by W. R. Benton
“Yeah, fine, but move your ass and let's go, because I don't like this FBI stuff at all.”
As she dressed in the bathroom, The Boss loaded his stuff and hers in his car and drove away, leaving her in the room.
Entering the room after dressing, she smiled when she noticed he'd deserted her, and pulled his wallet from her house coat pocket. She removed the credit cards and his cash, then slashed the rest with a pocket knife. It would all soon be in the dumpster just outside the door.
She picked up her cell phone, called a number in Spain, which automatically transferred her to a German number.
“Yes?”
“This is Black Widow and The Boss has deserted his mission and me.” A vehicle she wasn't worried about, because she could always steal one.
“I understand. We are well aware of your situation, and have been following the sports on American television. Tonight, at midnight, a small plane will land and start you on your journey home. Be about five miles north of Dallas, Texas at that time. I will call you later with the exact time and location.”
“What of the Boss? I think he quit the team.”
“He will be retired, and soon.”
“I will wait for your call later then.”
“Good and do you have need of a vehicle?”
“No, I will steal one.”
“I will contact you later.” and the phone connection died.
The Boss was almost out of gas before he realized his wallet was missing. He had enough money in his trouser pockets to fill his car this time, but what then? He had billions of dollars, but no way to reach the cash. He picked up his phone and then pulled into a small gas station. He got out, filled the tank and then went inside the small store to pay. He waited in line and as he waited, he called the same number in Spain that Adolpha had called.
“Hello, Boss.”
“The Black Widow has deserted me.”
“I just spoke with her, and she states you left her in a hotel room. Which is correct?”
“You dare doubt my word?” he replied, his anger heard and felt half way around the world.
“No, we believe you. Where are you now? Can you speak freely?”
“I'm filling my car with petrol at a station.”
“Goodbye, Boss.” the voice said.
His car, provided by the NWO, suddenly exploded, the freshly added gas adding to the size of the fireball. Bright red flames, mixed with the black oily smoke of the fire, rolled into itself as it rose high in the sky. Everyone in the store, including The Boss, dropped to the floor. Three other cars, also refueling, exploded a few seconds later. Slowly, everyone stood.
“Shit, there goes my ride and I just finished payin' the mother off, too.” a young black kid complained.
“What in the world do ya think caused that to happen?” an older woman asked, switching her loaf of bread to another arm as if it'd suddenly turned heavy.
A young woman of maybe 25 suddenly screamed, “Jared is in my car, my baby!” She ran for the door but hands grabbed her and pulled her back. She was pushed to the floor and held down.
“You don't understand! My baby is in his car-seat! I have to get my baby! My baby is in that fire!” she screamed insanely as the flames grew larger.
“Lady,” an old cowboy said as he squatted beside her and took her left hand in both of his, “iffen yer child is in one of those cars, he's already with God. Do ya understand what I'm a-tellin' ya? It's too late to he'p anyone in that fire. He's gone, sweetheart.”
“No, not my sweet Jared!”
“Pray with me.” the cowboy said.
One man, who'd just started refueling, walked through a wall of solid flames, and staggered around like a drunk. He fell to the concrete burning, and his screams were louder than the flaming vehicles. One by one, the gas tanks on the other three cars exploded with a loud ka-boom! The attendant pushed the fuel shutoff, so there was little fuel above ground then to feed the fire.
Seeing others in line moving outside, including the cashier, The Boss did the same, and behind the station he found a Ford pickup truck suffering from serious rust. Knowing everyone was watching the fire or for emergency crews, he hot-wired the truck and drove away.
Damn, not good, now the NWO wants me dead. I knew from the start they sent me here to get rid of me because I wasn't providing them with the results they demanded fast enough, he thought as he hit a pot hole and knocked over a paper cup, sending tobacco juice down the front of the dash. The top of the dash was filled with empty cans of snuff and crumpled up foil bags of chewing tobacco.
Just my luck to steal a damned cowboy's truck, he thought and then continued, No one in this country is looking for me, but they are for Adolpha and I hope they catch her. I don't see the NWO getting rid of her, not until she ages enough to lose her sex appeal. Once men and women stop looking at her with fantasies, she'll be eliminated. I have to admit she's pure hot sex, but she comes at a high cost for any man. Too high of a cost for me.
The Boss then tossed his cell phone in a small creek he drove over. Contact now was out of question.
The President of the United States walked out on stage, stood behind the podium, and then said, “My fellow Americans. Once again the Conservative States of America have shown the kind of cowards they are and have attacked our White House. We have not done so to their President, but I am considering the same action against them now, and have a plan being drawn up at this moment. I will tell you this, I am determined, and each time our White House is destroyed, I will rebuild.”
Clapping and catcalls were heard from the crowd.
He continued, “Starting tomorrow, I will show those gun nuts exactly what it feels like to be shot. I will not expand on my comment at this time, but it's time for some pay backs.”
“Unidentified man pushing his way toward the front.” a security agent said, and the President could hear the comment through his earphone.
“I see nothing in his hands or anything suspicious about him, do you?” another agent asked.
“No, just the way he's pushing his way forward.” The President spotted the man, but kept speaking as if all were well.
