Destructive Force

I wrote this novel a few years ago. Naturally, since I’m not woke and way too conservative, and not a woman, no literary agent was interested. I actually self published on Bezos’ monopoly platform, but took it off. In reality, I’ve always visualized this work as a movie, a political thriller. Besides, only a few Boomers actually read anything longer than a tweet anymore. In fact, no one reads this blog. But that’s OK. As long as what I write is under the radar, I get to send out my vibes so that one day the right person will actually understand some of the things I write about. I have put in a few music videos strategically placed to help any future Director of the movie. For example, I see the movie opening up with the Logos of the Production companies involved, then a transition to the prologue, where you hear the dispatcher calling as the sirens and the cops are driving to the Golden Gate Bridge to find out what’s going on with the fight the dispatcher is calling in. As the fight concludes a large man is shown falling over 240 feet to his demise in the SF Bay. As the perp on the bridge is handcuffed and the cops stand there in disbelief, the credits start to roll and the Yardbird’s Shape of Things plays…after the credits, the story begins. At strategic places in the story, other songs are suggested. Hopefully, the Director and Producers will find someone to give the music score an Out of Africa – John Barry like feel…there’s some scenes that could be added, like a scene at the Tosca Bar in SF, but I suspect a good director would have no trouble capturing the beauty of SF, aquatic park and the feel of swimming in SF Bay.

Introducing Lee Fox

By Bill Fox

Dedicated to Robin Lee Collins

Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

In war, then, let your great object be victory, not lengthy campaigns.

Sun Tzu – The Art of War

Ahriman
Devils
The Middle Persian word ʾhlmn’ (Ahreman) in book Pahlavi script. The word is traditionally always written upside down.

Misdirection: a technique used when performing magic tricks

Feint, a technique used in strategy games and warfare

Misdirection employed by criminals for the purpose of Pickpocketing

Limited hangout, a technique used by the intelligence services

Counter trey, a technique used in American Football

Wikipedia

Prologue

San Francisco Marina 12:30 a.m.

A Black and White SFPD standard issue Crown Victoria took the 911 call from dispatch regarding an altercation on the Golden Gate Bridge pedestrian walk way San Francisco side. Sirens and flashing lights cut through the fog on Doyle Drive to the last exit before the bridge. The Crown Vic dodged a few abandoned parked cars, tires squealing to a halt in front of the open gate to the walk way. Both cops got out of the Black and White and ran full out. Rounding the curve, they witnessed two men fighting about three hundred yards away near the south tower. An object that looked like a hand gun with an attachment, presumably a silencer, bounced in the street just missing a white van that was going a great deal faster than the 45 mile per hour speed limit. Another Black and White Crown Victoria slammed to a dead stop in the far right lane near the South Tower. The first officer clearly saw a man crouch down and hoist a very large man over the guard rail. It reminded him of a weight lifter at the Olympics doing a clean and jerk. The giant man flew over the rail flailing and screaming all 245 feet down to a frigid San Francisco bay below. All this action took place in a little less than four seconds. For the first officer, his adrenaline had slowed things down and it seemed like he was running in slow motion. He pulled out his Sig Sauer P229. Two officers from the Black and White on the bridge hopped the street side cable railing. The man remaining on the bridge had his hands up. The second officer from the first Black and White holstered his Sig Sauer and efficiently cuffed the man. The first officer with both hands locked firmly on his gun had seen crazy scenes in his ten years with the SFPD – but nothing like this.

1

Tehran, Iran

Allah is great thought Ahriman. His men successfully fooled the American crusaders once again. The infidels were defeated by the warriors of Allah. Like the Russian dogs before them, they will flee in disgrace. We dress in their uniforms. They don’t know who to trust.  The crusaders are pigs and dogs we must kill. We follow the rules of Allah. We kill the infidel in the name of all that is holy. Allah is great and powerful.

“Where’s the package Ahriman?” asked Habib from the satellite phone. He stood motionless outside his office on his private balcony.

“Saddam’s little project that our brothers in Tehran perfected has now been packed into backpacks ready to ship,” said Ahriman kneeling about to pray. He was outside in his heavily protected compound that used to serve as a Mosque.

“Do you think it wise to speak so openly? You know they may be monitoring this conversation.”

“I want them to know that it is coming but to feel the helplessness of not being able stop it.”

“How soon will we be blessed with Allah’s revenge?”

“Soon.”

“Why Texas?”

“The Prophet peace be upon him said: The nations shall gather and team up against you as the predators gather and team up against their prey. Allah Almighty tells us that the evil people of Gog and Magog will attack the Believers from ‘every hill’, but we will destroy them all. We will see the Caliphate settled in the holy Palestine: earthquakes, sorrows and serious matters will have drawn near, and on that day of the Last Hour the Mahdi will return and the infidel will be vanquished in the ruins.”

“Ahriman, I am not a scholar of the word. I do not understand your parables. I do not understand how this will come about.”

“Once we have destroyed their cities, the end of days will be set in motion. The Caliphate will arise from the ashes and we will once again lead the world out of the darkness of the infidel. As the blessed Quoran says: ‘the eyes Of the Unbelievers will fixedly stare in horror: ‘Ah! Woe to us! We were indeed Heedless of this; nay; we truly did wrong!’ Allahu Akbar. Allah is Greater!”

“Allahu Akbar!” replied Habib.

The call to prayer once more rang out and Ahriman placed his satellite phone on an ornamental brass table. He walked over to his favorite spot. A large cockroach, Paraloboptera sillemi, scurried next to his prayer rug as he turned facing Mecca.

2

San Francisco, North Beach

Normally Fox headed over to the Polar Bear Club around noon. Some days he’d take his dip around sun up if he was in a training mode. But today was different on many levels. He desperately needed the swim. To chill. And in San Francisco Bay that was not just an expression. He needed the shock of cold water. Although this time of year, it was downright balmy by Polar Bear standards – pushing 60 degrees Fahrenheit. But still nippy for the average pool swimmer. Plus today the winds were blowing maybe 25 knot gusts or more. Even in the protected cove at Aquatic Park there were some good choppy waves and even an occasional white cap. So this was going to be a challenge. Fox also remembered from yesterday’s tide chart that the high tide at the Golden Gate Bridge was noon. By 12:30 p.m. a couple of miles east at Aquatic Park, the tide would be going out toward the bridge. When he jumped in for his usual clockwise cove swim, a couple hours later meant that it would be a nice fast start with the current moving with him. But the return would be slower with most of the swim running against the outgoing current.  He also hated the fact that the Bay was not as clean on the outgoing as the incoming Pacific Ocean current. He usually liked to time his swims on the incoming.

After using the key fob to enter the club, he took the stairs two at a time to the locker room. He was not in hurry, but it got his juices flowing. He popped open the swinging door. Saw one of the member’s playmate foldouts on the always opened locker staring at him. A good choice this month. He appreciated her sensual green eyes. After he opened his locker, he found his old school Polar Bear club monogrammed navy-blue swim trunks. They were probably designed in the fifties. Not flattering but Fox didn’t mind. He decided a long time ago to forgo goggles or a mask for the Bay. He just found them too uncomfortable. He threw out his old goggles the day of his last competitive pool swim. Old timer Art Keebler gave him the good news that salt water doesn’t really hurt the eyes until someone is in for over an hour. He had no plans to swim long enough in the Bay to test that theory. Maybe someday he might attempt to do a Sausalito to Aquatic Park swim.  But not today.

Next he grabbed his bright orange neoprene insulated cap. Some folks like ear plugs, but Fox preferred round cotton balls. When Cecco was alive he joked, “If you keep using cotton balls in your ears instead of ear plugs, eventually your brains will look like that.”

Fox responded, “Hey, that’s what my brains already look like.”

Cecco gave Fox that big grin and slapped him on the back. A good memory. A happy memory. Fox liked Cecco. Always had a big smile. Fox once concluded that he liked Cecco in large part because they were in this basic way so very different. Fox never smiled.

He placed one in each ear before he pulled his cap on tight over his head.

The shock of cold water to the system was a rather unique experience. Sometimes it took at least a minute or longer to acclimate to the shock of the cold. For some it took so long that they never did get used to it and they gave up.  An old joke often told around the club: “Swimming in really cold water without a wet suit is like beating your head against the wall – feels so good when it’s over!”

Out the door and down the steps. A couple of members were talking on the bench in front of the Gym. Fox kicked off his flip flops and stepped down the steps to the beach. Fox took a few steps slowly on white sand. Usually there was some natural rhythm of the swells that break on the shore that made it relatively easy to get in without being slammed by the waves. But today because of the wind gusts, it was ragged and nasty and the only way to get in without getting knocked down was to simply run in and flap those arms and legs as fast as possible. No time to think. Just do it. He sprinted out and dove into the water and swam past the end of the Polar Bear pier twenty yards or so until he came up for air to get his bearings. On the right was the Balclutha, the 19^th century Three Masted Ship designed to carry cargo all over the world back in the day when wind and tall ships ruled the waves. Straight ahead was the opening between the break water from the series of piers leading to Fisherman’s Wharf, and in the distance was Alcatraz Island. On the left was Muni Pier curving into a semi-circle in front of the most famous bridge on the West Coast and certainly one of the most magnificent man-made structures in the world – the Golden Gate. Behind him to the left was Aquatic Park, concrete bleachers and the famous Ghirardelli Sign. All and all, it was one of the finest places for a scenic swim in North America.

Though the current was going out as Fox headed toward the flag buoy near the Sea Scout building on Muni Pier, the chop was probably not that much different from what it was like outside the cove. So any sort of swimming form was definitely not in the cards today. Breathing was also a challenge. The trick was to get more air than water. But as usual, he muddled and struggled through it, loving the wind and the pure force of nature telling him who was boss. He said his little prayer and tried to get a rhythm going but he found himself stopping changing sides to breathe, attempting to get more air than water in his mouth. By the time he made it to the flag buoy, Fox was both exhilarated and nervous about the remaining journey out into the even more hostile water near the opening and the final part of his “cove” going against the current and the wind on the way back to the club. Before he made his last push, he took a quick view out between the opening to Alcatraz and then back to his target final destination between the two piers of the clubs.

For the last push past the Balclutha, he kicked into a big windmill motion reminiscent of the great distance swimmer Janet Evans. He was wind-milling like crazy as he entered the choppy water between the Polar Bear Club and East End Club piers and only stopped when his hand slapped the sand. He came to a sudden stop with the waves crashing around his legs. He found his balance and began kicking his knees up high like Roger Craig hitting the line and scoring a touchdown for the 49ers back in the days of Super Bowl glory until he made it cleanly out of the water and on to the uneven sand. He heard the sounds of cheering and the crowd roaring in his head. A few moments later and back to reality. It was just him, a seagull loping on the sand, and the wind whistling the end of another unique swim in San Francisco Bay.

3

“I have no problem taking your twenty million dollars, but I want to make it clear that Fox is mine. I don’t want anyone else to touch a hair on his head. He’s mine,” said the man gruffly.

“He’s all yours. I just need to make sure we get the technology for my secure link to my brother,” answered his employer.

“The technology transfer will take place during the initial installation. We’ll make sure to have servers locally and at your target destination.”

“Fine. Your plan seems to be a good one.”

“Yes, but I have a bad feeling about the fact that you are having an affair with his raven hair whore.”

“That is my business. I pay you well to do your job. Keep your big nose out my love life. I pay you to do a job – and I am giving you easy access to your enemy as a bonus.”

“Gotta point. But let’s be clear. You got off cheap. I reduced my price because you are giving me a perfect way for me to finally get revenge. I’ll do my job.”

“ – I just need this to go as planned. I will call you when we are ready for the next step.” With that, the employer disconnected. The man on the other line hit end on his smart phone anticipating that he would get his revenge soon. His eyes shone in the moon light like two tiny black marbles, and his mouth half opened with a snaggletooth smile.

Fox walked up the four wooden stairs from the beach to the deck. Then he pushed the auto button that locks the water flow on the foot shower for about ten seconds. About a dozen small nozzles shot out tiny blasts of water to clean his feet. He then hit the overhead shower for another shot to wipe off some of the salt and sea on his torso. He found his flip flops under the bench, slipped them on without bending over and began the climb up the stairs and back into the club. He pulled open the door and walked to his locker a bit chilled but with his usual endorphin high. He snatched both his regular towel and smaller towel to sit on. They were hanging on a couple of hangers on the outside of his locked locker and he heard the squishing of his flip flops as he sought the heat of the sauna. Tossing the cotton balls from each ear into the little trash can in the little mirrored alcove, he opened the sauna door. His large towel was hung on a peg to the immediate left of the sauna door and he threw his butt towel on the upper of the two benches on the opposite side of the heating element closest to the window. Before he sat down he took off his suit and squeezed water out and hung it on one of the rods above the sauna rocks. He did the same with his orange cap. He went back to where he placed his butt towel and looked out toward the clock tower at Ghirardelli Square. The time on the clock was never right. Today it was at least fifteen minutes slow.

Some days in off hours like this there were very few swimmers and hence few folks who show up in the sauna for the ritual fifteen to thirty minute conversations that take place while the body temperature returned to normal. Length of time in the water and the water temperature typically determined the length of stay in the sauna. Today Fox took about twenty minutes to make his cove circuit. With water temperature around 60 degrees and that length of duration in it usually meant that he could actually bypass the sauna and go straight to a quick warm shower. But he almost never did. He liked to get a good sweat to clear the pores and to hold court with the captive audience and the participants that happened to occupy the sauna at any given time. Normally Fox was not really the talkative sort. But it must have been the endorphin high of the swim that brought out his gregarious side.

Fox was not really much for small talk. For some reason this attitude gave some people the wrong impression that Fox was narcissistic and self-centered. Actually he was neither. He was simply insecure.

Because of his insecurities, Fox often missed signals from women, many quite openly aggressive in their ques. Many pretty girls seemed to be interested in him but he had his ideal women programmed in his head from the old movies he watched. So often he just ignored the most blatant of come-ons. Fox thought about his favorite movie stars and almost smiled. Fox never smiled. Since his tastes leaned retro, he essentially lived in another age with Turner Classic Movies and old TV show reruns. When Fox thought of sexy women it was not the young plastic bimbos in the comic book movies or reality TV of today. His taste was for “old school” babes – Anne Francis from the great Sci-Fi flick of the fifties Forbidden Planet, or Stella Stevens – the original love interest from Jerry Lewis’s original version of The Nutty Professor, or Linda Darnell from the Mark of Zorro. How about Janet Leigh in Holiday Affair he thought to himself? Who can forget Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca? And then of course, there’s that dimpled blond bombshell Inger Stevens – who was in a few so-so movies, one of Clint Eastwood’s Spaghetti Westerns and a TV show called The Farmer’s Daughter (based upon the movie that starred Loretta Young – who would also be near the top of his list.) Then there was that amazing Rita Hayworth departure from her signature long flowing red hair to a clipped short blonde bombshell role in Orson Well’s Film Noir classic – The Lady from Shanghai. Is there any woman sexier than Lana Turner or Ava Gardner? Certainly near the top of the list was early Elizabeth Taylor – especially from the late 40s or early 50s. Elizabeth was simply breath taking. Large dark piercing lavender eyes. Tiny waist. Hourglass figure. Strong yet vulnerable. When he thought of young Elizabeth his mind wandered to Ava Gardener. Great cheek bones. Dreamy almond eyes. Signature dimpled chin. And for pure perfect imperfection who was more beautiful than Gene Tierney in The Ghost and Mrs. Muir?

Not sure why but Joan Collins may have been his favorite of all of them. Even as she aged he found her amazingly beautiful. His fantasy of her was due to a Star Trek episode from the sixties. Not the period she achieved most her fame on the night time soap opera in the eighties. Kirk and Spock go back in time to rescue McCoy and land on earth during the depression era. Some crazy plot about gangsters and Nazis. But the lasting memory was a close up of that perfect face of Joan Collins in her most beautiful prime. Despite his idiosyncrasies and solitary ways, plenty of women went out of their way to get him out of his shell. Some of it no doubt was due to his looks, but it was more than that. For whatever reason, Fox managed to miss the modern unisex indoctrination that gelded most men in America. And though he was no doubt attracted to many beautiful women, he lived in his own fantasy world. His search for the woman of his dreams had left him alone many nights when he did not have to be. So many of the more attractive women he could have had a relationship with ruined the romance for him with their modern masculine aggressiveness. It was as if they wanted a masculine partner at their core but they were brainwashed to play the man in the name of “women’s rights”. Fox was old school, opened doors and stood up when a woman sat down or left a table. Many times he felt their scorn for doing what was quite natural. Most modern women seemed to be sailing backwards under their own power. Then there was decent into self-inflicted hell of the #metoo movement. Surely, the radical feminists had gone too far with the witch hunt that went after the innocent as well as the guilty simply to inflict maximum damage. And those poor confused women stuck in the middle. Yearning for a masculine man yet failing to take the feminine role. Too brainwashed to realize they were pawns in a massive political and social engineering experiment. In the end, many women trying to have it all never seemed to be happy. The “Have it all” fantasy for the modern woman was not quite the nirvana that the wealthy and incredibly dysfunctional Hollywood types in the media made it out to be.

He quickly finished dressing and headed back downstairs past the large framed pictures of the members from the early club years with their hair parted down the middle and their handlebar mustaches. Before he opened the door to step outside, he noticed the pictures of the new members taken from the last club meeting held Wednesday. From that meeting there were seventeen pictures, 5×7 inches unframed under glass on the far back wall in the hall next to the main exit and entrance door. He stopped cold. Out of all these smiling faces one grabbed him by the throat. A shockingly beautiful and amazingly photogenic woman with a magnificent movie star perfect smile and sparkling green eyes stared back at him. These pictures were not professional head shots. But hers looked like it could have been. He was smitten and literally stuck in his tracks staring at her picture. It took him a few beats before he finally remembered that Stu had his keys to his T-Bird. He snapped out of his daze and headed back toward the kitchen where he usually found Stu munching on some homemade pasta or some local crab or fish from the Wharf. Sure enough, there he was sipping on white wine in a paper coffee cup and eating a sandwich on a very fat sourdough baguette which seemed impossible to eat with a normal size mouth.

“Hey Stu, what’s with the sandwich?” he asked.

In a gravelly voice, Stu mumbled, “I like shrimp salad on a baguette, what’s it to ya?

“Not a thing. I just figured that bread may play havoc with your dentures”.

“Very funny. You want your keys or should I feed ‘em to my ducks?”

“Ducks?”

“Yeah, ducks!”

“Oh, that’s right!  For whatever reason a couple of mallards, male and his mate found their way to the pier and started hanging out – and you are feeding them. Right?”

“Yeah, right. You gotta problem with my sandwhich?”

“No, no. I think it’s a very fine sandwich. Makes me hungry. Where did ya get it? Doesn’t look like anything from the Wharf.”

“Got it at Molinari’s on Columbus”.

“Sure. I’ve been there. Good sandwiches. I like the pastrami when I’m cheating on my diet”.

“What the hell is the diet crap? You some kinda girl or something? What’s wrong with a little fat in your food? No wonder you’re so skinny and malnourished looking all the time. You need to start eating real food so you can be healthy like me.”

Fox just nodded and Stu patted his rather prominent gut.

“Take the damn keys.”

“Thanks Stu, next time I eat a big fat Pastrami with Swiss cheese, I’ll think of you!”

Fox jogged out through the boat house and before he opened the door, he stopped one last time to take a look at that gorgeous new member’s face.

“I’m gonna have to meet you real soon,” he said to himself as he shot out the door, pushed the button remote key fob to the car. Hearing the beep and click he jumped in the T-Bird. He revved up the Turbo and backed out faster than he should have, no doubt still turned on by the dazzling babe in the picture, and just missed a cyclist on a rental bike with the little rectangular bag on the front handle bars with the Golden Gate Bridge logo in front. Making a note to himself to be careful backing up next time, he revved up the turbo again and made a quick right on Hyde past the Cable Car turnaround and just made the light on Beech Street. He continued past the Buena Vista Café, as he heard the clanging of the bells on a Cable Car coming toward him in the opposite direction. He got the green light and he sped through Bay Street and floored it up the steepest part of Hyde Street and slowed down a bit just as he hit the entrance to the “crookedest street in the world” the famous Lombard Street. He took a quick view of the tourists lining up to go down Lombard, dodged some idiot with a camera trying to take a picture of the street, and he bobbed and swerved a few more blocks to Union Street coming to a complete stop at a stop sign. A novelty for him.

And then out of nowhere it happened. The scrape and crunch of his back bumper. Rear ended by a Toyota Pickup. One of the small trucks. Not a big hit, but it was just enough to give Fox a quick little whiplash and really piss him off. Fox jumped out of the car and looked back as the driver of the pickup simultaneously got out and started sprinting down Union Street toward North Beach. At first Fox stood and looked at his car, then pivoted and looked at the guy running. He decided that his car was not going anywhere, not much of a slope at the stop sign at Union and Hyde. He was just a bit pissed, so he took off after the guy. Fox didn’t get a clear look at his face, but the quick flash he got led him to speculate that the bad boy was Asian. He was pretty small, around five six or so and medium build, but the guy was really churning. But Fox at two hundred pounds won the “Cruiser Weight” division of the Escape from Alcatraz Triathlon the last two years and Fox was determined to track this little sucker down.

The little guy ran out of breath pretty quickly. Only took a few blocks. Fox caught up to him before he reached Columbus Avenue and like a touchdown saving tackle he lunged and grabbed him around the waist and they both fell forward on the cracked cement across the street from the side entrance at the site of the former Washington Square Bar and Grill. It was not a pretty picture. The little oriental guy took the majority of the punishment and lay unconscious in a heap on the cement. Fox skinned his knees and ripped his left Rockport loafer. Other than that, he was hardly out of breath.

Just as Fox stood up one of San Francisco’s finest cruised up in an unmarked silver Impala and slammed to a stop near the altercation. One of the cops attached a single flashing light to the side of the roof but did not turn on the siren. The local North Beach Station was literally only two blocks away and it just so happened that Detectives Garcia and Schwartz saw the whole thing and sped right over to check it out.

“Ok, you wanna explain why you just tackled this guy?” asked Schwartz.

Schwartz and Garcia both wore grey suits and thin dark ties. Garcia wore a blue shirt with his charcoal grey suit. Schwartz wore a white shirt with his light grey suit.

“This guy hit my car up the street and ran off. I chased after him and caught him. I was just trying to stop him before he got away,” Fox answered.

“We just called the ambulance. Looks like your buddy here is out cold. So I suggest you stay put and don’t move,” said Schwartz.

“Don’t worry officer. I’m not going anywhere. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I just wanted to stop him.”

“Well, you stopped him alright. Just hope that it’s not serious. If your story checks out I can see why you’d want to chase him, but when you got physical you crossed the line. When he wakes up, he could press charges against you for assault and battery. Personally, I might do the same thing, but I have a badge. The liberal judges around here don’t like vigilantes. This is San Francisco. They prefer citizens to let the police handle these sorts of things”.

“I do too, sir, but” –

“No need to make excuses or suck up to me, son – I’m on your side. It’s going to be the judge you’ll have to worry about if he presses charges”.

Just then Garcia, who was kneeling down by the little guy sprawled out in the street got up, turned toward his partner, looked at Fox and said: “It looks like our little friend here is not going to be pressing charges anytime soon.”

“What? Why not?” asked Schwartz.

“He’s dead,” said Garcia.

4

“OK, son, I think we’re going to have to go down to the station. It’s not far,” said Schwartz.

“We went down hard but I don’t see how he could be dead!” Fox said in disbelief.

“Maybe his head hit the cement. Who knows? Just calm down and come with me.”

“Calm down? This can’t be happening! I’ve got an important meeting tomorrow. I can’t be in jail. I didn’t mean to hurt the guy!”

“Do you want to do this the hard way or the easy way? Our station is two blocks away. Let’s walk over together.”

Just then, the ambulance sirens started getting louder and it pulled up next to the body facing west on the wrong side of the street. The EMTs jumped out and laid the collapsed gurney next to the body. They efficiently in one movement, one at the shoulders, one at the feet, placed the body on the gurney. They left the gurney collapsed and simply pushed it head first into the back of the ambulance. They shut the door and in less than two minutes they were gone. No need for sirens. This body was going to the morgue – not to the emergency room.

“What’ll I do about my car?” asked Fox.

“Not to worry. We’ll tow it and the guy’s truck. We’ll take care of it all for you,” Schwartz answered trying to keep the situation calm.

So Fox and Detective Schwartz walked up Powell Street toward the North Beach Station two blocks away on Vallejo Street. Detective Garcia got back into the Black and White and drove off up Columbus. Fox was in a daze. What the hell just happened he asked himself?

As it turned out, Fox caught a big break. The Chinese guy turned out to be part of a notorious Chinatown drug gang that sold Methamphetamines, Opiods and other illegal drugs. Fortunately for Fox, the Medical Examiner (ME) had a slow day and immediately went to work on finding the cause of death. In a couple of hours he had the results. The boy was high on an enormous amount of Meth and other pharmaceuticals that essentially blew out his heart after the exertion of the run. The ME concluded that the cause of death was drugs and not Fox’s fault. That was debatable. They might have argued the issue about the chase if they weren’t so ecstatic with the evidence they got on the drug ring. Some bad guys were going away for a long time. They were ready to give Fox a medal. Not try him for a crime. Although Fox did physically stop him, the drugs killed the little guy according to the ME and he was having a massive heart attack before Fox touched him. He’d say so in court, so he convinced Schwartz to let Fox go. So instead of being locked up overnight, Fox was let out without bail. They would have a formal inquest in a few weeks, with the very likely outcome that he would get a commendation for helping them get hard evidence against this Chinatown drug ring.

He was let out around midnight, tired but relieved that he’d be able to make his big appointment – today in fact, as he walked out of the Central Station and saw 12:01 in the a.m. on the twelve inch black rimmed analog wall clock. This was not how he expected the day to start, and he needed to get home and get whatever shut eye he could get in order to be alert for the big meeting. He caught another break and saw his car parked next to a couple of Black and Whites. They didn’t tow it to the lot from hell or he’d be walking home, renting a car and dealing with his car after the meeting. He dodged that bullet. He’d be home in a few minutes. His condo was on Francisco Street near Mason. He fired up the T-Bird and slid out onto Powell Street heading back to Union. He took a quick right at Union and waited at the light at Columbus. Then a quick left onto Columbus, a right on Greenwich and immediate left on Mason and few blocks to Francisco. He made a quick right and pressed the garage door opener clipped on his sun visor arriving at his condo at 740 Francisco Street. He waited for the interminably slow garage door, found his space on the far western wall and parked. He pushed the red button on the remote to close the garage door. He opened then shut the car door and hit the key fob to lock the car. Beep. Beep. Then found the door to the stairs and took them two at a time to his Condo on the third floor – #303.

Fox fumbled with his keys and found the door key and shouldered it opened. He placed his laptop bag on the table and headed straight for the bathroom. He unbuttoned his shirt bottom buttons to top. He unbuckled his belt and took his pants off, pushed his left shoe off with his right one, then used his left socked foot to push off the right. He bent over on one leg and took off one sock, then the other. He tossed his Hanes briefs in the pile and walked into his bathroom. He turned on the hot water, then the cold to balance the temperature. He opened the full length glass shower door and stepped in and got a blast of cold water on his face as the hot had not yet reached the shower nozzle. It finally hit, too hot and he turned more cold on to get it back to a moderate temperature. He stayed there for about three minutes and then started lathering up with Dr. Bronner’s Peppermint liquid soap. He rinsed off with a steady stream of cold water for another three minutes. Shut off the water and stepped out on to his towel rug. He dried off and headed straight for his bed. It was a California King with stretch linen sheets and a fairly light down comforter with a white cover. He jumped in bed naked with his head looking up at the textured popcorn ceiling. His head made a significant dent in the two very comfortable down pillows he slept on. He focused on the bumps on the ceiling for about a minute as his eyes got heavy and he fell asleep.

At 8:30 a.m. having forgotten to set the alarm, Fox popped up panicked that he had over slept. He calmed down when he realized that he had time to get dressed and get to Milpitas by 10 a.m. But he’d have to definitely be on the road by 9 a.m. to make sure that he wouldn’t be late. So he ran to the bathroom sink and splashed some water on his face, brushed his teeth with his Arm & Hammer baking soda toothpaste, and quickly combed his hair. He put on his favorite black and brown striped dress shirt and tan pants and loafers. He grabbed a small Odwalla orange juice from the fridge and a pack of Hostess cupcakes from the pantry, picked up his laptop and shot down the stairs to the garage. He laughed to himself. When he was rushed he would occasionally have one of these off the wall thoughts. Today’s was about the strange collapse of Hostess, the company that also makes Twinkies and his favorite cupcakes. It went out of business because the workers thought they could extort more pension money and higher wages from management. Running the numbers, management called their bluff and decided to fold up their tent and go home. The workers and their unions went from decent jobs with benefits to the unemployment line. About 18,000 workers.  Were they greedy or was the management at fault? It didn’t really matter. Those workers never got rehired. But fortunately Fox and the rest of the products’ loyal customers were not let down in the end. The company resurfaced under different owners and Fox was able to have his Hostess cupcake fix. And everyone lived happily ever after again except the 18,000 former employees who most likely found jobs making less.

Fox put the laptop in first at the foot area of the passenger side of the front seat. He popped open the glove compartment and got out his electric shaver. He had light stubble and figured he could shave, eat, and get himself ready by the time he got to Milpitas. A good thing he just put new tires on the car and had the front end aligned. He’d be driving down 280 with his elbows probably averaging about 80 miles per hour. Eating shaving and driving. He laughed to himself wondering how many other Americans were on the road doing similarly dangerous things on the highway or worse.

His iPhone X was half charged and in the compartment between the two seats. He pulled it out and plugged it in to the USB charger on his radio unit to make sure it had a full charge by the time he got to ISI. He had already planned his route: Polk to 10^th to 80, Right on Harrison on to 101 and then 280 all the way to 85 and cross over 101 to 237. It would be close, but once he got out of the city, after 9 a.m. it would be smooth sailing on 280 for most of the trip. He had programmed the Barber Lane address in his iPhone, but he didn’t need it. He had been in that area dozens of times.

Clean shaven and buzzing on a chocolate, caffeine and sugar high, he spotted the series of buildings that occupied the core of the ISI Milpitas headquarters. He pulled into the lot that said “main lobby entrance” and found a space in the visitors reserved parking near the lobby doors.  He pushed the door on the left. A sign told him to “Use the other door” placed on the immobilized door on the right. He opened the door into a cramped lobby dominated by a semi-circular front desk about chest high with a small Hispanic looking man in his thirties sitting behind a very large flat screen CRT. His head was barely visible above the desk. Fox walked up to the attendant. The name badge said Rodriguez. Fox offered his Seclarity business card and said, “My name is Lee Fox. I’m here to see Mr. Tehrani.”

Rodriguez responded, “Do you have an appointment with Mr. Tehrani?”

Fox took a deep breath and pretended not to be annoyed.

“Yes, 10 o’clock and I think I’m right about on time.” Fox added, “I believe Mr. Springer is also scheduled to attend this meeting.”

Clicking on his computer checking his company calendar Rodriguez responded, “Yes, Mr. Tehrani and Mr. Springer are expecting you. Please wait over there,” pointing at the leather chairs on either side of a smallish table. It was utilitarian and not very stylish with just enough room for a few trade magazines mentioning ISI and a recent annual report.

Fox nodded and sat down. He put his laptop and the briefcase containing the paperwork for the order on the right side of his chair away from the door. It was instinct. A way to protect the bag from thieves. Primal. He caught himself placing the case down in this protective manner.

In less than a minute, a perky blonde young twenty going on thirty something female with a big smile bounced over to Fox and asked, “Would you like something to drink Mr. Fox? Mr. Tehrani will be out shortly. I’d be happy to get you something from our break room: Espresso, regular coffee, tea, soda, water…”

“Actually, an espresso black would be great!”

“Super. Just make yourself at home, I’ll be right back.”

Old school, Fox thought. Like a Pan Am stewardess. His mind wandered to 2001 A Space Odyssey, and he thought of that great scene where the Space shuttle flown by Pan Am managed to not go out of business in Kubrick’s film. The shuttle was flying passengers to a Space Station. And the cute girls in powder blue outfits served coffee and tea. In a weightless environment the girls had some type of Velcro like substance on their shoes and were able to walk upside down in zero gravity.

It was over a decade and a half after 2001 and NASA had been essentially dismantled and now the only way to get to the International Space station was by hitching a ride on a Russian rocket. And that became problematic after Russia began filling the void of the Pacifist US and Western powers rekindling the cold and not so cold war in the Middle East, Ukraine and former Soviet satellites. Fox was still laughing about his crazy Uncle Willy’s take on NASA who once told him that “he was waiting for Mr. Aftershave or Mr. Virgin to make commercial space travel affordable to the masses since NASA had become a Muslim outreach organization and a propaganda arm for the Global Warming movement.” His Uncle Willy was a hoot. Fox then flashed to the cartoon of the Jetsons. Forget the Space airline. How about George Jetson’s flying car instead? Or then again, when will some genius build that damn Star Trek transporter so he doesn’t have to drive at all?

Fox snapped out of his reverie when Miss Perky popped through the door. She stood in front of Fox with a very expensive china cup and saucer with what looked like a double hit of foamy brown espresso. He was impressed and wondered what kind of machine could pump out that kind of seemingly real espresso in such a short time. The bone china was a nice touch. The kind of things reserved for executives. He was used to the Styrofoam cup status of techies.

“Wow, this looks great! That was fast,” Fox said impressed with the espresso, the presentation and the presenter.

“Go ahead Mr. Fox, taste it to see if it’s to your liking. I’m getting pretty good at this. We have a new single serve machine that’s really fast. What do you think?” she asked.

 “Well, your coffee is excellent. Good job!”

“Thanks. Anyway, when you’re ready, just follow me and I’ll show you to the Sonoma room.”

Fox got up gingerly holding his espresso and leaned down to reach for his bag. To assist, Miss Perky took the coffee cup, and he handed it to her while looking into her very light blue sparkling eyes. He found a couple of freckles on her turned up button nose, smiled and tried to push back the natural attraction to Miss Perky out of his mind, at least until he closed this deal. They walked through a door after Miss Perky took her picture ID card on the rewinding key chain clipped to her belt, and she used a little hip action to open the door when the red LED turned green and gave them the little clicking sound. Fox walked through the door with his laptop strap hung loosely over his shoulder and he stopped to let her lead the way.

5

Miss Perky was about five three and by Fox’s rather expert guesstimate about a hundred and ten pounds of tight athletic female muscle. She was wearing a summer dress, though modest, was cut just above the knees and showed off some very nicely toned calf muscles. Fox was a sucker for legs, especially those of dancers and runners, and this girl had some fine looking gams. As she walked she also sashayed a bit from side to side so a nicely rounded bottom could be imagined quite easily every time the dress swayed.

They passed the Marin room, the San Mateo room, the Santa Clara room before they got to the Sonoma room. He concluded that they named the rooms after counties in the Bay Area and suspected that Contra Costa, Alameda, and San Francisco were located in the vicinity. It was a spacious conference room with a long twenty foot table made out of something more like mahogany than local redwood. The chairs were those new ergonomic jobs with the mesh and cables instead of the typical cheap imitation leather seats found in most conference rooms. He also noticed that they had a state of the art speaker phone that included a unique looking cylindrical device attached to a standard three point Polycom conference phone. This new device was supposed to add a level of quality to the phone over the IP networks. Fox was up on the transformation from analog phone network to voice over IP and the Internet. He liked these new toys.

“I’m sorry, didn’t catch your name?” asked Fox.

“Kim. Just call the front desk and ask for Mr. Tehrani’s assistant if you need anything,” she said.

“Will do.”

Kim left the room and Fox positioned himself at the corner seat closest to the front of the room where the white board was located. At the top above the white board, he noticed a device that held the drop down screen for presentations. He didn’t anticipate any presentation would be necessary given the direct conversation he had had with Tehrani over the phone, but he was prepared just in case. He started to lift the cup just as the door opened and a swarthy fellow dressed in black pants and a dark silk coat entered the room. He stood up to greet Tehrani and said, “Hi, I’m Lee Fox. Nice to meet you.”

“Good to meet you as well. Habib Tehrani. Mr. Springer will be joining us shortly. He is finishing up a long distance call. Please be seated. If you can show us the paperwork I requested, perhaps I can start looking over it before he joins us.”

Fox put the Targas bag on his lap, unzipped the main zipper, and reached in and pulled out the plain manila folder that he carried with him at all times. It contained the contracts including a non-disclosure agreement. Fox placed the agreement in front of Tehrani.

“We will have you sign our NDA Mr. Fox. So you do not need to give me that document. Just your standard contract is sufficient. If you have a price sheet that would also be helpful,” said Tehrani.

“Not to worry, list prices and quantity discounts are included in the addendums,” Fox replied.

Just as Fox handed Tehrani the blank contract, Springer burst in and both heads looking at the paper turned in unison to meet the intense stare.

“Nice to meet you, Lee Fox” and he held out his hand. Springer half-heartedly shook it and quickly sat down at the head of the table. Tehrani then sat down directly across from Fox.

“I don’t want you to think me rude Mr. Fox, but something has come up and I’ve only got about ten minutes for this meeting. I hope you know that Habib and his assistant can answer most any question you might have after we conclude here,” Springer said while snatching the document in a rather imperious fashion. Tehrani seemed unperturbed but nevertheless it was a bit unsettling the level of rudeness involved in a transaction worth ten million dollars, literally the future of Seclarity, and perhaps many times that if Mr. Tehrani’s fear of network security breaches were as real as he said they were. Fox had no reason to doubt him. Furthermore he had ten million reasons for Seclarity and one million personal reasons to believe every word.

