Fueling the Rage

by Jim Wilson

  The eighty Seals and the rest of the Group saluted, “All of us.”

  “Sam has one more trip to take. We will bury him in Arlington with his friends.”

  Major announced, “You’re dismissed.”

  The body of Sam was place back on the transport. The Group, only missing Bill, boarded the plane for a flight to Andrews AFB in Maryland. When they arrived, Sam’s coffin, still draped in the flag, was again gently placed on the tarmac. A black Air Force hearse picked up his body. The General, the CIA agent, and the Major entered a second car. The trip to Arlington Cemetery was about 18 miles and he was to be buried in the Special Heroes section. The Group arrived at the site and the DCIA, SOD, DNSA, and the DFBI were there. A navy chaplain read the service from “The Burial of the Dead” and a final salute was given by all of them.

  Then the DCIA said, “Now, let’s find out what’s happening with Bill so he can kill Meslem Ali.” With that they all went back to work. They had things to do.

  Bill and the two diplomats were unloaded from the Iranian medical transport plane and taken to a military hospital in Tehran. Bill was in a deep drug induced coma. He was dreaming of his sister. He was riding with her on a merry-go-round at a county fair. This was a real memory from when he was three years old. He was waving to his parents each time the device made a complete circle. His mind was in a loop and again and again the scene repeated. Then the scene shifted and he was watching a play. Bill was in the front row watching the merry-go-round and could see his sister and himself on the stage going round and round. In the row behind him he could hear men talking Farsi. Then he was in an airplane and again and again he was seeing these same scenes.

  He could now make out what the men were saying, “Helva Yaul can you hear me?” He could tell that he was being moved and when he stopped he could see a bright light. His eyes were locked shut, but he could see the light. Then in Lebanese he heard, “Helva Yaul can you hear me?”

  Bill was in intensive care in an Iranian military hospital in Tehran. Four Iranian doctors were standing over him. The two diplomats did not survive their trip to Tehran. The doctors visually examined Helva Yaul. He looked to be a powerful man and his neck and back may have been strong enough to withstand the trauma of the crash. He was carrying no identification on his body, but his Russian pistol gave them enough evidence to identify him.

  Helva Yaul was a Lebanese Hezbollah Fighter and had just completed a special training course in Benin, Africa. He had just been able to make his connecting flight in Liberia. These four doctors knew Helva Yaul. They had no personal knowledge of him, but they were well informed of where he came from and what he was going to do in Tehran. He was a hired ruthless enforcer of their government’s political power. These were dedicated medical deliverers and military officers, but in private they hated their government. With just a little slip they could rid Iran of Helva Yaul, but it was just their dream. They would save this monster.

  Bill’s mind was now starting to put things in order. The Plane crashed. Where am I? I am not in Liberia. They are talking Farsi. I am in a hospital. I am in Iran. They are calling me Helva Yaul. They called out the name in Lebanese. They must think I am Helva Yaul from Lebanon. The ninja, they think I am the ninja. I am dressed in the uniform. They think I am Helva Yaul a Hezbollah Fighter. I can feel my arms and legs. I will now open my eyes. He slowly opened his eyes and it took a while for his vision to clear. All he could see were two black eyes inches from his face.

  In Farsi she said, “His eyes are clear.” She glanced at the monitor. “His vitals look very good. Helva Yaul, you’re in a hospital in Tehran. You were in a plane crash and you’re going to recover.” Bill could see her well now, a white hood partially covered her black hair and together they framed a perfect face. “I’m your doctor, can you hear me?”

  Bill was now totally awake and was preparing a plan. I must think before I act, and not talk. I won’t remember Helva Yaul’s life. That’s it. I have amnesia.

  She again brought her big eyes close to his, “Blink if you can hear me.”

  Bill thought for a few seconds. Sure I can blink. Here goes.

  She smiled as he blinked and turned to her fellow doctors, “We may have saved this one.”

  Bill was moved to a private room and later that day he was visited by three men in uniform. With them was Dr. Realey and they were speaking Farsi. Bill was keeping his eyes shut and trying to recover to a point where he could either accomplish his mission or escape from the hospital and save himself.