“Keep an eye on him. He may just want to see the President up close.”
“I don't like this whole feeling I have.” an agent toward the very back of the building said.
“Tell me about your feelings later, right now I want all of you to shut up and do the damned jobs you're paid to do.” the supervisor ordered.
Once the man was at the very front, less than twenty feet from the President, he screamed, “Allahu Akbar!” As the gunshots from three agents struck him, the man was holding a detonator in his hand. He squeezed a button and then exploded.
The resulting blast killed over fifty people instantly, but the President wasn't one of them. Smoke, flames, and debris filled the room as agents moved for the President. President Norton was found flat on the floor, in shock, but otherwise he appeared unhurt. He lay blinking his eyes. Once cleared of wounds, he was quickly placed in his limo and driven to the nearest hospital.
The First Lady was a different situation, and the blast had torn her apart.
Seeing her first, the supervisor of the small force said, “Get all the ambulances you can here, and do it now. There must be a hundred wounded and at least half that many killed; include the First Lady in the number killed.”
The survivors began working on the injured, attempting to stop bleeding or holding their hands as they died. Most died screaming in pain. The senior agent collected what he could of the First Lady's body, and placed it all together. The place looked like a slaughterhouse, with guts and blood all over the place. Directly over where the suicide bomber had stood, blood was even dripping from the ceiling. Of the bomber, nothing was found.
“The man, according to what I saw, came here to kill the President.”
“Well, now Einstein, I disagree with you. I think he was a Muslim out to kill as many Americans as he could, and realized he might be able to t
ake the President with him. He did take the First Lady.”
“That's a shame, because she was a nice lady.”
“Nice people have bad things happen to them too, numb-nuts. Now, see if you can find out the status of our medical help. If those ambulances don't hurry, we won't need them.” the supervisor said, shook his head, and walked outside. The coppery scent of human blood and the voided bowels of the dead made him move quickly for the door. He tried to think of what they might have done differently, but this had been a last minute speaking engagement and normal door security was not in place. He'd warned the President, but finally the man ordered them to do as requested. He'd been drinking a lot and so had she, but she was a nice lady. I wonder what she saw in that sonofabitch that I don't see? I guess it doesn't matter now anyway, he thought as he saw the flashing lights of ambulances arriving. It's about time.
I wonder how they'll bag and mark body parts. I suspect a lot of DNA testing will be going on the rest of this month. I just don't understand how Muslims can get someone to load up with explosives and then blow themselves up. I guess it's not much different than the Japanese suicide pilots in World War Two, he thought as he looked back in the nasty room.
It was then, as those unhurt after trying to save the wounded were walking toward their cars, that two explosions occurred in the parking lot. The agent took off running for the blast area, knowing people would be down and in some cases, seconds meant the difference between life and death. He ran by a mother and her baby, both unmoving, and their torsos filled with steel shrapnel from the bombs. There was a growing puddle of blood under them.
Oldest trick in the book, he thought, blow up a building and when most run into the parking lot, set off more bombs by timers or cell phones. If you time it correctly, you take out a lot of people.
The news showed the burnt gas station and claimed there were four unidentified in the number killed. One of the dead was an infant, quickly identified by the mother. The Boss sat in a cheap hotel room and was watching television. He'd contacted a close friend that worked in the Swiss banks and was having money wired to him. He'd also had a million dollars taken from his account and placed under a different name with a complex PIN, but he'd done that as soon as he was told of this mission. He now had money again, but he had to change his identity and quickly.
Along with his normally supplied ID provided by the NWO, he'd also made up a few others. Usually, if out on business, he might carry one or two of these extras in case they were compromised or he needed a different cover. On this trip he carried three, so he'd looked them over and chose John Bowers for his name. He was thankful now that he'd suspected the NWO of turning on him. He was at least prepared well, in many ways. He'd left the truck on the edge of town and had walked to a store and purchased a new phone under the name of Bowers, and then bought a used car for $10,000 that had low mileage, and was in excellent condition. Next, he'd find a small town in Texas, buy some cowboy boots, and then a cowboy hat.
He needed to disappear too, or the NWO would have him eliminated.
Adolpha was mad as she waited for money to be wired to her from the NWO, along with the overnight envelopes with her identification cards; drivers license, social security card, four credit cards, and even a dependent military ID card of a soldier husband who was a Captain and on the NWO's payroll. Once the money was hers, she'd dye her hair blonde to cover the natural red, and change her appearance by dressing as a cowgirl. Since she was in Texas, she might as well stir the local population up a bit. The NWO had ordered her to Dallas, where they had a house and car waiting for her. For some unknown reason, the NWO suddenly decided to keep her in America.
Since she'd taken The Boss' wallet she had more than enough money to last her until the NWO sent her packages, so she hitched a ride into town with a maid, and got a cheap hotel room just down the street from where she was dropped off. Once in the room, she checked her appearance, and bought a ball cap in the lobby that read, “I visited Dallas, Texas.” She then tucked her red hair into the cap and then walked to a nearby store where she bought some tight jeans, revealing tops, cowboy belt and a white felt cowboy hat. To go with all of that, she purchased blonde dye for her hair.