Ten minutes flew by with Springer not saying a word, but simply nodding his head and speed reading through the thirty two page contract of legalese. Quite honestly Fox had no idea how Springer could possibly begin to understand the technical loopholes and land mines that Seclarity’s lawyers and management team built into the rather convoluted contract. Fox had never been happy with this document. His style was more like a couple of pages of contract, an NDA, and a handshake. The management team and the Venture Capital guys were not so trusting. Realistically, ISI, if they chose, could hire an army of lawyers. If they ever decided to go to court, Seclarity wouldn’t stand a chance. But there was no arguing with the big guys at Seclarity. They paid for these lawyers and by God they were going to use them.

Springer literally jumped up as he finished, nodded to Tehrani, a sign which appeared to mean to move that the deal was approved. He said, “Good to meet you, I expect this to roll out very quickly. As Mr. Tehrani has told you from his conversation yesterday, keep your Account Manager out of the loop on this at least until the beta installation is finished – which according to this schedule included should be less than 30 days for the first 100 users – yes?”

“Of course, we will definitely get the first hundred users up and running and tested in thirty days or we’ll pay performance penalties,” Fox said.

“Not necessary. I’m very confident this will all be fine. Where do you want me to sign?” as Springer pulled out his silver Mont Blanc pen.

Fox was stunned again by the lightning speed that Springer was moving. “Why, ah yes of course,” Fox finally spit it out. Fox opened the contract to the signature page and just like that, Springer scribbled his name and turned and walked to the door. Springer stopped for a beat, looked at Tehrani and said, “See me when you’re through,” and to Fox he said, “Nice to meet you. We look forward to a quick and successful installation”. And just like that Springer disappeared as the door closed.

Tehrani said, “I know this is quite unusual and you are probably not used to consummating a multi-million dollar deal in,” he looked down at his platinum Rolex, “Seventeen minutes, but as they say, life is all about timing, and I’d say this was good timing for you Mr. Fox.”

“I suppose it was only a matter of time things go my way, timing wise that is!” Fox said, Habib smiled at the redundancy of Fox’s comment.

“Sorry to be equally abrupt, but I too must move on to a conference call in another room. I will make sure that Kim makes a copy and completes the blanks. Just sit here a few minutes. Kim is very efficient. It won’t be long. Good day. In the future, contact me through Kim.”

And with that Tehrani was out the door. Fox sat in a euphoric daze. The only thing that could top this feeling would be to meet that beautiful new member of the Polar Bear club with the glorious green eyes and the movie star smile. And somewhere in a rather soft pornographic reverie of Kim and this new member of the club in his bed, the door swung open and snapped him out of his day dream and there was Miss Perky, Kim herself in the flesh, all business but still very sexy. Somehow this experience had become almost sexual. She handed Fox the document now enclosed in a blue manila folder. Fox thanked her but his mind wandered back to that new member of the Polar Bear Club. He walked out of the Sonoma room toward the lobby exit leaving Kim shaking her head. She found Fox interesting but distracted. The deal she thought must be it. She was a bit flustered. She was so used to being hit on by every man who called on Tehrani that it troubled her when she wasn’t. As for Fox, Kim was a mild temptation but he couldn’t get that picture of that beauty at the Polar Bear Club out of his mind. He couldn’t help himself. He was obsessed with her and he knew it. He had to meet her.

He stopped before he got into his T-bird and slid the folder in the Targas case. He clicked the remote on the key, opened the driver side door, sat down and buckled up his seat belt, placing the case on the floor of the passenger side. He cranked up the Turbo and shot out of his parking spot almost hitting a blue BMW which was backing up at the same time. The Beemer stopped first, pulled back up as Fox sped out of the lot onto the street before he realized that he almost had an accident. He was too high on life to worry about little things like that. He was going to take the signed contract to the office meeting with F. Joseph Stein. Fox was about fifty five minutes away from making Stein a very happy man.

6

Ahriman Tehrani, brother of Habib, was planning the greatest attack on the infidels since 9-11. Ahriman lived for revenge. To kill Americans. Ahriman had learned well how to organize and motivate his legion of followers. In Tehran, with the help of Hezbollah, his ingenious plan to steal Iraqi and Afghani uniforms, to fool and murder the infidels had worked brilliantly. Many of the non-believers had died. He was well respected for his strategic acumen. But soon he would have a victory that would make his previous work pale by comparison. This would be his greatest achievement. He would make the infidels pay. Ahriman dialed his secure satellite phone. It rang several times before it was answered.

“My beloved brother, it is early in the morning here. What is the purpose of this call?  Is there some emergency?” asked Habib.

“No. I have a meeting with senior leaders who have asked me to report back to them immediately.  I need to know if you have secured our puppet and made the final arrangements?” asked Ahriman.

“Do not worry. Everything is moving according to plan. I have the contract for the software. I have everything in place.”

“Excellent. Keep me informed. Allahu Akbar.”

“Allahu Akbar.”

Ahriman smiled and whispered, “I love this city for which I am named. My name is my destiny.”

Fox pulled into the lot across from the Seclarity office at 11:34 a.m. Literally he had spent less than thirty five minutes for the entire transaction, and a big chunk of that time was Kim filling in the blanks and making his copy. He sprang out of his T-Bird case in hand, into the lobby and took the elevator to the 4^th Floor. He opened his wallet with his keycard showing and buzzed himself in. As usual, Bonnie was not paying attention to any reception duties at the front desk. She just parked her substantial derriere there because she liked that particular chair and she was better able to see people coming and going. She had a stack of papers that kept her in a state of permanent agitation. His charm never worked on her, but he didn’t let it bother him today.

Bonnie stood about five two and well over two hundred pounds. She filled out most of her rolling ergonomic chair with the funny looking wires and cables. Although Fox had always been skeptical of those funny looking chairs, she swore by them. And she should know since she spent perhaps sixty or seventy percent of every day in one. She had a dark brown chocolate complexion, a short afro, puffy cheeks, and piercing black onyx eyes with which she stared daggers through anyone who tried to get in her way. She knew more about the company than anyone in it including, and especially, Stein the CEO. She was well aware that she was essentially irreplaceable. Hence, she took no flak from anyone in the company including Stein and the board of directors.

“Hey Bonnie.” he said.

“Hey yourself,” she responded still looking at her tiny TV image on her Droid.

What’s that you’re looking at?”

“None of your damn business Fox. Shhh. This is the final scene.”

He stood there watching Bonnie’s face grow more animated. She pulled back from her desk with both hands in the air.

“Oh no! Sonny’s been shot!”

“What?” Fox said.

“Sonny Corinthos from General Hospital.”

“We’re trying to keep a company going here and you’re watching General Hospital on your smart phone?”

“Yeah, what’s it to ya? I can do your job, Stein’s job and my job with one hand tied behind my back. In fact I do all that and more. So, don’t you be giving me your self-righteous attitude. This is my goddam lunch break. You’ll notice I’m sitting here at my desk with a pile of papers higher than Dodd-Frank, Obamacare and the Comprehensive Immigration bill all wrapped in one. So don’t tell me that I’m not allowed my GH fix.”

“OK, I get it. I’m cool. It’s just I may have just gotten us the deal that will put this company on the map. I know you probably have as many shares in our worthless stock as I have, but if this deal goes through I’m working on, your stock will be worth something – a lot of something”

That got her attention and Fox detected the makings of an actual smile.

“It’s about time you guys started making something happen. I know I give you a hard time, but I always knew you had potential. In fact you remind me a little of Jasper Jax on GH, except he doesn’t have a broken nose. You know he’s a corporate raider. Flies his own jet. Ruthless. But he smiles. You never smile Fox. Why is that?”

“Yes, I do. I smile on the inside all the time. I guess I’ll take that as a compliment. Bonnie or should I call you Epiphany?” asked Fox emphasizing each syllable of e-piph-a-ny.

“What? You think I look like Epiphany? Well Fox my boy, you are full of surprises, I had no idea you watched GH too. You know some girls around here think you’re a Foxy guy, but not me. You’re OK but you’re no Jasper Jax and you’re definitely no Sonny Corinthos. How can you be – he’s Sonny-liscious!”

“Is that right? You do know that Jasper Jax and Sonny Corinthos are fictional characters on a soap opera? Don’t you? Well you’re much better looking than Epiphany but you certainly act like her. She’s a steam roller and so are you. Do what she says or else.”

“I’m not a bit like Epiphany. I’m much better looking! I’m nicer. I am not nearly that heavy. In fact I’m on Weight Watchers and lost five pounds this week.”

 “Yes, I can see it. Your face definitely is thinner. You are much better looking than Epiphany.  Yes you are. As far as GH, let’s keep this secret just between you and me and my ex-girlfriend Audrey. We wouldn’t want the word to get out that two hard working members of the team spend their spare time watching General Hospital. You know, me and Audrey, we used to DVR it and watch it at night. It was really a turn on for her. I actually liked some of the cute girls in the show myself. Wow sometimes Audrey’d get real hot we’d get down and dirty right there in the middle of the…”

“Oh god Fox, ooh TMI, TMI.”

Fox winked and moved on. He sprang into Stein’s office. Stein on the phone half got up and pointed to a chair in front of his desk while he was still talking away.

“That’s great news Bob!” Stein feigned enthusiasm. Stein enjoyed performing. He sat back down in his high backed tan leather chair. Swiveled left, then right. Exaggerating his affirmation of something Bob said.

“Of course, ahum. Why yes, ahum. Ahum”. At this point Stein raised his right hand and connected his thumb to his index finger and moved his hand up and down emulating the masturbatory act. Fox had seen this move at least a half dozen times in the short six months Stein had been with the firm. It was starting to get on Fox’s nerves. He was getting tired of Stein’s adolescent act. How the hell did a bumbling boob like this guy get to be President of a high flying Tech start up? How the hell did Stein remain employed period was the even bigger question? What was that psychobabble “principle” he learned back in Psych 101? The Peter Principle. Yep. Some folks somehow manage to get promoted to their level of “incompetence”. And boy was this guy a boob and incompetent. Yet here he was: President. About to take credit for making this company into a winner, when the real work was done by a group of inarticulate tattooed propeller heads writing code, one very brilliant Chief Technical Officer, and deals like this one – seemingly just dumb luck and good timing. Stein couldn’t find his butt with GPS and OnStar. A complete empty suit. Yet he was President. Fox’s mind wandered to a totally inane and incoherent speech he saw on TV made by the last POTUS. It occurred to him that narcissism, incompetence and the Peter Principle seemed to be requirements for rising to the top in all sorts of organizations – including the United States of America’s highest office.

As Stein got off the phone, Fox pulled out the signed paper work and placed it on the desk. Stein looked down, picked it up and nodded.

“Good work! You’ve only been gone a little over two hours and it takes about that long to get to Milpitas and back. When you came in here, I was getting a sinking feeling they canceled the meeting.”

“No they did not”.

“But it went so damn fast. How did that happen?”

“Well, they were in a hurry to give us ten million dollars and I wasn’t about to slow them down.”

“I think this calls for a celebration!”

Stein picked up his phone handset and hit zero to call his assistant, Beverly.

“Bev, will you call a team meeting of everybody in the building and I mean – every employee whether they’re full time, part time, contractor – tell ‘em to bring in their pets too!  2 p.m. in the main conference room. Thanks”.

He hung up and stood up looking straight at Fox with a big smile and held out his hand. Fox stood up and shook his hand, smirking more than smiling nodding his head and raising his eyebrows.

“Hey dude, let’s go grab a quick bite at Gordon Biersch. Down a couple of pints. Wadya say?”

“Sure, why not.”

“Dude, let’s take a cab, it’ll be faster than trying to find a parking place.”

“Just give me a second to get this paperwork to accounting and processed, and I’ll meet you downstairs in ten.” Did Stein just say ‘Dude’ – he thought to himself?

Fox picked up the paperwork off of Stein’s desk in his right hand and grabbed his laptop and bag in the other and walked three doors down to the CFO’s office. Gerald Meeks the CFO had already gone to lunch, but as usual his number two, the petite Filipina cutie Carmella, was in her cubical just to the right of his door working through the lunch hour.

“Hey Carmella, have you got time to process a little order?” asked Fox laying on the charm.

“Jeez Lee, what is it now? Some trial for ten units that will take me three hours to process and they won’t pay for it for six months if at all?”

“Well, this one is a little bigger.”

“How much bigger.”

“A lot bigger.”

“What do you mean a lot bigger?

“Well I mean big!”

At this point Fox was just about screaming and gesticulating with his arms wide open and the few folks who hadn’t gone out to lunch sitting at their cubes got up in unison and turned to see the commotion.

Speaking very softly, Fox said, “Ten million”.

“Ten million – dollars?”

“Yes.” Fox said softly.

“Ten million dollars?” Carmella questioned again much louder.

“Ten million dollars?” she said shouting.

He said, “Let’s try to show some decorum. I know we don’t have deals like this every day but after we get this one rolling this will be a regular occurrence around here – so get used to it!”

Fox handed her the paperwork and kissed her on the top of her head.

“You’re not going to report me to HR for that, are you?” he asked.

“Not a chance.” Under her breath, she said, “Perhaps you can continue where you left off tonight after work.”

Whispering in her ear, “Carmella, I’ve been uh…do you think it OK to have a relationship with someone from the office?”

She whispered back, “So now we’ve gone from innuendo and banter to a ‘relationship’?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do?”

“I mean I’m attracted to you. Don’t know that it’s smart to date…”

“So now it’s a date?” she interrupted.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. Just giving you a hard time. Come over to my place tonight and I’ll show you exactly what I mean.”

Fox stood there with his mouth open turning red faced.

“O.K. Let’s say I’ll pick you up at your apartment at eight or earlier if you like.”

Putting her lips next to his ears, “Let’s say I’ll come by your Condo at seven instead.”

“OK,” he answered slowly turning even redder!”

This was indeed turning out to be a special day. First the picture of the drop dead gorgeous new member of the club; Then the little hottie Kim at ISI; Now his fantasy Filipina. All in the same day. Fox really liked Carmella and had visions of perky Kim. But the one he hadn’t met yet was really special. He couldn’t get her picture out of his mind even as he fantasized about Kim and Carmella.

7

Fox hopped over to his desk and placed his laptop and bag on his chair, pushed open the door and skip walked over to the elevator and pushed the down button. A few seconds later the red down arrow lit up followed by a seriously loud ding and he jumped in and turned to the front out of habit, standing next to a very sweet smelling brunette he saw out of the corner of his eye. Oddly he heard a rather nice Duke Ellington tune, Satin Doll, playing by the master himself – quite an upgrade from common Muzak. And then his sense of smell kicked in.

“Allure. Your perfume. Quite nice,” Fox said without looking at the beauty standing next to him. The elevator stopped at the third floor to let a chubby oriental girl on and Fox and the beauty both turned to see each other for the first time as they made some room for this plus size Asian girl. It was her. The picture at the Club. Same face. Same amazing eyes. The mouth. Bright red lipstick. And then the movie star smile as she acknowledged his correct response.

“Very good. Nice guess. Well, it is my favorite perfume. That certainly is a better pick up line than ‘haven’t I met you before’ or something stupid like that,” she answered.

“Funny you should say that about ‘haven’t we met before’ line, because I have met you before. I mean I have. This morning.”

“You were doing so well and then you had to revert back to type.”

“No. I mean it. I’m a member of the Polar Bear Club. I saw your new member picture on the wall of the club. Hard to forget a face like yours. And please, don’t think it’s a line, because it comes from the heart – you are extremely photogenic, great picture. You are more beautiful in person – if that’s possible.”

 “That’s very sweet of you to say. Thanks for the compliment. I am a new member. I joined the Polar Bear Club on a bet,” she said just as the elevator reached the ground floor and the Oriental girl tried to squeeze past Fox’s bulk.

“Excuse me,” he said as they all finally exited en masse.

“A bet? What do you mean?” he asked. They continued to talk as he followed her through the front door of the building.

“My friend Harry who works for Saint Francis Discount Stock Brokers bet me a first-class trip to Paris I wouldn’t swim in San Francisco Bay without a wet suit – you know like you guys do in a regular swim suit. Hey, I won’t do some things – even for a trip to Paris, but I will jump in the Bay. I have to swim at least 400 yards or about a quarter mile. That’s going to be a bit of a challenge because I am a land animal and my swimming has been limited to the ballet aquacade in heated pools and warm bubble baths,” she said.

“Not to worry. I can help. I’ve been a member for ten years. I do most of the swims. You picked a good time of the year. It’s at least 60 degrees.”

“Wow, I’m used to 90 degrees or hotter bath tubs. Not my style.”

“Look, I’m going to lunch with my boss. Wanna join us? We’re taking an uber.”

“No thanks. Not now, I’m going to the club for my first swim.”

“OK. I’ll go with you.” Fox turns and then stops, “I’m not hungry anyway.”

He lied. He was starving. He only had a couple of Hostess cupcakes for breakfast. But he wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass him by.

“Well, I could use a little help getting acclimated to the water. I do need someone to show me around.”

“Hey, I can’t exactly show you around the women’s locker room and all that stuff, but my friend Leyla can. She’s great. I bet she’ll be happy to. She owes me a favor. She’s not like a lot of the more manly girls at the club. I don’t think she’ll be jealous of a real lady.”

“You really do lay it on thick. But frankly you haven’t made any tactical errors so far.”

“Great. So do you want to take Uber?”

“No need. I have my cute red Porsche 911 parked right over there in the lot.”

“Very nice. Right next to my T-Bird. I can take mine if you like.”

“No. I’d prefer to take mine. I like to drive.”

“I bet you do.”

Just then Stein popped out of the door and saw Fox and a strikingly beautiful woman talking. Fox turned to Stein, “Can we celebrate later? I have a new friend who needs some swimming lessons.”

“OK, Foxy my boy, but if you’re late for the two o’clock mandatory meeting I’ll have to give you a demerit. Just kidding. We’ll make the meeting at 3 p.m. Enjoy your lesson, Miss…?” Stein asked trying to lay on the charm but failing miserably.

“My name is Patricia Rollins. You can call me Patty.”

“Nice to meet you Patty. I’m Joe Stein. Here’s my uber driver. Do you want a ride?”

“No need. We’re taking my car. Nice to meet you as well.”

Stein got in the Uber car, a black Toyota Camry, and it took off toward the Embarcadero. Fox turned to Patty and said, “My name is Lee Fox,” as he held out his hand.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Fox,” and she put a vice grip on his big catcher’s mit of a hand. He was more than impressed.

“Why that is some grip you’ve got Miss Rollins.”

“This is what you get from peeling prawns and scrubbing pots Mr. Fox”.

“Really? Well, given your ride, I don’t fancy you for a domestic, so I guess you must own a restaurant?”

“Close. I’m a caterer and event planner. The best in San Francisco.”

“I have no doubt at all. No doubt that you’re the best in San Francisco.”

8

“What are you going to do about your raven haired whore?” Ahriman coldly demanded.

“If she is a problem, I will have someone take care of her,” Habib replied into the satellite phone.

“You are getting soft Habib. I think sometimes that you take your role as a decadent American much too seriously.”

“Ahriman, I am just as committed to this plan as you are. But yes, I am not the warrior you are.”

“You cannot allow yourself to get distracted by these American whores. Use them and throw them away.”

“Don’t worry. I have everything under control…”

Patty was dressed in a conservative and expensive grey wool business suit with very stylish four inch heels. Fox later found out she was wearing one of her favorite Michael Kors outfits and also one of her more conservative black pair of peep toe Manolo Blahniks. He guessed she was about five six, and just a touch under hundred and twenty pounds, with her small bone structure, probably under. He could easily touch his thumb and index finger around her tiny wrist. Small bones. But vice like grip. Interesting combination he thought. Although the jacket on her suit didn’t quite reveal it, he knew she was shapely. But he didn’t know just how shapely. He was already undressing her in his mind, wondering what kind of bathing suit she was going to wear. Most of the girls at the club were built like Russian weight lifters. The cold water didn’t attract women concerned with their girlish figures.

Patty clicked on the remote key fob and he heard the door unlock to her red Porsche ping twice.

He asked, “Do you want me to drive or would you prefer to?”

“You can drive. Just remember, if you break it, you pay for it. I’ve got a high deductible and you’re not on my policy,” she said smiling.

“No problem. I love these little beauties. We’re only a few blocks away. My buddy Stu’ll let me park in our driveway. He’ll take good care of your car. We’ll have a protected parking space.”

“How many people get to park there? There’s not much room as I recall and I saw so many taken tourist metered and park service spaces. I recall having a bugger of a time finding a parking space.”

“Stu does me favors. I do him favors. Got ya covered.”

He got in and fumbled to find the switch to move the seat back. She reached over and found the button for him. Both his sense of smell and touch were turned on as she reached over to help him find the seat adjustment lever. He felt her soft left breast brush up against his right thigh and the whiff of that perfume was really quite intoxicating. Usually, he was not a perfume guy. He didn’t often find perfume on most women that much of a turn on. His last girlfriend tried several of the Chanel perfumes, so he became familiar with Allure. But, like most men, it was the visual, not the aural stimuli that turned him on. In Patty’s case, it was all his senses.

He put the key in the car and revved up the little red Porsche. He backed out and then did a K turn out onto Townsend for a long block until he came to the Embarcadero. He caught the green light and turned left a tad faster with this beauty than he would normally in his bigger and less responsive T-Bird. He stopped at the lights at Mission and then at Broadway, but cut a break all the way onto Jefferson as he shot by Pier 39 the restaurants and tourist traps on the wharf. In less than ten minutes they were in the driveway at the club. Quite remarkable really. It was summer. The tourists were out but fortunately they weren’t driving on the Embarcadero. They both got out. He handed the keys back to Patty.

“That was fast,” she said.

“Yes it was. Got lucky with the lights. Tourists must be walking and not driving today. Nice Ride. Maybe I’ll trade my T-Bird in one day and get one of these.”

He lied. He hated small cars. Even expensive German ones.

“Thanks for letting me drive,” he said.

“You’re welcome. I like to be driven.”

“You do, do you? I thought you said you like to drive? Any place in particular or just in general?”

“With the right person it could be any place, but in general I usually get very specific.”

“So are you very specific today or is this ‘in general’?”

“Oh, I don’t know, let’s see how the lesson goes.”

So in addition to being a drop dead gorgeous woman, she was witty and fun too. Fox had a grin pasted on his face. This was unusual. Fox was not someone known to smile. Fox never smiled. But this girl was winning him over. Big time. She had him at the vice grip hand shake in that magnificent package and now he found her more than his match intellectually. She was quick and beautiful. He worried about getting too deep too fast. But he didn’t want to think about the future. He sensed that this girl was once in a lifetime. He told himself whether it was for just a few hours or longer he was going to make the most of it.

Fox pulled out his key fob to the front door of the club and opened it. Holding it open for Patty, she walked in front of him. Again, the perfume. It took him thirty two years to finally figure out why women wore perfume. On Patty it actually worked.

“Do you have a locker yet? I don’t see any bag so I’m assuming you already have your suit and cap here – yes?”

“Yes, indeed. They gave me a temporary locker and I should be able to get a permanent one in a couple of weeks.”

“I must say, that’s a wee bit better than most of the men had to wait for a locker. I only had to wait three months. Back before they expanded the locker rooms, we had some guys on a list for over a year.”

As the door closed behind them, he looked over his right shoulder at the pictures of the new members and spotted Patty’s picture.

“There you are. Very photogenic.”

“Thanks.”

“Yes, indeed, I truly believe it”. He stared just a bit longer and then said, “Well, let’s go over to the deck by the weight room. Leyla’s usually outside sunning at the noon hour. Or at least trying to.”

He led Patty through the right side door into the larger of the two boat rooms. It held about twelve wooden row boats that were made and repaired on site at the club. Her four inch heels clicked rhythmically on the wooden floor as he led her to the large sliding door that was already open with a space just large enough for both of them to walk through. As they passed outside to the deck, a blackboard on the right recorded water temperature and tide changes and there was regular sized door seemingly always open to the small galley kitchen. About ten yards farther on the right was the weight room with two large glass windows about six by ten feet on both the side facing the deck as well as the side facing due north toward Alcatraz. From the inside of the weight room, there were two stair steppers abutting the windows with unobstructed views of both Alcatraz and the Golden Gate Bridge. Unobstructed that is, except when the fog rolled in, which was early and often in the summer. But not today.

Fox gave Patty a quick tour of the weight room which smelled of ancient equipment and sweat and then walked outside to find Leyla. Sure enough, Leyla was lying on a towel in her two piece blue and white bathing suit circa 1950s half covering the midriff. She was trying to tan despite the wind swirling behind the barrier and intermittent clouds blocking the sun.

“Hey, Leyla – want you to meet someone. This is Patty Rollins a new member. I’m going to go with her on her first swim. I’m hoping you might help show her the women’s sauna and all that good stuff, since the girls, or should I say the ladies, might not approve if I do it,” he said.

“Nice to meet you”, said Leyla.

Leyla spoke with a slight accent that sounded French. Though she in fact spoke French, her native language was Farsi, as she was originally from Iran. She was very short, about four eleven, and about fifty years old. She was cute in a cherubic way and like most of the girls in the club who weren’t gay, attracted to Fox. But he looked at her as more of a big sister – which she did not particularly like. But he guessed she’d take any attention he’d give her. One thing that was a definite in the plus column for her was the fact that unlike most of the crude members of both sexes who were actually rather provincial and insecure, Leyla was sweet, well-travelled and anything but small minded. He was right. Rather than any jealous reaction to the lovely Patty, Leyla gushed over her clothes. Noticed the Manolo Blahniks and said she was saving up to buy a pair.

“OK, Leyla, show Patty around and you’re welcome to join us for a quick swim. We may only go to the end of the pier and back”.

“The end of the Muni Pier?” Leyla asked.

“No, the end of the Polar Bear Pier.” He responded.

“Oh, just get wet. No. No. I bet Patty can do better than that.”

“I’m not much of a swimmer, and I’m really only doing this on a dare. But I suppose if I can make it about two hundred yards out and then two hundred yards back – and you two vouch for me – then I can win my bet today.” Patty said.

“You sure for that expensive trip that your friend, what is it, Harry, is he going to trust us to verify?”

“Maybe not. But at least we’ll see how long it will take to get me ready.”

“Look, if you can make it past that first minute or so, the rest is a piece of cake, and with this temperature, you could stay out for hours, or …not”.

“How about let’s make two hundred yards out and back first?”

“Ok. You two go get dressed. I’ll meet you down here in fifteen minutes. Is that enough time?”

“Sure.”

Leyla and Patty walked up the outside stairs. Fox followed not far behind. Fox saw those well shaped calves walk up the stairs hips swaying and he was feeling an excitement and anticipation for the unveiling of Patty in a swim suit. If he was right, the male members of the club who were outside, especially the old timers and geezers, were going to be in for a treat seldom seen at the Polar Bear club – a really attractive female.

As Leyla and Patty disappeared behind the door to the women’s locker room, Fox went to his locker to change. He took about six minutes to open his locker and change into his Polar Bear swim suit and orange neoprene cap. Just for the hell of it, he Googled ‘Patty Rollins San Francisco’ on his iPhone 10. Not bad. It was getting old but it still worked great. He was stunned by the number of hits. Party after party. Some as an event planner and a caterer. Some with pictures. Patty Rollins listed as Hall of Fame, Best Dressed List by the Nob Hill Tribune. Amazing smile. Incredible gowns. Expensive. Magnificent. One who’s who of the San Francisco social scene after another as her date. One article listed her as number one on the top ten Most Eligible Bachelorette List in San Francisco. Fox shook his head and put his phone back in the locker.

Out of habit he went into the sauna to break a sweat but he decided to cut it short just in case the girls were faster than he thought they’d be. So he cruised out of the locker room and down the stairs and decided to pump a little iron to warm up. Some light stuff. A hundred thirty-five pounds – the bar and two forty fives on each side. He did two quick sets of fifteen reps. Then he did ten triceps pulls on the pulley. As he finished, he looked outside the window. From the west facing weight room window was a clear view of the steps. He was floored. He was struck by the most stunningly beautiful woman he’d ever seen walking down the Polar Bear club stairs. He stood paralyzed for several seconds staring.

Patty followed Leyla down. All eyes were on Patty. A true goddess. Head back. Shoulders square. Lithe cat like grace walking down the stairs.  About half way down, the four old timers sitting on benches outside the weight room in unison moved their heads slowly to follow Patty walk, eyes glued on her every movement. Fox just stood there at the window frozen. He finally snapped out of his trance when he caught Leyla scrunching her face and pointing his way and he used that as his cue to run out of the weight room to meet them. Patty was wearing a simple blue speedo one piece. She hadn’t put on her orange neoprene cap yet, and was carrying it in her left hand. The wind was coming from the north and west. It blew her shoulder blade length hair at a slight angle behind her. All her marvelous facial features were clear and her focus for the challenge was evident in the way she walked. Determined. Intense. She could not hide her perfect breasts that were pressed rounded and firm by her skin tight suit. She had an hour glass figure with a narrow waist and perfectly toned ballet legs. To top it off, he noticed that she had beautiful pedicured bright red toenails and perfectly shaped petite feet in her Japanese style sandals. He was a sucker for feet. Every part of her was perfection: the feet, the legs, hips, the breasts, and the face.

“Wow.” Pause. “Leyla, you really look good today!” he said, attempting to break the ice and failing miserably at trying not to stare at Patty.

“Thank you Fox, but I think Patty looks amazing too. Almost as pretty as me.”

“OK. Let’s not stand out here and freeze. Let’s put our sandals over here by this bench and get to the beach and warm up.”

So this new trio consisting of the Persian Princess, Aphrodite and Poseidon ran down the four stairs leading to the beach from the deck. Two weight lifters in the weight room, four old timers on benches outside, and three geezers in the Staub room were staring jockeying for a better angle to see Patty. The wind was about ten knots. Not nearly as strong as yesterday by a long shot. So Fox began to do his little ritual of jumping up and down in the sand dance. Then he began jogging the twenty yards or so between the Polar Bear and East End piers back and forth about three times each way. Patty and Leyla followed his lead and the boys and geezers watching went crazy.

“OK, here’s the deal. On my lead, we all time the break of the waves so we don’t get knocked down. Then you start moving those arms and legs as fast as you can and swim to the end of the pier. Stick your head up Patty. You will be cold and it will be a shock, but it’s mind over matter. We’re both here to help you. But you won’t need us. You just need to get past that first minute or so of numbness. Follow me and Leyla and I bet if you really want to you can make it all the way to the flag buoy that’s almost four hundred yards away. So if we go to the flag and back it’s almost a half mile. It shouldn’t take us more than twenty to twenty five minutes – with stopping to catch a breath. Ready for this?” he asked.

“OK, I’m putting myself in your hands you two,” replied Patty.

Leyla went first. Patty followed and Fox paddled out using the breast stroke and keeping his head up and eyes on Patty. She motored out pretty well. She had natural floatation devices that kept her high in the water and her legs were pumping like crazy so she made it out to the end of the pier well ahead of Leyla. She popped her head out the water and had that magnificent smile on her face. No signature bright red lip stick but her smile was still magnetic. No sound came out of her mouth, but she mouthed “I’m cold” as Fox waived to her and pointed to the flag. On cue, she did a very respectable Australian crawl for about 100 yards before she got her first mouth full of bay water and she stopped to cough and spit it out. Fox, who was right behind her, stopped when she did.

“Not to worry. Patty you’ve already made your bet. It’s salty. It’s OK in small quantities. I’ve swallowed a ton of it – over the years. Try not to do it all at once. Try to breathe on the side away from the chop – which sometimes is hard to do. Just try not to swallow the water. You’re doin’ great!” he said.

Without saying a word, Patty powered on pretty fast. This time she made more than a hundred yards and was about a third the way past the beginning of the concrete bleachers at Aquatic Park. She stopped and looked to the left. She pointed up at the Ghirardelli Sign and smiled. Then she put her head down and swam all the way down to the flag buoy. Fox was impressed. Leyla was behind her giving it her all to keep up. Fox just put it in overdrive and easily caught up to both of them at the flag bouy.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Amazing! Now I see why people do this. I’m not cold now and the water feels great. The view is amazing. This is nothing like pool swimming,” Patty said beaming.

“You got that right,” he said.

Leyla trying not to get beat by the tyro swimmer started swimming back toward the club. But Fox and Patty just held on to the buoy for a few seconds looking at each other. Fox moved closer. His face was right in her face. His Brando-esque nose was right up to her perfect little nose. He could see grey and blue flecks in her penetrating green eyes. Two orange caps bobbing next to the flag buoy. He moved closer and slowly kissed her. First it was just a simple touching of lips. Then she grabbed him, her legs wrapped around him in a scissors squeeze. He was treading water and managing to keep them both a float while they kissed passionately. The salt water gave them a little extra buoyancy. Her body touching his was ecstasy. Fox had lots of swims with all sorts of women but never experienced the hot and cold and pure pleasure of a cove kiss. It was their first kiss. The Golden Gate Bridge in the distance to the left. Alcatraz in front. The Ghirardelli sign and the skyline of San Francisco behind. They kissed once more with even more gusto despite the fact that they both were bobbing and taking on some water. Neither one of them seemed to mind.

“Wow. Never done that before,” he said.

“I only have one thing to say,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“Did you know that I live right up the hill?”

With that they both took off sprinting back to the club. For someone who was supposedly only used to warm baths, it was very obvious that her athletic ability was sufficient to push the ex-Cal swimmer to actually take it up a notch. They passed Leyla about half way back. Patty followed Fox around the pier and onto the beach. His cheap but reliable Casio time piece with the stopwatch told him eighteen minutes had passed from the time they started. Impressive for a beginner. Not a great time for an experienced pool swimmer, but not bad for swimming in this chop, current and wind.  Three minutes later Leyla pulled around the pier. Fox and Patty were waiting in the water. He told her it would be preferable to waiting in the wind. He also told her that he normally preferred to cut under the pier but he didn’t want to risk having Patty get sliced and diced by the barnacles that are like little razors to the touch that attach themselves to the pier just below the water line.

As Leyla finished, they all got out together and high fived. Leyla congratulated Patty on her first swim and said she took it slow for her because she didn’t want to make her feel bad. They all laughed. Fox showed Patty how to use the foot bath to rinse the sand off their feet. Patty took off her swim cap and her long brown hair was flowing in the wind behind her sometimes directly behind her, sometimes almost directly to the side of her face depending on which way she was facing the wind. A big smile and hair shining in triumphant disarray. Fox took a picture in his mind and simultaneously thought of a renaissance painting or a high end commercial photo shoot. Leyla and Patty started to jog up the stairs to their locker room as at least double the number of men mysteriously had appeared to watch. Botticelli’s Birth of Venus in a Blue Speedo at the Polar Bear Club. Fox panned the crowd. Lots of smiles and happy faces.

9

Fox took his time as he walked up the stairs, stopped, and noticed that dozens of eyes were staring in his direction. Perhaps they were hoping she’d magically reappear. Fox looked around and noticed a couple of old timers smiling at him. One old guy gave him a ‘thumbs up’. Fox shook his head and opened the door. Took a step and then swung open the door to the men’s locker room and squeaked over to his locker, his flip flops noisier than usual. He pulled down his favorite camouflage stool. Turned the dial two turns right, one turn back left, and to the last number right on his Master Lock. Fox pulled hard on the lock and it opened. Pulled the lock out of the locking mechanism loop and hung it through the handle. He yanked up on the locker’s handle, opened it, found his iPhone and checked his email. Only one message. Carmella was looking forward to tonight. He shoved the phone back onto the top shelf. Put the lock back into the locking mechanism and snapped the lock shut.

He sat there for a few seconds wondering about what was going to happen next. How should he cancel his date with Carmella? The universe was strange he thought. He had wanted to ask Carmella out for over a year and now she was not only going out with him but she would probably sleep with him. He was seriously considering not telling her anything. But that would be bad form. What to do? He grabbed his towels and decided to have a good long sweat to think about it.

Thirty minutes later he was drying off sitting on the camouflage stool in front of his locker. After dressing he went to the Staub room to see if Patty and Leyla were there. He walked in to see a smiling Patty standing by the card table near the picture window which overlooked the bay. The fog had rolled in and enveloped the bridge, only the tops of the north and south towers were visible. The fog dissipated right after the Gate and it was clear from Sausalito all the way across the bay. There was a sparkling almost crystalline view of Alcatraz. Downstairs, he saw a few of the old timers chatting with Leyla who was now dressed in street clothes. He heard the familiar sound of heals clicking on wooden floor as Patty walked toward him. He turned to face her. She stopped and stared directly into his eyes.

“Hi. How was your sauna?” he asked. “You did take one didn’t you?”

“I did. It felt great. The company was interesting to say the least. Leyla sure likes to talk. Sometimes I couldn’t understand a word she was saying. I don’t think I said ten words. Perhaps due to the shock of the first time in the bay. Some of it has to do with you,” she said.

At this Fox blushed a bit, “Really?” he said.

“Let’s get going. Don’t you have a three o’clock meeting to get to?”

“It’s only 2:15. I want to ask you something…”

“My place at 7 p.m. Here’s my card. I wrote the address on the back. I live on Union Street near Leavenworth. Must be only a couple a minutes up the hill from here.”

Fox took the card. Smiled. Fox never smiled. “Should we say goodbye to Leyla?” he asked.

