I will plant them upon their land, and they shall no more be pulled up out of their land which I have given them, saith the LORD thy God.” -- Amos 9:14-15

  Jerusalem, Israel -- Late May, Five Years After Declaration of the Caliphate

  Alan and Grace were on their second business trip to Israel together. Their first trip there together had been ten months earlier, just as the embassy offices were being set up.

  This would be their last planned travel before the expected birth of their first child. The baby was due in late June. On this trip they planned to spend 18 days in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv meeting ambassadors from Greece, Lebanon, and India. They would also be conducting follow-up interviews with several families seeking reduced-cost Ilemi citizenship: two from Israel, one from Jordan, one from Turkey, and one from Ethiopia. All of these families had been living in Israel, although some were just on temporary visas.

  The Ilemi Embassy was on the fourth floor of an office building on Paul Emile Botta Street in Jerusalem. It sat diagonally from the King David Hotel and not far from the YMCA (which was called “The Yimka” by locals). Across the street was a PAZ franchise fuel station that sold gasoline and diesel and, of course, swapped H-Cans. The station included a typical Yellow (“Tzahov”) convenience store.

  Because so many people came seeking Ilemi passports and this was often a multi-day process, having the YMCA Three Arches Hotel, the King David Hotel, and several other less expensive hotels within walking distance was ideal. Alan and Grace usually stayed at The Prima Royale or The Inbal. This time, they checked into The Inbal under the name Alan Oakes.

  The Ilemi embassy was in a five-story building that was formerly a 76-room hotel called The Eldan. But in the 2030s it was remodeled into an office building and occupied by the consulates of several small nations, two law firms, an upscale architectural firm, and a walk-in plastic surgery “boutique.” The Ilemi embassy occupied one end of the fourth floor. The Brazilian consulate occupied the remainder of the same floor, with about 60% of the floor space of the fourth floor. The neighborhood was less than a mile from the Israeli government complex where meetings with the Israeli Foreign Ministry were held, although there were not any planned there on this trip.

  There were also many good restaurants nearby, including The Satya, The Angelica Grill, The Sapora, The Scala, and Te’enim Vegetarian Restaurant -- which was Grace’s favorite. Just a short walk down the hill on Paul Emile Botta Street -- past the Danny Eliav Gallery, the gated Pontifical Biblical Institute, and the gated French Consulate -- there was a sharp bend in the street. From there, they had a picturesque view of the Western Wall and the Citadel of the Old City. And from there, it was just a short walk to the Jaffa Gate.

  The Ilemi embassy was normally staffed by five young Israel-born Messianics who worked tirelessly on visas and citizenship application packets. There were two extra offices across the hall, each with two desks that were reserved for visiting Ilemi officials. Alan and Grace used one of these offices when they were in Jerusalem.

  On their 15th day in Israel they had just completed their interview with the family from Ethiopia. Alan and Grace sat in the spare office sipping iced chai and discussed the case of the Ethiopians. Grace said, “I think that they’ve adapted to living in Israel quite well. The whole family is involved with two businesses: a laundry and a restaurant that is run by his cousin, who has been in Israel much longer. But with Israel’s new, tighter immigration policy, they won’t qualify for permanent residency. The ‘Right of Return’ is only provided to professing Jews, and these people are forthrightly Christians.”

  Alan responded, “Yes, and they are definitely Second Reformers, rather than Coptic Christians. So what sort of discounted price on citizenship are you thinking about?”

  “I was thinking 100 Silmos for the entire family.”

  Alan replied, “Even that might be a stretch for them. How about 50?”

  Before she could answer, both of their tablets beeped simultaneously and their screens both flashed, “Urgent Voice Message.”

  Expecting something from the Turkish Ambassador, who had a habit of flagging all messages as “Urgent,” Alan tapped the Play button. They heard a half-shouted message from the Embassy Office Manager, across the hall: “Alan, there is a group of armed men down in the lobby. I didn’t hear any shots, but I just saw the lobby guard go down!”