She returned to her room and did her hair first thing. Once her hair was changed, she jumped in the shower and then tried the jeans on. She then added a blue cowgirl shirt, along with a huge belt buckle shaped like the state of Texas. As she stood in front of the full length mirror, she noticed the shirt made her boobs look bigger and the jeans were skin tight, accenting the curve on her butt. She slipped the cowboy hat on and had to laugh, because she now looked like thousands of other girls in Texas. She thought the hat silly, but some of the young men she'd seen around looked good, real good, to her always hungry eyes.
An hour later, she was in a steakhouse sitting alone, when two cowboys neared. She looked up from her meal and smiling, asked, “Yes?”
“We see you're eatin' alone and that is against the law in Texas, so we come to join ya, iffen ya don't mind. My name is Rik and the ugly feller is Stan.” She noticed both men had removed their hats when they neared her.
“Rik, have a seat and you too, Stan. Have you two already eaten?”
“Nope, but we told the waitress we'd be with ya for our meal.” Stan said. Stan was about six feet tall, wide shoulders with a narrow waist, and his light blue eyes burned holes in her eyes when he looked at her. He wore a cowboy mustache, neatly trimmed, and his brown hair was cut short. A brown Gus hat with an eight inch brim sat on his head.
“I'm glad you two joined me. So, Rik, what do you do for a living?”
“I'm a cowboy, and work at the Bar under BQ. That's one of the bigger ranches in Texas, ma'am. We all call it the Barbeque Ranch.” He was cute with a sexy smile and, like Stan, he wore a mustache, only it was wide and drooped down. His hair was auburn, as was his facial hair, and she guessed he was about as tall as the other cowboy. His hat, which he now wore, was a light gray Stetson and he even had a blue neckerchief around his neck.
“Gentlemen, how'd you both like some real fun tonight?”
“Huh?” Rik asked.
She laughed and said, “I'm new to town, have no transportation, and would love to visit a cowboy bar for a few drinks.”
Stan laughed and then said, “Ya mean ya want to go honky tonkin', and that's fine with me. At first, excuse my language, but I thought ya wanted a threesome.” He laughed loudly.
She laughed, met his eyes and said, “Take me to a good Honky Tonk, let me have a few drinks to relax, and it just might turn fun. You never know with me around. I tend to be blunt, so if that worries either of you, enjoy your evening.”
Rik laughed and said, “I know you're joking, but sure, we'd love to take ya out with us. We always come here to eat on Friday nights and then go to a club to look for women.”
“Well, tonight your looking is over. It's been a long time since I've played cowboy. Oh, Stan, who knows, after a few drinks, I may just want a threesome.” She gave him a wink and then laughed when she saw the man shiver.
These two already had her attention and if she worked it right, she'd have a great time this evening. She reached under the table and placed her left hand on Stan's thigh and her right on Rik's thigh. She then smiled and said, “Looks like fun times have come to Dallas, y'all.”
Chapter 18
The President of the CSA had the television on and was watching the news about the President of the United States losing his wife in a terrorist attack. The footage was bloody, and he was stunned by the carnage done by a lone suicide bomber. He knew the Muslims were after his nation too, and no Christian was safe in America with all the refugees they'd brought into the country a few years ago. He didn't even consider the millions of illegal aliens that were granted citizenship just because they'd climbed a wall or waded a river to enter the country. Most of the illegals had left the country, wanting nothing to do with defending the CSA because the current government would lock them up
and eventually send them home. Mexico would be billed for the transportation of the illegals. They'd also taken in 100's of thousands of Syrians to those cities and towns that placed the people, given them homes, food, and a medical care. As a result, they had a drastic increase in crime.
He was tired, and had spent most of the day going over an invasion plan for California. It looked good, and they'd gone over it time after time, but he felt it still had something missing. He wasn't sure what, only he felt it.
His red phone rang, indicating a secure line call.
He picked it up and said, “This is the President.”
“Sir, General Adams, in Chicago.”
“Yes, General, how are things up north?”
“The last four nights have been bitter, with many deaths on both sides. However, tonight we may have ended the riots for all time. Earlier in the month, I sent some of my agents out to look for the leaders of the protests and discovered a good handful of them. They were being paid by the New World Order, and well, I might add. Then, weapons and supplies were being dropped by UN C-130's just south of the city. The last few demonstrations were more like open combat than a protest, and the protesters were well armed. Now, over the week we'd taken out all but two of those behind the actions of the group, using snipers. We took them out where we found them, although one was killed when spotted by a sniper during a protest on Tuesday.”
“And, last night?”
“I'm happy to say we killed one and the other is our prisoner.”
“Is the prisoner talking? If so, what is he telling you?” the President was growing interested now.
“He confirmed the NWO was behind the violence providing needed funds, weapons, and ammunition. He also met the Black Widow and states she is stunning, as well as very smart. He claims he has no idea where she is, and I believe him. He told us there were two NWO agents with them at one time, and identified the Black Widow from our computer files fast enough. The other agent he hasn't seen in our files yet. You must remember, we have millions of images and we may never know who the other agent was unless we take her alive and she tells us.”