“Don’t think that’s necessary. I’m going to talk to her later on the phone. Her sister is having a baby and she wanted my recommendation for baby clothes and a present. It made me laugh. I just met this girl and already we’re best friends. But to tell you the truth I really like her. Let me drop you off at your office. I have a few suppliers to call for a big party I’m catering at the Academy of Sciences. I need to figure out how to get a ton of prawns peeled without having to hire an army of help – otherwise I’ll have to do it myself. I’ve heard there’s a new supplier who provides them already peeled and deveined which would be worth it. I’ll pay whatever it takes. I’ll just up my retail price if I have to.”

She was discussing business and prawn peeling and he was lost looking into her sparkling green eyes and appreciating her animated expressions. If anyone else had been discussing the same subject he would have made a joke and changed the subject by now. Instead he was listening intently to every word as if she was explaining the secret of the Universe. In a sense, she was. Finally, he remembered that he better get back to work.

“Yeah, I guess you should just raise your rates and buy the ones already done. That’s what I’d do. But then again, I don’t have a vice grip like you do to work on those pesky prawns. Guess I better get back to my office for the meeting. OK, let’s do this.”

Fox led Patty down the stairs toward the front door into the hallway. Before he opened the outside door, he pointed to the wall. “Nice picture.” She smiled as she walked outside.

“Just give me a sec,” he said. “I gotta get Stu – he’s got your keys, remember?”

Fox ran back through the boat house to the kitchen. Sure enough Stu was in there munching on some penne pasta with what looked like marinara sauce, and sipping something dark in a paper cup.

“What’s in the cup Stu?” Fox asked.

“Water,” Stu said in his usual gruff manner.

“But its dark.”

“Well, it’s water with bourbon. What’s it to ya?”

“Nothing. I thought you liked Scotch. Waddya think of Patty?”

“She’s quite a package. Ain’t she just a bit out of your league?”

“Sure she is. But the good news is that I don’t think she cares about how much money or about my social connections.  She’s different Stu, she’s owns her own business. Very successful I hear. One day she’s peeling prawns and scrubbing floors. The next day she’s the belle of the ball getting photographed and treated like a movie star. Even if she considers swimming in the bay with me slumming it, I’m not sure that can stop us from becoming friends.”

“Friends? I don’t think that lip lock you two were doing at the flag means friendship. You got yourself one hot mama there. It’s already all over the club. Who’s the babe with Fox? What’s her name? Did you see the body on that girl? And on and on. By tomorrow you will be a legend right up there with Splash Dugan.”

“What were you old perverts doing anyway?  What, you got binoculars spying on people? Splash Dugan? Who the hell is Splash Dugan?”

“I’ll give you the short version since I know you have a lady waiting. Back in the seventies, Splash got his nickname at one of our late night drunken parties a few years before women were allowed to join as members. In the good old days we didn’t bother with taking trash to the dump after parties. We’d just throw the old crab leftovers and food stuff in big garbage cans and just tossed them in the Bay after the party. What the hell. Who cared back then? We didn’t have the civilizing influence of women members and the environmental Nazis to set us straight. We weren’t complete barbarians though. We tried to keep the beer bottles out of the bay. Anyway, old Splash was plastered. Sure enough, he staggered to the end of the pier holding the can. He slipped and fell following the garbage can into the water. Those of us who saw it laughed our asses off. We pulled the old fool out of the water and from that day on he was known as Splash Dugan. Anyway, here’s your keys. Go have fun.”

Fox took the keys. Nodding he said, “I plan on it!”

Then he ran toward the door and out to the car.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said.

He handed the keys to Patty who was smiling and taking it all in. She wasn’t the least bit annoyed.

 “Not a problem,” she said. “This place is very entertaining. I just saw a man on rental bike that looked like one of those bearded guys from ZZ Top. You know – he had a long white beard down to his chest and wrap-around dark glasses. Funny. And then, there was the guy dressed up as clown – kinda somewhere between Ronald McDonald and Bozo and he honked his little bicycle rubber squeeze horn at me. He was on one of those Segways – you know those things that you stand straight up on that have only two wheels and a stick with handle bars”.

Fox normally had an endorphin high from the swim but today his high was off the chart. Almost everyone gets a glow after a bay swim and a sauna but Patty was simply radiant. Looking at her right then took his breath away.

“Sounds like you got to see some of the local color. Welcome to the wacky world of Aquatic Park. Hey, I’ll drive if you’d like,” he offered.

Patty nodded her approval, so Fox opened the passenger side for her. She slipped in smartly. Her skirt rose up above her knees and exposed her perfect calves. Fox liked the view. He stared for a beat until she turned her head to catch him. He smiled and shut the door. Fox never smiled. He scrambled to the driver’s side. Got in and put his foot on the break and pushed the on button and cranked up the 911. Backed out slowly, dodging tourists walking in both directions. Some going to the Wharf. Some going in the direction of the Bridge. Fox took a right on Hyde and made the Beech Street light before he was forced to stop at Bay Street. He was tempted to take a left on Bay but thought better of it when he saw the “No Left Turn” sign. Instead he decided to shoot up Hyde.

As he passed Union, he thought of the crazy incident with the Chinese drug dealer. It happened just yesterday but it seemed like it was years ago. He remembered that Patty said that she lived just a block over. Small town. For being such a big city, San Francisco really was a small town. He opted for a left on Bush Street. Took a right on First past Market. Then he took a right on Harrison, left on 2^nd to Townsend. The parking lot was near the corner. He pulled up to a fire hydrant rather than double park outside his building. They both got out of the car. He opened the passenger side door. She walked around the car. Again he held open the door for her. Again he saw that pretty leg as she squeezed into the bucket seat on the driver’s side. She hit the button to lower her window and moved her seat closer to the steering wheel. Fox bent down and kissed her bright red lips gently. She took a tissue from her console and wiped the lipstick from his mouth.

“I’m afraid that won’t look professional at your meeting,” she said.

“The way I feel right now, I could care less. To be honest, this is torture. I don’t even want to go to this stupid meeting. The only thing I can think about is you and I really don’t know how I’ll be able to occupy myself for the next four hours until I see you again. 1082 Union Street, yes?” he asked.

“Right. You might find some parking on Leavenworth, but Russian Hill is pretty tight. Suppose you can say that for parking anywhere in the city.”

“I’ll see you at 7.”

She nodded and put the Porsche in first gear, turned the steering wheel sharply to the left and zoomed out, literally in a cloud of dust, just missing the parked car nearest the fire hydrant. He shook his head. He walked across the street to his building and began the long wait until his date with Patty. His euphoria turned into pangs of guilt when he thought about Carmella. What was the right thing to do? How should he cancel his date with her? All men should have this problem.

10

As the elevator reached the 4^th floor, it pinged and the doors opened. Fox walked out and placed his keycard over the red LED. It clicked and he entered. It was 2:45 p.m. Fifteen minutes before the meeting. He walked to Carmella’s desk. He was going to bite the bullet and just tell her the simple truth. But she was not there. He looked in the main conference room and found her. She was helping a few of the interns with refreshments and set up for the meeting. Soft drinks, Snapple, Calistoga mineral water, plain water, designer cupcakes from a local bakery were all arranged in nice neat rows. Knowing the way the programmers and clerical staff typically ate, Fox expected the place to be decimated by the techies within a few minutes. He was going to suggest that Carmella simply leave everything in a pile on the table and let the vultures have at it, but he censored himself. Company morale and all that. Besides this was a big announcement for the company. He was ravenous from not having had lunch, the swim, and the pure high of Patty. Fox had a theory that the reason many of the men and women who swim in cold water are a little heavy was due to the body responding by building up a natural wet suit. A layer of fat to insulate from the cold. It was just a theory. But it made sense.

Fox gobbled a red velvet cupcake with chocolate icing in one big bite devouring about half. Carmella turned to him, smiled and said, “I’m not supposed to let anyone have these before the meeting, but I will make an exception in your case.”

“Wal, I’m hungry,” he said with his mouth full as he caught crumbs falling out of the side of his mouth. He finished swallowing the delicious cake.

“Sorry. I decided to go for a quick swim, so I didn’t get any lunch. Do you mind if I have just one more?”

“Go ahead. Just don’t let Stein catch you. He’s a little OCD when it comes to these things. He can’t read a balance sheet or an income statement. He knows nothing about the finances of the company but he’s a stickler for meetings and fluff. He loves catered events, parties and glad handing. I suppose that’s a big part of his job description. Did he really get an MBA? Where was it he got his MBA – anyway?”

“I think it was from a box of Post Toasties. Except I don’t think they make those things anymore so I have no clue how he got an MBA. Maybe it was on-line classes at Slippery Rock State U. Don’t laugh they have a great program in Pre-Med. They produce a lot of Proctologists. I know several of their alumni that all have their heads up their…”

 “Anyone mention my name?” asked Stein.

Carmella laughed just as Stein waltzed into the room. His ears, no doubt, were burning.

She and Fox looked at Stein and shook their heads.

“Could have sworn I heard my name being used in vain. Fox, if it was anyone but you I’d be very upset. Go ahead. Have as many cupcakes as you like!  You earned them! Carmella, just make sure no one else has any until the meeting starts. About ten minutes or so. It’ll be brief. Just hang tough ‘til then.” Stein said as walked out the door.

Fox decided this was as good a time as any to tell Carmella about the change of plans. It was not going to be easy. What a problem to have. Carmella was without a doubt one of the cutest girls he had ever met. Smart. MBA from Berkeley. In fact, she was entering her first year at Cal the year he graduated. He was not a number’s guy. But she was. Meeks the CFO couldn’t survive without her. Carmella was the real driving force in accounting. And she reminded him of that cute Conservative pundit Michelle Maulkin. So how does he tell her he’s got to cancel their date? Does he lie? Does he tell the truth? He decided to make up a story and postpone the date. He lied. He rationalized that maybe it would be bad form telling her at the office during this event meant to boost company morale. Typical guy behavior. Postponing the inevitable. Rationalization and cowardice. He’d be better off just coming clean that he had met another girl. But he didn’t want a scene at the office.

“Carmella, something came up. The deal. I have to work on it tonight because – don’t tell Fryman – he’s out of the loop. So I’m pretty much stuck doing the project plan modification tonight. Can we postpone our date to another time?” he asked.

Carmella looked at him with her almond eyes squinting slightly and made mathematical calculations regarding what portion of this was bullshit and what was not. By the look on her face, she was not buying it. On the other hand, it had just enough credibility to keep her in check.

“OK. Sorry to hear that you have to do some last minute work on this. But if you can’t involve Fryman, who is going to be the Account Manager on this?” she asked in response.

“I’m wearing both hats – Product Manager and Account Manager. Fryman’s territory. Haven’t discussed this with Stein yet, but my take is that Fryman will get paid his full commission. The deal is that the customer is very leery of Chico Systems and Fryman has deep ties. You know I have Chico Systems ties too – but for some reason my two years there don’t seem to bother them as much as Fryman’s eight years.”

“You can count on me to keep it quiet. But I don’t see how Fryman’s not going to find out. Everyone in the company knows we got a big deal.  They don’t know the specifics yet. They don’t know the who, what, when, where and how – but we’re all expecting to find out in about five minutes. How do you keep the news from Fryman?”

Fox shook his head and said, “I don’t know. I have to count on Stein’s discretion. Wow, the odds of that happening are about zero. Guess this is going to get messy.”

“Got that right.”

“Look, I got a great idea. Let’s shoot for Saturday or Sunday night. In the next couple of days, I’ll know how this deal is going to impact my schedule better. OK?”

“Sure. No problem,” she responded. But it was clear by the expression on her face that Carmella was not happy. She tried to cover up her disappointment with a smile. It just wasn’t working.

Just then, a no neck former linebacker for the San Jose State Spartan’s football team and present sales rep for Seclarity’s Western Region burst into the conference room.

“Fox. What the hell you think you’re doing stealing business from me?”

“Mr. Fryman, before you get yourself all worked up, why don’t you sit down have a cupcake and let me explain.” Fox said coolly.

“I’ll stand asshole. Spill. What’s goin’ on here? Try to talk yourself out of this one.”

“Nothing to explain. You’ll get full credit and commission. It’s your territory. You get everything due you out of your territory. You’re just not going to work on this particular deal. It’s the customer’s decision. Not mine. I am merely doing my best to keep this little company solvent until we can either fly on our own or get our buddies at Chico Systems to buy us and make us all rich.”

Fryman calmed down a bit. He sat and looked around the conference room. Carmella was standing at the back of the room staring at him. The interns had bolted when the fireworks started.

“Throw me a cupcake Carmella,” demanded Fryman.

“Sorry. Can’t have any until the meeting starts,” she said sharply.

“What’s all those crumbs on dipshits mouth over there?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you two work it out yourselves,” said Carmella as she stormed out of the conference room.

“Look Fryman. Have as many damn cupcakes as you like. If I were you, I’d take it down a notch or two and realize that no one is screwing you. You’re going to make as much as a million bucks on this deal in commission and bonus, which in all likelihood could lead to Chico Systems buying Seclarity. My guess is your stock could be worth well over a million dollars as well. I had a ‘what if’ session with Carmella about a scenario where Chico bought us. She said that this year our new Chico stock would instantly be converted to three times the number of our shares at their stock price. Right now their stock price is $95 per share. If you have 50,000 shares, that would translate to 150,000 or about Fifteen million bucks in stock. So I’d cool it if I were you,” said Fox trying to calm the no neck ex-football player.

At this Fryman grabbed a cupcake and started munching away. He smiled and munched some more until he downed his first cupcake.

“Water?” he grunts.

Fox nodded in the direction of the drinks and said nothing.

Fryman got up and walked a few feet to the large round cooler that contained the drinks.

“Diet Peach Snapple. I love Diet Peach Snapple,” he said mockingly.

“Happy for you. Are you calm yet?” asked Fox.

“Sure. You just better not screw this deal or I’ll mess you up. Got that.”

Just then, Stein opened the conference door and about twenty five of the thirty full time Seclarity employees filed in. Dr. Bofee was conspicuously absent. It was indeed a motley crew. Programmers were easy to spot. They had the look of high IQ geeks with low social skills plastered all over their faces. Confirmed by the way they dressed. Even the way they walked into the room. These techies reminded Fox of the nerds on that popular show the Big Bang Theory. They palmed drinks and piled cupcakes on paper plates and began jockeying for seats around the table. The seats around the table were quickly filled and the last of the group were forced into chairs parked against both walls.

“Hello everyone. Thank you all for coming. I know you are all running hard making this company work but I decided to interrupt your busy schedules today to give you some really good news,” said Stein using his best Dale Carnegie voice.

He paused for effect, expecting all eyes to be glued to his movement. Instead no one was really looking at Stein. They were too busing munching on cupcakes and washing them down with their sodas. A few folks in the back were sharing a joke. Stein grimaced.

To get their attention, Stein said, “Chico Systems has made us an offer.”

Total silence. Everyone looked up.

“Not exactly, but I see that did get your attention.”

The room was now quiet. The consumption of cupcakes continued.

“Some of you have already heard. I know rumors fly fast in a small company like ours. Yes, it is true our Product Manager Lee Fox brought us a ten million dollar deal today. If it’s all installed as planned, we will have twice our revenue goal for the year. This is huge. We will either get a ton of offers from investors for expansion, possibly leading to that IPO, or as we’ve all hoped, someone like Chico Systems may offer to buy us. That would make your shares of stock turn to gold overnight! Let’s have a hand for Mr. Fox. Come up here Lee!”

Everyone put down their cupcakes and applauded loudly. One of the programmers who sported a myriad of tats and rings through her eye brow and nose whistled like she was at some Head Banger concert.

“Ok, Ok. That’s fine. Come up here Lee. Say a few words. Tell us a little about the particulars of this deal,” said Stein.

Fox jumped up from his seat and stood next to Stein.

“Not much to tell really. This order is due to all of your hard work. I would like to especially call out and thank Dr. Bofee. He’s been working with this particular company, ISI, for some time. I know it’s hard for all of us not to shout from the roof tops and celebrate, but we’re a long way from having this installed and paid for, so let’s keep this quiet for now. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of rumors, but only a select few folks will be working on this. Remember we’re in the Security business, so we need to keep this information to ourselves. I say give yourselves a big hand, eat some more cupcakes and forget about this deal until it’s done. When we start seeing the cash flow in the bank, we can really celebrate.”

With that, everyone applauded again. Gradually it died down and Fox walked out the door. The remaining folks in the conference room started chatting and eating what was left of the cupcakes. Four dozen cupcakes for 25 people. That meant two per person because at least five of the girls were watching their diets and didn’t eat any. They went pretty fast.

Fox took a slow walk by Carmella’s cube to tell her he was going home to work on this deal away from the madhouse and to say he was sorry one last time. She smiled but was not happy. Fox waved at Stein who was on the phone gesticulating like crazy. Odds were he was talking with a buddy about the upcoming All-Star game and the Giants. Fox disappeared through the office door and headed to the elevator.

Fox got out of the elevator on the ground level, then stopped and turned around when he remembered that there was a directory on the wall behind him. He moved closer to the wall next to the elevator and started scanning the list of tenants in the building. The company responsible for Patty coming to Fox’s building had to be on the top floor, the fifth. He was trying to figure out what company on that floor Patty visited. There was a list of seven offices: Four law firms, a holistic counselor of some sort, an acupuncturist, and a supplier of exotic foods. Bingo. Must be the food supplier. He assumed this was just an office and the warehouse must be somewhere near in the area. Pacific Gourmet Foods. Man was he glad Pacific Gourmet had an office in his building. He actually kissed the glass by their name. He suddenly became self-conscious and wiped his lips, looking around hoping no one saw him making a fool of himself.

11

The minutes and seconds seemed like days, but after puttering around the condo for a couple of hours and a quick shower, it was finally time for his date with Patty. Fox was trying his best to control himself. Nevertheless, he was wired as he bounded down the steps to the garage. He cranked up the T-Bird. He pushed the red button on the remote attached to his visor and the garage door opened, making its usual grinding sound. He backed up gingerly making sure not to scratch the paint on the tight fit through the door, and before his scooped hood was clear he pushed the red button to close it as he backed up. He took a left on Mason, quick right on Filbert with left onto Columbus and cut through the little alley where the oriental guy died yesterday by the old Washington Square Bar and Grill – a new Yuppie Restaurant with a name he could never acknowledge or remember. He made a right on Union and motored to the top of the hill passing  1082, two buildings from Leavenworth on his right. Another right going downhill on Leavenworth. Fox got lucky and found a space big enough for his car. Parking on that side of the street was at a ninety degree angle. With butterflies in his stomach, he spaced out for a second and just missed a guy in a Camry as he shot into the lone empty parking spot. He opened the car door. Took a bit of an effort. Gravity was working against him as he shut the door. He was on a pretty steep incline on Leavenworth but it was less than a third of the length of the block to the top of the hill. He trudged up to the top of the hill. The little Mom and Pop grocery store looked empty as he took a quick gander in and then he walked past two more buildings. Found number 1082. Rang the doorbell for 3B. Nothing. He pushed the button again.

“Hello, is that you Fox?” said Patty on the intercom speaker.

 “It’s me,” said Fox.

She said, “I’m on the third flight. Come on up.”

A long buzz. Fox opened the metal door and pushed the front door open.

He heard the buzzer continue for two seconds after the door closed behind him.

He ran up the stairs two at a time, making sure to hold on tight to his bottle of Chandon. He hoped the chemistry of that first kiss in the cove wasn’t just his imagination. Knocking on 3B, he pushed the already slightly opened door. He saw a long hallway to the right and a shorter one to the left.

“Hello, I’m here. Where are you?” he asked.

 “In here.” she said.

Fox closed the door behind him and walked down the corridor to his right. He passed one door. Opened it. It was the toilet and small sink. Tiny room. Typical San Francisco Victorian flat layout. He opened the next door. It was the bath room with a nice size claw foot tub and sink. Dark red paint on the walls. Dramatic. Interesting gold fixtures on the faucets. There were two green ceramic monkeys holding mini bars of soaps in different sizes and shapes. There was a small room that had a full sized bed propped up high, perhaps eighteen inches off the floor. There was a view from the small window. The view was of the neighbor’s building and a nice view of the bay and a Golden Gate Bridge from the left.

Fox walked into the room next to the small bedroom. It had lots of modern furniture. Lots of mirrored panels. The room on the other side of the hall moving toward the front door was tented and reminded him of the now closed Fleur de Lys Restaurant. In the middle was a magnificent mahogany wooden table for eight. He recognized the design. Chinese Chippendale. But this wasn’t a knock off. This with a very heavy thick mahogany 19th Century set up. Must have been low five figures minimum. And then the tent. It must have taken a week or more to put it up. His mouth was open in awe. The antique Chandelier with flame bulbs was hung from the ceiling. It was crystal. Not very large in order to fit the room but it was not something you find at the local furniture store. She obviously spent a great deal of money on furniture and clothes. Other than this one good suit that his cousin had made for him he was wearing, his clothes and furniture were not expensive. She had more invested in a couple of pairs of shoes than his entire wardrobe and furniture.

“I’m in the kitchen,” she shouted, “Keep coming through the dining room”.

Fox walked around the table and chairs and pushed the tent opening on the opposite side. The first thing he saw was Patty bending slightly at the waist putting skewers with bite size chicken, and what looked like quarter inch square red peppers, into the oven. She turned and smiled. Electricity. Fox felt it. Fox held out the Chandon. Patty took the bottle and set it down on the smallish light blue retro Formica kitchen table. Fox moved closer. She looked up. He took her face gently in each of his big mits. He kissed her lips. She kissed him back. They stood there for some time lips locked. They parted as Fox put his hands down to his sides. They both opened their eyes. Magic. A long pause to regroup.

“Lee, why don’t you try the new Cobra chairs I’m using for my big party? In the room with the mirrors. They’re the big guys with the rounded backs. I want to know if you think men will find them comfortable. ”

“Ok”.

Fox walked back through the tented dining room into the next room and sat down in a rattan Cobra chair with a nice thick black cushion. The puffy rounded back made him think he was in Casablanca or some other exotic place. Patty entered carrying the Chandon in a silver ice bucket with two tall champagne flutes.

“Comfortable?” she asked.

“Very!” he responded.

“Great! Mind opening this for me?”

“No problem. I majored in Business but minored in Frozen Margaritas at UT before I transferred to Cal and got a double major in popping corks.”

He ripped off the foil. Unscrewed the wire. Worked the cork gently back and forth. Then popped the cork into his hand, with no bubbly spilled. He picked up her glass and poured. Then his. He toasted, “To beautiful green eyes”.

“L’chaim” she responded. She took­ a hefty sip. He downed most of his.

“I see you Sprechen Sie Hebrew.”

“I could tell you were Jewish. I’ve always had a thing for Jewish men. Don’t understand it really. I never grew up with many around me. I lived kinda a sheltered existence. Just me and my fellow gentiles. But I liked the Jewish sorority girls and their taste in clothes and the Jewish fraternities always had some of the nicer more articulate and handsome men on campus. Plus I’ve catered enough Bar Mitzvahs and Jewish weddings to appreciate Jewish traditions and families.”

“How did you guess I was Jewish?  The nose. Well it is pretty magnificent in its own way isn’t it? I’m half Jewish. Mother. Father was German via Poland. Not sure what he was. They never talked about religion. So given the matriarchal lineage that makes me Jewish I guess.”

She smiled and said nothing. “Oops. My chicken skewers are in the oven. Be right back.”

She returned with chicken skewers on a mirrored tray, a gardenia to ornament the plate and she held an empty champagne flute for the used skewers along with some very nicely starched four inch square white linen napkins.

“Try one. The flute is for the skewer when you’re done. Take a napkin.”

Fox took a skewer and dipped it into the thick brown peanut sauce. Downed it in a big chew. Spicy and sweet at the same time.

“Wow. That’s really great! Where did you get the recipe for that sauce? It’s fantastic.”

“It’s mine. I made it up.”

“You ought to bottle it.”

“I plan on it.”

Five minutes later she went back into the kitchen and brought out two mirrored trays with

different flowers. One of the trays had a raspberry colored Hibiscus flower and fried triangular delicacies she called a Mexican Won Tons – herbs, and melted spicy jack cheese inside fried filo dough. Another sauce. This time a delicate white condiment she called her Miso sauce that complimented the crunch and spice perfectly. The other tray had a peach colored rose with mini tacos that were filled with beef and spices – crunch of walnuts and raisins. Two more home runs. She’s beautiful and she cooks. The reality has exceeded his fantasy. A first.

“Patty, this is truly impressive food. Are all these hor dourves your creations?

“Yup. How do you like ‘em?”

“Love ‘em.”

Fox had a couple of each and took a big swig of Champagne.

“Well, Patty, since you brought my ethnic background into the conversation, I guess you should have full disclosure that I was in fact in a Jewish fraternity for a semester. So I’m not really that different from you. Except my fraternity was more like Animal House than the Frat houses you probably knew at UCLA. Yes, that makes me Jewish. I did have a Bar Mitzvah to make my mother happy and when I’m motivated I go to Synagogue for the high holy days from time to time.  What did you do at UCLA besides study?” he asked.

“I majored in English. I continued modeling which I had done all my life, but I really didn’t much care for it. I enjoyed the pomp and circumstance of the Rose Bowl Parade, and I certainly didn’t mind the money from modeling, but it’s not what I wanted to really do,” she said.

“You were in LA, so did you ever think of film or TV?”

“Not really, I’d rather be behind the camera rather than in front. I’d rather write a script, or design a gown, or cater the food for the movie. But I didn’t do any of it. Actually, I taught aerobics at a women’s gym. Lots of dance in my classes. The gals loved it.”

“Yeah, you’d be too distracting to have a bunch of guys in your class. I approve of an all-girls class. But you can’t deny you photograph exceptionally well.”

“Got my parent’s genes. Yeah, I’m proud of some of the modeling gigs I did.”

“It looks like you were Miss Photogenic from the Rose Parade I see,” he said picking up the trophy off the shelf with the photos of family and friends.

“I’m proud of it. That was a huge compliment voted on by members of the L.A. press. But what I’m really proud of is the gig I got when I was three. My picture was on the popcorn bags at Tilden Park in Oakland,” she said with a big smile.

“Yes you still are cute and yes you should be! Proud that is. Did you ever think of being a cheerleader?”

“I did actually. I was a cheerleader at our girl’s school in LA. We played field hockey. At UCLA I tried out to be a cheerleader for the football team. With my ballet and dance training I could kick higher than any of the girls, but I had one major shortcoming.”

“What was that?”

“I didn’t know the first thing about football. Still don’t. Never watched it. As I mentioned, I went to an all-girls boarding school – Westfield. I also went to Montecito, another all-girls school in San Rafael before that. I took ballet and ice skating. I didn’t do team sports at UCLA. They asked some really basic stuff about football and I didn’t have a clue. So, no deal.”

“That’s really too bad. I bet you would have been a great cheerleader. They probably didn’t want you because too many of the guys would be watchin’ you instead of the game.”

She smiled. Fox inched closer to Patty but their Cobra chairs refused to cooperate because the high backs were touching. Fox moved them as close as they’d go. They talked for about thirty minutes chatting about who they were, but mostly they drank and did a great deal of kissing. The bottle of Chandon ran out. Patty got up to find another. The only thing chilled was a bottle of Dom Perignon with the familiar brown shield label. Bending at the waist, she opened it and poured a glass for each of them.

Patty was wearing a very light fabric black low cut dress. It was almost diaphanous. Fox didn’t need to see cleavage to be aroused. Her skirt also road up a bit to about mid-thigh. That was it. He took her face in both hands and they kissed passionately. On the wood floor was a white Flokati rug. Patty helped Fox take off his coat and it landed in heap to the side of the chair. She grabbed his belt and began to unbuckle it. Fox kicked off his Italian loafers while his pants were falling to the floor. He didn’t wait to take her dress off, he simply pulled her down to the rug and they kissed and rolled from one side of the rug to the other. Her shoes went off. She helped him raise her dress up while he pulled her panties off. She helped them the rest of the way. She grabbed him and helped him inside her.

“This feels perfect,” she said.

He said nothing. They were locked as one for ten minutes or longer. They had no sense of time. They were lost in that moment. He finished and rolled off and on to his back with a guttural sigh. Fox fell asleep on the Flokati rug. Maybe an hour later, perhaps less, she was not sure of time anymore, Patty picked up her clothes, retreated to her bedroom and then the bathroom to wash up. She came back dressed in a simple white robe and helped Fox sleep walk stumbling onto her raised bed. She helped him off with his shirt that was still hanging loosely around his shoulders and he crawled under the sheets. She joined him also naked. Nature took over. They were both aroused and Fox awoke. They made love one more time and fell asleep with Fox on his back and Patty’s head and shoulders on his chest.

12

Although Patty was no early riser by nature, she got up before eight a.m. to make some coffee. She heated two Currant Scones in her table top electric Cuisinart oven. She brought a white rattan breakfast-in-bed tray with coffee, scones, a glass of fresh orange juice, and a copy of the San Francisco Chronicle. Fox sat up in bed looking at his new environment for the first time in the daylight. He smiled a big smile at Patty who puffed up his pillows and placed the white wicker breakfast in bed tray in front of him. Fox never smiled.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning to you,” he replied.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked.

“Never better” he said. He truly meant those words.

She had already had her scone and was walking back toward the kitchen in her white cotton robe.

“Do you have to be anywhere today? I think it’s after 8 o’clock?” she asked.

“Not really. Maybe later today I should get working on the big deal we just got. Somehow it doesn’t seem that important right this second,” he replied.

After he finished breakfast and his coffee, at the foot of the bed he noticed a big fluffy cotton robe similar to the one she had on. It fit pretty well. Very thoughtful. It was all overwhelming to him. There were no false notes. It just kept getting better. Her beauty was a given. Sexy. Off the chart. Sensual. Gourmet and creative chef. Detailed. Artistic. Cultured. She was a miracle. He couldn’t have invented her. She exceeded all of his past fantasies about what a perfect woman would look and be like. But with the ecstasy came the insecurity. That first pang of uncertainly popped up when he started thinking of the gulf between this sophisticated beauty and his rather simple and humble background.

He padded down the hall to her bathroom. True to form, she had an unopened brand new toothbrush for him. He took the cellophane off and put a bit of Crest on the bristles and brushed. He washed his face using one of those little bars of soap in one of the monkeys holding them in a little bowl over their heads. He thought of the Wizard of Oz and the flying monkeys when he looked at them.

He found his clothes spread out on his bed and he changed. Patty was sitting in the dining room sipping her coffee in her white cotton robe. Her hair was back in a ponytail. No makeup. She was still a goddess. As Fox passed the Flokati rug and smiled, he noticed that there were two full flutes of Champagne and a near full bottle of Dom next to them on the table.

“I suppose you noticed that we have a very expensive bottle of Champagne out there losing its chill and bubbles going to waste?” he said.

“Doesn’t bother me. I say it was worth it,” she answered.

“Yes it was,” he said as he smiled, “More than worth it.”

13

While Fox was at the zenith in his life, Ahriman Tehrani, brother of Habib, was perhaps at his nadir. Ahriman had lost his favorite wife and newborn child to a predator drone strike aimed at him while he was in Iraq doing his best to kill Americans. But Ahriman was playing the long game. He was at the bottom now but soon it would all change. Ahriman was now back plying his evil trade in Tehran and Beirut working with Hezbollah on what would be his greatest achievement. He would make the infidels pay. He would provide the missing ingredient that would give the Mullahs, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and his successor Hassan Rouhani the power to live up to their malevolent promises. ISIS was on the march but it provided a great excuse to partner with a former enemy against America in this well-orchestrated battle. The world was now ready to explode as predicted in the great book and to lay the groundwork for the return of the Mahdi. To quote Barry McGuire, we were definitely on the eve of destruction.  The game of Nuclear War brinksmanship that Iran had been playing with the West had gone past the line in the sand long ago. It was only a few years earlier an American President had drawn a red line regarding chemical weapons in Syria, Iran’s puppet, and was embarrassed when he called for Cruise Missiles strikes and had to back down when he could not find any support even among his Congressional allies in his own party. America and a neutered Israel had blinked. Multiple times. A treaty that was the laughing stock of all sane Westerners had actually supplied Iran with the billions necessary to speed up the process. It was not a matter of if there was going to be a massive terrorist strike with weapons of mass destruction, it was simply a matter of when. Ahriman picked up his secure satellite phone and speed dialed Habib. The phone rang several times before it was answered.

“My beloved brother, are you well?” asked Ahriman.

“Very well, and you?” asked Habib.

“If there can be heaven and hell at the same time that is how I am doing brother. But the day of reckoning approaches. How are things going on your end?”

“Moving according to plan. I have made sure that we have a cover in place for the transport. Destination end point is Houston Texas. Damage should extend to Jacinto City, but most buildings there should remain intact. But we can live with that. The infidels will pay. And Allah willing, New York will be next.”

“Excellent. Keep me informed. Allahu Akbar.”

“Allahu Akbar.”

Ahriman smiled to himself and whispered, “This is my destiny. This is who I am.”

14

After a quick shower, Fox dressed and finished his breakfast. Not sure what she did or how she did it but Patty’s coffee was as good as or better than anything he had ever tasted.  Could have been beans from Café Trieste or Graffeo Roastery but she added some mystery ingredient that made it her own. He gave Patty one long kiss good bye and floated out the door. Fox was slightly hung-over as he stumbled down the steps toward his T-bird. But in his heart he’d never felt better. He was trying not to think about Patty as he drove home, but it was impossible. He got the call on his iPhone that woke him from his reverie. He heard it ring but he wasn’t ready to talk to anyone and drive at the same time. Instead he waited until he was safely parked inside his garage. He turned off the engine. He hit the button on his phone indicating a new voicemail message.

“It’s me. Stein. Fox, as soon as you get this call me. Damn it where have you been? Why haven’t you been picking up? This IT guy from ISI has been hammering me all morning. He wants you in Milpitas a.s.a.p. Call me damn it. Get your ass to ISI. Call me when you’re on the way, it’s your boss if you’re too hung-over or stoned to remember what my voice sounds like. Call me God dammit!”

Stein sounded really pissed. Great. Fate was not going to allow Fox to remain a moment longer in that euphoric Patricia Rollins zone. He was summoned by the forces that controlled his economic future. Well, he had to suck it up. She was way out of his league. He knew it. His insecure side told him that the only possible way she would be a more permanent fixture in his life was if he stepped upped his game. Making a shit pile more money might help. On a whim, he had Googled Patty’s friend Harry yesterday, the one who had bet the ticket to Paris. Fox was pretty sure she meant Saint Francis Brokerage founder, Chuck Frank’s longtime friend and co-founder Harry Haversham. Harry, according to SEC filings, was the second largest stock holder behind Frank himself. There was an article that had stated that Harry’s net worth was two hundred million. Before the dotcom bubble burst he was a billionaire. What a relief. He was not worth nearly that much today.

So, to play in Patty’s league he figured he only needed a few million dollars added to his bank account. He could finally taste his first million with the commission on this deal, but ISI Semiconductor and the necessity of a flawless installation, a crazy incompetent boss, and a psychopathic account manager were potential obstacles in his way that made it a dicey proposition at best. It was hard enough to sell a deal this size with an unproven product from a new company that had to perform and please the customer. That was a given. Even Chico Systems had to occasionally deliver something they promised on time. When you are trying to sell a big deal and have incompetents and crazies on your side getting in the way, success was even more problematic. The fact that ISI had already vetted Dr. Bofee’s algorithm and the product was a huge plus and gave him hope. But Fox knew from experience about small companies with loose cannons, big egos and competition like Chico Systems, those first deals were anything but a slam dunk.

Fox ran upstairs to shower and change. He decided to call Stein from his car heading toward Milpitas. It was 11:15 a.m. before he got back on 280 heading toward the South Bay. He pushed the button on his blue tooth receiver on his car radio. Bev, Stein’s assistant picked up and transferred him immediately when she heard his voice. She didn’t even bother with a greeting of any kind.

“Fox, where the hell are you?” screamed Stein.

“280 about thirty minutes out from ISI – and how are you this morning?” said Fox.

“OK, OK. You’ll get there before lunch. That’s good. I think ISI wants you to go to lunch with them and begin to get this project moving. I never heard of a company like this dying to give us business and the damn guy who has the most to gain by this disappears off the grid. I hope your night out of celebration was worth it.”

“Oh yes, that would be an understatement.”

“Glad to hear it. Now it’s time to get down to business.”

“Come on Stein. Let’s get something straight. The person who has the most to gain from this deal is you and a few of the founders and investors. I’m way down the totem pole here. But I’m not bitching. I’m happy to be chosen as the front man – even if it does strike me as a bit weird. But you will have to explain to me why the hell they don’t want Fryman – other than the fact that he’s an ignorant Neanderthal that spent too many years at Chico Systems screwing everyone and probably has such a bad reputation that no one at ISI wants to deal with his sorry ass. But what’s your take?”

“Don’t know. Your guess is probably a bit of it. But there has to be more. Being a prick does not in and of itself constitute a reason that a company like ISI would want someone off the account. There’s definitely more at play here. Obviously Chico Systems has something to do with it. Tehrani said as much. But you have Chico Systems background and they don’t have a problem with that.”

“Yeah, I managed to survive Chico for two years before I found a way out. I felt like I was being assimilated by the Borg. I guess when they found out that I couldn’t be assimilated – I was disposable. They talked about things like “Standards” and “eco-system” and working with partners – but it was all a big joke. They were like all greedy enterprises that experience dominance in their market. They didn’t just want to win, as Chalmers said on many occasions – ‘they wanted their unfair share’. And I was jiggy with that. For a while anyway. The stock was going through the roof a decade ago before the dotcom bust and I got the tail end of it. But in the end, I was too honest with customers and prospects about delivery schedules and realistic time lines for product development – and that wasn’t OK with my Regional VP in the Enterprise division.”