  Dr. Realey said, “Helva.”

  One of the military men spoke to the large third man, “Ivan, you may know this man. He’s from your region in Lebanon.” Ivan was now working for Israel and the Mossad had given him this first assignment. He was deep into the Iranian system and had been recruited by Iran as a Hezbollah Fighter. When he saw Bill, it was all he could do to contain himself.

  “I think I know Helva.” Ivan bent over close to Bill’s face. “Yes I know this man. I have seen him in Lebanon. Doctor, could I work with him to improve his health? He’s a commanding man and would be a great resource to our cause.”

  The military men, the Doctor and Ivan discussed Helva. They all thought it best if someone he knew was with him as he recovered. They decided to move him into a different private room with an extra bed so Ivan could stay with him day and night. The military men left and Ivan and the doctor moved his bed to the new room. Bill still did not know that it was his friend Ivan standing beside him. They were now alone and he opened his eyes slightly. “Bill, I’m Ivan your old friend from Lebanon. Do you see me? We’re together again, but this time we’re in Tehran. Bill wake up, we’re alone in a private room in a hospital and I’m here to get you strong again.”

  Bill cautiously opened his eyes, “I thought the Jews would have shot you by now.” Bill smiled whispered in Ivan’s special dialect of Lebanese. “I wish Sam were here to see you, but I believe he was just killed in a plane crash. Is there any way to tell my family that I’m alive?”

  ”In three days I will talk to the Mossad, they’ll do the rest.”

  *****

  Bryan was going to work at Kansas Truck every day. He was surprised that no one had contacted him about the bombings. The irony was that so much was destroyed and the list of casualties was so long that no one had put together Bryan’s family and the trooper that Bryan had shot. The main frame computer at the FBI listed the possibility of a coincidence at about 15%. They knew the bombing was done by the same source, but the chosen sites looked random. They did not find the truck that Bryan had used and the owner took the truck to work the following morning and noticed nothing. The physical evidence of the bombing offered no leads and within one week Malcolm’s anger at him had faded. He considered the bombing crazy and reckless, but over time he started changing his mind. He had told him to test the explosive soup, but did not tell him how. Malcolm merely understood that a test would be done on the farm using 55 gallon drums. Bryan was now a family member killer and Malcolm’s rule of not trusting family killers was a secret that he would never discover.

  Malcolm flew to Atlanta. The clerics had set aside a large well-appointed room for him to stay. It was in sharp contrast to the starkly primitive quarters for the 30 prisoner converts that lived at the mosque. Malcolm was not a prisoner, but a very wealthy business man. In his room was an elegant meeting table. The two clerics had become very trusted comrades to Malcolm and the three men sat at the table. The clerics were dressed in white robes and wore turbans. Their beards were black, cut short, and prominent. Malcolm wore a gray tailor-made suit and was clean shaven.

  “Tell me about the quality of the converts.”

  “We have thirty brothers that live at the mosque. We give them the choice of martyrdom or retirement in Libya. To be part of the organization they must kill an infidel within one week of their transfer to the mosque and all of our men have met that requirement. If they agree to service to Allah, then they understand that to wai
ver means that they will be killed.

  “Who are they killing?”

  “Years in prison build hatred, and some hate the whites and some hate Mexicans. The easiest targets are prostitutes. We require that they must kill with a knife and follow the killing with a beheading of the victim. That way the infidels will be given mercy. They must bring the head back to the mosque as proof.”

  The other cleric added, “We trained a single convert and he was given instructions from us on how to kill. That convert instructed a single brother and the chain went brother to brother. If a man refused or was reluctant, he was killed by his instructor and the original trainer was martyred by us. We have no ties to the killings and we own a large Islamic funeral home. Most of the bodies have been collected and cremated, but four were left on the street. In Atlanta four dead prostitutes even without heads is nothing. Of the thirty men, ten want to be martyrs and twenty want to go to Libya.”

