“Where is the controller?” Pam asked.
“On the front seat. It’s built into the laptop,” Ron casually directed. He double-checked the wiring connections to have something to do, though Pam’s work didn’t need to be checked.
“Where did you get this?” Tom asked, walking back over after finishing his coffee and donuts.
“Don’t ask,” Ron quipped, a big grin spreading across his face as he played Tom to lighten the tension.
“Great. That’s what I thought,” Tom bemoaned. “Now we can add theft of Israeli government property to the list of our other problems.” Ron didn’t bother to correct Tom’s misconception.
Setting the laptop on the hood of the SUV, Pam launched the drone and flew it north to recon the area. Tom, Ron and Alex reviewed the situation again, trying to determine what course of action was open to them now that the opposing team had just quadrupled in size. They quickly concluded the original plan no longer made sense. They had to figure out a way to deal with the farmhouse to the south before attacking the farmhouse to the west. Any idiot knew it was suicide to attack from a position in between two groups of enemy forces.
Alex offered up the idea of staying in Israel and avoiding Jordan all together. At first, both Tom and Ron shot down that idea, saying they were pretty sure that the Palestinians would have that approach completely locked down.
With the two compounds separated by approximately two kilometers, the only thing they felt sure about was their ability to jam the Brigades’ cell phones. However, that would only provide a minimal advantage that would be completely worthless if it turned out they also had radios. It just wasn’t enough to counter the enemy’s numerical advantage. There were roving patrols on the four-wheelers, infrared cameras and night vision equipment—all of which they would have to deal with before they could expect a reasonable chance of success. They had to somehow figure out a way to get the element of surprise in their favor again.
Tom had Steve and Pam join them, and they talked over one scenario after another, shooting all of them down. There just wasn’t anything coming to mind that could work. Feeling the pressure building and a slight throbbing in the back of his head and temples, Tom reached into his pocket. He withdrew two more Aleve and tossed them into his mouth.
“What’s that?” Ron asked, having noticed Tom’s motion.
“Aleve. Want some?” Tom asked.
“You got a headache?” Ron inquired with a look of concern on his face. “You should drink more water. You’re probably getting dehydrated.”
“No, it’s just a preemptive shot against the headache I know is coming from all this brainstorming.”
“Yeah, I hear you. But you might want to drink some more water anyway,” Ron told him.
“Ron is right. You should drink more water,” Pam suggested while following the view from the drone on the laptop monitor.
“Out here, a headache is the first sign of dehydration. So, drink some more water,” Ron insisted, reaching into the cooler, pulling out a bottle of water and then handing it to Tom.
“Thank you, Doctor Ron,” Tom said sarcastically. “Let’s just get back to figuring out a way to crack this nut.”
“If he’s taking Stay Awakes, I could use some,” Mike called from under the SUV.
“Look, it was Aleve. It’s no big deal. It’s just a preemptive thing. Now, can we get on with it, or do we need to discuss my sleep habits and my latest dietary dysfunctions?” Tom curtly blurted out.
“You have dietary problems?” Pam asked with a smile on her face.
“What did you see?” Tom asked, without looking at Pam. He was trying to keep his anger in control, although it was building faster than the headache that was now full blown.
“I’m still looking around, but so far we’re in good shape. North and east of us there’s just a lot of sand and rocks. To the south though, we’ve got some problems. The house is getting crowded. There appears to be at least fifty men there now, and there is a truck inbound on the river road,” Pam reported.
“Great. What do you think has gotten them so motivated?” Tom looked towards Ron, who shrugged his shoulders. “If it were me, I would want to keep this very low profile to keep from drawing any unwanted attention.”
“It’s an ambush taking shape if you ask me,” Alex interjected.
“You’re right about that,” Ron stated. “If they weren’t planning for trouble, they wouldn’t be bringing up the cavalry and hiding it out of sight. I think they are using Ashrawl as bait like they did a few days ago.”
“So, you’re saying someone leaked intelligence, and now we’re screwed? Who could have done that?” Mike asked crawling out from under the SUV, having given up trying to sleep with the heat and the constant conversation.
“I don’t know, but I agree with your assessment,” Ron stated.
“I thought Israel and Jordan were at peace. Why would they allow the Palestinians to set up an ambush from their soil?” Alex asked.
Ron smiled slightly and said, “There is peace, and then there is peace as it pertains to the Middle East. To confuse the two, you do so at your own peril.”
“Huh?” Alex responded.
“I’ll explain later,” Ron stated condescendingly. His statement went right over Alex’s head, leaving him with a perplexed look on his face.
“Tom, I think you hit it on the head a few minutes ago,” Pam stated, shifting the conversation back to the problem at hand.
“How’s that?” Tom asked.
“You said you were taking the pills as a preemptive strike against your headache. So, why couldn’t we attack preemptively? We can’t possibly fight a two-front battle, especially when we are outgunned by such a wide margin. That only leaves us with a preemptive stealth attack. Ron, can you get your hands on some EZ2?” she asked.
“Okay, I see what you’re getting at, and yes, I think I know where I can get some. What about using the dart version?” Ron suggested.