“Yeah, I know about Scanlon and his hard on for you. He’s over at Jupiter Networks now I hear. He brought a ton of Chico Systems folks over with him. I thought he was going to get Fryman, but I snagged him for us.”

“So, you’re the reason that prick works here?”

“I didn’t hire him because of his winning personality. I hired him because he made quota all eight years at Chico Systems and got top salesman in his Enterprise business unit in 2016.”

“He also got top honors in back stabbing and lying to his customers. I don’t know. It’s your problem, and the management team’s about the double commission thing with ISI. Personally, it’s small potatoes in the scheme of things don’t you think?”

“I’m fine with it. But I’ve already got one of the Venture guys calling me up telling me to fire Fryman. But that wouldn’t look good to ISI either.”

“I don’t know. For whatever reason, they don’t like him or trust him. But I wouldn’t fire him because I guarantee you he’d go to Chico or Jupiter Networks or whomever and sell us down the river in a heartbeat. I suggest we keep him close until this deal is done, installed and we have the check in hand.”

“Yeah, I thought the same thing. Anyway, got to go. Someone just came into my office. Call me after your meeting to update me on how it went.”

“Will do.”

Fox ended the call by pushing the phone icon on his car radio. For a million bucks and the chance to be in Patty’s life, he’d put up with Stein, Fryman plus all the slings and arrows ISI was about to throw at him. Little did he know that ISI was about to throw him something a lot more destructive and devastating than just slings and arrows.

15

Ahriman stood motionless in front of the holy Mosque as the call to prayer rang through the city for which he and his brother were named. Before moving back to Tehran, Ahriman spent the last two years waging war on the few American and allied troops remaining in Iraq and Afghanistan. He had been responsible for seventeen American deaths and hundreds injured. Most with loss of limbs from bombs not unlike the ones set off in Boston during the Marathon that killed few but maimed and crippled dozens. But this was just the beginning. What was to be his greatest accomplishment was only days away.

Fox motored into the ISI parking lot at five minutes before noon. Right on time. As he got out of the T-Bird, he locked the door remotely with his key fob and pushed the lobby door open as he had done yesterday. Rodriguez was sitting almost comatose staring at his computer monitor.

“Fox of Seclarity to see Mr. Tehrani,” Fox said.

Rodriguez jumped a bit startled and responded, “Yes, sir. Here to see Mr. Tehrani again?”

“Right. Lee Fox of Seclarity.”

“His assistant is on the way down. Please, take a seat.”

Fox found the same chair he sat in the day before. He was unclear about what was expected of him. As he pondered the possibilities, perky Kim popped through the door smiling. Fox rose from his seat.

“How about an Espresso or water?” she asked.

“I’m fine Kim. I suspect Mr. Teharani and Springer will be here shortly. I’ll just wait.”

“Mr. Springer is still on his Pac Rim conference call. It might be a while. Sure you don’t want some water or something?”

“OK, do you have some sparkling water?”

“Calistoga. Be right back.”

Kim bounced back through the door, her shapely bottom the last thing Fox saw as the door closed. She popped back less than a minute later offering him a bottle of Calistoga. “We only have lemon flavored,” she said. “I hope it’s alright”.

“That’s fine. Thanks”.

He took the bottle and said, “Hey, why don’t you sit and join me here until they come. Do you have time for a couple of questions?”

“Sure. What do you want to know?”

Lowering his voice, he said, “I got summoned here rather quickly after the signed paperwork yesterday. I’m used to things moving a lot slower. Do you have any idea why I’m here?”

Kim bent over to whisper, “Don’t think we should talk out here. Why don’t you ask me outside to stretch your legs?”

Getting the hint, Fox asked, “Hey Kim, I need to go outside and stretch my legs. It’s a long ride from the city. Maybe you can join me until your boss and Mr. Springer are ready to go.”

“Sure. No problem.”

With that both Kim and Fox got up and walked through the lobby door outside. Kim pointed to a spot about a hundred yards across the parking lot to a modern fountain, far enough from prying ears, yet close enough to see if her boss and Springer were standing by the translucent doors of the lobby. They walked rather briskly to the fountain. Kim had a scent of citrus he couldn’t define. Not a perfume he’d recognize, but he liked it a lot. Totally different attraction with Kim. Kim was more petite and bubbly. Patty was voluptuous and though incredibly sexy she was more polished in a New England Prep school sort of way despite her California roots. Kim was all California surfer girl bubbly and effusive yet business driven all together in the same package. But just beneath the surface Kim had something more going on. He sensed something but couldn’t put his finger on it. He was attracted yet cautious and he didn’t know why.

“Lee, is it alright if I call you Lee?”

“Fine. Actually, call me Fox. My friends do. I think we are going to be working together trying to get this project off the ground, so I’d like for us to graduate to ‘friends’ if you don’t mind.”

“No, great. Fox it is. Look, this is a crazy situation for all of us here.”

“Hey Kim, you know I was in sales for many years before I got more into the technical and Product management side of things. One of the main reasons was that I got tired of being told to lie about time tables and capabilities to keep a deal going or to close one that we couldn’t or shouldn’t have been bidding on in the first place. I think the reason there’s no Account Manager working on this project is because your guys know the history of our West Coast Sales guy – Jim Fryman and his penchant for bending the truth. His sales numbers are good but he’s a lying prick. The point is I’m in and he’s out because your boss trusts me and doesn’t trust Fryman. You can trust me.”

“That’s great to know.”

Fox saw Kim’s eyes move toward the doors and she quickly changed her demeanor. Something wasn’t quite right. This little conversation had created more questions than answers.

16

“Oh look, I see Tehrani and Springer. Springer’s the guy with the dirty blond crew cut. And Tehrani is the guy who looks like an aging Omar Sharif with a pot belly,” said Kim pointing at a rather rotund version of Omar Sharif. Fox looked and nodded.

They started back toward the lobby door and met both men outside on the sidewalk. Kim walked quickly past Tehrani and Springer into the lobby waving at Fox as the door shut. Fox shook hands with Tehrani, who smiled, and with Springer who did not.

“Mr. Fox, do you like Indian food?” asked Tehrani, “We have a great little buffet down the road here called Lotus One.”

“Sounds great. I’m in!” Fox answered.

“My car is over here.”

They walked over to Tehrani’s ML550 SUV. Tehrani approached the driver side, Springer got in the passenger side front and Fox opened the passenger back door behind Springer and slid in careful not to knee Springer’s seat. Tehrani backed up. During the ten minute drive hardly a word was spoken.

They pulled into the parking lot which was jammed. As he entered, Fox was surprised at the size of the restaurant. Perhaps fifty tables were in the main seating area. And at least a hundred more in a closed off area used for banquets. Springer found a table for four not far from the buffet. Fox could detect cumin, cardamom, coriander, and curry. A large brown eyed beauty stopped at their table with pen and pad in her hands and broke the hypnotic spell of the food. Fox snapped out of the sights and smells of Lotus One, with what else – another beautiful woman.

“Welcome. Mr. Springer, Mr. Tehrani, good to see you again, and you are?” directing the question to Fox.”

“My name is Lee Fox. And you?”

“Chandra. Are you all having the buffet?”

They all nodded affirmative.

“Great. Any drinks or other requests?”

“Water is fine with me,” Springer replied.

“Same,” answered Tehrani.

“I’ll have a ginger ale,” said Fox just to be different.

She wrote quickly scribbling down their orders, bowed and walked away.

 “So what’s so urgent that we have to meet so soon?”

“Mr. Fox, I appreciate your straight talk. We are not on a normal schedule here, and we need to get this rolling.” Teharni appeared irritated.

“Mr. Tehrani, forgive me if you think I am rude. I tend to speak my mind and it can rub some people the wrong way. But as you mentioned, you know my reputation for honesty, and part of that reputation is cutting to the chase. I try to be respectful. I really need to understand specifically why the rush. Don’t get me wrong. Once I’m in, I’m all in. But I don’t like to be kept in the dark with half the story, so please be as thorough as you can.”

“No one is playing games here,” Springer answered. “You are going to help us meet some deadlines that Chico would never attempt in a million years. We want that initial order installed, literally, next week. To make it even more interesting, two of the locations are in your old stomping grounds of Texas.”

“Really?” Fox queried shaking his head, half question half statement. Fox continued, “I guess it can be done. Anything can be done with enough resources and man power.”

“We’ll have the man power. You just make sure that we get product shipped to those two locations first. Because they are so important, you need to supervise them yourself.”

“Mr. Springer, I’m fine with getting the necessary servers and software to both locations, but we’ll need to make sure that all the proprietary software and black boxes are carefully installed. Typically this sort of thing takes weeks, not days.”

“By the way you can call me George. What do you prefer to be called?”

“Lee’s fine.”

“You can call me Habib,” offered Tehrani, feeling left out. In truth he didn’t like this sort of informality with strangers, but as they say when in Rome or Milpitas…

Fox trying to make small talk asked, “George, I understand you spent some years as deputy director of NSA. That must have been quite fascinating. What exactly does a deputy director of NSA do?”

Taking time to chew his spinach and cheese dish very thoroughly, Springer replied, “Yes it was fascinating. But if I told you what I did there then I’d have to kill you”. He smiled. Big joke that he obviously had used many times over the years when strangers dump this question about the NSA on him.

“George, I don’t want to know any secrets. I just was asking about what it was like.”

“Just pulling your leg Lee. As you probably notice, I’m a very serious guy. So the jokes in my repertoire are few and far between. And Habib, those Persians they’re so serious. At ISI, we’re just not much of a fun group. Know any good jokes?”

“Well actually because of my Texas background, I have one about a Texan at Harvard. Wanna hear it?”

Both nodded yes.

“You see there’s this very bright fellow from Texas who gets accepted to Harvard. But his first day, he gets lost and comes across a preppy looking chap puffing on a pipe who’s wearing one of those coats with patches on the elbows, very full of himself. So this Texan walks up to the preppy gentleman and says, “Sir, could you tell me where the liaabrarree is at?” in full Texas accent. Well, the preppy gets offended, pulls out his pipe and responds: “Why my good man, at Haaavaad, we do not end a sentence with a preposition.” Pronouncing every syllable. So the Texan, thought about it for a couple of seconds and responded, “OK, so could you tell me where the Librarrreee’s at…..Asshole!””

Evidently, both Springer and Tehrani found the joke funny and it helped break the ice. Tehrani burst out laughing. Springer cracked a smile – which was a major accomplishment for him. The food was good but not as good as his favorite Indian restaurant in San Rafael called Samsara. In less than an hour they each had another smaller helping and were quite full when Chandra came back with the bill. Springer picked it up and placed his platinum American Express card down. She grabbed it, went back to the register to process the card, and returned with the bill. Springer signed it, took his receipt and then motioned for everyone to get up.

“Thanks George and Habib. I really enjoyed the food.”

“Glad you did,” replied Springer.

“Lee, Kim will be giving you the itinerary for Houston next week. Kim will go alone to Tel Aviv shortly thereafter. When we get back to the office, meet with her to work out logistics. You’ll be flying 1^st class to Texas on United with Kim. I’ve talked to Stein about these arrangements and he’s fine with them. He has enough man power to handle the less strategic locations. Houston, and to a lesser extent Austin, controls our distribution throughout the South and Midwest. The heartland has some of our very best customers. Tel Aviv is a strategic partner on some new technology for developing Asics for camcorders, airbags and all sort of applications, Eproms and DSPs in cell phones, and smartphones chipsets to compete with Intel – and many leading edge developments. These locations need to be protected first and once they’re secured, the rest will be a piece of cake.” 

“Ok, I presume Kim will be in Texas and Israel to keep things moving,” said Fox.

“She speaks some Hebrew and we just heard you speak Texan, so I think we’re covered language-wise.”

With that they all hopped into the Mercedes SUV for the eight block ride back to the office.

After Habib parked in his usual place, they all exited. Fox started to walk away, but George invited him back in to have a quick meeting with Kim to discuss logistics for their trip. The three of them walked into the lobby.

“Just follow us, we’ll walk you right by Kim’s desk,” said Habib.

Using his picture ID attached to a retractable string, Tehrani opened the door. The LED changed from Red to Green and with a click they were through to the other side. After walking past four offices on the left and two sets of cubicles, they showed Fox Kim’s space. Springer was in the corner office to the far right and Tehrani was the office directly across from Kim’s desk.

“Kim we have some news for you,” said Tehrani. “You and Lee are going to Houston and from there you are going to Tel Aviv solo. Maybe Haifa. Actually, I sent word that you guys were going to be there in Houston today, but I guess I got the days wrong.”

With that Tehrani walked away into his office and closed the door.

Kim looked at Fox with her fiery blue eyes and said, “A bomb went off at the United terminal at George H. W. Bush Intercontinental Airport in Houston about thirty minutes ago. Kinda weird timing. Fortunately, it went off in the baggage area when no one was there. My sources say it blew up a bag that belonged to a Mr. Lawrence Fox.  They found the remains of the luggage that had a name tag that said ‘L. Fox’. No it wasn’t a coincidence.

“But” – Fox tried to chime in.

“Don’t be worried”, Kim continued, “I got your back. I failed to tell you that I was in the Air Force – an MP. I’m trained as a sniper. I’m a marksman. Handgun expert. Certified in Martial Arts. Black Belt. Tae Kwon Do. I can handle most things.”

Fox raised his eye brows. Who was this girl he thought to himself.

“What the hell is going on with bombs blowing up bags with my initials and name? Why would anyone want to do that? Kim, are you keeping something from me?” asked Fox.

She responded, “You’ll find out in time.  Blowing up the bag was meant to send a message. At some point, when the time is right, I think this will all become clearer to you. For right now, just stick close and follow my lead. Not to worry.”

“Well I think I liked you better when I thought of you just as a cute assistant instead of GI Jane.”

“Sorry if you’re challenged by a competent woman Mr. Fox.”

Fox stood there stunned in silence. Kim walked back to their break room which had a nice size fifty five inch Samsung LED flat screen turned to CNN with the sound off. After a beat Fox followed. While Kim turned to make a couple of espressos, a scroll of letters on the bottom of the screen was informing viewers about a breaking news event. It said that a sniper had just killed a nuclear scientist visiting from Saudi Arabia in Houston. Assassin at large. News update at eleven.

“Kim, did you see that? Explain this. What the hell is going on with Arab assassins and tech saboteurs in Texas? What are we going to do if someone is really trying to sabotage our installation?”

“If they get in my way, I’ll kill them.”

“Really? Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“Not to be arrogant, but as you can see – I really don’t have a bad side.”

17

The following day Fox sat at his home office desk sipping a Red Tail Ale and checking his email still a bit shocked by this latest revelation about Kim. Who the hell was she? He was supposed to update Stein. He would get around to it. But not yet. He tried to focus on something not related to business or the craziness of the last few days. It had been two days without Patty.  Instead of being in bed with her now, he was tying up some lose ends and attempting to get some rest before the big trip to Texas. But he also wanted to visit the Holy Land again.

In his freshman year at Texas before he transferred to Cal, he had taken a Middle Eastern Archaeology course. As was his typical motivation for many things in his life, a woman was involved, a cute Sabra named Natalie who told him about Dr. Ray Girrard’s class. He enjoyed Girrard’s flamboyant presentation methods, and especially liked the fact that Girrard gave A’s to anyone who attended every class and turned in both a mid-term and final essay. A’s were good for his GPA. But he also found out that he could get an additional credit for participating in a December trip to the Holy Land for three weeks. He paid for it with a small student loan. To say it wasn’t a first class trip would be an understatement.

Despite the rough conditions, the trip was worth it. Fox saw many ancient biblical sights, experienced ancient archeological sites first hand and studied the history of western monotheistic religions up close and discovered things not found in text books.

But Dr. Girrard was a strange guy. He grew up in the Ozarks and was a Fundamentalist Christian by upbringing, what many folks would call a “Bible Thumper.” And based on descriptions of Girrard’s impoverished upbringing, he would definitely qualify as an offspring of “trailer trash”. Fox thought it was exceedingly odd that this man had turned into a renowned scholar in biblical archeology as well as becoming fluent in Hebrew. Simply, Girrard wanted to get as close to the word of Christ and the bible as possible. On his multiple tours and trips he studied Aramaic and old Hebrew with the greatest Jewish and Christian scholars in Israel and the Middle East. It was a hoot to hear him speak Hebrew to the Israelis. Some Israelis thought his thick southern accent was French. That cracked Fox up.

No doubt there was information overload. One great ancient site after another. One place of historic and biblical significance after another. But the one thing that he will never forget was the time a wizened old scholar who translated snippets from the old Hebrew and Aramaic texts and compared them to the King James Bible. He would never forget the sight of Girrard standing there with his mouth open with this old shriveled up octogenarian Israeli linguist demonstrating that the Hebrew letters that the King James Bible translated as “virgin” also meant “young woman”.

To Fox the trip was a bit of blur. Of course he never got to first base with Natalie. There was no privacy. No opportunity for romance. He was constantly chilled by the cold rooms with inadequate heat and his fellow students stacked on top of each other in cramped quarters. The cheap hotels and Kibbutzim seemed to always run out of hot water. Besides the amazing history and avalanche of information he attempted to assimilate, what he most remembered about the trip was the cold and discomfort. For the vast majority of the trip he froze his ass off. But he had always been obsessive about showers and cleanliness and he took them anyway. Many years later acknowledged that the tolerance to cold water he developed on this trip was probably the reason he had a relatively easy time adjusting to the frosty temperature of San Francisco Bay.

Fox would love to get back to the Holy Land to revisit some of his favorite sites in Jerusalem, Masada, Safed, home of Medieval Jewish Mystics, and Haifa. Haifa was on Kim’s itinerary. As Fox daydreamed about the trip, a ping announced a new email marked urgent in his inbox from a former girlfriend – Audrey Thompson. They had had an intense but short-lived romance. Unfortunately, she was as unbalanced as she was drop dead gorgeous. Their short romance was highlighted with Audrey getting angry at him for working late one night. For revenge she punished him by taking one of his so-called friends to bed. She tried to make amends but some things are never made right. In this strange missive she was rambling on about her new boyfriend named Habib. Habib? How many Habibs could there be in the Bay Area? Perhaps quite a few. But another Habib? A coincidence? It didn’t seem possible.

She was afraid of him. She stated her fear more than once. This was not like her. He knew her as a ballsy impulsive gal not easily intimidated. She implored Fox to meet her at Pier 23 at midnight tonight. Pier 23 was actually very close and Fox could walk there faster than driving. He had an hour to think about it. The email was unnerving. He owed her no loyalty or rescuing, but he knew he’d probably cave to her request. He did.

At midnight, the bar at Pier 23, aptly named Pier 23, was hopping. He walked in and found Audrey right away. She was easy to spot. She stood about five nine, with heals about the same size as he was. He really liked that. It was a nice change of pace for him to actually kiss a girl without having to bend over. In the movies, the big guy and the shorter girl always look so natural but in real life a big guy with an average size female is awkward. That is until they’re lying horizontally in bed or other non-vertical places. Flokati rugs for instance.

Audrey had very long flowing raven hair. Her features were as flawless as the last time he laid eyes on her. She had enormous brown eyes and pouty lips. The lips were his favorite feature. Her lips reminded him of one of his babes on his namesake’s Fox News Channel – Shannon Bream. He loved the sculpted full shape. Audrey’s nose was thin but larger than most. It suited her large features perfectly. Like him, she toyed with the idea of a nose job, but she wisely didn’t mess with her own imperfect perfection.

Although he meant to give her a peck on the cheek, he couldn’t resist. He gave her a light kiss on her lips. They both stayed in that position for more than a beat. Then her left hand reached behind his back and pulled him closer. His right hand took hold of the back of her head. The kiss became more passionate. Her mouth opened and she tasted of honey liqueur sweet and salty no doubt from some bar snack and her favorite drink Rusty Nail – heavy on the Drambuie. He flashed to the fact that this was the crazy woman who slept with a friend and he pushed her away and they both took a breath.

“Wow, you always could kiss,” she said. “And as I always told you, if you can kiss you can fuck”.

“Audrey, you’ve always had a way with words and that nasty tongue of yours. That kiss was quite nice, and as much as I still find you exceedingly hot, I’ve got a new girlfriend.  I decided to come here despite my better judgment not to. From your email, I take it that you need help. If all you wanted me for was to swap spit and fuck, I am out the door,” he said.

“No, no, no. Fox, I’m in deep shit. Here, take this.”

He looked down as she placed a USB thumb drive in his hand. He folded his fingers around it.

“Put it away,” she urged, “somewhere safe. I’m not sure what this all means but this is some scary shit I got myself involved in. I found this older guy that kinda looks like Omar Sharif. Met him at a bar. I was drunk. I fancied myself Julie Christie and all of a sudden I was in bed with Dr. Zhivago. Turns out he was more like Dr. No. I think he and his brother are planning to blow up some cities. This shit is crazy, Fox.”

“You said in the email his name is Habib?”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit. This guy doesn’t work for a Chip company in Milpitas does he?”

“I don’t know where, but he does something with computers in the valley.”

“You say he looks like an older Omar Sharif? How the hell did you meet him?”

“Well it’s a bit embarrassing. Actually I met him at the Balboa Café. He seemed very shy but like I said I was drunk and I had this Dr. Zhivago fantasy going on, and now I think I’ve signed my own death warrant.”

“What do you mean? Has he threatened you?”

“Not exactly, but based on the conversations I’ve overheard with his brother, he’s one of those crazy Islamic fanatics. I don’t think he’s going to let me live once he finds out what I know.”

“Look, just don’t let on that you know anything. Does he know you’ve overheard him? Is he suspicious of you?”

“I think he’s figured out that I know more than I should. I think he’s already snooped into my email.”

“Great. Now he knows you contacted me.”

“Well your email does come back as Crazy Willy, so maybe he won’t know it’s you. By the way, why the hell does your email say Crazy Willy?”

“crazyWilly911@yahoo.com

gives me some measure of anonymity. But if this is the guy I think it is, he’ll think I’m my real  crazy uncle – my Crazy Uncle Willy.”

“What’s this? So you put some real guy’s who’s your uncle down for your email?”

“It started out as a joke. It’s not so funny now. I probably need to check on the real Crazy Willy and warn him. If this is the same Habib that I know, he’s capable of tracking me down.

“But what do I do?”

“I think you need to go home. Lock your doors. Stay away from Habib. I’m going to contact a local cop friend – and see if he can look out for you. We may need to get the FBI involved if what you think you overheard has any truth to it.”

“FBI? Hell, CIA, Homeland Security. The United Nations. Seal Team 6. Mitch Rapp. Jack Reacher.”

“Jack who?”

“Never mind. Just some six five two hundred and fifty pound fictitious character who kicks ass and takes names.”

“Well, I don’t know any Jack Reacher but I do know a hundred and ten pound Kung Fu black belt. Will that do?”

“Are you kidding me? This guy and what he’s doing is scary stuff and I don’t think some wimpy guy – even with a black belt is going to be much good here.”

“Who said anything about a guy – she’s a girl. And a mighty fine looking girl at that.”

“Great. Forget it. I’m going home. Come home with me.”

“Not tonight. I’m going on a business trip. I have a girlfriend. I’ll keep you safe though. I’ll call my cop friend and one of my best buddies Dan Leary. You can trust him. He’s about the size of your fictitious Jack Reacher and could probably kick your Jack Reacher’s butt.”

“Great. One of your alcoholic Polar Bear Club buddies. Yeah I suppose that guy can kick some made up character from a book, but how the hell would he do with a real live terrorist.”

“So now Habib is a terrorist? If this is the same guy I think it might be, an older Omar Sharif, this guy is in no shape to fight anyone.”

“Yeah, but how is your buddy fighting a 9 millimeter Beretta?”

“Enough. Time for you to go home.” Pulling out the thumb drive,” he said, “I’ll check this out. I’ll call my police friend. I’ll call Dan. You’ll be fine.”

Audrey looked scared. Fox stared back with confidence trying to get her to settle down. It seemed to work. She leaned closer to him and kissed him on the lips very gently. They parted. She walked out. Fox tightened his big paw around the thumb drive and stuffed it back into his coat pocket. He turned and left the building. He pulled out his iPhone and called Schwartz. Got his voicemail and left a message. Same deal for Leary. Also left a message. He walked a couple of blocks north along the Embarcadero and crossed over to Chestnut. Walked a few blocks and one more block north to Francisco. In ten minutes he was back at home. He pulled out the thumb drive and placed in into his laptop.

Before he took the time to look over the contents of the drive Audrey just gave him, Fox called his mentor and best friend Dan Leary one more time trying to get him live. The phone rang three times and Fox was about to hang up when Leary answered. He sounded bombed.

“Doctor Fox, what’s up in the wild world of computer security? And to what do I owe the honor of this call? And by the way did you notice that it’s almost one a.m.?”

“Leary, my man, I’ve got a favor to ask. Before you reject this without hearing me out, this particular favor is five nine and a perfect 35c-24-36 – long black flowing hair and lips that put Angelina Jolie’s to shame.”

“Jeez, Fox, you really know how to hit my hot buttons. You had me at five nine. 35C, lips and hair, that’s just icing on the cake so to speak. Whadaya need me to do?”

“Well I want you to go by her apartment on Green Street and keep her safe from a nasty Persian pervert who resembles Omar Sharif – but after he stopped taking his Jennie Craig. I don’t know if he’s a threat but she thinks he is and she’s scared. Still got your heat or whatever it is that shoots bullets that you used to kill bad guys with?”

“Yes I do. Did you say ‘heat’? Have you been reading Mickey Spillane or watching old Bogart movies again? I’ll need to sober up a bit. I can get there in thirty minutes to an hour depending on how many times I fall down in the shower.”

“Great. I’m hoping you’ll protect this poor girl and you’re so drunk you can’t even stand up in the shower?”

“I’ll have you know that I am good at everything when I’m drunk. Once I played a Baseball game at Boston College drunk. I was a helluva first baseman I’ll have you know. Anyway, it was a double header and my buddy and I celebrated our victory with our friend Mr. Budweiser and his five friends and we were starting to get dressed to go home when we were informed that we had another one. Another game that is. Oops. We forgot. A double header. So I admit I looked a little tipsy out there, but it didn’t stop me from doing my Babe Ruth imitation. You may ask, what is my Babe Ruth imitation? Well legend has it that the baddest Bronx Bomber of them all was known to imbibe from time to time and one game his manager was just about to take him out because he could hardly stand up he was so soused. But sure enough with the bases loaded he hit a grand slam and won the game in the bottom of the 9^th. He freely admitted that he drank one too many beers. Every time the pitcher threw a pitch he saw three coming at him. When they asked how he did it, he said, that’s easy – I swung at the one in the middle.”

Fox said, “Her name is Audrey Thompson. She lives at 350 Greenwich, apartment 404. Take good care of her buddy. How long before you get there?”

“From Sausalito it shouldn’t take me much more than a half hour.” “Thanks buddy. I owe you.”

Fox usually didn’t drink Coffee at night, but he decided he’d make a half decaf half real espresso with his Krups’ espresso machine. Cost him fifty bucks and worked like a charm. He foamed up his Silk almond milk which he liked better than cow’s milk. He was proud of the professional looking double Macchiato. After he took a sip the iPhone rang.  He’d been home about forty five minutes and was just starting to relax.

“Lee Fox, this is Detective Schwarz SFPD. You left a message for me to check on your friend Audrey who was threatened. Got some bad news. I’m afraid we didn’t get there in time to prevent the break-in to Audrey’s apartment. She was shot. Murdered. Looks like it was a professional hit. We’re going to need to talk to you first thing in the morning. 9 a.m. at the station. We’ve got a lot of questions for you tomorrow. It seems like there’s lots of dead bodies around you. We need to find out why.”

“Angry and shocked Fox said, “Right”.

He disconnected. Mumbling to himself he said – “you and me both Detective Schwartz. You and me both.”

18

He walked outside to make his call over the satellite phone. Inconvenient. Fortunately, he had a private patio that was protected on three sides. On the fourth side facing the warehouse, he had erected a barrier that was like a Japanese Shoji Screen – only much thicker and larger covered with ancient Persian symbols. It was a gift from Ahriman. He laughed almost every time he saw it. Ahriman was a true believer. Some would call him insane. But Habib knew that his commitment and fanaticism made him an unstoppable force. Habib would have preferred a less dramatic way to achieve power, but he knew better than to try to talk Ahriman out of his plan. Besides, he would be rewarded by the Iranian government. He would miss his American mistresses, but he would more than make up for it in wealth and power he always dreamed about.

It rang twice. Ahriman answered curtly, “Yes, my brother, what is it? I told you not to call unless it was important.”

“It is important,” responded Habib, “The girl has stolen the USB.”

“What?  You fool!”

“Brother, I have already dealt with her. I’ll get the drive back. The plan is still on schedule. Just a small bump in the road as the Americans say.”

“I don’t care what the Americans say. You just stay on plan or I’ll forget you’re my brother.”

Ahriman hung up.

“Hello? Hello? Don’t worry, I’ll deal with it,” he spoke into the lifeless phone.

At 9 a.m. Fox walked into the Vallejo Street Police Station in North Beach.

“Detective Schwartz, please,” Fox said to the front desk clerk.

“Have a seat,” the clerk responded.

Fox sat on the hard wooden bench facing the wall and the door to the offices. He was trying to digest and assimilate what was happening. It was all coming at him too fast. Just didn’t make sense. A Chinese drug gang and a dead thug on the street. Dead body number one. Why? A deal out of nowhere lands in his lap from a top Chip manufacturer that could make him rich. How and Why? An Iranian IT guy who may be implicated in a terrorist plot was the guy in charge of the project that could make him rich. His ex-girlfriend was apparently murdered by the Iranian IT guy. A mysterious USB thumb drive with encrypted information that may or may not be about an upcoming terrorist attack was slipped to him by his ex-girlfriend in her last act before she was murdered. Dead body number two. And while all this was going on, he just fell in love with the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.

A door opened and Schwartz approached with a very uptight looking man waving Fox back. The new man was a square jawed, severe looking, forty something ex-military type in a dark suit and bland blue and grey thin tie. Fox was led into a room with a rectangular table and plain metal chairs. The table was black. The chairs were metallic silver. Walls were painted industrial greyish white. There was a large four foot by eight wide window that he figured out must be two way and this obviously must be one of their interrogation rooms.

“Have a seat Mr. Fox,” said Schwartz. “This is Agent McKinnon from the FBI.”

Fox sat. McKinnon and Schwartz stood. Nods, but no handshakes.

“Mr. Fox, it seems you’ve been attracting quite a lot of bad news lately. People are starting to drop like flies around you. Do you have any insight into why all this is happening?” asked McKinnon.

Fox shook his head negative. “Not a clue.”

“Mr. Fox, I think you do have a clue. And it’s in your best interest to speak up.”

“Are you threatening me? Do I need a lawyer? Am I being charged with anything?”

“Mr. Fox. No we’re not threatening you. And no you are not being charged with anything so you don’t need a lawyer. But you are in the middle of something that is way over your head. When I say that it is in your best interest, I mean that if you don’t want to end up like your ex-girlfriend you might want to be more forthcoming” said McKinnon with a half-smile.

“I don’t know what’s going on. I can only tell you that I do think that there is some connection between this IT Manager Habib Tehrani at ISI and some kind of a terrorist plot. At least that’s the limited information that I got from Audrey before they killed her. If they are the ones that killed her. I’m supposed to go to Texas on an expedited installation of our security software. I’ll be gone a couple of days. That’s all I know.”

“That’s it? Think. Audrey didn’t tell you anything. Anything at all that might shed some light here?”

Fox’s gut instinct told him not to mention the USB drive. He didn’t understand it. But he went with it. He could always say he forgot.

“Well, she did say something about a brother.”

“Did Audrey have a brother?”

“I’ve known her a long time and she never mentioned a brother. To my knowledge she doesn’t have a brother. I don’t know if she meant Habib’s brother or someone else’s or whether it was used as an expression. It’s very confusing.”

“Mr. Fox, that’s good. That helps a lot. I don’t want to scare you, but we think you are up to your ass in alligators. You may be involved in something as big as any threat to America since 9-11. We know that Audrey sent you an email that was addressed to someone called Crazy Willy. Who is ‘Crazy Willy’?”

“Yes, I actually have a crazy Uncle Willy. As a joke I use his name for my yahoo email account. I thought it was funny. My uncle is a conspiracy nut. An aging angry white male who listens to talk radio all day long and hates the government and says things like: ‘The government is filled with Commies and Masterminds who want to take over and enslave the country.’ You know that kinda guy. He’s actually very smart and very entertaining, but I can only handle him in small doses.”

“Well, that may have helped you dodged a bullet. This Tehrani is a savvy computer guy but like a lot of managers he seldom gets his hands dirty according to our inside person. With a little luck, he’ll research your crazy uncle Willy and dismiss him as a kook and he won’t make the connection that you’re the one that Audrey reached out to. For your sake, you better pray that’s what happens.”
“What about my Uncle Willy?”

“We’ve already tracked him down. I understand he’s retired and living with an old girlfriend of his in Lagunitas in Marin. Is that the same guy?”

“Yeah. But I suggest you don’t use the term ‘old girlfriend’ around him. It won’t be good for your health.”

“Yeah, I’ll make a note of that. Just in case, we’ve got him under surveillance and his grounds look pretty secure. In fact, this guy’s compound is essentially impenetrable. I think he’s safe. I’m not so sure that anyone who messes with him is though. We have reports that he’s got more firepower at his compound than sum total of all the police and sheriff’s departments in all of Marin County. At some point you might want to warn him so that he’s alerted to potential danger. There’s really nothing we can do but tell the local sheriff to keep an eye out.”

“Well, Uncle Willy is ex special forces. Green Beret during the Viet Nam War. He’s been through a lot. Survived a lot. He’s pretty tough. So unless these guys come in huge numbers and bring lots of manpower, they’re the ones I’d be worried about. And realistically, even if they bring a small army, he’s ready for it. As best as I can tell part of his paranoia is his belief that the ‘Government’ will eventually come to get him and he’s prepared to go down fighting. Jeez I’ve warned him to cool it. I think of that Waco siege some years back. But he never listens. He tells me stuff like ‘peace through strength’ and other bumper stickers slogans like that. He’s out there all right.”

“So here’s the deal. I want you to pretend like nothing has happened. With a little luck Tehrani will not make the connection about you and your crazy uncle. He’s more interested in getting his security system in Texas and getting them up and running. He is no doubt one of the terrorists or at least he’s conspiring with his brother who is on the top of our Terrorist watch list. We’re pretty sure his brother in Beirut is going to use this technology to give the command to execute some massive strike.  Once they make that secure connection they’ll be able to bypass our monitors. At that point we won’t be able to hack into his system and get the information about the strike. Wherever it is and whenever it is, is out of our control. That means there’s likely to be untold deaths and casualties. Our Intel points to Houston as the primary target. So our guys think that the reason you and his assistant – she’s one of our undercover agents by the way – are going to install it personally, is because we are pretty sure that that’s where the action is.”

“Wait a second. Did you say Habib Tehrani’s assistant is your undercover agent?”

“That’s right. We placed her there when Habib showed up on our radar.”

“Perky Kim?”

“That’s the one. She’s one of our best. You know what they say about ‘small packages’. Well this gal is a powerhouse.”

Under his breath Fox muttered, “It seems like I’m meeting a lot of them these days.”

 “As I said, we think the target is Houston based on the Intel we’ve extracted from NSA wiretaps and our partners in the Middle East. But we don’t know for sure. We’re more than a little concerned about you being put in the middle. Now that you’re aware of what’s going down, you could be helpful to us. Maybe it’s for the best that you know about Kim and the plot. Kim can focus better without worrying about what she says around you. But let me be clear here. You are NOT a trained agent. This is not a game. Your ass will be in the line of fire. Kim is one of our best agents and I don’t want you putting her life in jeopardy by you doing something stupid. Whether you come out of this alive is up to you. Kim will keep you safe if you follow directions and keep your head down. However, if this is too much for you, you can get out. We can make it like you’re in the witness protection program, but then again you lose your life as you know it. Or you can play along, go along with Kim and help us bring these bad guys down. Your choice.”

Fox just stared at McKinnon and then looked over at Schwartz who had his head down and was picking at his nails. McKinnon left the room.

“What the hell have I gotten myself mixed up in?” asked Fox.

Fox stared at the clock on the wall to his right. Five minutes went by. He hardly moved. He hardly blinked.

McKinnon walked back in.

“Do you understand your options?” said McKinnon.

“I guess so.” said Fox.

“Well?” asked McKinnon.

“I’m in” said Fox looking up at McKinnon.

“Great.”

With that McKinnon reached over to shake Fox’s hand. Fox mechanically responded and tried to get out from the table but hit is knees banged on it as he half-heartedly distracted by the table shook McKinnon’s hand.

“Good luck” said McKinnon and with that he walked out of the room. Fox stood up looking around the room wondering what to do next. Schwartz got up.

“This way”, said Schwarz.

“One little thing Mr. Schwarz”, Fox said as they both stopped. “Audrey gave me a USB drive and my computer geek friend is working on it. Perhaps, we should turn it over to you?”

Schwartz didn’t know whether to hit him or kiss him, so he just stopped and stared at Fox for a long five seconds. “Just bring me your hacker buddy and let’s see what’s on it…just forgot, huh?  Not holding out on me were you Fox?” Fox nodded negative, but Schwarz saw through the lie.  Schwartz led Fox out the door through the hall and to the sidewalk. Schwartz turned and went back in. Fox stood outside. It was an unusually warm summer day in San Francisco. Despite the temperature being almost eighty degrees, nevertheless a shiver ran down his spine.