  ”The Topeka mosque has given us seventeen converts and the Houston mosque has twenty four. Tomorrow I will fly to Topeka and visit them.” Malcolm thanked the clerics and prepared for sleep. As he rested he thought, how can I get so many into Libya? I must talk to Henry.

  *****

  Bill briefed Ivan on the urgent plan to kill the ayatollah before he could come to power. Ivan had a scheduled contact time with the Mossad. He had a small laptop that used a standard phone connection. He unplugged the hospital phone and plugged in his laptop and at the proper time he began his communication process. He opened a special web site that set up a complex transfer of data and left a message for the Mossad. The secure message was sent and instructions were received. The computer that he used contained a link to a special remote program that compressed data and increased the speed of interaction and completely cleared all evidence of the transaction from the laptop’s hard drive. His message was news about Bill and a request to assist him.

  In Israel, Ivan’s Mossad contact received the message and the ADES were alerted immediately. He contacted the DCIA and the Group was alerted. A meeting in Langley was called and the next day they again assembled in the DCIA’s office. The same people that were at Sam’s burial were now at the table. They celebrated that Bill was alive and that he was still considering completing the mission. The history of the CIA is filled with events that boggle the mind and this was such an event. The fact that he was alive amazed them, but the very idea that Ivan and he had crossed paths was almost unbelievable.

  The next morning the two military officers came to visit him. Ivan and Bill were together as the officers entered the room and the senior officer asked, “I hope you’re feeling better.”

  “I’m much better thank you.”

  “Were you given any special task when you completed your training in Africa?”

  Bill’s mind raced. Could this be the chance I need? “Yes, there may be a plot against Ayatollah Meslem Ali. It is secret, but I was to guard him from a possible threat from one of his staff members. We don’t know who’s putting him in danger, but I’m to see that he’s kept safe.”

  “Are you strong enough to resume your duties?”

  “I believe I am. Would it be possible to work with Ivan for a few weeks?”

  “That’s a good idea. He knows the area well. One more day of rest and then we’ll get you a car and driver for your duties. Feel free to question harshly any of the ayatollah’s staff. I’ll have uniforms and weapons sent to you this afternoon. It’s an important mission that you have Helva Yaul.”

  *****

  The General was the first to speak, “How do we know that Bill’s really alive? What’s the possibility that we’re being set up? This meeting of Ivan and Bill seems impossible. Could Bill be alive and in some way could he have been forced to give up Ivan?”

  The CIA agent answered, “Ivan has a special code word that’s needed to be used a certain number of times in his reporting. Also, the time to enter the web site and get to the message section is timed. The time it takes for his fingers to enter each of characters and the time between certain characters is known to the Israelis. We know that Ivan entered the information and that his level of stress was normal. We also know that three men were transported from Liberia to Iran. We had access to all the bodies from the crash and Bill’s body wasn’t present. This is a very amazing meeting, but every fact leads us to the same conclusion. The events are real and he’s alive. In addition, Ivan will now help him kill Ayatollah Meslem Ali.”

  The DCIA leaned forward, “Considering the situation our risk is only the assets of Bill and Ivan. If it’s a set-up by Iran then what can be done to hurt us? The damage is already done and we’ve lost two men. That also leads me to the conclusion that the facts are true and, if that’s the case, then the mission’s still working. I truly believe that Ayatollah Meslem Ali is a dead man and we must wait for them to do their job.” The Group then started talking about the Kansas bombings.

  The DNAS added, “We’ve been monitoring the phone conversations between Ayatollah Meslem Ali and Henry. The systems that we’re using are very strong. We also have every Internet transaction of Henry’s and the complete history of both of their travel that was longer than two miles. These men aren’t talking to each other and most likely aren’t talking to American contacts. The complete analysis of world wide data shows no pattern of chatter either before or after the event. NSA considers that this is a home grown event. There is little or no evidence of an international connection at or near the event. I believe the best bet is for the FBI to join forces with the local police and investigate every victim and find some sort of connection.”

  “The FBI believes that familiarity with the victims should be higher in the smaller town. Salina Kansas’ police force should know the victims and any connections with dangerous people. I’ll set up a major task force in Salina tomorrow.”