“No, the gas is what we want,” Pam responded. The team stood looking at each other, perplexed. “That way we can cover more area faster.”
“What are you two talking about?” Tom interjected.
“EZ2 is a non-lethal crowd control weapon developed by the French in the 1970s. Most of the world’s armies have some stockpiled somewhere. I would bet that every major city in the U.S. has a fair amount stockpiled for riot control, too,” Ron explained.
“How does that help us?” Tom asked.
“Well,” Ron started to explain, “EZ2 in gas form can be sprayed over crowds of rioting people. Within sixty seconds, the whole crowd will drop to the ground—out cold. It was tested on gorillas and orangutans before human trials, and it stopped them cold, no matter how enraged the animals were. That’s not an easy thing to do when you consider that both animals are at least three times stronger than a man and up to five times heavier.”
“EZ2 is non-lethal, and its effects are almost instantaneous. It lasts up to six hours, and you wake up with a mild headache, like having a light hangover,” Pam explained further.
“So why haven’t I heard of this before? Has anyone actually used this stuff?” Tom asked.
“Well, no. It’s considered a chemical weapon, and thus it’s highly controlled by the political pukes,” Ron offered.
“You mean it’s banned,” Tom stated.
“It’s not banned, just considered controversial; and the power brokers are afraid of the possible fallout on them and their careers, and that’s why no one uses it,” Ron explained.
“Okay, it’s not banned but not used because someone might call it a chemical weapon. So, how does knowing where you can get some help us if we can’t use it?” Tom asked, his lack of patience clearly growing.
“Well…” Ron stalled for a short time while he thought of how to say it, then he said, “We’re not concerned with what might make the politicians look bad, and besides, they won’t know what hit them. Also, there is no residual residue to test, so
they’ll never know what hit them.”
“Sir, how I see it working is first we use the drone to spray the house to the south. Then we spray the farmhouse and olive grove. Three minutes after that’s done, we can go in from the front and subdue anyone we meet that didn’t get a good whiff of the EZ2, leaving Ashrawl an easy target. After we load him up, we’ll slip out of dodge quietly. There’s a good chance we’ll go completely unnoticed since EZ2 acts so fast they won’t have time to make any observations or call for reinforcements.”
“How fast?” Mike blurted out before Tom could ask.
“Anywhere from five to sixty seconds, depending on the individual,” Pam explained.
“Exactly how do we get our hands on this stuff and how quickly can we get it?” Tom asked Ron.
“As far as how and where, I’ll…you don’t want to know. But I think I can get it by tonight,” Ron replied.
“I think this could work,” Alex stated. Tom stood staring at the ground thinking and doing his best to listen to the other team member’s comments.
“I agree,” said Mike. “The gas sounds like the best way to take them out.”
“We’ll need to work up an equipment list and fast. We need to do this right away— tonight—before the Israelis decide to stop by or our neighbors bring in anymore troops,” Tom directed the comments towards Ron, who stood looking at him, grinning as usual.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Clarett!” Chip barked answering the scramble phone on his desk.
“Chip, Steven. How’s the island today?” Steven asked, ignoring the lack of phone etiquette and presenting a false sense of cheer.
“It’s the same as always, beautiful but boring. I see you’re calling on the scramble phone. What’s the problem?” Chip bluntly asked.
“I don’t have a problem. I’d like an update is all. How’s the team doing in Israel?” Steven changed the subject a little too quickly.
“They’re still gathering intelligence. Once they’re ready to act, they’ll check in, and I’ll have Triton send in the choppers.” Chip cut the explanation short, trying to draw Steven out. “So, cut the crap and tell me what the problem is.”
“Did you tell them that you’re sending in backup?” Steven asked, avoiding Chip’s question.
“No, but I will when they tell me they’re ready to go. So, what’s the problem?”
“Can’t an old friend call and say hi?” Steven asked.
“Okay, now I know without a doubt there’s a problem, ‘old friend.’ Why’d you call?” Chip bluntly asked again, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
“Jesus, you can be blunt, can’t you?” Steven complained.
“It’s my best attribute. When you do what I do for a living, it pays to be short but sweet,” Chip grinned. “So, is this a dinner invite, then?”
“I don’t know. Dinner may be a problem,” Steven stated.
“Dinner’s might be a problem? What’s going on?” Chip replied.
“There are a lot of rumors being bantered around about our relationship,” Steven mumbled quietly.
“Rumors? Let me guess who spreading them. Bascome, right?” Chip asked, his voice filled with contempt.
“Did you steer any contracts my way while you were with the Joint Chiefs?” Steven asked bluntly.
“No, and you know that. I only made recommendations on the first contract with the Marine Corps. I even stopped offering any recommendations or voting on any issue involving you after I started doing consulting work for you. I abstained from voting and distanced myself from every possible conflict of interest concerning you. Besides, you don’t need any of my help. You have the best products and the best price, bar none, so, why the concern about conflict of interest?”
“Well, Bascome—” Steven started to say, but Chip interrupted him in mid-sentence.