19

It was 10:30 when Fox left the station. He decided to walk up Union Street toward Patty’s flat. It was a steep three block climb. He huffed and puffed his way up the hill past Mason, Taylor and Jones and stopped at the steps leading to the gate in front of 1082. He rang her buzzer. No answer. Since he hadn’t called ahead, he didn’t know if she was there or not. He started to walk away just as heard the voice on the intercom say “who is it?”

“Hey Patty, it’s me – Fox.”

Then he heard the buzzer and opened the metal gate, walked in the tiny space between the gate and door. He closed the gate. The front door shut on its own behind him. He took the stairs two at a time and found Patty’s door. It was cracked open. He came in and shut the door behind him.

“Back here in my bedroom” she shouted.

He walked down the narrow hall and took the quick right into her bedroom. She was at her vanity drying her hair just out of the shower. The black and white Sedu hair dryer looked like a science fiction ray gun was making a humming noise, but he didn’t seem to notice. He just smiled and stared at her. He caught himself. He never smiled. She only had a towel wrapped around her. She had no makeup on. Her fabulous legs were crossed as she looked into the magnification mirror on her vanity finishing up the last touches on her hair. She turned off the dryer and brushed her hair a few strokes. She smiled. He smiled back. She was putting on a little show for him. He was incredibly aroused. With all the craziness going on around him, he was smiling from ear to ear. Not like him. Fox never smiled.

“I’m really glad you’re still here. I came here on a whim. I’m usually not this spontaneous,” he said.

“I like spontaneous,” she said.

“You do?”

“Yes, I do.”

“What do you consider spontaneous?”

“This,” as she dropped her towel and stood up on her toes she grabbed his shoulders and kissed his lips.

He pulled her hard against him and found her mouth moist and inviting and explored her sweet recently brushed tongue. It tasted like baking soda and champagne. He noticed the half-full champagne flute on her vanity. He tore off his windbreaker and was pulling off his Beefy-T V neck shirt and she fumbled with his belt. Instead of the floor this time, he lifted her from under her shoulders and placed her sitting upright on the raised bed. She watched as he took his left shoe to the back of his right foot and then his sock foot to the left shoe and he bent over to take off his socks. He pulled off his underwear and as he moved to get up on the bed, Patty moved back slightly. He found her mouth and rolled on top of her. He tugged on the tangled comforter and kicked it off the bed until they were both rolling around on top of the plush Egyptian cotton sheets. This was just as exciting as the first time but different. No alcohol this time. All of his senses were working. And how! Her skin was like magic and electric to the touch. He bent over and put his lips to her magnificently perfect breasts. They spent the next hour exploring their respective bodies.

After the second time, he fell into a deep sleep that he had not experienced in his thirty two years on the planet. Making love to Patty was not just a physical exercise it was a spiritual experience. He was totally relaxed, at peace, despite the insanity of his last few days. His hour of sleep was more satisfying and rejuvenating than his typical seven or eight hour sleep night.

But peace was short-lived. Though he set the iPhone on silence mode, it buzzed and shook his pants on the floor. He awoke. He debated whether to jump down from the raised bed or just forget the phone and the chaos that he eventually had to face. He jumped down. Patty was closer to the window and did not move. He picked up the pants with the phone and tip toed to the bathroom to check the message.

It was Stein. In a panic. Fox listened for almost two minutes. He was going to fly to Houston tomorrow. Stein needed an update for the board of director’s meeting to be held next Tuesday. Stein could wait. Fox walked to the water closet and relieved himself. Washed his hands and found a new toothbrush. Unwrapped it and brushed his teeth with the baking soda toothpaste. Of course. He told her. She bought some that sat next to her Crest. Now all he needed was a glass of Champagne to wash it down with. He padded to the kitchen and found some Cognac for cooking. He took a swig of that instead and went back to bed.

20

Habib was behind the desk at his warehouse near ISI. He was pacing. Irritated.

“Did you trace the call and follow up on the email?” asked Habib. He was talking into his blue tooth ear piece for his iPhone.

“Yes. William Schlaukopf lives in Lagunitas in Marin County, north of the Golden Gate Bridge,” replied the man.

“Who is he?”

“He’s retired military. Eccentric Tea Party type. We have not yet figured out how he knew Audrey Thompson. He seldom goes to bars in San Francisco. As far as we can tell, they may have had a relationship some time ago. It seems logical that when Audrey started to suspect something she reached out to this old guy who had military background for protection.”

“Do you think he’s a threat that needs to be eliminated?”

“Not sure. If we act now, this could raise more red flags. I have tapped his phone and I hope to be able to hack into his other email accounts other than the one yahoo alias account.”

“No need. Just monitor his phone. If he does anything at all that looks like he’s alerting the police or FBI, then take him out. Don’t contact me unless you see a problem.”

With that, Habib disconnected. Given the profile of this eccentric old man, he wasn’t really concerned. What kind of name was Schlaukopf? William Schlaukopf. Must be German.

21

About 7 p.m. Fox awoke to the smell of something exotic coming from Patty’s kitchen. She was whipping up another delicacy he assumed. Maybe it was a dish for the upcoming event she had mentioned. But he hoped it was for the two of them and not something for a future party. She said something about an event at the California Academy of Sciences. Last time he was in Golden Gate Park, he remembered the De Young Museum and the huge space in a building that housed the Academy of Sciences. This was no doubt going to be some big deal. He grabbed the white robe conveniently hung over the chair at her vanity. She was thoughtful. It was indeed the larger one that fit him. He walked to the kitchen to find out what Patty was cooking.

“Even better than water when you wake up,” Patty said as she handed him a flute of Domaine Chandon. She picked up hers and they clicked glasses. The sight of her left him breathless. She was in a black diaphanous negligée. She had a tiny white apron that held her negligee away from the stove but did little else. She had her patent leather Chanel flats on. He would have preferred seeing her in four inch heels, but hey, she was pretty perfect the way she was. Now this would be a cooking show he could watch.

“L’chaim,” he said.

“To Life,” she said.

They drank a big gulp each.

“What’s that fabulous smell?”

“Well you’re just in time for me to light the Cognac in my Coq au Vin. French Comfort food. Good stuff. But it does get a bit messy. Lots of steps.”

Fox looked around and noticed piles of pots and pans in the sink and on the counters and realized that this dish was not exactly one of Rachel Ray’s thirty minute creations.

“How long have you been working on this?”

“Julia Child’s recipe calls out for lots of action. If you’re really fast you can probably knock it out in an a little over an hour, if you do everything right and are more deliberate, it takes twice that long. I like to savor every step. Lots of moving parts but I actually enjoy making it.”

“Really? Seems like a lot of work. Well it smells great. Chicken and red wine?”

“Actually it literally means Rooster in Red Wine. The PG13 translation. I prefer to call it Cock and Wine myself,” she said with sly grin. “But I didn’t check the gender of the chicken before I began. I usually just get the good free range chicken at Whole Foods and hope that Julia wouldn’t mind.”

“Amazing. I wouldn’t worry about Julia, last I heard the old girl has left us and is on the other side, whatever or wherever that is.”

“Originally, the French considered this peasant food. So they used rooster or whatever barnyard fowl they could find. So the red wine was really not there for flavor but rather to help break down the tough meat of the rooster to make it edible. As I said, total preparation time is about an hour and a half to two hours. I’m just about to pour the Cognac into the pan and flame it. In French it’s called Flambé. Do you want to do the honors?”

She handed Fox the kitchen lighter. It had a black handle and a trigger mechanism similar to a gun. She poured a healthy amount of Cognac on the Chicken. It looked like about a fourth of a cup. He ignited it and they both smiled. A nice reddish and yellow flame.

“That’s cool,” he said.

Patty took the handle of the pan and swirled the contents around to get the flame evenly spread over the entire dish. After a minute it went out. Then she took the red wine, Fetzer Zinfandel, and mixed an equal amount of wine and chicken broth until the chicken was completely covered. She stirred in tomato paste, garlic, bay leaf, and thyme. As it started to simmer, she turned the flame lower.

“We have about thirty minutes to let the meat get tender. During this time I’ll be cooking the onions and mushrooms, putting it all together and we’ll be ready to dine. Since I’m a traditionalist I’m serving it with wide egg noodles. But it can be served over rice or parsley potatoes. We must enjoy the dish immediately. It’s part of the ritual. So you can sit here and watch me or find another way to occupy your time.”

“Fascinating. I’ll watch and learn. Trust me. This is much more entertaining than the Food Channel.”

She smiled and said, “I’ll take your word on that.”

22

After the amazing meal under the tented dining room that resembled the famous Fleur de Lys Restaurant, Fox dressed and decided to fill Patty in on the other parts of his currently crazy life. They sat on the cobra chairs knees touching. She let him talk as he explained everything that had happened but tried to do so without scaring her. She put on a brave front but he did not succeed. She nodded a lot and didn’t say much. Patty walked him to her front door and gave him one last passionate kiss.

“Can I help with dishes at least?” he asked.

“Not to worry. Got it covered,” she replied.

Looking at her he said, “Fortunately for me, you got little else covered here. I can’t believe I’m letting little things like terrorist attacks get in the way of our relationship. I should be making love to you right now. I have my priorities all wrong.”

She smiled and said, “That’s alright. Go save the world first.”

He kissed her again turned and walked out the door. He hustled down the stairs smiling. He caught himself smiling and shook his head as he reached the front door. Fox never smiled. He walked a couple of blocks downhill to Columbus Avenue and cut through Washington Square Park to Mason Street and the few blocks to Francisco and his Condo.

Fox thought about packing for his business trip, but decided instead to call Leary and find out what happened. He found his contacts list on his iPhone and hit Leary’s name. Two rings and Leary picked up.

“Leary, it’s Fox”

“Wow, this is crazy. What happened with that girl?” Leary asked.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Fox said literally yelling into his phone. He thought of Audrey and got righteously angry.

“Hey, I got to the address you gave me and the cops and the flashing lights were already there. They had yellow tape cordoning off her building. I went up to find what was what and some cop named Schwartz tells me that girl you asked me to look out for had just been murdered.”

“How long did it take you to get there?” Fox said in an accusatory tone losing his cool.

“Hey man, I got there in record time. There was little traffic. I got there under thirty minutes – faster than I said I would. If you thought she was in imminent danger, why’d ya leave her alone?”

Fox took a beat and calmed himself. Leary had a point. He had a pang of guilt. His focus kicked in.

“You’re right. Sorry. I’m just a bit pissed by this whole thing. I talked myself into believing that she’d be OK with my cop friend, if you wanna call him that, and you keepin’ an eye out for her.  Guess I was sorely mistaken and it cost her life.”

“OK. But don’t beat yourself up. These guys obviously worked fast. The probability is that you’d have been capped too if you tried to protect her. After all you’re just a civilian pussy and from, what the cops told me, this was an execution. A nine millimeter between the eyes. Two pops. One would have been sufficient. No doubt this killer would have easily taken you out too.”

“Now wait a minute, I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can. You play Rugby and you’re a tough guy in the bay when you’re swimming with the sea lions, but sea lions and rugby guys don’t carry Berettas.”

A sigh and a long pause, “Dan, I think it’s time you took me to the range and show me how to shoot.”

“OK, but I don’t want you to go all vigilante on me trying to avenge this gal. Let the police handle it. That Schwartz guy seems competent enough.”

“Dan, sorry I went off on you. I’m going back to Texas tomorrow on business for a few days. When I get back let’s go have some beers and shoot – not necessarily in that order.”

“Well in Texas, I think that’s exactly how they do it. But here in civilized Northern California, we sip white wine, eat some brie and crackers, snort some coke and THEN go out and shoot!”

“You’re crazy man. I’ll call you when I get back. Later.”

“Later.”

Fox almost smiled as he put the phone down on his dining room table. He looked around his condo. He started to compare his austere surrounding to the antiques and beauty at Patty’s apartment. The Fleur de Lys tenting of the dining room with the crystal chandelier and antique furniture compared to his cheesy Sears clear table top and four funky brown padded chairs. He definitely needed to upgrade his image. If he was going to play in Patty’s league he needed to bring in that deal. But what the hell was going on with Tehrani? Was he a murderer or terrorist or was this thing with Audrey just some crazy coincidence? Was there another Habib? The whole thing was insane. Now he was working with the FBI. And a hundred and ten pounds of Perky turns out to be an undercover agent for the bureau who kicks ass when she’s not making world class espresso. The whole thing was surreal. He didn’t have time to travel back and forth to Lagunitas, so he decided to give Uncle Willy a phone call instead.

Willy picked up on the second ring and said, “Hello, that you Lee?”

“Yes sir, Uncle Willy. How ya been?” he replied.

“Gettin’ old son. Life’s a bitch when the body starts to fall apart. But hey, you don’t want to hear my troubles. I’ve lived my life. Me and my girlfriend are doin’ just great. We’re still workin’ on the Kama Sutra. We’re doin’ great. And I just published my third political e-book on Amazon. I’ve had a total of eight people so far download it for $1.99. Not exactly gonna’ get rich, but eventually it’ll catch on. Sorry to ramble on about me, I suppose you have a reason for calling me, son?”

“Yes I do. I want to give you a heads up. It’s a long story and I’ll tell you all about it when I get back from Texas. Going there tomorrow on business. Houston. Maybe Austin. Anyway, long story short, I got somehow mixed up in something involving terrorists. Did you say Kama Sutra?”

“Yes, I said Kama Sutra. Did you say terrorists?”

“Yeah. It’s like this: my ex-girlfriend Audrey sent me an email warning me about something she overheard – a potential terrorist attack – maybe in Houston. It turns out she had an affair with an Iranian that I’m also working with on a big project. Just coincidence I think. Anyway, it’s crazy. I guess I’m rambling and this is not that short.”

“Very interesting stuff, Lee, but you know I don’t believe in coincidences. Anyway, I know you’re a tough kid. A good athlete, but you’re not trained to deal with these kinda’ people.”

“It seems to be a theme I’m hearing lately. You got that right. Well, let me tell you how I inadvertently got you involved. I’ve always liked you and I use an email address that uses your name as an alias.”

“You mean the one that says crazy Willy something at yahoo – that one?”

“How’d you find that out? I wasn’t tryin—“

“Look son, I know how you and your generation looks at someone like me. A relic from a prehistoric age. A dinosaur. Just because some of you go to big Universities in Texas and California doesn’t mean your generation is well educated. Well, you personally have at least got business, math and technical skills. But most of your generation is made up of brainwashed drones who couldn’t find their butt with both hands and a roadmap. They don’t know the first thing about history – especially American history. So your whole generation is now being sucked down the black hole of socialism by Masterminds who are manipulating you by promising a nanny state Utopia. You know what they say about things for free?”

“No actually I don’t.”

“Things for free cost too much. You’ll figure that out someday. Your generation has really been snookered.”

“Uncle Willy, please let’s not go there. I don’t say things like: ‘your generation was a bunch of fascists who elected that criminal Richard Nixon’.”

“Ok. Here we go. You think Nixon was more corrupt than the historic Divider-in-Chief? I don’t think there’s that much difference except the press hated Nixon and helped to bring him down, this lap dog Pretorian Guard media is complicit in the crimes of that white house. Now that we have a total outsider, the slime media and their puppets are goin’ nuts – they’re heads are exploding! And my guess is that they’ll be successful with their coup. He may be good for the average American, but this America First populism won’t fly with Big Tech and Media Moguls.”

“Alright let’s just agree to disagree.”

“Wow, did you just say that? I hate that line. You gotta learn to take a stand, son.”

“OK. But let’s focus on why I called. Uncle Willy, bottom line, bad guys might think you’re me. That you might have information about their plot – whatever the hell it is – because an ex-girlfriend sent me an email addressed with your name on it.”

“I appreciate the concern, but you shouldn’t worry about me. My home is not just my castle it’s a god damn fortress. As you already know, I’ve got all sorts of security systems and weapons on site to stave off just about any attack. I’ll tell you one thing, if our goddam state department would have allowed the kind of security I got here on my compound to be sent to Libya, I guran-god-dam-tee-ya there wouldn’t have been four dead Americans in Benghazi. The sons-a-bitches just left those good Navy Seals and that diplomat to die. Here we are years later and nothin’s been done about it except to call it a “phony scandal” and pretend like it never happened and blame it on a video that nobody saw. I bet you don’t remember that poor schmuck who made that god awful video that went to prison. As I recall they let him rot there in prison for a couple of years on some other trumped up charge and then they shuffled him out to little fanfare and told him to disappear. Last I heard he was living in Uzbekistan with a bunch of sheep herders with no access to the Internet.  I can still remember Candy Crowley covering for the POTUS during the debate on Foreign policy. Did he say the attack was a spontaneous riot due to a video or was it a terrorist attack? Out of context Candy, who looks like she likes she’s been snackin’ too long on candy if you get my drift, covered for the POTUS and continued with the narrative that he thought it was a terrorist attack, when he and his administration had spent weeks telling us it was a spontaneous act caused by a video. Really pathetic. But what did the Rino Mittens do? Did he fight back? Not a chance. I remember the silence that came from the rest of the GOP. Feckless losers. And there’s evidence that the other political reason for the cover up is similar to the Fast and Furious Mexican gun running scandal. Remember that one? That scandal has also been swept under the rug, the morons in the DEA actually thought that if they sent automatic weapons to the drug cartels they could track ‘em and locate the bad guys. Unfortunately they forgot to come up with any way to track them. So hundreds of Mexicans have been murdered by these guns that were also responsible of an American border guard’s death – yet no bad guys captured. In Benghazi it was worse. Much worse. There were dozens of CIA agents smuggling Surface to Air missiles to Syrian rebels. Yes, rebels who happen to be al Qaeda, ISIS and bad guys capable of using one of those four hundred or more lost SAMs to bring down an American, or some other nation’s airlines. Of course, this is just the ranting of an angry old man. When the airliners start falling from the sky, no one in the slime media will bother to make the connections. Like that TWA flight that went down in 1996. Everybody knew it was a missile that brought it down. Now we’re starting to get folks to actually admit it. You know Sally and I were on a U.S. Air Flight from NY to Rome on the same exact day that TWA flight 800 was blown out of the sky by a Surface to Air missile that in all likelihood exploded outside the aircraft but with enough force to blow it out of the sky.

Enough time has passed and I guess people are starting to come clean. People retire. But never fear. NTSB – National Transportation and Safety Board will always do the politically expedient thing. So the cover up continues. People cover their ass I guess until it’s OK to come out and speak the truth. The truth comes out eventually but by then most people have moved on. The victims’ families don’t want to relive the tragedy. Those folks who are still part of the cover up don’t want to lose their jobs or come clean.

So nothing that’s happened in the last two Administrations have surprised me. The scandals. The cover ups. The Pretorian Press in the media protecting the Ruling Class. The Globalist one world government scum. Now the billionaire outsider and somehow after his opponent as Sec State approved the sale of 20% of America’s uranium to Russia while her foundation was paid over $100 million by the Russians, and she put her classified e-mails on a server in a toilet, destroyed over 30,000 of them to cover up, her serial rapist husband gets twice his speaking fee from the Russians, a cool half mil, and he meets with the AG that looks like obstruction, the FBI director then gives the case for an indictment, then does the AG’s job and says there’s no reason to, her chief of staff getting 75,000 shares of stock funded by Russians, and somehow, it’s our guy that is ‘colluding’ with the Russians – and what she’s been doing has been relegated to being called a ‘matter’ instead of an investigation.  The Socialist Dems are good. Deflection. Projection. I’m rootin’ for him though. But he doesn’t stand a chance. Too many forces arrayed against him – including his own party! They’ll take his ass out or lynch him in the media – either way he’s toast. I always figured our corrupt Government might one day come for me and my property. I actually figured it could be an Establishment GOP Administration that wanted to be tough on crime. Now I’m leaning toward the notion that the group that’ll come after me will be the Utopian leftists that don’t take kindly to criticism. I never figured I might actually see the day when one party in power would use the IRS and all these bogus government agencies on a mass scale. Hell, they came for all of us on that one! And it worked. A few outcries. But like the other scandals. They found diversionary tactics to hide their nefarious deeds. No one’s talking about the NSA listening on all Americans calls a clear violation of the Fourth Amenement. No one’s talking about Benghazi anymore. No one’s talking about the IRS.

 You know that IRS thing they had a few years ago? It’s no big revelation that one guy with power targets another guy – using the IRS. Politics. Been goin’ on forever. But when you have a political candidate and his entire party targeting the entire political opposition and getting away with it, now that’s a whole other can of worms. Stalin would blush at the balls of these people. Nothin’s gonna change. The new guy will be too busy putting out fires set by the Rinos in his own party and the illiberal locusts of the left. Poor schmuch doesn’t stand a chance. With a complicit media and brainwashed and indoctrinated masses more interested in their smartphones, iPads, Reality TV and sports, this is what you get. They’ve had me under surveillance since I have begun to speak out and published those uncomplimentary ebooks you know.”

“Uncle Willy, don’t wanna burst your bubble, but what is it, eight people have downloaded your ebook? That’s not going to make your ‘Masterminds’ worried. Now if you got your own talk show and started ranting on a regular basis to a few million people, then you might have reason to worry.”

“Well, we can discuss this all later when you get back from your trip to Texas. Gonna see your cousins and nephews while your down there?  You know my son Mack, your cousin, lives in Katy near Houston.”

“I’d love to but my schedule is gonna be real tight. They’ll have me working 24/7 I’m afraid. Yeah, I remember Mack. Haven’t seen him in a while. Takes after you. He’s still a Navy Seal, right?”

“Right. Very proud of the boy. Couldn’t figure it out. You and him are like goddam fish. Me, I sink like a rock. Always hated the water. Mack just finished his last tour in Afghanistan. He’s gettin’ out and going to start his own business. Sombitch is smart like his mother. Very proud. He’s got the best of both of us. Bless him and God bless her soul and may she rest in peace.”

“Listen Uncle Willy, you know I love our conversations and we can talk more when I get back. I just wanted to warn you about this email thing. In the middle of all this crazy terrorist shit I met the most amazing girl and maybe we can both visit you there in marvelous Marin when I get back – maybe next week.”

“That’s good to hear Lee. I think it’d be good for you to settle down. Most of those fancy San Francisco girls are just empty headed babies. You need a real woman like my Sally. Sally’s all woman and she puts up with me. She gets lots of points for that. And did I mention the Kama Sutra?”

“Yes. You did. The term we use is TMI. Too much Information. See you when I get back and stay safe. Have fun with your Kama Sutra.”

“Lee, you don’t worry about me. You just keep alert yourself. Keep your head on a swivel and run like hell. The toughest guys I know always avoid a fight if they can. But if you gotta fight, remember, rules don’t exist and everything is fair game. Failure is not an option. As far as the Kama Sutra is concerned, you shouldn’t knock it until you try it.”

“I read you loud and clear. Take care.”

Fox pushed the end button and shook his head and he thought to himself: God help the fools who try to mess with Uncle Willy. If nothing else, he could talk you to death!

23

Habib’s office door was closed. He was startled as something buzzed and rattled on his desk. He snatched up his cell phone. He was tense and angry. He recognized the number.

“Have you any leads yet? It will be worth an additional million dollars if you can find this drive in the next forty eight hours,” said Habib.

The man on the line responded, “I didn’t have time to toss the girl’s room after I killed her. The police were there before I could give it a thorough search. It’s hidden there most likely.  The only other alternative is that she gave it to Fox sometime during their meeting at Pier 23. I followed him there. All I know for sure is that they met there.”

 “Just get it. We do not want to change our timeline. You know how important this is.”

“I’ll get it. The million dollars is nice, but once we have the thumb drive back I’ll be able to take my revenge on Fox,” the man said.

“Fine. That’s your business. Why are you so sure it’s still there even after the police have gone over the apartment?”

“Simple. They weren’t looking for it. They didn’t know it existed. My guess is that it was hidden in plain sight. If it’s not there and Fox has it, well, I guess I will have to tear him limb from limb to get it if I have to.”

24

Fox was not clear on why he hadn’t initially come clean with Schwartz and McKinnon about the thumb drive Audrey gave him. He decided to contact Rossellini, one of his oddball friends and contract workers for Seclarity, a strange bird who called himself the “The Black Knight of the Internet” – “the Master of Cyberspace” and other self-proclaimed titles. Dante Rossellini was a pasty faced nerd who spent twenty hours a day on the Internet playing games and occasionally hacking into sensitive computer networks, disruptive enough to earn the ire of the Feds. He was very knowledgeable of all the latest encryption algorithms – including the Bofee-Gelman algorithm. That’s where Fox saw Rossellini’s value. Instead of calling him on the phone, Fox decided to take a quick trip to Emeryville where Rossellini lived.

Fox backed out of his driveway then plowed forward, heading toward the Embarcadero taking a circuitous route to the Bay Bridge and over to Emeryville. After passing through Treasure Island, he took 880 North and exited on Powell Street. He took a left under the freeway heading toward the Watergate complex. He turned right on Captain Drive looking for Rossellini’s Condo at building #8. Fox landed a parking space in one of the bigger lots closer to Powell, and spotted Rossellini’s condo on the first floor. Fox popped out of the T-Bird and jogged to #13 and rang the bell. He heard some noise and the sound of a glass breaking. Rossellini fumbled with several locks and peeked out the door.

“Mr. Fox, sir, is that you?” he asked.

“It’s me. You can drop the mister. May I come in?”

“Sure.” Rossellini opened the door and quickly shut it behind Fox.

Fox narrowed his eyes in a disbelieving squint at a mountain of pizza boxes and cans of Shasta soda which were strewn in grand disarray in what presumably was once the living room area.

“Forgive the mess. I’ve been working on a project of utmost importance.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes indeed.  Cyber soul mate Emily Anna Marie Throckmorton solicited my assistance in helping her to solve perhaps the pivotal cyber-crime of the century.”

“Sounds exciting. What is it?”

“Sorry, but these sorts of things are private. Confidentiality, like lawyers and doctors you know. We elite hackers hold to a higher standard than just those petty, treacherous and impecunious Chinese, Ukrainians and Russians who steal credit cards with impunity because of their unfortunate avaricious, salacious and insatiable appetite for chaos. Bright fellows but no soul. These desperate socialist thugs and illicit Internet amateurs have little appreciation for hacking as a cyber-art form.”

“Oh, I see.”

“You don’t sound sincere Mr. Fox.”

“Listen Rossellini, I don’t have time to play games with you. I have an urgent cyber problem myself.” Fox grabbed him by the lapel of his short sleeve shirt. He noticed cursive print above the chest high pocket that had some indecipherable scribble and the word ‘Jackal’ over it next to a black knight chess piece.

“What’s this, a bowling shirt?”

“Hey, you don’t have to get rough. I can see you’re distressed. For an appropriate stipend I will be more than happy to suspend my pro bono work for Emily Ann Marie,” he said half smiling half grimacing.

Fox let Rossellini go.

“OK. I’ll pay you $500 today if you can decrypt this encrypted USB drive.”

Fox held the said thumb drive in the palm of his open left hand. Rossellini stared at it with his eyebrows raised.

“That’s too easy. I cannot take your money for such a mundane task. I’d have to do it blindfolded or only type with my tongue to not feel guilty about stealing your money.”

“Rossellini, I don’t have time for this. Sit your ass down at your computer. You want a challenge, tell me what the damn things says in the next twenty minutes or I’ll kick the crap out of you.”

“Alright you don’t have to threaten. I accept the challenge. I think I can find the key and decrypt the information in less than thirty minutes.”

“OK, you want thirty minutes you’ve got thirty minutes starting NOW.”

Fox set the timer on his Casio stop watch feature of his wrist watch.

Rossellini paused open mouthed for about a second then grabbed the drive. He tossed a few soda cans, pizza boxes and miscellaneous paper wrappers off of what looked like his dining room table.  He placed the drive into the computer and started pecking away madly on the keyboard. After about ten minutes of trying various passwords Rossellini stopped and looked over at Fox who had pulled up a chair from the table and was looking over his shoulder.

“What the hell is this?” asked Rossellini.

“That’s why I came here. How the hell should I know? As you know, I work for a company founded by Professor Jay Allen Bofee, co-author of the Bofee-Gelman encryption algorithm. I’m an ex-sales guy who’s a product manager, not a programmer. I’m quasi-technical and up to snuff on trouble shooting installation of our network management system and working with standard network operating systems, typical router and switch infrastructure. I worked for Chico Systems. I’m certified on most of their gear but I’m not a hacker.”

“Of course you’re not. No offense, but no one at Chico Systems or Seclarity except perhaps Master Bofee himself could follow what I do – what we do.”

“Fine. So do it!”

“But you don’t understand. This is not that complicated. But it requires two-factor authentication. I can break the password but it still requires software on the other PC, tablet or smartphone that generates random numbers to sink up this device with the server.”

“I get that, but I don’t have the software on a PC, tablet or smartphone. So you need to go to plan B. I don’t need access to the server. I just need to know the contents of the drive.”

“Well why didn’t you say so? Piece of cake. I have a nifty program that works on inadvertently deleted files and will also work here to bypass this password.”

In five minutes of pounding away on the keyboard, Rossellini turned his head around with a big pasty faced grin.

“Voilà! As you will notice there are only four files on this USB thumb drive. One is a word file. Two are jpegs. One is an mp3 voice file.”

“I suggest you eject the drive and hand it to me. You don’t want to know what’s on those files. There are some very bad guys who would stop at nothing to get this information back.”

“Mr. Fox sir, I mean Fox, with all due respect and cyber indulgences, you cannot just walk away. I am already involved. Most assuredly the evil doers will assume I’ve seen the contents anyway. Removing the drive will be like interrupting the sex act for you – ‘hackers interruptus’!”

“Jeez Rossellini. You gotta be kidding me. Ok. Ok. Click on the word file first.”

Rossellini clicked on the word file and a four page document popped up in English and Arabic. The part in English was rather cryptic but Fox was able to make out something about the twelfth Imam and the end of days.

“Oh brother,” said Fox. “Keep on. Close that and open the jpeg.”

One jpeg showed a picture of what looked like a loading dock that could be almost any port in the world. One had rolling hills in the background that looked like San Francisco. The other just had a bunch of warehouses in the background.

“Go back to the word file. I want to check something,” said Fox.

Rossellini closed out one jpeg and opened the other one. Fox scanned it for a few seconds and found what he was looking for. Some tiny lettering on rectangular loading container.

“Do you see that?” Fox asked.

“What?”

“See over there on that large rectangular container.  Make it larger. It has a logo and it looks like it says Houston does it not?”

Rossellini squinted and then turned.

“You are indeed correct! By the powers of deduction, this is telling us that something is going to happen in the port of Houston.”

“Yeah, that’s a logical conclusion, but something just doesn’t add up though.”

“What’s that?”

“The other location looks like it could be San Francisco with the hills in the background. Houston is flat. I know that for a fact. I grew up there.”

“Indeed. Several questions come to mind: where are these two locations? Another one is what is the danger involved? What are the evil doers are planning is also important? Who are the evil doers? What is their time frame?”

“Jeez, Rossellini I think there are some terrorists involved. Iranians. The location for one is Houston, but I don’t know for sure the other. I think whatever is going down is happening soon, but I have no idea about the timeline.”

“Mr. Fox sir, as much as I dislike these petty pusillanimous pinhead bureaucrats that attempt to stifle the King of Cyberspace, in this particular instance, I think it would be incumbent on you and a necessary step to protecting untold numbers of good citizens to inform said bumbling bureaucrats – despite my extreme reservations to do so. Sadly, you and I are ill equipped to contest radical mobs of the Islamic faith. As you I’m sure are aware, there is an even more extreme group within their unholy cult masquerading as a religion that not only wishes to kill the infidel but are driven to literally cause a worldwide nuclear Armageddon if they can. I can go back and re-read my commentaries on the Quran, but I’m pretty sure that’s what you are dealing with here.”

“Jesus, Rossellini I’m afraid you’re right. Look, I’ve got you involved in something that could directly threaten your life if they have tracked me over here. And there’s no way to know. Too many bad things have happened to me in the last couple of days to just leave you here unguarded. I want you to come with me now. I’m going to call the local San Francisco cop I know and his contact at the FBI. We’ll listen to the MP3 later. Let’s go.”

“Wait, where am I going? And for how long?”

“Good questions. Bring your laptop and a toothbrush. You may be gone for quite a while. I’ll let the cops and the FBI answer those questions for you.”

25

The Master of Cyberspace was not happy. He was a very private person. He lived in a strange world. Just him crossing paths with the dozens of anonymous hackers hiding behind fictitious names every day on the Internet. He was in control of his Cyberspace world, but back in the real world he was as helpless as a child. Rossellini slinked into the front bucket seat in Fox’s T-Bird.

“Fox, where are you taking me exactly?” he asked.

“San Francisco. North Beach Police station on Vallejo Street. Don’t worry, I trust Detective Schwartz. I think he works homicide. He can help get McKinnon from the FBI involved as well. We need to bring him this new information. They’ll help us. They’ll protect you.”

“Great. Homicide. FBI. Terrorism. Oh my. Homicide. FBI. Terrorism. Oh my.”

“What’s that? Your urban updated version of the Wizard of Oz?”

Fox called Schwartz. At two rings, he picked up.

“Detective Schwartz it’s Lee Fox. I have some new information for you. I have the USB thumb drive I mentioned to you, but most importantly I’m bringing a friend who’s a hacker and computer geek I know to help figure out what’s on it. Be there in ten minutes.”

Fox looked at Rossellini realizing that he might have offended him.

“Sorry about the hacker and geek comment. No offense intended,” said Fox.

“None taken,” said Rossellini. He was smiling that innocent grin of his and added, “I am deeply humbled that you proceeded those terms with the most complimentary term ‘friend’.”

Fox finished the call and pulled the blue tooth headset out of his ear. He parked at the public parking lot on Powell Street just down from Club Fugazi where Beach Blanket Babylon had been playing for decades. He helped Rossellini out of the car, straightened him up and gave him a buck up look for the short walk down the block to the Vallejo Street Station. They opened the door to the station. No one was at the desk.

“Hello, is anyone here?” Fox yelled.

No answer. They heard a rumbling in the back room and Schwartz popped out.

“I thought that was you. Is that your hack– Never mind, just come on back here. McKinnon’s on his way,” said Schwartz.

Fox and Rossellini followed Schwartz to the interrogation room Fox was in before.

“Have a seat guys. Can I get you coffee or something else to drink?” asked Schwartz.

“Double Macchiato almond milk one sugar no foam,” said Fox.

“Wise guy,” said Schwartz.

“Coffee’s fine. Give Dante here a soda. You like grape don’t you?” said Fox.

Rossellini nodded and said, “Anything is fine.”

“We got Coke. Be back in a sec.”

“Jeez, Mr. Fox sir, I mean Fox, that fellow is scary.”

“Don’t worry he’s a pussycat.”

“I better not drink too much coke. I really don’t need much caffeine before I get really wired and start acting strange.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

26

At the same time on the other side of the planet a non-descript white cargo van was rumbling from war torn Damascus headed for Beirut. Upon delivery to Beirut, the contents were being transported by cargo ship to their final destination. Ostensibly to Houston Texas.  The cargo had been travelling for three days on back roads starting from a hidden location in southern Iran. This cargo was one of Saddam’s WMD projects that was never found. With the help of nuclear physicists from the Islamic Republic of Iran, the small “suitcase” nukes were transformed into much more powerful and destructive weapons. There were only two heavily armed members of the IRGC – Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps – sitting inside the van on benches bouncing along the pock marked roads guarding two wooden crates about the size of two twin beds. Four devices were in each crate. The contents were tactical nuclear devices modeled after the American Mk-54 SADM (Special Atomic Demolition Munition). Production was thought to have been stopped in the mid-nineties. Each weighed a little over fifty pounds and was able to be carried in a back pack. The new design, modified by Iranian nuclear scientists, had upped the yield from less than 5 kilotons to over 15 kilotons. Approximately the same yield as the bombs dropped on Nagasaki and Hiroshima. The satellite phone rang. The senior of the two soldiers picked up the phone.

“Have you arrived in Beirut yet?” the voice asked.

“No sir, but we will arrive shortly. Sir, may I ask a question?”

“What is it?”

“We’re only a short distance to Tel Aviv, why are we putting them on a ship? We are so close to giving the Jewish pigs a knockout blow. These bombs could wipe out Tel Aviv and most of Israel the way the Americans destroyed Hiroshima and Nagasaki. And we have more bombs for other cities. Where is it going? Are they going to America?”

“Lieutenant we have our reasons for keeping this quiet and you will find out shortly why. I suggest you do your job and pray that Allah is with us. Allahu akbar.”

“Allahu Akbar.”

27

Rossellini, on his third coke, was getting wired. Fox was on his second coffee, and they were both getting anxious waiting for McKinnon. Rossellini was effectively bouncing off the walls and Fox was very concerned that one of Rossellini’s manic fits along with his strange use of the English language and quirky mannerisms would have him booted from the “team” before he could finish sorting out the information on the decrypted USB drive. Though the files had theoretically been decrypted, Fox suspected that other hidden files still existed on the drive and there was certainly more work needed to translate the Arabic and determine with certainty the location of the pictures. Fox wanted Dante on the team. He had his quirks but Fox knew Rossellini was the brightest guy, besides Bofee himself, at the company. Finally the door swung open and a rumpled McKinnon entered and shut the door behind him. He turned to Fox.

“Well” said McKinnon, more as a statement than a question.