  The General stood, “We’ve a known threat that has taken action in the past. There is an Islamic connection to our search and, I don’t know for certain, but I do believe that is the logical place to start. If it is home grown, the bomber is going to be associated with a mosque that’s local. Even though we’re starting in Salina, I believe Topeka’s a better choice for that mosque. We need to get help from the local Muslims and I would find it hard to believe that Kansas Muslims would put up with this.”

  The law that governs the FBI and the investigation is plain in this case. I can get help from the locals, but the American investigation must be separated from the rest of you. We can only use your direct input for international connections. Even the possible Muslim connection isn’t an easy place to start. We need to look at the local garden clubs first. Whoever did this knows that we must find them with our hands tied behind our back.” With that he said, “I could use you as consultants and I’m now asking all of you to join me in Salina, Kansas tomorrow morning.”

  Pendulum swings guarded inflection

  Tried and tested battle hue

  Changing plans to new direction

  Emerging trust between the two

  Chapter 17

  Henry saw the Sky News report of the bombings in Kansas. He knew that he was certainly on the list of people under suspicion. He also knew that Aozou, Chad, Africa was very short on protection from angry Americans and that Muzuk, Libya, Africa was much safer. Within two hours of hearing the news, he was in his helicopter heading for his great home in Muzuk. If there was a direct attack on Muzuk, the small Libyan Air Force would defend its territory with relentless energy. During that time, if it happened, he would hide. He had set up false identifications in twenty remote African locations and each had several million dollars deposited in a local bank waiting for him. Henry was a humble man and could blend in with any society. If necessary, he could live in a mud hut for a few years. He was almost as religious as the next Muslim, but he wanted no part of martyrdom. Even in Muzuk he would keep a low profile.

  The helicopter flew low and fast and he loved the ride between Chad and Libya. The Sahara Des
ert was vast and desolate and as the sun slowly set, shadows marked the sand. What normally looks flat and white to an outsider became a thing of great beauty for Henry. It was dark when the helicopter arrived in Muzuk and the pilot had radioed ahead and told the chief of security not to meet the helicopter. They simply landed near the hanger and rolled the helicopter from view. Security had removed almost all of the staff from the great home. The orphanage was being serviced, but only four would serve Henry. There would be no news of his arrival to the village. If America was going to kill him, they must find him. He was not going to make it an easy task.

  *****

  Bill’s uniform was a perfect fit. Ivan carried an UZI pistol and Bill carried a Russian automatic with a 20 round clip. In addition, Bill was given a real Russian AK47 with a laser site and a stylish black sling. He missed the Glock 23 that normally was positioned on his right hip, but for now the Russian pistol was adequate. A military driver arrived at the hospital at 1400 hours local time. Bill was a person that practices and the driver took them to the practice range for two hours. He spent the first hour adjusting the sites of the AK47. He set the rifle for three shot blasts, and in fifteen seconds he was able to put 30 rounds within a 2 inch spread at 100 meters. He practiced unloading a full clip of the Russian 9mm pistol into a target at 10 meters. The target was marked dead center with what looked like little more than a single bullet hole. Ivan inspected the target and thought, Bill is truly a dangerous man. Where do the Americans get men like him? The driver returned them to the hospital. It would be a few more days before they would attempt to kill the ayatollah.

  It was 1700 hours local time. Their room in the hospital was small and clean and they were sitting on their beds facing each other talking about plans for attack and escape. A knock on the door stopped their quiet conversation and Ivan yelled, “Enter.”

  Dr. Realey entered the room and spent about ten minutes examining Bill. “Helva, for a man that was only one of three to survive the trip to this hospital you’re in extremely good health. Instead of hospital food the two of you can join me at the officer’s dining room for a more appealing dinner.” As she made the invitation her eyes were fixed on Bill face. He had never seen a more attractive woman. She was wearing a long white dress that covered her from her neck to her feet. The sleeves stopped above the elbows. The toes of her white leather shoes were brushed by the dress as she moved. Her black hair framed her face and was only partially covered by an elegant white scarf. “If you’re hungry, you can follow me.”