“That guy is a total poptart! A total jackass!” Chip spat, barely able to control his temper which flared the instant the man’s name was mentioned. “Don’t listen to anything that asshole has to say. He’s a complete idiot!”
“Yeah, I can tell you’re a friend of his,” Steven replied sarcastically, then continued. “Bascome is claiming that he has proof that you were bribed to help secure contracts. So far, he hasn’t showed any proof or gone public with his so-called smoking gun, but he claims there is an ongoing investigation,” Steven shared.
“Shit! That ass is just trying to get to me through you. Either that or he’s just trying to scare you. We both know it’s not true,” Chip spat. “I made my tax records public, and they clearly show I’ve been receiving a retainer from you for several years now. It was all disclosed in the congressional record and to the last president, the FBI, DOD, and DOJ. There is nothing he could have on either one of us because there is nothing to have,” Chip spoke confidentially.
“You know as well as I do, here in the land of fruits and nuts it doesn’t matter if there is any proof, or even if there is any wrong doing. It’s all public perception. This is the age of personal destruction politics rather than civil discourse. I don’t need this asshole making mountains out of dust piles,” Steve shared with Chip. “Starks has friends at all of the major news media outlets, and Bascome is already hinting that they will do a hatchet job on both of us unless I back off and stop questioning Starks’ foreign policy.
“So what have you said lately that’s got that asshole, Starks, running scared?” Chip asked.
“I’ve been extremely vocal about the administration’s foot dragging and all the political correctness in regards to the attacks on Houston and San Antonio. I’ve begun calling for stronger border patrols, tighter controls on immigration, and for much higher security at the ports and airfreight terminals.
“Hell, I’ve even joined with the chorus in calling for more oil exploration here at home. Basically, I’ve been pissing in Starks’ pool, and he doesn’t like it, I guess. Bascome even called and threatened to cancel my government contracts. At least until I explained the government was just leasing the equipment, programs and systems from me and that the contracts have a noncompetition clause. I explained that the clause requires the government to use off-the-shelf programs from Best Buy or Radio Shack to handle their encryption needs should they cancel the contract. Not to mention the cancellation clause requires the government to pay me just over a billion dollars upon the cancellation. When I informed him that the last administration had put up the Capitol and the Library of Congress as collateral, you should have heard him. It was like I stole his lollipop. You’re right. He’s a real pompous ass,” Steven sighed.
“You still think he’ll try to discredit you and force you to do what?” Chip asked.
“I think he’s trying to build a case to invoke the morals clause in the contract. You know, create enough stink about possible corruption or sexual misconduct, forcing me to testify in front of Congress. Hell, you know how those jackals twist everything to fit into a thirty second sound bite. They never let the truth stand in the way of a good story or the truth as they want it known.
“If the Congressional committee decides that I violated the morals clause, whether there’s proof or not, they could force me to hand over the equipment, programs, and the contracts or nationalize it based on the fact that it is a National Security issue,” Steven stated sourly. “It would save them a few trillion dollars over the next twenty-five years.”
“But you didn’t do anything,” Chip stated.
The comment hung in the air as the two men sat quietly until Chip spoke up changing the subject. “So, what have we found out about the foreign money being funneled into Washington?”
“I’ve had your two newest employees, Westlyn and Richland, working that,” Steven began to explain. “We heard the rumor that someone had funneled a lot of money into Starks’ presidential campaign. It was widely reported that his campaign was nearly bankrupt with six weeks to go to the election, but within days of that report, he was swimming in cash. The money arrived just in time to save t
he election for our illustrious leader. When the Republicans got curious about where such a large amount of cash came from, Starks went to court to stop anyone from looking at his campaign funding reports. These are public records, mind you, yet Starks, with the help of his buddies on the court, blocked any investigation and took the unprecedented step of filing an injunction against the Federal Elections Commission, barring them from reviewing their own records.
“As for where the money came from, I’d bet it came from the Middle East. That sudden influx of cash Starks received shortly after the convention was the turning point for him, and it arrived just four days after his campaign manager, Jason Combs, hired a new PR firm, ‘Solution Brothers Trust.’ They’re right there in Washington. It was reported that Starks was trailing by fifteen percentage points the day they were hired. Yet, in less than a week, he was able to raise over a half billion dollars. Talk about a miracle.
“According to the records reviewed prior to the court case, he had received huge amounts of cash from individuals, PACs, and even corporate PACs and their corporate staffs during the last week of September. Now, the strange part isn’t that people contributed—it’s who contributed. Many of the people and corporations who he had been extremely critical of during the campaign, were suddenly making huge financial contributions to him. Individuals that clearly were not in a position financially to make large contributions were making huge contributions, as well. In fact, he’d called many of these people the criminally rich and freeloaders who pay little in taxes while stealing millions from the public and the government procurement system.
“Hell, he outright slandered us rich folk, claiming we don’t do enough for the country. That we live to fleece the public and our only love is money. Yet, several dozen of America’s very rich, whom he vilified in speech after speech while campaigning, suddenly decided through Political Action Committees to provide him with some very large amounts of cash. The whole thing doesn’t make sense,” Steven lamented.
Reprisal!- The Gauntlet Page 12