“Well what?” responded Fox.

“What the hell happened that’s what? Who the hell is this?” McKinnon asked getting angry.

“Look Mr. McKinnon, I’m still trying to make sense of all this myself. I’ll try to give you the cliff notes version. Then we can drill down and I’ll let your experts try to connect the dots. I’m just a computer marketing guy. This stuff is way beyond my pay grade.”

“OK. Fine. Spill”.

“First, as you know, there is some kind of terrorist plot. Iranians and a connection to this company ISI.”

“Yeah, we got that part covered. You and Kim are going to Texas tomorrow. Got that.”

“Yes. Anyway, my friend here is Dante Rossellini the computer hacker I mentioned who is also a contract employee for Seclarity, where I work. He’s a genius with encryption and navigating the Internet. He helped me recover the documents, pictures and the voice recording on the drive.”

“Good work! Do you have a card Mr. Rossellini? We could always use computer talent.”

Rossellini sat up with a crooked smile surprised by the offer. Fox was equally surprised.

“Mr. McKinnon, sir, I would be greatly honored to exchange my substantial cyber skills and logic and give them to the forces of good. I, myself, have been waging a rather extensive though sometime disheartening battle over the years against evil doers and malevolent forces that infest and sully the magnificence and beauty of the World Wide Web. The battle against the Borg and the forces of darkness are never ending and though they scream that resistance is futile I spit in their faces and attack and attack and attack. I will never surrender!”

“What the hell did he just say Fox?” asked McKinnon.

“Not sure, but I think he said, yes,” answered Fox, “Dante, just give him one of your cards.”

Rossellini fumbled with his wallet and pulled out a crumpled card. It has a logo of black Knight Chess piece on the right half of the card. On the left half are the words: ‘Have Hacker Will Travel’ and his name and ten digit phone number and yahoo email address. McKinnon took the card shook his head and put it in his shirt pocket.

“One other big thing Mr. McKinnon. Rossellini is now in serious jeopardy. The bad guys know where he lives and that he helped me. Can you arrange some sort of protection for him?” asked Fox.

“Well, we’ll figure something out. If it turns out that Mr. Rossellini here can be an asset to the Bureau, he may be offered a job and the necessary security that comes with it. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Between your local guys and the Bureau, we’ll make sure that Mr. Rossellini will be safe,” said McKinnon.

“That’s great to hear. I have a buddy and an ex-cop helping to train me on how to use a gun, but I’d also appreciate it if you could help by putting together a few of your men who might watch out for the bad guys coming to my house.”

“Same deal as with Dante here. When you’re with Kim, you’re covered. I’m going to take the drive and Rossellini here with me to our regional office at 450 Golden Gate near City Hall. We’ll see what else we can get out of it. We will get our language guys to translate the Arabic and we’ll examine the picture and voice recording in detail for any clues. We’ll find Mr. Rossellini a safe house locally and keep an eye on him. I’ll make sure Schwartz has a patrol near your Condo. My guess is that you’re more valuable to the bad guys alive while the project – whatever it is – is going down. But we’ll keep an eye on you as well.”

“Jeez. I’d like a little better odds than just your ‘guess’,” said Fox.

“Schwartz’s guys will be there to watch you when you’re at work and at your condo. You say you got an ex-cop friend. Keep him close. You’re a big guy. Just keep your eyes open.”

“Well that about covers it for me, unless they come after me with trained sea lions when I swim.”

Fox was being cute with McKinnon. But McKinnon had a story for him. If Fox thought he was going to out “cute” McKinnon he had another thing coming.

“You can smirk and think you’re safe but you better keep your eyes open even when you swim Fox. Why I remember this Bill Cosby movie I worked on that was filmed in Oakland back in the eighties. Leonard Part 6. True Story. One of the worst films of all time. Raspberry award winner. And deserved it. A real stinker. Anyway, I was a local Oakland cop back then before I got accepted to the Bureau. Did security for the movie guys filming locally.  It was really boring work but they had a great caterer. Food was super. Filet Mignon twice a week. Anyway, it’s supposed to be at a mansion in San Francisco but it was actually filmed in Piedmont. But you know movies, they ain’t what they seem. So this CIA agent character in the movie is looking at the For Eyes Only file while he’s at his pool about to go for a dip. His hot Asian/Caucasian mix babe in this really nasty looking orange bathing suit with these kind of Jetsons like futuristic space age high shoulder pads but cut low to her naval, lots of cleavage, really hot, is calling him to come in the water – ‘Quincy, Quincy, the water’s fine come in’ or some shit like that. He dives in the pool to go have a good time with the broad. But waddya think happens? This evil woman Medusa, I think her name was, has figured out how to train harmless animals, in this case a trout, and turn them into a man eaters – like a piranha. So after her scuba guys have put this trained killer trout into the sewer line, shows the trout the picture of the agent, the trout locates the agent’s pool, yeah – like that could happen – then the trout somehow busts through the plumbing into the pool and eats the agent before he gets to have fun with the babe. The gal’s screaming at Quincy – ‘why ya making all those bubbles, quit playin’ around.’ There’s like this feeding frenzy goin’ on but the babe has no clue. Then she realizes there’s nothin’ there – he’s disappeared. He got chewed up by the trout! We get an underwater shot and all that’s left of him is his waterproof Rolex and swim suit at the bottom of the pool. The point is – be careful even when you swim.”

28

Fox agreed to meet Kim at SFO terminal three, gate twenty one, U.S. Airways Flight 6747 nonstop to Houston Intercontinental George H.W. Bush Airport. Scheduled departure was 08:49 hours. He parked the T-bird in the lot at terminal three and took the elevator and escalator to the security gate. He had his nylon laptop roller bag that contained a couple of shirts, underwear, socks, his shaving kit and of course his computer. A bit of a squeeze but he made it work for short trips. He had used his iPhone to download his boarding pass. The line was not bad and he was through security in less than thirty minutes.

At 7:50 on the digital clock he stood at gate 21 expecting to have to wait for Kim. But he should have known perky Kim was already at the gate. However she was not looking her usual perky self.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Morning,” she said flatly.

“Well look at you. Never seen that expression on your face.”

“Fox this is serious shit. I’m pretty good at what I do. When I’m at ISI I play my role. This is my game face.”

“I get it. Serious stuff. So what can you tell me? I seemed to have found myself in the middle of something a lot bigger than just a software deal.”

“That’s an understatement. Fox I can’t really tell you much. Plus we still don’t have nearly enough facts to know just how bad this thing really is. I do want to thank you for getting that USB drive. That hacker friend of yours is very strange but he got results and I suppose that’s all that’s really important. But you my friend are up to your Polar Bear Club ass in something that I suspect swimming and rugby has not prepared you for.”

“Waddya mean? It takes leather balls…to play Rugby,” Fox attempting to be cute replied.

No expression from Kim.

“Well these guys don’t play games. They rip off your arms and beat you over your heads with them to make you talk. They’ll scratch out your eyes and piss in the empty sockets. They’ve got all sorts of ways to torture and play with you to make you give up information they want. Right now they know that you have some information. They don’t necessarily know how much you really know but you definitely have a target on your back. It’s my job to keep you safe on this trip but after that you’re on your own for the most part. I think it’s about time you get serious. You think you’re bullet proof. You’re not. More importantly anybody you love, anybody you’re close to, is a target. Yes, I know about Patty. They know about Patty too.”

Fox’s cocky expression changed immediately as Kim mentioned Patty’s name. All of a sudden what had been an exciting game was not so much fun anymore.

“Don’t ask how we know how they know,” she said.

“O.K. you’ve really got my attention now. How do I keep her safe?”

“Good. Here’s the deal. We need. I need your complete focus to accomplish my mission. I have, we have, both Patty and Rossellini in safe houses. They’ve been moved to an undisclosed location near Livermore. By the way, Patty went kicking and screaming. That girl is really quite something. Kept on and on about having to cater a party of the Academy of Sciences. We told her it was ‘Life and Death’. She just kept on saying. Doesn’t matter. She’s got a party to do and that’s the only thing that matters. Gotta give her points for dedication to her business. But you better work on her when you get back. She needs to forget about catering parties until this thing is over. Before I engage you completely here, I need to know if there is anyone else who should be squirreled away, anybody else who could be used as leverage.”

Fox thought for a time and shook his head.

“Well, my buddy Leary could be a target, but he’s an ex-cop and big as a house. I think he could take care of himself, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have some folks keep an eye on him. Both my parents have passed. I’m an only child. So, no can’t think of anyone they could use as leverage to get to me.”

“Good. That’s pretty much the way we had it figured. How about we get a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll before the plane takes off. They’ll have something on the plane but the food’s better here.”

Fox nodded and followed her. They found a coffee stand that served Graffeo coffee. His personal favorite from years spent in North Beach. Under normal conditions he would have commented on how he loved it. But the seriousness of the situation had finally hit him. He lost his parents during his last year at Chico Systems. A little less than a decade ago. It was tough but the transition was not really as painful as it is for many. They died together, in a tragic car accident. He grieved but they had a good life. He got over it. He experienced no real anxiety watching them grow old or infirm like some of his friends were dealing with now. Like most things in his life, he had been spared the drama and pain that most people go through all too often.

“How do you want it?” asked Kim.

No answer.

“Hello, earth to Fox,” she said.

“Oh, sorry. Black.”

“Really?”

“I took you for a Macchiato kinda guy with almond milk no foam.”

“Guess McKinnon told you my little joke. Well, I do like Macchiato with a little sugar but not today. Plain coffee black is fine.”

“I guess my first mission has been accomplished. I wanted to shake your tree. Looks like I have.”

“Tree, roots, earth, everything. I know you don’t have much respect for me. I get that. While you were in Iraq fighting bad guys, I was playing ball, swimming and having a good old time. But I’m not sure exactly what it is that’s changed. Patty for sure. But the concept that I could actually help save tens of thousands of lives is starting to weigh on me. I need focus. I need your help.”

“Well you’re getting it right now. You’re helping us.”

“No. I don’t mean just for this trip. I mean I need skills. I need to be as good as you to keep Patty safe. I don’t want to depend on you or your agency or people who don’t really care. I don’t trust people who have a lot more things on their plate than just keeping one woman safe.”

“I really don’t follow. I’m not in the business of training civilians.”

“Yeah, I get that. But we’re stuck together on this mission whether you like it or not. When you come back from the Middle East, if our first bit of information we’ve gleaned from the USB drive is right, we’re going to need to work together to protect my old home town in Texas.”

“You’re getting way ahead of yourself.”

Finally, the coffees arrived.

“Didn’t ask if you wanted anything to eat,” she said.

“Not hungry. We’ll talk on the plane. Well maybe Uncle Willy knows stuff but he’s an old man and just a bit out there. I’ve got my buddy who probably handles a gun pretty well. He was SFPD for a few years before he got into the technology racket. But he’s out of practice and from what I understand you’ve got it all: martial arts, hand guns, sniper rifles, and you’re expert at all of ‘em. That true?” he asked.

“Yeah, but I’m not opening the “Kim Commando School” anytime soon. Want to be good at these things, apply for the Bureau, CIA or SFPD. Better yet join the Army. Be all you can be. Become a Navy Seal. You’re a swimmer. I hear the trainers spend half their time trying to drown those poor bastards. You’ll feel right at home.”

“Well, I don’t have time for formality and I don’t have the time to go through Seal training. Besides I’m not very good at taking orders. This shit is happening now. Just listen to you. Your attitude alone is why I need you to be the one to train me. Or at least help. Here’s the deal, I’ve got connections in the Federal Government that, the more I think about it, a really big connection with direct control over the FBI. I bet I can make you teach me skills. I’d rather you volunteer.”

“Unless you know somebody at or near director level, no dice Fox. Dream on.”

“Last I checked your director reports to the Attorney General of the United States – that correct?”

“Yeah. So what?”

“My godfather, my father’s best friend at the University of Texas, happens to be Riley J. Odoms, former dean of the University of Texas Law School and presently the United States Attorney General.”

“Well, I guess if you’re not making this up you got the right connection. But you’re makin’ a big mistake enlisting me. I’m gonna be your worst nightmare if you actually pull this off. Of course, you’re probably just blowin’ smoke. But gotta give you points for trying.”

“Don’t get me wrong Kim. You can be as pissed as you want at me. I can take it. I’ve had some pretty nasty characters for coaches over the years. Some of them put me through hell.”

“Fox. I guess I can’t fault your motives. But if I’m forced to be your personal trainer by the Bureau, trust me, I’ll make you wish you’d found somebody else.”

At 08:20 first call for US Air Flight 6747 to Houston was announced. They began pre-boarding First Class and those in need of assistance. With First Class seats it was a surprisingly short line.

29

Kim’s comment had changed Fox. Before the comment he was looking forward to a mini-vacation. Now he was in a depressed anxious funk. He spent two days at the Westin Galleria near many of his favorite places in Houston. He took Kim to Ninfa’s, his favorite Mexican Restaurant on Navigation Boulevard. The following night, a late one at that, he managed to get them served after the 11 p.m. closing time at Pappadeaux’s Cajun Restaurant on Westheimer. They both had his favorite Gulf Shrimp Filet Gumbo. Best Cajun food west of New Orleans. He said almost nothing for days but grunts and nods. His joie de vivre was gone. He only could think of Patty.

He was literally sleepwalking through the installation process of the software. While he was making sure the servers were installed properly, Kim was off secretly meeting with Bureau folks. When she was on site she reverted back to Perky Kim glad handing and talking up all the local friendly Texans. What would normally have been a fun trip for him was no longer enjoyable. Fox was a different person. It was all a blur.

Fortunately, he was so familiar with the hardware and software installation procedures, that he did his usual excellent job. The mundane work of getting the hardware and communications gear up and running took up most of the first day. He barked orders and hardly anyone noticed that he was distracted. He had an edge he normally never showed. Only the poor newbie who asked one too many questions experienced his rage. He caught himself and returned to his usual efficient and calm demeanor. At least that was what he showed on the outside. By day two, the software testing went flawlessly, and everyone, including the newbie, was in good spirits and ready to celebrate their successful installation.

Suddenly it was time to leave. Saturday morning came and Kim was in the driver’s seat with the GMC rental SUV on cruise control headed back to the Hertz lot at Houston Intercontinental. Kim pulled in behind the long line of returning cars. Efficiently, the attendant scanned the information on mileage and handed her the receipt. They took the shuttle to the US Air terminal. Security was slow and they were both hot and sticky despite the air conditioning. He blinked and he found himself in the plane. He was jolted to consciousness when he heard the flight attendant say that they were free to walk around the cabin and he realized that he and Kim had boarded the flight to San Francisco. He literally had been sleepwalking through the last sixty minutes.

“Fox you OK?”

“Yeah, sure. Just a bit preoccupied.”

“I should say. Haven’t said a word for about an hour now. I guess I was pretty harsh, but you think maybe you should lighten up a bit. You’re on the way home. Your job is done.”

“Wait. I thought you were heading off to Israel. Why are you on this plane? What’s the deal?”

“Wow, you really are out of it aren’t you. I told you the whole story at the gate. You nodded your head like you heard me but I guess you didn’t. Let’s try again. My trip got delayed a few days. McKinnon has decided that I should spend a couple of days in San Francisco going over some things and familiarizing myself with some players that I should be looking out for. Stuff you don’t need to concern yourself with. But I did mention your gung ho attitude about being trained and your connection to the attorney general. That got his attention big time. These guys are such political animals. Now McKinnon’s gonna be your new best friend. Now whether you can actually get the attorney general to plead your case or not, McKinnon has already ordered me to start helping you develop some ‘skills’. Politics. Not my thing.”

Kim looked at Fox and he was staring straight at the seat in front of him almost in a catatonic state.

“Earth to Fox,” she said.

“I’m here. Heard every word you said this time,” he said.

“That’s better,” she said.

“That’s really good news. I am motivated Kim. In fact, I’ve never been more motivated in my life. I don’t usually brag, but you know I won the Pac 12 Championship in the 400 meter IM – individual medley. Statement not a question. I was picked to finish seventh of eight finalists.”

“That’s impressive.”

“That’s not the impressive part. I had been injured three weeks earlier. Slight muscle pull. My training was easily half what it needed to be. But the week before the event I just got psyched. I put every bit of my focus into giving it my all that week. Fortunately I didn’t have to swim against Michael Phelps, but I beat everyone else in the pool that day.”

“That’s great, but swimming is not a contact sport. Life is. What I do is. I suppose you’ve heard the saying that everybody has a plan until they get punched in the face.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that. I played Rugby for a year at Cal. I don’t brag about it. We won the National Championship that year. Rugby players punch you in the face. Unlike football, we don’t wear pads. I got punched in the face. In fact, I owe my rearranged nose to that National Championship game.”

“Well Fox, maybe between your athletic ability and motivation, you just might turn out OK, and someday with effort and time, you might just develop those skills. But don’t expect me to give you any life lessons like Mr. Miyagi from the Karate Kid. I’m not Japanese and you’re no kid. Remember that really nasty Karate teacher who taught his students to go for weak spots and break legs if necessary to win. That’s me. Only I’m not nearly as nice.”

Fox almost smiled. Kim, did smile, amused at her own comment. They both leaned back and took advantage of the leg room and comfort afforded by the first class seating. Fox closed his eyes and in a few minutes was asleep. He had a surreal dream of flying. Not in a plane. Flying like superman. Over buildings. He swims but not in water. Above it. He runs but his feet are not touching the ground. He sees a dock with a view of Alcatraz. But he doesn’t remember any dock like that in real life. It doesn’t fit. But he jumps in. Then he starts to swim, but he’s a foot or so above the water. Then he finds himself on the Dipsea trail going from Mill Valley to Stinson Beach. But again he’s swimming above the ground. Then he heard:

“Put your seat backs up and tray tables in their up and locked position for landing. We should be arriving a little ahead of schedule…”

He woke up and saw Kim next to him with her seat up, reading a magazine.

“Wow, that was some dream,” he said.

“Oh really, how so?” she asked.

He placed his thumb and fingers across his temple and closed eyes.

“I have this flying dream a lot. Wonder what it means?”

“Well we are flying.”

“I’m flying but I’m doing it without a plane. I fly like superman sometimes. I swim above the ground. Above the water. I just fly.”

“Must be nice. I think it means you are being liberated. I had my own flying dreams when I joined the Bureau. Not the same but I guess the same idea. The company shrink told me it has to do with a sense of freedom. He explained to me that until someone commits to something fully they are not ‘free’. But actually everyone is in a prison of their own making before they finally commit fully to something. I committed to the Bureau and it was my liberation. I’m not sure what you’re committing to, but if my shrink is right, whatever it is, is liberating for you. And no, I don’t care to know what that is.”

Fox looked out his window at his favorite runway getting larger as they got closer to landing. The blinking landing lights were hypnotic. He remembered his first trip from Texas to San Francisco. The thrill of moving to Northern California. He’ll never forget that first trip. That first landing. The thrill of coming in for final approach and seeing nothing but water. The anticipation right before touch down and the magical way the runway appeared at the last second. He had wondered for a panicked second if they were going to end up in the bay. But he looked around and everyone was cool. No one was concerned. So he figured they must know something. Of course they were right. The landing was like someone gently laying a baby on a soft pillow. Perfect. It was so smooth that he didn’t think they had actually had landed. He figured they must still be in the air. He had kept looking out the window expecting to see that they were still in the air. But they weren’t. They were rolling. The bumps in the runway, the afterburners and the seat belt tightening around his waist told him know that indeed they were on the ground.

This landing was not quite the perfection of his first landing at SFO. But the second time for most things is seldom as good as the first. But it was nice. Then he thought of Patty. The first time was ecstasy. A fantasy. The second time was better if possible. He knew that feeling would never go away. He thought he had been in love before. This was different. He could not even consider the possibility of losing her. He was impossibly in love with her. Yet because of this insanity around him, he had put her in the middle of people who would go after her to get information he had. The mere thought of what these psychopaths would do to her made him simultaneously angrier yet more focused than he had ever been. He was so calm that it scared him.

Fox changed on this trip. He would do whatever was necessary to put an end to this chaos and the danger that surrounded him. He knew that things had changed. Losers died. He did not intend to die or let the one person he loved more than his own life die. He was not a loser. When he put his mind to it he almost always won. But he was well aware that this was no game.

He felt a slight pang of guilt that his focus was not at all about saving the lives of thousands from a terrorist attack. Intellectually he wanted to help make sure that didn’t happen. But in the scheme of things they were nameless faces. He felt nothing for them. But he felt everything for her. It scared him. He was really only concerned about the well-being of one person. He would do whatever it took to protect Patty. For the first time in his life he was focusing all of his energies on another human being. Just one. But rather than making him feel more, a very strange thing was happening to him. The opposite occurred. This overwhelming love had left him numb to old feelings. He would literally kill anyone who tried to harm Patty. But his pulse rate wouldn’t go up a beat if he did. He would do whatever he had to do to keep her safe. By any means necessary. Fox was changed in a way he could not comprehend. The change was unsettling. It was not fear of danger that bothered him. It was the opposite. He was ‘afraid’, though that was not really the right word, because he no longer had what he considered was a normal reaction to a dangerous situation or even “fear” itself. He was afraid of the numbness. If he felt anything at all it was that he got a strange high from the danger.

The change. He thought of comic book characters and how many of them had the common denominator or some sort of transformation from a normal person to a freak. Peter Parker to Spiderman. Bruce Wayne to Batman. Bruce Banner to the Hulk. Tony Stark to the Ironman. Part of him said that he was no super hero. But he also realized that he was not a champion swimmer or rugby player by chance. He already was a freak. Another part of him, the part that now had taken over his life, said that maybe, just maybe, he was meant for extraordinary things and just didn’t realize it until now. He was afraid of a couple of things. He was afraid that he no longer seemed to fear what most people feared. He was afraid that he had in some way mutated into a freak of nature. He just shook his head in disbelief. Whatever the outcome of this transformation he was going through he was certainly a different person.

Kim and Fox both travelled light. They took their bags from the overhead bins and disembarked quickly, each headed toward their respective cars parked in the garage. They walked and stepped onto the moving sidewalk to the end of the terminal. Kim took the elevator to level two. Fox got off at level one. A single nod when Kim exited. Fox found his T-bird after a quick scan of the lot to orient his position. He exited using his Visa card to pay. In less than thirty minutes he pulled into his condo garage.

Fox had been so distracted that he hadn’t bothered to check messages on his iPhone. He placed his iPhone on his dining room table and hit the speaker for voicemail and saw a 415 number that he didn’t recognized:

“Lee Fox. This is McKinnon from the FBI. When you get back from your trip I need you to call my office. If you get in after 11 p.m. call first thing in the morning.”

Patty had left him a message as well: “Hi Lee, it’s Patty. I hope your trip to Texas went well. Please feel free to call me as soon as you get in. Anytime. I miss you!”

Fox smiled and immediately hit the redial button. She picked up on the third ring.

“Hey Fox, it’s about time you called. I thought you were supposed to be in an hour ago.”

“Hey Pattie, I’m so sorry about all of this. I understand you’re in the FBI safe house and you do not like it very much. It’s kinda been crazy. How do you feel about a trip to Marin tomorrow with my uncle Willy? They’ll spring you if you’re with me!”

“Anything to get out of this prison they call a safe house. They told me the whole story, pretty much what you did from their point of view. I know everyone wants to keep me safe. I get that. But my big party is going to happen and I intend to be there. You know I’m still going to manage this party remotely for the short term. You’re not the only one with tech skills around here. My two best gals Penny and Tina are going to be carrying around iPads and we’ll be using Skype to communicate from the prep kitchen. The actual party doesn’t take place for two weeks, so I’m counting on you to fix whatever this is that’s got the police and FBI so spooked so that I can actually be on site the day of the event. I understand that your computer hacker friend is also in a safe house, yes?”

“Patty, yes. Rossellini is in a safe house similar to yours. He’ll be helping to crack the code on this thing. As far as you are concerned, I can’t make any guarantees, but my best guess is that this will all be over in about a week. After that, I hope we can go back to ‘normal’. Of course, nothing has been normal since I met you.”

“I certainly can second that.”

“I promised my uncle Willy I’d come see him when I got back. He’s got a compound in Lagunitas West Marin. Actually, I think it’s a better safe house than anything the FBI or SFPD has here locally. I’ll talk to the FBI guy McKinnon and see if maybe he could let me take you there for the next week instead of this place you’re in now. I’m going to guess that the box they got you in is not exactly the Mark Hopkins.”

“Not by a long shot. I can’t even go out for a walk!”

“I’m going to meet McKinnon first thing tomorrow morning and set something up. I’m pretty sure that you’d like the compound in Lagunitas better than your present accommodations, and though it is true that uncle Willy is a bit eccentric, he’s got more firepower than whatever the FBI’s has protecting you. Plus, I’m thinking that I’ll be spending more time there until this crazy situation is over. Seems like a plan for both of us. Waddya think?”

“Anything is probably better than this. No offense to your FBI buddies.”

“Trust me, they’re not my buddies. But because of me, you’re in the middle of this too. You know I’m really sorry I got you mixed up in it. But I’m not at all sorry we met. Are you?”

“That’s not really a fair question. Of course, I’m thrilled that we’ve met. It’s been great. But you have to admit, it’s making it very difficult for me to do business. One thing you don’t yet fully understand about me, because we’ve just started getting to really know each other. My catering business is a huge part of my life. I take my parties and clients very seriously. My reputation is everything to me. There is literally no excuse for me not to perform and do a world class job every time – especially when I get one of these mammoth extravaganzas where we’ll have over two thousand guests.”

“Two thousand guests! Whoa! What is it?”

“This is a special birthday bash for Harry Haversham of Saint Francis Discount Stock Brokers. Most of the guests are Saint Francis employees and the rest are A-list folks in the San Francisco social scene. We’ll have reporters from the Nob Hill Tribune, the Chronicle and Harry thinks there’ll even be a reporter and photographer from the New York Times. Couldn’t buy this kind of publicity. So you see why this party is such a big deal for me.”

“Guess so. But you know keeping you safe is a really big deal too.”

“Yeah, OK, I get that. Just be glad you weren’t here when those thugs from the FBI forced me to relocate. I almost took one guy’s head off.”

“They said you were not very cooperative about the safe house thing. Now I think I understand a little better why.”

“I’ve come to terms with things for the time being. I’ve worked logistics out for prep work with Penny and Tina. My iPad will see me through this. OK, so a compound in Marin’s gotta be better than this hole in the wall, but I need a good strong Internet connection.”

“Don’t worry. Uncle Willy is high tech all the way. It’s not just his ‘firepower’ that’ll keep you safe. He’s got all sorts of motion detectors and security cameras.  He’s got enough Internet bandwidth to run his own Web Hosting site. Part of his ‘charm’ is the fact that Uncle Willy has been expecting the bad guys from D.C. to come for him because he’s so outspoken in his criticism of the growing Government. So he’s built a fortress that’s over the top really. Paranoia is his middle name. He’d probably be locked up if he wasn’t so highly respected by some of his army buddies in high places and his connections to the local police. He’s a much decorated vet from Viet Nam. He saved quite a few lives during his two tours as a Green Beret. There was even talk of giving him the Medal of Honor once upon a time. It still might happen someday. He’d already have it if he wasn’t such a pain in the butt to so many powerful folks on Capitol Hill. He’s got every other award they give for bravery in combat. One of the guys he saved is a senator. Another is a now a general. He loves his country, but he’s not real happy with the politicians – from both parties. He’s always talking about starting a third party and that kind of nonsense. But hey, he’s a true hero and if you’re around him long enough, if you don’t completely tune him out, he starts to make sense.

At that point, when he starts to actually make sense to me, that’s when I find an excuse to get in the Turbo and motor back to the emerald city. If we go, you wouldn’t have that luxury for a week at least. Do you think you would prefer to stay where you are or spend some time with Uncle Willy and his girlfriend Sally? Haven’t really talked about her. She’s a damn saint, that woman. Come to think of it, I bet you two would get along great. She’s the nicest, kindest person I’ve ever met. Has to be to put up with crazy Uncle Willy.”

“Actually, Fox your Uncle Willy and Sally sound great! So maybe he’s a little eccentric. I like eccentric. That is, if they’re not complete Looney Tunes. Your Uncle Willy sounds like he could be very entertaining. The place certainly sounds like a step up from this. Just make it happen with McKinnon.”

“Count on it. Listen, you take care. I’ll rescue you from this prison and take you to friendlier confines. It’s on three acres. He’s got a pool, sauna, spa. Hell the more I think about it, sounds like the Sonoma Mission Inn! I guess we’ll call it the Lagunitas Mission Inn. Except I think Uncle Willy’s Baptist. Mission has a Catholic connotation. Maybe we could call it the Lagunitas Baptist Inn!”

“Or maybe Crazy Uncle Willy’s Compound!”

“Or Wit’s End. Or the Last Resort!”

“Fox we can skip that one. Just rescue me tomorrow and take me somewhere with a bit more freedom and I’ll find a way to pay you back.”

“Consider this a done deal! Goodnight. Tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow,” she said smiling.

“Tomorrow,” he said smiling. Fox never smiled.

30

In less than ten minutes Fox traveled from his Condo and arrived at his all too frequented parking lot on Powell Street near the Vallejo police station. It occurred to him that maybe he should ask Schwartz for some kind of parking voucher. As Fox opened the station door, the first thing he spotted was Schwartz, his head down, fiddling with some papers on the desk where the attendant normally sits. Of course, Fox had only seen the attendant at the desk once. Cops were supposed to “Protect and Serve”. Just not at this desk. Schwartz looked up.

“Fox, good. We need to talk,” Schwartz said.

“Detective Schwartz, can we make this fast. If you’re up to speed, you know that I’ve got to get Patty out of that safe house and transport her to Marin,” said Fox.

“Fine. Fine. Just hold your horses. I’ve got an important document I need to find here. There it is!” Schwartz smiled and looked up finally.

“Just come on back. The gang’s all here. McKinnon and his co-worker Hennessey.”

They both walked back to the all too familiar interrogation room. McKinnon was engaged in a rather heated discussion on his cell phone as they walked in. Hennessey was drinking coffee at the other end of the table looking over what looked like a file folder. McKinnon put his hand on his phone and looked up.

“Just a sec. Be right with you.” Talking into his phone, “Kim, sorry you don’t have a say in the matter. No excuses. Yes, when you are back your first duty is to work with Fox. No I will not accept your resignation. Look, I’m in a meeting. We’ll talk when you get back. No. This conversation is over.”

McKinnon continued talking now addressing the folks in the room.

“Sorry about that. I guess everyone knows each other. Mr. Fox, I think you’ve met everyone. As you probably heard, my undercover agent is not too keen on training Mr. Fox, but it’s a part of what she must do. I know that the murders that have taken place appear to be a local matter. And we all know that Mr. Fox is smack in the middle of all of them. But now that we’ve ascertained that there are foreign terrorists involved, it’s more than just a local matter. Although it’s not our policy at the Bureau to involve civilians, this problem has been upgraded to a major National security issue. We have three civilians that appear to be involved directly here: Fox, his friend Ms. Rollins and a co-worker Mr. Rossellini. As I’ve already informed our local police team, Fox’s ‘uncle Willy’, aka William Schlaukopf, is also going to be working with us to help keep Ms. Rollins safe. Fox, you haven’t been informed of this yet, but your friend Rossellini will also be taking up residence in the Schlaukopf compound. It sounds like your uncle has plenty of room. In addition, we’ll have two of our agents on guard duty inside the compound rotating in three shifts. We’ll also have the local Marin county sheriff and police patrolling the area. Any questions before I go into more detail?

“Agent McKinnon, do you think it’s a good idea to have Rossellini there too?” Fox asked.

“Fox, we’ve given this a great deal of thought. I’ll go into our reasoning in greater detail here a bit later. Your uncle’s unique security system offers us the ability to manage and secure all our resources easier, but we also think it’s the best way to manage things period given the fact that the clock is ticking and we need to move fast. Now the good news is that we found the disgruntled agent who was causing us some security concerns. He’s been arrested. Turns out that money trumps national security to some people. Despite the fact that we got one headache solved, we still feel that having all of you in your uncle’s secure facility is still the best short term solution for everybody. If this was just about keeping a few civilians safe, we’d probably not involve your uncle. But as you know this is major terrorist alert and we just don’t have the time to make this work without close quarter support. It’s not my first choice, but when we’re talking about a potential nuclear terrorist attack, with a high probability of happening in a week or less, we don’t have the luxury to do this by the book. Rossellini will be a great help with the encryption and computer related issues.”

Hennessey took advantage of the pause to ask, “Mr. McKinnon, I’m late to this whole thing, but I’m real curious – how do you plan to utilize local law enforcement?”

“Hennessey, you are now part of Schwartz’s team on the ground here in the Bay Area. We all have to work together. Not the strong suit of the Agency – working with the locals. But because of the seriousness of this, we can’t afford not to. As you might expect, I’m also coordinating with Homeland Security and other Federal Agencies – yes, including the NSA and CIA. One interesting and disturbing connection is the fact that ISI Corp. seems to be at the core of this terrorist plan, and has deep connections to the NSA. Further, it has been confirmed that a brother of the ISI senior manager’s is the alleged terrorist mastermind. We’re not sure how or why, but Fox’s company Seclarity was recruited to supply network encryption technology to ISI. The bad guys are in all likelihood transporting the nukes to their destination as we speak. We also believe that this technology will be used to detonate these devices. We have reason to believe that one of the targets is Houston, but at this point we can’t be sure where or when the devices are scheduled to detonate. Somehow multiple tactical nukes – suitcase nukes – will be transported – probably by ship – to the port of Houston which is the second largest – second only to the large offshore Port of Louisiana in the entire US.  And Houston is the fourth largest U.S. city with a population over two million. Obviously, an attack in the heartland would be a huge blow to the U.S. economy and could potentially kill tens of thousands of people. We believe they have suitcase nukes the size of a large back pack capable of a fifteen kiloton explosion or equal to the bombs that destroyed Hiroshima and Nagasaki. So we are talking about mass devastation and total destruction here. No doubt just one bomb could be devastating and make 911 look like a picnic. We think there are multiple bombs here. Any questions?” asked McKinnon.

The room went quiet. Fox started to say something but thought better of it. There was a deathly silence in the room.

31

 “Agent McKinnon, could you clarify this relationship between the tech company that Mr. Fox works for and the one that is conspiring with the Terrorists?” asked Schwartz.

“Good question. Wish I could. But unfortunately we only have pieces of the puzzle and not the entire picture yet. The company Fox works for is a startup founded by a famous scientist who has authored several encryption algorithms and security strategies in use today by many businesses and governments including our own. The scientist responsible for this security encryption break through is James Allen Bofee. His most famous contribution is as co-author of Bofee-Gelman encryption algorithm. In layman’s terms, these algorithms, these encryption programs, make it just about impossible to break into a computer. That is the goal of most companies, businesses and governments. Unfortunately, I am told that no one system is entirely without holes. Dr. Bofee’s algorithm and method is unique and about as fool proof as anything we know of today. ISI, the company we’re investigating with links to the terrorists, recently purchased a large quantity of hardware and software for their specialty computer chip business in Milpitas. To cut to the chase, we have intercepted communications between brothers – one working for ISI and one known to be a brutal terrorist on the ten most wanted list by HS. Family name is Tehrani. Habib is the brother who works for ISI. The other brother is Ahriman, who helped the Afghanis use recruits to masquerade as local police and kill American soldiers. Nasty son of a bitch. You’ve probably heard about these attacks in the news. They’ve been going on for years.  Looks like this guy Ahriman is the mastermind behind this strategy and his brother his US accomplice. Somehow, this installation of software, which is scheduled to finish the first stage in a few days is somehow connected to how the bombs will be deployed and detonated. We just don’t know all the details. We do have Intel we’re working on that may fill in the blanks. We still haven’t cracked the exact time yet. As I mentioned, our Intel tells us that the nukes in question will be delivered to Houston in a week or less. Any questions before I give out assignments?”

A few folks looked around expecting someone to say something. No one did.

“Good. The local police will coordinate operations with Schwartz here. For the time being your primary responsibility is to keep folks safe here and also at the Marin compound. Fox will be working with our undercover agent Kim Jackson to follow up and to find out as much information as possible about the ISI connection to the terrorists and their attack plans. We have to take down Ahriman at his Mosque hideout and retrieve one half of the two systems that must communicate with each other in order to detonate the nukes. We have the other half of this communication system in the form of a USB drive Fox was given by his slain ex-girlfriend. She stole it from Habib but lost her life for the trouble. Kim and a team of Special Forces will be tasked with taking down Ahriman in the Middle East. Fox and Dante, our two resident experts on the Bofee encryption software, will assist in executing the abort command in the U.S. once we have the other system and software. I want you all to know that this is strictly off the books and nothing we’re doing here is SOP. But we don’t have time to play by Homeland’s rules and play patty cake with the other federal agencies who’ll want a piece of this action. If they knew that I was sharing this much information with you and involving civilians in the actual operation they’d have my head. Probably they’ll have my head anyway, but I don’t have time to worry about it. Failure is not an option here. If I do everything I can to prevent this attack, I can live with getting fired. I couldn’t live with myself if I let the bureaucrats take over and screw this up with paralysis by analysis. One last thing. Don’t discuss any of this with your families. The last thing we want is for someone in the press or media to start scaring the hell out of people about a possible terrorist nuke in Texas. Hell we don’t know for sure where this thing is going to lead. If the press prints anything, this kind of crap could lead to wide spread panic. So just hold your tongues for the next week. The reason the bureau and other Fed agencies don’t like to share is not simply because they are arrogant assholes – which most of them are, but rather because they are afraid of the old dictum – ‘lose lips sinks ships’ – hopefully we don’t get this ship sunk – if you know what I mean. Just keep your friggin’ mouths shut until this thing gets resolved. Any questions?”