  Alan hit the Live Chat Reply button and shouted, “Stand to! Stand to! Break out the Tavors and have everyone switch to 33 rounders for your Glocks!”

  To supplement the Glock 19 pistols that the staff carried daily, the embassy kept five Tavor bullpups and 25 loaded magazines for them in a locked file cabinet. Each of the staffers also kept two loaded 33-round 9mm magazines in their desk drawers.

  “BeSeder, Alan. Avi is on the phone with the cops, but it may be ten minutes before they get here. Pray hard.”

  They could hear heavy footsteps coming up the stairwell and, before they could react, an even louder commotion in the hall just outside their office door.

  Alan and Grace got down behind their desks, and Grace started digging through her voluminous purse for spare magazines for her pistol. She found four loaded spares and set them in a row beside her left knee. She said softly, with an eerie calmness, “I’ve got four reloads.”

  There was a loud banging as the intruders brought a small battering ram into action on the door just three meters down the hall.

  Someone in the hall shouted, “Allahu Akbar!”

  As soon as the embassy door was breached there was a tremendous roar of gunfire.

  Alan looked at Grace and cocked his head. They were both thinking the same thing: They were relatively safe in the office down the hall, but they weren’t yet engaged in repelling the terrorists. Quoting one of the mottos of the IRDF, Alan said, “Run to the sound of guns.”

  Grace, with a look of grim determination, gave a nod.

  A moment later, two stray rounds zipped through an upper wall of the office and up into the ceiling. This startled Alan and Grace, and they both ducked. Alan then half-stood and approached the office door in a crouch. Outside there were still thunderous fusillades of gunfire, mostly in fully-automatic bursts. Alan kneeled by the door, gripped his HK pistol with his right hand, and reached up to the door handle lever with his left. He very slowly opened the door a crack and peered through to appraise the situation.

  The hallway was a scene of chaos. Two of the terrorists had fallen to the floor. One looked dead, and the other was thrashing as he gushed out blood. Two others terrorists were still standing and alternately sighting and firing stubby Krinkov AKs. They changed magazines from satchels at their sides. Alan took careful aim at the back of the head of one of the men who was firing and squeezed his trigger. The man went down in a heap.

  The other jihadi turned his head toward Alan’s doorway with the terrified loo
k of a cornered cat. He knew that he was caught in a crossfire. The man spun his Krinkov around as quickly as he could, but he was too late. Alan fired four times in rapid succession, hitting him twice in the chest and twice in the throat. Before he fell, the terrorist jerked back the trigger of his Krinkov, but his muzzle was not yet lined up on Alan. All of his rounds went harmlessly into the wall of the next office down the hall.

  Alan was surprised to feel the door open wider, and then Grace was sliding past him. She stepped into the middle of the hall and began sweeping her muzzle first in the other direction down the hall, and then across the fallen men. Following her training, she took deliberate coup de grace shots at the heads of all of four of them, firing a total of seven rounds. Alan took a moment to reload his pistol with a fresh magazine and then said, “Ready.”

  Grace responded, “Wait. Loading.”

  The shooting had stopped. Alan noticed that his ears were ringing. Grace said quietly, “Ready.”

  Alan stood and walked a few steps down the hallway toward the embassy office door, stepping gingerly over two of the fallen terrorists. Meanwhile, Grace stood watching the opposite direction in the hallway.

  Alan started creeping forward, using the “Slice of Pie” method to peer into the lobby of the embassy office. This deliberate method was stressful to Alan, causing much greater anxiety than he’d felt thus far. Until this point he felt that he had been “operating on autopilot,” falling back on his many sessions of firearms training. But now his hands were trembling and he was breathing fitfully. Slowly working his gaze (and his aligned pistol sights) around the embassy lobby, he saw two more terrorists on the floor. One of them was clearly dead. The other was in awkward pose: He had fallen so that his head was resting on their dropped battering ram, as if it were a pillow and he was asleep. Not taking any chances -- Alan and Grace had been trained in the Cooper/Awerbuck style -- Alan took headshots at both of the downed jihadis. Then he shouted, “Friendlies! Chavarim! We are clearing!”