Hennessey raised his hand, too timid to just interrupt. McKinnon nodded.

“Agent McKinnon, I get that you’re afraid the bureaucracy will screw this up but you’re putting a burden on the shoulders of one agent and a couple of civilians. Do you really have that much confidence this is the best strategy here?”

“No I don’t. Problem is I have absolutely zero confidence that Homeland and the other alphabet soup agencies will do anything fast enough. Virtually all the Intel we need to execute this operation we’ll be able to get through our own channels and I’m convinced that speed is the only thing that will point us to the bad guys in time in order to issue the abort command. Look, if I tell everybody in the CIA and HS now, they’ll spend most of the next week bumping into each other trying to get to square one while they’ve got their collective crania up their sphincters. We don’t have time for the distractions. I have authority from the Commander in Chief – yes that would be our new President. He is in the loop and took the advice of his top security advisors to let us run with this. Yes, our odds are not great either way we do this, but I’m using my twenty five years of experience in the field and making an executive decision to run it this way. I’m willing to suffer the consequences of failure. Our Commander in Chief agrees with me. So, I’m saying that’s the right decision and we’ve got the highest approval level – so you can relax. We’re going to do the very best we can. I know deep down that this decision is the only good alternative we have and I’m absolutely sure that our chances for success are greater doing it this way. We don’t have time to bicker about it. I suggest very strongly that you keep your heads down and follow orders at this point. For good reasons the Agency has point on this operation. Certainly if you find out any new pertinent information let us have it, but I don’t need a lot of second guessing what we’re doing. Just remember that this literally goes all the way to the top. So is everybody with me?”

Everybody nodded in the affirmative.

“Good. Fox, one of my guys will be accompanying you and Ms. Rollins to your uncle’s compound. Local guys check with Schwartz, we’ll take care of the rest. If there are no more questions, that’s all.”

Fox got up and approached McKinnon.

“Fox, my guy is waiting at the parking garage down the street where you parked. He has Ms. Rollins in his car. He’ll make sure you both arrive safely at your uncle’s compound. On the way make sure you call and let your uncle know that you’re coming,” McKinnon said anticipating Fox’s question.

“Already have. Thanks for making this happen,” replied Fox, happy that McKinnon was on top of things.

“Don’t thank me yet. Wait ‘til Kim gets back. You’re going to wish you never picked her to be your trainer. Patience is not one of her virtues. And kicking ass is apparently one of her vices. Quite frankly, she’s tougher than most of my guys. I have seen her take apart men bigger than you in the gym. It’s simply amazing what a hundred and ten pounds of mean can do to you.  Personally, I admire your chutzpa and the fact that you want to keep your girl safe but I’m not sure a crash course with Kim’s the way to do it. But you pulled the trump card with the attorney general. Without any real training you’ve dodged several attempts on your life, so I figure you’ve either got the right stuff, you’re very lucky or both. With real training you could be dangerous – I just hope it’s to the bad guys and not yourself. Stay alive long enough to prove me right. One other piece of bad news. Seclarity’s office manager was murdered yesterday. We think it’s somehow connected to this.”

Fox stood there about to say something but decided against it. Fox was stunned mute in disbelief.

32

Fox walked down the street to the parking lot and spotted the Chevy Impala parked perpendicular to the entrance and parallel to the street parking. Patty shot out of the Chevy Impala and ran to Fox. She jumped up into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist. They kissed passionately right there on Powell street. He crabbed walked with Patty glued to him a couple of feet before she decided to make things easier and dropped to the ground. Fox gave the attendant his ticket and two minutes later his car appeared. They had spent the time kissing despite the fact that passersby were staring and the FBI agent that picked up Patty was standing guard waiting just a few feet away. If the agent was embarrassed by their affectionate display, he didn’t show it. Fox came up for air and noticed his car with the driver side door was already opened and the attendant was smiling still holding on to the handle. He assisted Patty into the car. He tipped the attendant five dollars. The attendant smiled some more and walked away.

“Mr. Fox, I suggest we get moving. Please take Union Street to Van Ness to Lombard to the Bridge. Got that?” asked the FBI agent, “I’ll follow close behind you.”

“Got it,” said Fox.

Fox jogged around the front of the T-bird and hopped in.

“So how are you?” Fox asked and he shoved the stick in first gear and took off. The Chevy Impala followed close behind. “I know this has been a bit of an ordeal for you,” he said.

“I’m better now seeing you. Yes, this has been quite a roller coaster. I suppose you don’t want to tell me what’s really happening here do you?” she asked.

“I don’t want to scare you, but keeping you in the dark is not going to serve any purpose either. Yes, this is big. Somehow because of my company, I’m in the middle of what looks like a terrorist plot. And you, because you met me, are in the middle of it too.”

“Oh, well I guess that explains it. Do I need to be more afraid than I already am?”

“No. If you were still with those well-meaning FBI guys, I’d be worried. But not where we’re going. My Uncle Willy’s compound is safe. It will blow your mind. It’s a cool place. So if it’s possible given everything that’s happened, you should relax. And the terrorist attack, if we can’t stop it, is not happening on the West Coast. At least that’s what our best information tells us so far.”

“But what about you?”

“Well, it seems I’m a target. I suppose I could just wait this thing out with you at Uncle Willy’s. But I can’t do that. I’m going to be working directly with the FBI in the next week to try and stop this thing.”

“But you’re not trained to deal with these kinda folks are you?”

“Not yet, but I plan to be.”

“OK, but you can’t be much good to them right now.”

“We’ll see. I’ll take it day by day. Hey, let’s not worry about that. Look we’re moving pretty fast – here we’re already on the bridge.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Patty, have you ever seen a Golden Gate swim?”

“Golden Gate swim?”

“You know that’s how I got interested in joining the Polar Bear Club.”

“Ok, go ahead and change the subject. I see you’re committed to it.”

“After I graduated from Cal, my first job was working for Chico Systems. We had an office in the city. Naturally, we worked on Saturdays very often and one Saturday a co-worker and I decided to take our early morning run across the Bridge. We liked the idea of a panorama of the city from the bridge to start our day. Anyway, we were both having a great little run and about mid-span, my buddy starts pointing down and yelling. I look down and see these orange dots bobbing and splashing in the water. It took me a while but I realized it was some crazy folks swimming under the bridge. I later found out that they jump off on the Pacific Ocean side of Fort Point and swim under the bridge to the southernmost point of Marin nearest the bridge – a large seagull dung covered boulder called ‘Lime Rock’. After they touch this seagull dung covered rock they are picked up by pilots in small wooden boats. Then they are rowed over to a Ferry that takes them back to Pier 45 and a short walk back to the Polar Bear Club. When I got back from my run I decided to find out who those crazy sons-of-bitches were. My kinda people.”

“So that does explain quite a lot about you and them.”

“OK, that gives you some insight into me, but what’s this with you going kicking and screaming to a safe house?  I get that you’re dedicated to your catering business. I get that it could be really beneficial to your business to put on a great event for all those fat cats and social types, but when somebody from the FBI says you’re in danger – don’t you think you should listen?”

“That’s funny coming from you. You don’t need to go out to be a target for them but it seems you are all too willing to jump right in there. What’s with that?”

“We can discuss me later. Right now I want you to promise me that you’ll stay tucked away safe with my very entertaining Crazy Uncle Willy. This will be all over soon, and your job is to enjoy your stay and be safe.”

“Crazy seems to be a genetic trait in your family.”

“Well it might be learned you know. But I will give you that it does run in my family.”

The traffic on the Marin county side of the bridge was light. Ten minutes after going through the Waldo aka Robin Williams tunnel, Fox followed by the FBI agent, turned on to Sir Francis Drake Boulevard heading west. Twenty minutes later the T-Bird and Chevy Impala pulled into the pebbled frontage road that led to Uncle Willy’s compound in Lagunitas. Although zoning in most of the small towns in this central part of Marin had archaic rules about fences being limited to six feet and only being that tall if they were a sufficient distance from the center of the road, the compound did indeed have a massive ten foot structure that was Donald Trump’s idea of a fence. It was not a typical fence. For most of the houses in the area a fence near a narrow winding road would be limited to only four feet high. Uncle Willy always shook his head at this notion. He was of the mind that “good fences made good neighbors”. He reasoned that with the best “fence” in Marin, he likewise had the best neighbors in the whole county.

As a concession to the animal rights folks, Uncle Willy had spent a small bundle on a sophisticated electrified system that easily distinguished between animals and humans. That was the hardest part of the permit process.  Making sure that some squirrel didn’t get zapped by the electrified portion of the wire on top of the fence was not his top priority, but the compassionate left seemed to think more of their helpless animal neighbors than their human ones. Uncle Willy’s friends in high places were able to mute the complaints of the local busy bodies and even managed to keep the animal rights activists from complaining. The fence, though not pretty, was extremely effective for keeping bad guys out. And the one on the southern border that was so hated by the left was well on its way to completion. Walls and fences. Not a problem if you’re a celebrity and want to keep you and your property safe, but the “globalist socialist left was not too keen on borders for the rest of us” – a typical Uncle Willy quote when discussing his fence.

Uncle Willy’s gate was even more unique. It was made to withstand the force of a moving vehicle up to the size of a sixty to seventy ton Abram’s tank by absorbing the force. Not much could stop an Abrams. A car or standard size SUV or truck would not put much of a dent in it. It would bend not break. Some specialized space age material absorbed and stretched like a thick rubber band but was nearly impossible to break. A good size multi-ton freight truck moving fast enough could theoretically generate enough kinetic energy to break through the gate, but most vehicles would just get tangled up in the wires and the mesh construction. If one did, however, manage to punch through, Uncle Willy’s fall back was his anti-tank shoulder mounted weapon, the SMAW based on the Israeli B-300. His armored buddies from the army insisted that nothing was going to withstand the SMAW except maybe an Abrams A1M1. Uncle Willy was pretty sure he would know if the army decided to move a seventy ton tank into the tree covered rolling hills of Lagunitas. Not going to happen. If bad guys were going to attack the front gate the SMAW would provide more than sufficient firepower. Essentially the only practical way to penetrate the compound was through the air. For that contingency there was a laser guided SAM. A surface to air missile for potential helicopter or aerial assaults. 

And to top it off, there was stockpile of ammunition and automatic weapons, enough to hold off a small army. Uncle Willy’s weapon of choice was the Austrian Steyr Aug fully automatic rifle firing 650 rounds per minute. Its radical design made it extremely easy to handle. He also had dozens of nine millimeter handguns all using the same ammunition. His favorite was the Beretta M9. He stocked expanding full metal jacket ammo, an alternative to hollow point. The barrier-penetrating design was unique that combined a scored full metal nose over an internal rubber tip that collapsed on impact. So for Uncle Willy it was a good compromise. Both stopping power and penetrating power.

The electronic gate opened and both cars followed the gravel road to small area in front of the smaller cottage. The main house was thirty yards to the east of the cottage. The gate shut behind them. Uncle Willy and Sally walked out their front door to meet Fox and Patty who got out of the car and followed the short aggregate covered trail to the main house. The FBI agent took his time and followed several yards behind. Uncle Willy was old school. Handshakes not hugs were exchanged with Fox and Patty.

“Uncle Willy I’d like you to meet Miss Patty Rollins,” said Fox.

Patty gave Uncle Willy her signature vice like grip greeting.

“Now that’s a damn handshake. And from a very unexpected petite package. Lee, I do believe that your raves about this woman and her charms do not begin to do her justice,” said Uncle Willy.

“Mr. Schlaukopf you are too kind,” responded Patty.

“Uncle Willy is what everyone calls me. That is when they aren’t preceding it by the word “crazy’ to it behind my back,” said Uncle Willy.

“Uncle Willy it is a pleasure. I want to thank you in advance for putting me up here. I must say this whole situation is crazy, if you don’t mind me using the word,” she said.

“Crazy situation? Yeah, this applies. But most of the time, too many brainwashed “normal” folks call anybody who is different – crazy. Now if that ‘crazy’ person splits with reality then of course that’s probably an accurate diagnosis. However if a person happens to see things more clearly than the so-called ‘normal folks’, well maybe there’s a better word to describe that person. Intelligent. Visionary. Prophet. It’s my understanding from reading history that normal folks called them crazy too. May I call you Patty?” asked Uncle Willy.

“You may indeed.”

“Patty, this is the most tolerant, understanding and loving woman in the entire world – she has to be to put up with me – my best friend and companion – Sally Rebecca Peterschmidt.”

Sally and Patty shook hands.

“Pleased to meet you,” said Sally.

“Sally, why don’t you show Patty to her room. I need to have few words with Lee.”

 “My bags are in the Chevy,” said Patty.

“Let me get the bags out of the cars. Uncle Willy, I’ll meet you downstairs in your bunker,” Fox said tilting his head pointing to the basement stairs.

Fox took the bags into the larger of the two guest bedrooms. He kissed Patty on the cheek and jogged over to the basements steps leading to Uncle Willy’s man cave, which he, of course, he called his bunker.

33

Fox knocked on the door at the bottom of the stairs.

 “Come in,” said Uncle Willy.

The sound of a psychedelic rock song Fox had never heard before was shaking the walls as he entered. Uncle Willy had his Dell Laptop computer hooked up to his Bose speakers and an Mp3 file was playing. Uncle Willy turned it down to speak.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8BFTr4YY3Eo

“Hear that? That gurgling sound is an electric jug. Cool stuff. This band was one from Austin and Houston called the Thirteenth Floor Elevators. This was their list of hit –‘You’re Gonna Miss Me’. The lead singer Rocky Erickson took one too many hits of acid and got locked up in the Looney bin for years. Janis Joplin actually thought about joining his band. Anyway, you gotta love the harmonica, his wailing screams and that strange use of a jug,” said Uncle Willy.

“No doubt you wouldn’t see a guy like this in the music scene today. I think American Idol and those singing competitions are looking for something more modern,” said Fox.

“Just you wait. You live long enough, mark my words, you’ll start to hear some of this psychedelic stuff all over again. Each generation thinks they’re doing something radically new. But that’s seldom the case. Now take Beethoven, for example. He was different. That guy was radical. But the latest singer de jour, please. Some of ‘em are good, but there was the drugs and a death wish with that crowd that made the 60s and 70s just a tad edgier than what’s happening today. Though I’m sure there’s always a few artists living on the edge that may make it into that dubious “twenty seven year olds” death pantheon of early rockers who all seemed to check out right around their twenty seventh year. That was a wild era in music. Joplin, Morrison, Hendrix. All dead at the age of twenty seven or there abouts. Strange. Liked they hit that magic age and then just checked out. Anyway, Erickson’s still alive last I heard. But I didn’t summon you to my bunker to talk about ancient rock bands. Sit. And fill me in on what we’re up against here.”

Lowering himself into the plush leather chair, Fox said, “It’s complicated but I’ll do my best. All hell started to break lose after Seclarity, the company I work for, got this deal with ISI Semiconductor out of Milpitas. They’re a good size company that agreed to purchase about a hundred thousand seats – that would be units – of our software. About a ten million dollar deal. Big for us. Huge for us. It would blow out our number. Either we’d get funding to grow as a private company with an IPO or some big player like Chico Systems would buy our company. What that means is that our essentially worthless Seclarity stock would now be worth something. Millions for the executives and hundreds of thousands of dollars for the worker bees, including me.”

“OK. So where did things go wrong?”

“The short answer is that at least one, if not more key players at ISI, is working with an Iranian terrorist group that has suitcase nukes. An ISI guy by the name of Habib Tehrani is who first contacted me to make the deal. The information I stumbled upon through an ex-girlfriend indicates that the target is Houston.”

“Houston? Texas? You kidding me?”

“No. But that’s not the half of it. Since we were handed this deal things have gone from strange to stranger. And I do mean handed. Doesn’t add up. The whole thing was suspicious from the get go. It happened in a day. In fact, it was a done deal from the moment I was contacted. Clearly a decision had already been made to use our company. And me. But why? They specifically wanted to keep the account manager out of it. But why? Who gives a startup ten million dollar deals without any real due diligence? I mean they told me they’d already spent months evaluating our product and they knew the reputation of Bofee our chief technology guy, but it still just moved too fast. The whole thing is fishy.”

“Yeah, things that seem to be too good to be true usually are.”

“So on the really plus side I met Patty shortly after the deal was done. So my week started out about as good as it gets. Then things started to spin out of control and unravel.”

“How so?”

“First this Asian drug dealer smacks the T-bird. Not bad. Fender bender. Actually, just a scratch. But the stoned out dude takes off running. I run after him. Tackled him and he never gets up. He dies right there in the street. Turned out that he was so juiced up on Meth that he had a massive heart attack and was dead by the time he hit the pavement. I was cleared of wrong doing. In fact I became good buddies with the local cops in North Beach who have been trying to get a lead on busting this Asian drug ring for a while. So now they’ve got names and evidence they confiscated from the dead guy’s car.”

“OK. But where do the terrorists come in?”

“Getting to that. Not sure if was a coincidence or some kind of plan, but my ex Audrey got mixed up with the IT guy. Turns out his brother is an Iranian Hezbollah terrorist. He’s one of the masterminds behind the bad guys who dressed up as Afghani Police in order to murder American soldiers. With me so far?”

“Jeez Lee, I’m with you. But right off the bat. I don’t believe in these kinda coincidences. Somebody picked you and your company for a reason. You can bet on that.”

“I agree. So, anyway, my ex Audrey calls me up in a panic to meet her at a bar. Turns out she’s been seeing a guy named Habib and became scared and suspicious of him. So she stole a USB thumb drive to see what he was hiding. I go there and she hands me this USB thumb drive that has stuff on it that confirmed that they were planning an attack. We think it’s Houston, but there’s lots of other stuff the FBI hasn’t been able to quite figure out yet. By the way my hacker buddy Rossellini decrypted the drive. but he thinks there’s more info to be had than just what’s on the drive that we haven’t figured out yet. There’s a couple of pictures. A voice file. And some of the text is in Arabic. I’ll get to my computer nerd friend later. Thanks by the way for putting him up with us. He’s strange but he’s got computer skills that even the FBI could use. He’s a sharp guy and really knows this technology.”

“Let me get this straight. The company that’s decided, seemingly out of the blue, to spend ten million dollars with an unproven product from an unproven start-up company has a key employee that’s related to a big time terrorist?”

“Yes, and on top of that, the Chief Information Officer of ISI – is a former Deputy Director of the NSA. Another coincidence or is he part of the plot?”

“Don’t want to jump to conclusions before we get all the information, but I say the brothers are definitely part of the plot and it’s hard to imagine that this CIO from the NSA isn’t a part of it as well.”

“So the next logical question is why? Oh, I forgot to tell you that my office manager Bonnie was murdered as well as my ex. Two women died because they knew too much and it seems both became a liability. It seems that when the terrorists lost the USB drive that my ex Audrey stole and gave me, they murdered her. I assume they killed my office manager because she overheard stuff she shouldn’t have. They want that USB drive. I don’t think it’s just because they want to recover the information on it. It’s something more. Rossellini thinks the drive is one half of Boffee-Gelman private key encryption set up. This USB is one side. The other device from the terrorist in the Middle East is the other. The guess is that once those two devices exchange keys, then the transmission for the detonation can take place. We have to assume that the suitcase or back pack nukes have been planted already and that one of the reasons for getting Seclarity’s technology was to set off the nukes hiding behind this unbreakable encryption key exchange set up. Did you get that? Other than that, things have been pretty uneventful,” Fox joked.

Uncle Willy sat uncharacteristically still in his chair and didn’t say a word for several seconds.

“My goodness son. You really know how to get yourself in a mess. Not sure I can help the FBI and the Feds stop this attack but I guran-god-damn-teeya I’ll keep you and your girl safe.”

“I can’t tell you how much that means to me,” said Fox. He stood to go upstairs.

“Son, you just go make your beautiful lady feel secure and let Uncle Willy do the rest,” he said as he stood and shook his nephew’s hand. Fox walked upstairs and down the hall to the guest bedroom.

Fox knocked on the larger guest bedroom door where he and Patty were staying. He didn’t want to surprise her by just barging in.

“Yes, who is it?” asked Patty.

“It’s me. Are you decent?” asked Fox.

“Come in.”

Fox opened the door and Patty posed for him sitting up in the bed with a very revealing black negligee her feet tucked under her in a very seductive way. Her legs were partially exposed tanned and glorious. He shut the door behind him. The pose reminded him of one of those great Vargas classic pin-ups his father introduced him to in his vintage Playboy magazine collection. Fox found the Vargas girls more arousing than the air brushed silicone enhanced girls that most of his contemporaries lusted after. His taste was old school. Patty was all real. He smiled. Fox never smiled. But around Patty that changed. He couldn’t help himself.

“You know there’s a nice cozy private shower through that door,” he said.

“Really? I hear there’s a water shortage in Marin. I suppose we’d be doing our part if we shared. What do you think?” she asked.

“Wow, I’ll add environmentalist to the list of your other fine qualities. I think that sharing is a swell idea.”

With that he scooped Patty up and carried her through the door very deftly and kicked it shut behind him.

34

Uncle Willy got up slowly grabbed the iPhone on his desk and found the contact number for the team leader.

“Jack, it’s Bill. I think it’s time to get ready to rumble.”

“How real is the threat?” asked Jack.

“Real. My nephew Lee got himself mixed up in a terrorist plot.”

“Bill, did you say terrorist plot? What kind of evidence do you have? Where’s Homeland Security? What are the rest of the alphabet soup agencies doing about it?”

“They’re involved. No doubt. But it seems the FBI guy here is using my nephew and one of his agents to get key intel to close that sucker down. Probably as good a strategy as any. It was just a matter of time before we’d finally have a terrorist nuke here on American soil.”

“Did you say nuke?”

“Yes. As in backpack devices with the power of 15 kilotons – about the same force as Nagasaki. It’s going down in the next few days. The intel so far has Houston of all places, as the target. But you know what I think of our Feds. Either biggest liars on the planet or totally incompetent when it really counts. You know I could forgive the bastards for the before part of the screw up at Benghazi if they just fessed up. It’s the ‘during and afterwards’ part that really pissed me off. When you sacrifice good men without a fight and then cover it up for political purposes, there’s just no excuse.  Many, many years since it happened and we still haven’t made any of the bad guys pay. Why? Politics. Cover up before an election and continued cover up for another one. The goddam press helped them do it. Big bad orange man kept us safe but I sincerely doubt that this bumbling career politician will help keep us safe. But I’m really fed up with those jokers in Congress. Tweedle-dumb or Tweedle-dumber. Not really much different from the ex-Soviets except they had more turnover. Did you know they had more turnover in the former Soviet Politburo than we do in our Congress? And choices. What choices? Just a bunch of inbred losers in the Ruling Class. Certainly, nowhere near our best and brightest. But I digress.

“Yeah, you do that a lot.”

“Yes, I do but those wise enough to pay attention usually benefit from the time spent soaking up my pearls of wisdom.”

“Or bull pucky.”

“Don’t need to get testy. Save it for the bad guys. Anyway, I’ve got my nephew and his girl holed up here. I expect that the terrorists will be coming after him to get the USB drive he has. It seems to be key – and I do mean “key” to the plot. We’ll need some of your men if they’re up for the fight. It’s a righteous cause. Don’t care about these hacks and crooks running the government but there are good people who live in that part of Texas. I have my son and relatives living in the metropolitan Houston area. We need to do our part to help stop it if we can. My nephew has got the right attitude. He’s got potential too. But he’s not a professional. We need you and a handful of your best men for the assault I’m pretty sure that’s coming. Are you in?”

“Hell, how can I refuse? Helping for a righteous cause is sufficient in itself but playing Masada and the Alamo – well that just sounds like too much goddam fun to pass up!”

“Wait a damn second here. We’re not going to be any California version of the Alamo. We’re going to kick some ass. Guaran-god-damn-tee-ya that Bowie and Crocket didn’t have the firepower we have.”

“Well you didn’t really have to sell me. If you make it sound too damned easy I might lose my motivation.”

“Well I didn’t say it would be easy. I’m expecting some serious bad dudes to be giving us all we can handle. I just said we ain’t gonna be no friggin’ Alamo or Masada. We’re not losing anybody and at the same time we’re going to inflict maximum hurt on the bad guys.”

“Well, sounds like a party. How many of my guys do you need?”

“I’d say a half dozen ought to do it countin’ yourself of course. I expect to have at least one air assault – probably helicopter gun ship. And they may be planning some kind of land assault probably with a large truck. Don’t expect them to round up a tank in Nor Cal but I’m prepared for that too. We’ve got armor piercing anti-tank weapons here if we need ‘em. I just need at least a couple of guys to keep the bastards occupied while I direct our counter attack.”

“Armor piercing anti-tank weapons? You gotta be kiddin’ me. Man this sounds like fun. You really think this is going to happen in California?  In Marin County? Last I checked they don’t let you kill rats or cockroaches without a permit from a town council.”

“Yeah. I do think this will go down. All the evidence points to it. And no we don’t have many problems with rats and cockroaches in Marin. Most of them have moved east and are currently living in Sacramento running our state government. I don’t expect the Feds to react fast enough or to bring enough fire power to the battle. We have the greatest soldiers in the world in our military. Unfortunately, under the BLM, Antifa loving POTUS we had some the worst damn politically correct pussies running the show at the general officer level kissing ass of those illiberal political hacks in the ruling class. I don’t really much trust Homeland and the FBI to get the job done either. Too many pussy leftovers there too.  Big bad orange man tried, but the swamp was just too wide and deep. Yep, they call it the “Deep State”. Bad actors that are abusing our 4^th Amendment rights for political purposes – not to find and kill bad guys and terrorists. My guess is that protecting this USB device, and my nephew and his friends is going to be up to us.”

“I’ll have guys rounded up and there before noon tomorrow. Will that work?”

“Think so. Might attack us before then, but I doubt it. Just move as fast as you can.”

“Should we BYOG?”

“OK, got me there. Wait a second. Bring your own”—

“Gun? There you go! OK but not necessary. Bring your own if you want but not absolutely necessary. If this turns into a longer siege than expected, we’ve standardized on nine millimeter Berettas and Steyr Aug automatic rifles. We have special expanding full metal jacket ammo for the Berettas. We have Parabellums for the Steyr Augs. They’re nice guns. Real easy to use. I find it fascinating the only Federal Agency that uses them is the Immigration and Customs Enforcement – ICE.  Since the policy of ICE used to be open borders I find that fascinating. Who were they going to use these beauties on – the bad guys or us? At least now they seem to be doing their job, but for so long the border was a sieve. I still wonder if all this militarization of these departments is about controlling us rather than illegal aliens, drug dealers or terrorists. Well, I digress once again.”

“You do that a lot don’t you Bill? Don’t get me wrong. I’m with you on just about everything you say. I just don’t waste too much time thinking about politics. Essentially I’ve come to the conclusion that the only people who run for office or end up in office are people who shouldn’t be there in the first place. No offense to the big bad orange man – he mighta been the exception. That’s why they stole the election from him. The folks with talent, sincerity and humility who might make good leaders are usually drummed out by the nasty folks who live for power. The good guys reluctantly come to public service once in a while, but the bad ones seem to vastly outnumber the good ones. Given the corruption of the system, to be honest, with open borders, I’m really shocked it’s taken this long to see another 911.”

“Oh this one, if the bad guys pull it off, will make 911 seem like a non-event. As I said, the Intel is suitcase nukes in backpacks. Although the nukes probably are coming by ship, I honestly don’t know how hard it would be for them to simply walk across the border with ‘em. Anyway, by tomorrow the trap that we’ve set will change everything. There’s always a chance they’ll decide not to attack our compound. So I don’t want you to be disappointed if the party doesn’t happen. But I seriously doubt that they won’t make a play. They need this USB drive we have to pull off their attack on their time line. They are also afraid that since we have the USB drive, our guys might figure out the location of the attack and potentially stop it. Unfortunately we can’t make that happen. We can’t get ‘em out in time. But they don’t know that. It’s not quite clear to me yet how all this computer encryption shit works but we’re going to have to get their computer and talk to our side in order to stop it. I’d say 99.99% they’re coming and you can expect an early wake up call for the day after tomorrow.”

“Well I’ll be extremely disappointed if they don’t show. It sounds like we’re going to see some serious action. What’s the expected attack gonna look like?”

“Air assault and ramming the gate are the only logical ways they can quickly penetrate the compound. Tanks are not happening here. I don’t see many tanks running around the hills and valleys of Northern California but you’ll be the first to know when we find something good for you to blow up. At Uncle Willy’s Spa and Resort you’ll be the first person to get your complimentary wakeup call. We’ll go into detail when you get here, but I figure it’s gotta be a large truck that could potentially penetrate the gate and an attack helicopter that could get bad guys inside the compound to extricate the USB. If I was tasked with the operation, I’d blow shit up with a simultaneous truck and air assault early in the morning, and drop a handful of Special Forces types into the compound to search room by room until they find it. But we ain’t gonna let that happen. We’re prepared and are going to blow them out of the water.”

“Bill, too bad the Pentagon doesn’t have you making plans for military strategy.”

“Damn straight. It is too bad. I guaran-god-damn-tee-ya we wouldn’t be wasting men and treasure in Iraq and Afghanistan at the absurd levels we have. Yeah, we’d have some troops in there but we’d be going after the head of the snake. If we would have put on a ‘shock and awe’ in Tehran instead of Bagdad the world would be a much safer place today. I hate the political hacks running this government, but I love our military. We never seem to be blowing up things in the countries that need blowin’ up – you know like Cuba, North Korea, and Iran. Now I know our peace loving leaders will not let us declare war on any of those countries. We should start by freeing Cuba and hanging that son-of-a-bitch Castro, his murdering brother, and the rest of that thug regime. Then we should put a full court press and blockade on N. Korea and prepare for surgical strikes on their Nuke sites with our massive bunker buster bombs maybe a MOAB or two. Tell those wimpy South Koreans who’ve been getting rich selling us all those freaking cars and TVs and sitting on their fat asses that, if they want to keep their country, they need to put those demented North Korean sons-a-bitches out of their misery, and put their little fat South Korean gook asses on the front line. And last but not least, if we’re going to spend money on blowing shit up in the Middle East – it should be in Tehran. Once and for all get rid of their nuke facilities and pay them bastards back for all the IEDs and troops they sent to Iraq and Afghanistan that killed and maimed all of our brave soldiers. But today in this feminized ass backwards world we can’t just go around and start blowing things up in countries that are our real enemies. Oh no. We have to go into places where we can stay the longest and waste the most money and do the least to protect our interests. We don’t really want to actually defeat the enemy. Because, we don’t actually have enemies any more. We’re just there for an ‘overseas contingency’. After all we are all about talking peace and love to these poor misunderstood people. We just let the twisted sisters and their feminized men talk our enemies to death. Talking. That’s our foreign policy. Talking. That’s our strategy. These people are not really our enemies. They’re merely angry and jealous that America is powerful and it makes them nervous. We’ve insulted them by being powerful. We have half naked women running around doing whatever the fuck they want. We tolerate homosexuals. Our most pressing domestic problem is not unemployment or tax reform. Oh no. Our real problem is bathrooms for transgender boy-girls. You know some freak guy one day decides he wants to be a girl. So we are in the middle of a battle over whether or not the Federal Government has the right to force every school, every public facility to allow these twisted freaks into girl’s bathrooms. Just what I want for all the little girls in America – girls having a close encounter with some freak pulling out his pecker and taking a piss while she’s washing her hands. Have these illiberal locusts of the left gone completely insane or what? Can’t understand why the Fundamentalist Muslims would object. Hell I object and any person with two brain cells and just a dash of common sense would too. You know these Mooslims are right. We’re just so decadent. We’ve been arrogant. We need to show them humility and change our ways. We won’t need to actually fight a war if we sit down and talk with them. That’s not the propaganda coming from the enemy. Oh no. That’s what’s comin’ from the mouths of those mean faced clipped haired witches who have infiltrated our own government.”

“You’re bad Bill. What are you, some kind of a misogynist?”

“Hell no, I love women. Your assumption is faulty. The gender of the creatures I object to no longer qualify as female.”

“You crack me up. Two of my guys are ex-Delta, two are ex-Seals, one was a CIA sharpshooter. Nice to have all the extra weapons but don’t need them. I’ll let you supply the firepower bigger than handguns – except for my CIA guy who’s bringing his own rifle and scope. Let me get going. I got some men to round up. Sorry, my crew is all testosterone all the time. Hope you don’t mind our insensitivity to the woman’s movement.”

“No I don’t mind. I love women. My Sally can hang with your guys in a fire fight if necessary plus she cooks the best pot roast on the planet and bakes a mean cherry pie! And did I mention she’s an expert in the Kama Sutra? This shit’ll be over in six minutes or less. Don’t blink. You’ll miss the action.”

“Kama Sutra? Bill, you really do crack me up!”

35

Fox woke up and checked his iPhone for messages. Wished he hadn’t. Fox got a double whammy about the two women who died because of their connection to him. He was sucked into this drama by unknown forces and it seemed that those closest to him were the most vulnerable. He got an email message that the funeral service for Bonnie would be held at Glide Memorial Church today at 11 a.m. He woke up Patty and asked her if she’d like to go with him. She said she’d be happy to support him by going. They moved pretty fast to get ready and left before 10 a.m. Figured he get there as it started. Two SFPD cops went with them for protection. McKinnon was OK with it. One was loquacious and full of bad jokes. The other one never said a word. Strange pair.

Bonnie was well respected and loved by the predominantly poor minorities in San Francisco who knew her by sight at Glide. Reverend Cecil Williams was to speak at the service. The place was packed. Lots of Seclarity personnel would no doubt be there paying their respects. But most of the attendees were just regular people she had helped over the years. Fox had no idea that this tough woman who seemed so distant at work was loved by so many.  At least a dozen or so family members and friends sang her praises literally and figuratively and hundreds filled the seats in the large chapel. He had no idea how many people were actually at this service, but it looked packed and standing room only. One person said it held 2,000 or more. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The choir was in full throat and it was really quite thrilling to hear gospel songs sung with such soul.  After Cecil had everyone in tears with stories about Bonnie’s self-sacrifice and her unselfish giving to the church and community, the eulogy was winding down, the good Reverend asked if anyone else would like to say something else for Sister Bonnie.

Fox was not much of a public speaker, but he overcame his fear and meandered his way to the pulpit. Fox was the last and one of the only members of the company to come up to the podium to speak:

“I was a co-worker with Bonnie. Unlike most of the people who have spoken before me, I did not know her well. At work for the most part she was all business. She did not suffer fools gladly. Always had to be on your toes with her. But she made our little company spin like a top. Occasionally when she wasn’t inundated with the work from the management, the investors and the rest of us who piled it on her and depended on her to get things done, I got a glimpse of the real story about who she was and her life outside the walls of our company. We talked about few things other than work stuff, but every so often she’d give me an insight into the real person behind her tough exterior. I know that she loved her soap Operas, especially General Hospital and her Sonny Corinthos. She called him “Sonnyliscious”. Made me laugh. I know that she was redwood hard on the outside but she was a softie on the inside. I remember telling her one day I would take her out into the woods in Marin County named after a very amazing man named Muir. She lit up like a little girl when I told her stories about what it would be like when we leave this stuffy office behind. I told her I would take her to see redwoods that shot up to the sky taller than the Statue of Liberty and lined the magnificent trails on Mount Tamalpais. I’d make her get out of that desk and funny looking chair with all the wires and things she was glued to and show her some of this beautiful country only a short drive away. Not on a two inch smart phone screen or her laptop but up close and personal. So she could smell the flowers and trees. So she could see them. So she could touch them. I told her she didn’t have to live all her life behind a desk with a blinking screen.

Since I was unable to keep my promise all I have to give her now are these words from the man who loved those woods so much that they named them for him: ‘Let children walk with Nature, let them see the beautiful blendings and communions of death and life, their joyous inseparable unity, as taught in woods and meadows, plains and mountains and streams of our blessed star, and they will learn that death is stingless indeed, and as beautiful as life.’ Mr. Muir, may you take some time from your duties in heaven to show your forests, meadows, mountains and streams to our Bonnie – if you can. I’m sure she would appreciate it.”

Fox walked back to his seat next to Patty who gave a simple nod of approval. She had a tear running down her left cheek. Fox was doing his best to control his emotions. At the end of the service Fox introduced Patty to Reverend Cecil and he promised to be there next Thanksgiving to help serve turkey and dressing. Patty and Fox were joined by the two cops and they opted to skip the wake and the food and go back to Marin. Fox had a message on his iPhone from Audrey Thompson’s mother who lived in Sebastopol. When it rains it pours he said to himself as he called the number she left. She picked up on the first ring. There was a slight pause. No greeting.

“Mrs. Thompson, I am deeply sorry for your loss,” he said.

“But I hear you weren’t sorry enough to walk her home and keep her safe that night,” she said with an edge and sarcasm in her cracking voice.

Fox had just sat down in the back seat of the Queen Vic Black and White. Patty was snuggled next to him and was holding on with both hands to his right arm while his left arm held the phone. The two cops were in the front street. The quiet one was driving everyone back to Uncle Willy’s compound. They were all listening to Fox try to calm Audrey’s mother who was borderline hysterical slurring her words sounding a little drunk and very angry.

“Mrs. Thompson I had local cops as well as my friend the ex-cop immediately go to her house. It was just too late. I just don’t know what else I could have done,” he said.

“You could have been there for her. She told me you were going to come to help her but you didn’t. She loved you. You didn’t love her. Now she’s gone. My little baby’s gone,” she cried.

At this point Mrs. Thompson was in tears and sobbing. Fox felt helpless. He just shook his head. He gave her a few moments to pull herself together.

“Mrs. Thompson is there anything I can do now? Name it. Anything,” he asked.

“It’s too late,” she answered and hung up.

Fox dropped the phone in his lap and stared at the back of the seat in front of him.

“I heard most of that,” said Patty, “It’s not your fault. You can’t blame yourself. The girl put her own life in danger by stealing the USB drive. You sent both the police and your friend there to protect her. It just wasn’t in time.”

Fox didn’t say anything for almost a minute.

“I need to learn a lesson from this,” he said.

“How so?” she asked.

“I can’t depend on anyone, I mean anyone, to protect the people I care for. It’s always going to be up to me.”

“I understand your feelings Fox, but that’s unrealistic. You can’t be everywhere to protect everyone you care about. We will not be together every minute of every day. People have to just be careful and take care of themselves.”

“Patty, that’s fine in theory. But I’m the one dragging everyone I care about into this mess. You have to promise me.”

“Promise what?”

“Until this terrorist threat is over, you will stay put in the compound with Sally and Uncle Willy.”

“Sure,” she replied in a less than convincing tone.

“No I mean it Patty. This obsession you’ve got with your party would be fine if your life wasn’t on the line, but you’ve got to understand these people are desperate for that stupid little USB drive that I have and they’ll stop at nothing to get it.”

“OK, I get it. Relax. I’m sure this will all be over soon and we can get back to our normal lives – whatever that means.”

The words helped Fox focus. Surely she would not put herself in jeopardy knowing that she knew what was going on. He was very much looking forward to his initial training with Kim. He already had his basic training figured out. Kim would show him her marital arts moves. Her reputation was pound for pound the most lethal fighter in the FBI. She was also an accomplished long distance sharpshooter. That would come later. From Leary he’d learn about handguns and work on close quarters tactics for firearms. From his Uncle Willy he’d learn to use automatic rifles. It might not quite be Delta Force or Seal training, but it would have to do until he figured out how he was going to take it to the next level.

36

Kim’s flight back to San Francisco made her more irate by the second. She was well along in her plan to form a team made up of an elite group of specialists to capture Ahriman and find the computer device he planned to use to detonate the bombs. She was just about to get on the plane to France and then Tel Aviv when she got the call from McKinnon that her trip would be delayed a couple of days. This detour to babysit Fox put her in a sour mood. It was stupid on so many levels. First it was highly unlikely that any good was going to come of her training Fox for two or three days. Who could learn anything in just a couple of days? And more importantly it was jeopardizing the assault on Ahriman by putting her and her team under unnecessary strain and operational delay. She was in D.C. about to get on a comfortable civilian airliner in First Class. Instead of flying commercial they had her flying back to California on a god awful C-5 Galaxy transport that was like a six hour ride inside a washing machine. Only noisier. Every hour her punishment for Fox got more graphic in her mind’s eye. Her only consolation was the vision of seeing Fox flattened by one of her devastating kicks. She had taken down more than one agent Fox’s size in hand to hand combat while training at Quantico. She rationalized the damage she might do as beneficial to him in the long run. His fantasy of turning into a Jason Bourne with a couple of lessons was simultaneously pissing her off and making her laugh.

Kim landed at Moffett Field in Mountain View south of San Francisco. McKinnon met her with his FBI issued black Suburban. She threw her bags in the back and closed the hatch.

“How was your flight?” he asked.

“Have you ever spent six hours inside a metal drum with people beating on it the whole time?” she answered.

“Sounds like you missed your First Class glass of Champagne and a foot massage from your flight attendant? So I guess you’re not really in the mood for three days with Fox at his Uncle Willy’s fun house?”

“Oh I’m in the mood. But I don’t think Fox is going to be in the mood for anything other than bed rest after I get through with him. Oh no. I’m in the mood. I’m really in the mood. But your wannabe spy is going to wish he’d picked a different tutor.”

“Kim, you just need to get a little rest. Have a nice long rest. You’ll be good as new in the morning. Whatever you do – just don’t break any bones – his or yours.”

“Let’s see what kind of mood I’m in tomorrow when I give him Kim’s Kung Fu 101. I’m going to skip right past the ritual and spiritual parts of Martial Arts and go right to the pay back parts. I guess we’ll find out how tough he is tomorrow.”

“I’m not a martial arts guy, but I don’t think revenge and anger is something that should motivate you. You know I’ve watched a lot of Akira Kurosawa Samurai movies and they seldom let their emotions take over.”

“You have got to be kidding. Did you just lecture me on martial arts based on watching some old Japanese movies?”
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but the guy is twice your weight a world class athlete who seems to have the reflexes of a cat. I don’t think he’s going to be as easy as you think to embarrass.”

The drive from Mountain View to San Francisco on 280 took a little under an hour. McKinnon pulled up to Kim’s flat in Potrero Hill. She had one roller bag that she handled by herself. He knew better than to even ask if she needed help.

37

Fox woke up bright and early. He was sitting on the wooded kitchen banquette bench that was situated in the corner near a nice southern exposure. Morning sun sliced through the blinds of the four by eight foot picture window. Of course, Uncle Willy had made sure that the glass was bullet proof. Fox was drinking his coffee black and getting in the zone.

Kim arrived at the compound at eight thirty ready to work off some frustration. She had no doubt she would punish Fox. The only question in her mind was whether or not she would hold back enough to keep from doing serious damage. Sally offered Kim some coffee and scones.

“Do you want any breakfast Kim? I can whip of a couple of eggs or pancakes if you like.”

“No thanks, the scones will be fine.”

Uncle Willy had his own little gym with free weights, a small universal pulley unit, and some mats for stretching. At ten thirty Kim and Fox had changed into workout clothes for his first martial arts lesson. Fox was dressed in a white V-necked t-shirt and black running shorts and his favorite Adidas running shoes. Kim was dressed in black tights with a light sweat grey shirt ripped at the shoulders and her shorts were grey and nondescript over her tights. She wore white Adidas cross training shoes. Normally, she would wear her karate Gi and her black belt, but in her mind, today was more about payback.

Kim directed Fox into the center of the two large mats that would serve as their space for sparring. The mats were about an inch thick and the floor underneath was black hard rubber mat material that fit together like puzzle pieces. Fox towered over Kim by almost a foot and was nearly double her weight. She asked Fox to be the aggressor and informed him she would demonstrate some initial defensive moves. As expected Fox was no match for her and he found himself tossed on his back. Once. Twice. And the third time she kicked him squarely in the solar plexus almost knocking his breath out. He found himself upside down looking up from the mats at the bench press in an awkward position. A forty five pound bar was wobbling precariously on its holder dangling over his head. Fortunately it did not fall or it might have done further damage to Fox than the ego whipping he was getting.

Fox pulled himself up, focused and found the zone. His intensity was almost visceral. Uncle Willy would say later that he could actually feel it. The fourth time they sparred Fox made a blindingly fast move and snatched Kim’s wrist and arm like he was doing the hammer throw in the Olympics and he hurled her like she was a rag doll. She smashed hard against the wall ten feet away and was knocked unconscious. Training and experience have meaning up to a point. But when you have an opponent, even one with minimal training, who is faster than you and twice your size, a black belt means very little. Kim would have needed a death blow early to put away someone with Fox’s natural gifts. You do not poke a bear or a tiger for very long without getting mauled.

Uncle Willy and Sally helped gather Kim up and put her in the farthest guest room. They considered calling a doctor but she was too proud to let that happen. She may have suffered a mild concussion so they kept her awake. Fox was sitting by her bed. He was concerned. He was feeling a bit guilty. Not so much that he had hurt Kim, which should have been his major concern, but rather because the importance of Kim’s mission that would ultimately protect Patty may have been put in jeopardy by his over exuberance in proving to Kim his potential.

In her dazed condition, Kim was mumbling something about the FID and someone named “Javari”, and that’s all Uncle Willy needed as a cue. Fox had heard about this group. He was actually quite fascinated by the FID. Uncle Willy had just read and listened to discussions about the FID, and in his mind, that’s all he needed to become an expert on the subject.

To keep her awake, Uncle Willy began rambling on, “You know I just listened to a healthy debate on talk radio about the FID. More or less translates to ‘Free and Democratic Iran’. This woman Javari Kim mentioned, I believe is the head of this Iranian resistance group that split off from another group called the MEK. Yeah, I know, lots of alphabet soup. Anyway, my understanding is both of these groups were once regarded as terrorist outfits. Finally our State Department got around to figuring out that any enemy of the regime in Iran may be of some benefit to us. So for the last few years the FID is no longer subject to financial and material restrictions by the U.S. government. Both groups had allied with Saddam Hussein in the 1980s when Iraq was enemy number one. Things changed now that Iraq and Afghanistan wars had wound down.

Of course, in both cases, similar to, although not quite like Viet Nam, it looks like defeat was being snatched from the jaws of victory. As far as I was concerned, the Viet Nam war was a cluster-fuck run by a bunch of bean counters who believed in an absurd notion of a “domino theory”. As we learned in hindsight, Communist dominoes tend to fall under their own weight and they don’t need our help, our brave soldiers or treasure to do so. More importantly we learned that an extended ground war without overwhelming force is a losing proposition. Iraq and Afghanistan wars were waged by politicians who thought that cutting off the tail of the snake rather than the head was somehow a strategy that would lead to victory. Hell, they didn’t even know what victory was. These half-ass wars were political first and last. These damn half-ass wars. Victory was never defined. Victory was some barbarian with a purple finger who voted for the first time? That’s victory? That you could give barbarians with no sense of Western Rule of Law ‘democracy’ with a microscopic “d” and they’d miraculously turn into lovers of their Constitution. Hell, our ruling class doesn’t give a fig about our Constitution. So we think a bunch of misogynistic tribal throwbacks would? Our ruling class has spent the last hundred years developing ways to bypass the Constitution when it was inconvenient or was not a lucrative proposition to uphold it.”

Uncle Willy droned on.

“In any event, both were equally absurd theories and motivations for war. World War II should have taught them what it takes to win fighting wars, but obviously these lessons were missed by the modern political ruling class. Fighting wars are won by annihilating the enemy with the only acceptable outcome of total unconditional surrender. We fight wars today like they’re football games. Stopping for half-time. Serving refreshments. Referees. A coin toss. Please. While we play according to the rules with officials in striped shirts, the enemy sets off nasty explosions on our bench and in our locker room. Instead of cutting off the head of the snake in Iran, we blow a whistle and cry foul. So we continue to accept the maiming and loss of limbs of our brave soldiers as a price for this half-ass “overseas contingency”.

Absurd. A real tragedy. There’s really only one way to win a war. Ask survivors of Nagasaki and Hiroshima what defeat looks like. Ask Dresden and the cities of Germany turned into bombed out parking lots what defeat looks like. Let’s not confuse it with the cold war. Indeed it was a different animal. But in my opinion it’s not so much that America and the West defeated the Soviets, it’s the fact that the tyrannical Marxist system defeated itself and collapsed under its own weight. Socialism on a grand scale doesn’t work. They ran out of spending other people’s money, had to fold up their tent and go home. The lefties always like to use some tiny monolithic country like Sweden to show how wonderful socialism is. One of the best kept lefty secrets is that behind the socialist façade is a thriving merchant capitalist system. They also miss the fact that it’s a whole different enchilada to get 300 million ethnically diverse people to contribute like Scandinavian sheep. The model of the failed USSR is what socialism and Communism looks like writ large. A disaster. Even today, Russia is a dying country despite its enormous reserves of oil and natural resources. They’ve traded in a greedy Czar for a power mad Oligarch. And though Maoist China was an abject disaster, with the help of greedy Western oligarchs, twenty plus years of China after they entered the WTO, has now become America and the West’s existential threat. If America does fall it will be through no great measure of the new Russian Federation, it will be by self-inflicted wounds and perhaps a little help from the Communists in China. If America falls it will be because she became more socialist, more corrupt and more tyrannical than her enemies.

Realistically, none of the crony politicians after September 11, 2001 really cared whether they cut off the head or the tail of Militant Islam. Hell to this day they didn’t have the guts to call the enemy by its name. Looks like the Billionaire POTUS may finally call a spade a spade and Islamic Terrorism, Islamic Terrorism. But as soon as our made for TV president leaves, all bets are off. Though the country has become energy independent and no longer a puppet of Middle East oil, expect the Greenies to backtrack and put us back on the path to more endless wars to feed our Military Industrial Complex and insatiable globalist class.

Watch as he leaves and Militant Islam once again rises its ugly head.  As Daniel Pipes has told us, the so-called war on “terror” is absurd. “Terror” is a tactic. The enemy is Militant Islam. A fascist blood thirsty ideology hiding behind a religion. The politicians called Major Hasan’s murders at Fort Hood of thirteen soldiers and the maiming of dozens of others “workplace violence” so they could avoid paying out sums to the victims and families, to save face politically. If they called it what it was – terrorism – they would be admitting that their politically correct policies were not working. They were in it for what most venal leaders are in it for – power and money. Finally, after nearly two decades, after two terms of Republicans wasting billions cutting off the tail instead of the head, and two terms of democrats and their reset buttons and talking to the enemy got the inevitable results, chaos and uncertainty, some bright folks finally got around to working with this one group of rebels who could actually do some good attacking the head of the snake – Iran.

38

Kim had been in a daze. The word “Iran” seemed to snap her back to reality.

She responded by saying, “You know, I worked with Naurian to prevent an Iranian backed terror plot right after the Boston Bombing in 2013”.

She had a story of her own. Fox and Uncle Willy just listened.

“You know, it made no front page news. It made no news as far as I could tell. Why would it? The press is only interested in fires, explosions, taking down the wild card POTUS – not in success. Part of the reason we have such a cynical society. There are a few congressmen in select committees who paid attention to these things and are finally starting to realize that the FID could be a valuable ally. While Homeland Security and the CIA and other Federal agencies were giving lip service to the need to for inter-agency cooperation to prevent the next 9-11, the FBI had formed a clandestine group, effectively Black Ops and off the books, to do some dirty work that even our other Special Forces folks would not consider. McKinnon is in charge of this group. It reports directly to the Director of the Bureau and Attorney General who both, theoretically, report to the POTUS. The POTUS is often not kept in the loop in order to give him plausible deniability. His aides were the last stop in the chain of command. Except of course, the Director of the FBI, like the original venerable predecessor J. Edgar, he had copious amounts of pictures and new stuff that even J. Edgar never had – I guess you call it ‘digital dirt’, on all the key members of the executive branch. And of course, with the new POTUS, the deep state leaks are non-stop. That made him the real go to guy in the chain of command. Frank Allen George, who most Americans have never even heard of, is perhaps the most powerful ‘man’ in America. Although theoretically the most powerful person in American is still the President. The Attorney General, though a good man, is kept out of the loop. His morals would no doubt get in the way of some of the necessary dirty work. Frank George had no such problem.

Although Iraq is rife with terrorist attacks mostly emanating from Iran, it is nevertheless still the best place to plan the raid on Ahriman. FID uses camp Hurriya (formerly the MEK’s training camp) to train after leaving camp Ashraf their historic paramilitary base. Although it had been closed for military operations for over twenty years, it is the ideal place to put together the team. The leader of this group is neither FID Persian nor American, but rather a female Mossad operative.”

Fox spun around to Uncle Willy and asked, “Did I hear that right?”

“Curiouser and Curiouser,” said Uncle Willy.

“I guess this girl is starting to resemble Alice. This does sound a little like she went ‘Through the Looking Glass’.”

Uncle Willy and Fox just stared at each other. It was like the bump on the head was sodium pentothal – so called “truth serum”. Some of her rant was no doubt due to the collision. But somewhere somehow she just let down her barrier with Fox and Uncle Willy. She must have decided in her heart of hearts that Fox had earned a spot on the team. And then again the whole thing may have been that she was just out of her freaking mind. Whatever the real reason both, Uncle Willy and Fox were shaking their heads in disbelief. How much of her rambling was fact and how much was fiction? They both came to the conclusion that she just wasn’t that creative. It was no doubt true. At least what she perceived to be true. Maybe this was her way of welcoming Fox and Uncle Willy to the team. Maybe Uncle Willy’s little rant had motivated her to share. Fox and Uncle Willy were shocked. A “Black Ops” group in the FBI? Yes, she had been knocked silly. But was everything she just said true? They concluded that most of it was based in fact. Highly plausible that a Black Ops group exists in the FBI. Highly probable that the President is kept out of the loop. Highly probable that there is a training facility in Iraq for the FID.

Fox and Uncle Willy stepped away from her bed to confer.

“That’s some story. I think she’s OK. We know she can talk. Although I still can’t believe what I just heard. She sounded coherent though didn’t she?” asked Fox.

“More than coherent. She sounded correct.” said Uncle Willy.

“Maybe it’d be a good idea to call a doctor or take her to a local hospital just in case. What do you think?”

Uncle Willy decided to call a doctor friend who lived in Fairfax and asked that he drop by and make sure that Kim was OK. Fairfax was a small town only a few miles east of Lagunitas. A quick trip down Sir Francis Drake Boulevard. Dr. Jerome Katz was an aging hippie with long grey hair, receding hair line and his shoulder length mane usually pulled back in a ponytail. The joke about Fairfax is that it was the place where tie dye shirts have never gone out of style. If you looked hard enough you might even find an ancient water bed or two. Fifteen minutes later, the security cameras had picked up the doctor’s 1975 Saab turbo and Uncle Willy buzzed the gates open. Dr. Katz had been to the compound many times and he knew the drill about where to park. There was a knock on the door. Sally opened the door and true to form Dr. Katz, wearing torn jeans and a red, yellow and orange multi-colored tie dyed long sleeve shirt strolled in.

“Hey Doc, thanks for comin’ on short notice,” yelled Uncle Willy from upstairs.

“No problem Bill. Where’s the young lady who’s had the accident?” asked Dr. Katz as he took hold of the bannister.

“She’s back here in the last guest room down the hall.”

Dr. Katz followed Uncle Willy down the hall to the last room on the left. It was the smaller of the bedrooms and Kim was groggy but still awake. Like old school doctors in the movies, Dr. Katz had his little black bag. He introduced himself.

“Hi missy, I’m Dr. Katz, just call me Doc. Everyone else does around here,” he said.

“O.K. Doc, but there’s really no need. I have a headache but I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with me,” she said.

“Well you just let me be the judge here little Missy. How many fingers am I holding up?”

Doc put his hand up and made a fist.

“None.”

“Good answer. One for one. Just sit still let me look at your eyes.”

Doc pulled out the magnifying lamp and checked her eyes.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Kim Jackson.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Planet earth, United States of America, State of California, Town of Lagunitas, Uncle Willy’s Compound, guest bedroom.”

“Well that’s pretty specific.”

“How old are you?”

“None of your business.”

“Good answer. She looks fine. She sounds fine. Maybe she had a mild concussion. If she doesn’t show any symptoms tomorrow other than a headache she’s probably going to be fine. But she needs to be under observation here for at least twenty four hours. How long has it been since her accident?”

“Doc, guessin’ about four hours,” said Uncle Willy.

“I don’t think she needs to go to the hospital, but someone needs to check on her regularly. If there’s any nausea and vomiting, blurred vision and if the headache gets worse, than get this girl over to Marin General for a CT scan or MRI if necessary.”

“Got it,” said Uncle Willy.

“I’ll be sure to check on her every couple of hours until tomorrow morning,” said Sally who had just entered the room after the Doc.

“No, you don’t have to do that,” said Kim.

“Little Missy, it’s either stay put and let these good folks look after you or I’ll drive you to Marin General myself right now. Take your pick,” he said.

“O.K. Sally, that’s really nice of you to do that. I’ve got a little headache that’s all. I’m sure I’ll be fine tomorrow,” said Kim.

“It’s no problem at all. I enjoy looking after people I like,” said Sally.

“Kim, I told you she was the best. You just relax and take it easy,” Uncle Willy said as he took Doc by the shoulder and walked him out of the room motioning Fox to join them.

In the living room Uncle Willy introduced Doc to Fox.

“Hey Doc I want you to meet my nephew Lee Fox.”

Doc and Fox shook hands.

“This boy has got himself some massive metacarpals and phalanges,” said Doc.

“I’ve got what?” asked Fox.

“You got big bones in your hands boy!” he said.

“Oh, well I have been told my hands are big. They helped me in my swimming stroke one of my coaches used to tell me.”

“Yeah you know we got twenty seven bones in our hands and you’ve got some bigguns. Look Bill, I think your little friend in there is gonna be fine.  Just have Sally keep an eye on her tonight. If she has no other symptoms my guess is that she’ll be good as new in a day or two.”

“Doc, can’t thank you enough for coming over here in the middle of your work day,” said Uncle Willy.

“Yes, thanks a lot for coming, and nice to meet you,” said Fox.

Doc opened the door and let himself out.

“Hey son, you want to join me in my bunker?” asked Uncle Willy.

“Sure,” said Fox.

39

Fox followed Uncle Willy down the stairs to his bunker. Uncle Willy sat in his black leather Lazy-boy lounge chair. Fox sat down in an equally comfortable leather chair with a fixed back. It was also black big and boxy. Fox pulled up the matching black ottoman. Uncle Willy had just cranked up an old tune from his MP3 files, King Crimson’s Epitaph. After a couple of verses, Uncle Willy sang along:

‘Knowledge is a deadly friend
When no one sets the rules.
The fate of all mankind I see
Is in the hands of fools.’

“O.K. Uncle Willy, I see that sparkle in your eyes. Do you mind turning that down while we talk? What’s that old thing called?” asked Fox.

Epitaph,” answered Uncle Willy.

“Yours, mine or theirs?” asked Fox.

“Oh, theirs my boy. Definitely theirs!” he said.

“What are you hatching in that big messed up brain of yours?” asked Fox.

“You got the big part right, but it’s time you start getting straight about who’s messed up and who isn’t.”

“No offense.”

“None taken. I’ve been called a lot worse. But I do think it’s time for you to understand the big picture.”

“Fair enough. Shoot,” Fox put his hands up and said, “Not literally.”

Uncle Willy smiled. Fox tried but it looked more like a smirk than a smile.

“Boy make fun of me if you want but the day will come when things might come to that,” said Uncle Willy.

“Are you talking about the bad guys coming after the USB drive or are you talking about the mean old Federal boogey men you keep harping on and on about?”

“Fox you will see this for yourself one day. Let’s just say that for now the fight I expect is with the terrorists. I have no doubt that they’ll send a small army. Well maybe a not so small army to get that USB drive. McKinnon, with the help of your buddy Dante, planted an email in your ex Audrey’s inbox that said that she’d hidden the USB drive in a special place in the apartment. That should buy us some time. Once they search her apartment again and come up empty, they’ll find her old laptop with the message from her to ‘crazyuncleWilly911@yahoo.com’ – telling them that she wanted to meet with you, and they will figure out that you have the USB drive. At that point they’ll figure out you’re here. Then they’ll do the math about what it would take to penetrate this compound. They will no doubt reach the logical, but faulty conclusion, that if they put together enough firepower attacking through the air or through the gate they can overpower us and forcibly take the USB drive. It’s fundamentally flawed because they have no idea what they’re running into. They are anticipating some resistance. But they have no clue how much firepower we have. When you add the firepower of the Jack’s boys, it’s going to be a slaughter. No doubt they are going to put together a significant team to get the drive back. No doubt they will be wondering what hit them as they think their last thoughts. Kinda like the last thing goes through a fly’s brain as it slams into your windshield – its ass. Those few will survive long enough to face the reality of just how outmanned they really were. So the bad guys will be planning their attack – and it should give us at least 24 maybe 48 hours to prepare. Anyway, as far as how to defend ourselves, I do not expect a handful of local sheriffs and a couple of FBI guys will do much other than eat my food and take up space. So I called my buddy Jack. He’ll be here tomorrow with a crew. About six total. Trained mercenaries. All ex-military. Jack was a Marine and tough as nails. After Nam I helped train him and he became like another son to me. I was about forty and leaving the service and the Marines had this deal where they wanted a few of us aging Green Berets to stay on and train some of their more promising boys for jungle warfare. So I did. They figured we knew a little bit about it since we all had experience in Viet Nam.

You know it’s funny. Just like the goddam pencil pushers at the Pentagon to plan for wars in the jungle when the real enemies are all located in the desserts of the Middle East. But training is training and no doubt the stuff we showed them did them some good. Why we haven’t gone down to Cuba and Venezuela to clean out those Latin commies is still a mystery to me. That drill might have at least given them some practical training for jungle warfare.”

“Uncle Willy, you guys had Grenada and Panama and all the drug stuff going on in the nineties so your jungle stuff must have been worthwhile to some wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, sure, but that was all like Sisyphus pushing the rock up the hill.”

“As in the ‘Myth of Sisyphus’?”

“Exactly. Push the rock up the hill and watch it fall down the hill. Push the rock up the hill and so forth. What the pointy head bureaucrats are best at. Dig a hole. Then fill it up. Full employment. Pure Socialist crap. Socialism is a lie that sounds good. It’s nothing more than a tool for tyrants and the results are always the same. Yet the morons in the media and the pusillanimous professors promote the definition of insanity – doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. The USSR or Maoist China weren’t really ‘good’ Communist or Socialist states. When ‘we’ do ‘socialism’, we’ll get it right. What a bunch of bullshit. They never learn. They simply want the power. And as long as people prefer the lies and the bribes of ‘free stuff’: food stamps, phones, medical care, the Masterminds can ply their evil trade and keep pushing the same rock up the same hill with the same result that it will roll back down the hill as it always does – right on top of the people!”

“Uncle Willy, you make it sound like our leaders are at war with the people.”

“Yeah, we are in a war of sorts. We are in a demographic Civil War. The urban poor and the red diaper baby gentries versus rural and small town Conservative Americans. One takes. The other makes. One says ‘you didn’t build that’ – while the other is busy ‘building that’. Is this going to be a peaceful Civil War? I doubt it.”

“But you gotta admit there’s a lot of cronyism going on. So the Democrats have had a history with their union support and the little guy – you can see why the folks in the inner city want equality, right?”

“Sure they do. But the Masterminds use the imperfection of capitalism as a way to buy votes. In the last half century, the establishment has learned to find crony groups. They’re victims. So don’t let the bad old market make decisions. That will produce winners and losers. We can’t have that. Everybody who shows up needs a gold star. And now it looks like the Tech Tyrants and the Media oligarchs are nakedly stealing an election. Why not? Half the people don’t care as long as it gets rid of big bad orange man and they get their free stuff.”

Uncle Willy became more animated and paced back and forth. He threw his hand ups and said, “Both parties are guilty. But I really don’t like the term “crony capitalism”.  For example, they talk about Eisenhower’s ‘Military Industrial Complex’. To me, it’s crony socialism. The ‘Industrial’ part is pure cronyism – socialism. Yet, the left uses cronyism as a synonym for capitalism when it is nothing of the sort. There’s no ‘free market’ in this. This is pure quid pro quo. A large centralized authoritarian company making deals with a large centralized authoritarian government. So the big fish and the not so big fish line up for their piece of the government pie. The Dems have their cronies. The GOP has theirs. On the military industrial complex front, both parties were guilty of trying to figure out how to get more funding for the military and bring bacon to their states and their districts. But the central planners were fighting the last war while ignoring the emerging threat. They kept inventing wars in jungles when they had this giant enemy emerging in the desert in the Middle East, former Yugoslavia, North Africa and virtually everywhere else where Islam had taken root. And of course, the crony socialism applies to much more than just the war machine. The health care fiasco, virtually any special interest that can benefit from a government hand out or tax break – they get theirs – the people – not so much – promises not kept. If we had Congressional term limits, balanced budget amendment, and repeal the 17^th and 16^th amendments –we might turn it around. But the Convention of the states that would use Article 5 – what’s already in the Constitution – the states propose these amendments as well as ratify them – we’d turn this ship of fools and graft around. But slime from both parties line up to kill it – with lies about runaway conventions and other such nonsense. Let’s face it, without a miracle, this experiment in freedom on a grand scale has just about run its course.”

Still standing, Uncle Willy turned away from Fox. Then pivoted and focused on the globe that sat on his desk.  He continued, “So for a decade while guys like Fukuyama said that we had reached the ‘end of history’ with the fall of Communism, we were just beginning the age of Radical Islamo-Fascism. It’s really ironic if you think about it. The USSR died. Maoist China died and was reborn reformed, with the help of Hong Kong, and started to demonstrate some ability to compete in their globalist version of the “free market”. All the while, despite the success of the sliver of real capitalism the Reagan Era provided us, the far left Progressive-Regressives – essentially Marxists in Democrat clothing – repackaged Marxism for popular consumption and called it everything but Marxism. Part of the problem was the big government Republicans after Reagan, turned into the party of the status quo, Globalism, and the military industrial complex. After Reagan, the parties became almost indistinguishable at the national level. But things have really gotten squirrelly after the last Democrat administration. They literally had no idea big bad orange man would win, so they nakedly worked with their version of Pravda – social and the rest of the media – to literally steal the election and turn the country to one very large banana republic.”

Uncle Willy paused for a second to gather his thoughts. He sat back down in his Lazy Boy.

“Aren’t you really putting most of the blame on the Democrats?”

“No. Not exactly. The Dems just move faster toward the tyrannical socialist abyss. Since Reagan, the GOP establishment has been on a slow train, the last train to Clarksville. You remember the old Monkey’s song don’t you Lee?”

Fox stared blankly at Uncle Willy.

“Guess that was one before your time. Anyway, the Dems have been riding a bullet train. After the Berlin Wall came down there was no such thing as a “peace dividend”.  The fall of the Commies gave the world a warped view and a false hope of what was to come.  While most of the pundits were selling America on retreat and isolationism, a bright guy named Samuel Huntington made a simple observation that we were nowhere near the state of nirvana that the naïve folks like Fukuyama said we were. So after one of the two heavy weight Super Powers, namely the Soviets, did a Roberto Duran version of ‘no mas’ – the centuries old ‘cultural’ differences between civilizations that were kept in check by the cold war would be unleashed. And the unreformed religion of Islam with over a billion followers would serve as the catalyst for what he called the ‘clash of civilizations’. Professor Huntington being a politically correct left leaning guy tried his best not to be too opinionated. So he talked about other “civilizations” that would be clashing, but there was really only one that impacted the entire globe. I guess he wanted to keep being invited to the faculty cocktail parties, so he made the lame attempt not to focus exclusively on the Muslims. But he did make one undeniable observation – ‘Islam has bloody borders’, he said, just stating the obvious. The leftist media, the same media that hates Christianity and slanders it every chance they get, was oddly sympathetic to the Militant Muslims and they jumped all over Huntington for that one. Any overt attack on the Muslim faith was labeled racist and culturally insensitive and they were relentless in downplaying this obvious fact that the militant jihadists who had taken over Islam were not peaceful. Everywhere there was a predominantly Muslim country it was at war with its neighbors.  But the left never lets facts get in the way of their ideology or ‘feelings’ or ‘compassion’. State a fact and watch them tell you that up is down and down is up. If you have the urge you can read about this love affair between the left and the Militant Muslims in Horowitz’s book ‘Unholy Alliance’.”

Uncle Willy got up, grabbed a book from his library and handed it to Fox. Sitting back down, Uncle Willy continued, “So there were bright guys like the Harvard Middle East policy wonk Daniel Pipes who discussed the rise of Militant Islam and Islamists in America as well as its influence worldwide and more or less predicted a 9-11 type event was inevitable. Of course, he’s not a part of the Education monopoly in the University system despite writing about a dozen books, speaking fluent Arabic, and earning a PhD from Harvard. Now he’s got his own think tank since the Education establishment is firmly far left and wouldn’t dare hire someone like him to challenge the fairy tales that their students are fed at our top universities. He made the statement in one of his books that ‘…if it is true that most Muslims are not Islamist, it is no less true that all Islamists are Muslim’. The fact that virtually all the terrorists listed on the FBI terrorist watch list are Muslim and Islamists is ignored. We forgot the attack on the USS Cole. We forgot the first attack on the World Trade Center. We forgot 9-11. We forgot the Boston Marathon bombers. We forgot Benghazi. We forgot San Bernardino. We forgot Orlando. The Globalist suicidal Europeans are worse. They don’t remember the terror attack that happened yesterday! We forgot. But I haven’t. I have a flag that flies every day outside that front door. I haven’t forgotten.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right that we seem to have a short memory. Are you saying this guy Pipes predicted 9-11?” asked Fox.

“More or less. He warned of the threat and predicted that groups in America had been given new life by the growing fundamentalist movements that spawned al Qaeda, Hamas, Hezbollah. ISIS and the rest of the fanatic terrorists we have come to know and love since 9-11. These groups were, and still are, hiding behind Mosques and behind the stupid political correctness of the illiberal locusts of the left.”

“So now they’re the ‘illiberal locusts of the left’? That’s a bit harsh don’t you think?”

“It’s funny. What our founders and framers called ‘Liberal’ or ‘Classic Liberalism’, today we call it Conservatism. Let’s take things like Capitalism, Christianity, Natural Law and the rule of Law, religious tolerance, private property rights, and a small limited national government. See, these are Classic Liberal or modern Constitutional Conservative concepts. Our modern liberals advocate none of those things. That’s why I call them ‘illiberal’. There’s the illiberal left and the other party of the status quo. So while these two parties fight over whose friends get to sleep in the Lincoln bedroom, the rest of us find very little actual representation. A lot of lies and too many empty promises.”

“But we’ve not had any major attacks since 9-11. Yeah we’ve had the Boston bombing and I guess that Fort Hood thing, Orlando and San Bernardino. But somebody must be doing something right. We haven’t had any really big attacks.”

“Not yet. But they’re coming. Like this thing you’re involved in. I suppose pissing away a trillion dollars blowing up things in Iraq and Afghanistan has had some positive effects. But you miss my point. They’ve wasted our treasure and they haven’t been going after the head of the snake – Iran. They haven’t stopped the money flow from Saudi Arabia to the Madrassas. In fact, by destroying Saddam and unleashing the Shiites, then leaving Iraq without a permanent force, they’ve actually helped to create the new Shiite Persian Empire on one side and Sunni Caliphate ISIS on the other. That’s the big picture. As for your little drama, which is no longer so little, all roads lead to Tehran for this one. That’s where this next big strike is coming from. I call the Islamist apologists members of the illiberal left but they did get one thing right. We pissed away a pile of our treasure going after the wrong bad guys. For a while I got almost optimistic, but when they took out big bad orange man, I know my predictions were about to come true.”

“So you think this is all about Iran?”

“Not exactly. It’s just that Iran is the biggest state sponsor of terror. And of course, over the next few years as we decline further economically and militarily into the cesspool of socialism – despite the best efforts of the bombastic billionaire we have had as POTUS, we’ll see more and more of Russia pretty much confirming that we may have been just a bit pre-mature in saying that we’ve seen an end to the “cold war”.  Of all things, the illiberal left is using Russia to attempt to take down our POTUS. While the new POTUS may indeed want friendlier relations with Russia, the relentless hammering about collusions in the last election with make it impossible for any real cooperation between the two countries. Kinda sad really. Both world wars, despite the evil Stalin, we were allies with Russia. Even today, I’d bet on a relationship with Russia over dealing with that East German Hag Merkel and the truly evil Chinese communists. Because of oil we ignore the Saudi connection. Remember almost all of the hijackers of planes on 9-11 were Saudi. Yes, it gets confusing. Sunni. Shia. They hate each other. But they hate us more. Historically speaking, Bin Laden’s al Qaeda is relatively new. The granddaddy of them all is the Brotherhood. The Muslim Brotherhood. It spawned virtually all modern terrorist groups and until recently the complicit media was actually calling these scumbags ‘moderate’. Remember a few years ago when Mubarak was booted, Egypt elected – so much for democracy – Morsi a member of the Brotherhood. First thing he did was abandon the thirty year truce they had with Israel and begin turning Egypt into a radical Islamic state.  Fortunately the Egyptian military took over for a time and removed Morsi from power. The moderate Brotherhood became pissed and they transformed from peaceful to violent protests where over a thousand Egyptians died. Many of them were Christians targeted by the Brotherhood. Naturally our last POTUS was on the wrong side of history on that one. So now we have the Middle East which has been essentially on fire for the last five years finally ready for peace and an election is stolen and we are back to square one. Israel has been bombed and shelled but nothing yet large enough to bring on a major war. But believe me it’s coming. The Brotherhood spawned al Qaeda – they kill Christians and Jews as a way of life and they have the elimination of Israel as part of their Charter – their raison d’etre. When you have cockroaches and diseased rats you don’t make them pets. Time is long past to bring out the Pest Control.”

“Wow. That’s harsh,” said Fox.

“It’s coming,” answered Uncle Willy. He looked like he’d finally run out of gas. Ranting and railing had tired him out. He decided it was time to go from the abstract to the real and imminent danger. “Sorry for the detour. I think we should address our war, the one that’s going to happen right here in the next couple of days.”

“You sure they’re going to attack us?”

“I give it my Ivory soap rating – about 99.44% chance. They might decide to try another way to get the USB drive. But I think they’re desperate. They’ve read the email by now and after they toss Audrey’s apartment they will know for sure that we have it. One last thing and I’ll shut up pontificating. The war we’re dealing with is a direct result of the big picture I was giving you. This Habib Tehrani and his terrorist brother – they’re no doubt attempting to take this thing to a whole new level. Before 9-11 I remember the caricatures of Arabs as backward barbarians. No one saw them as a threat to the all-powerful American military. They weren’t.  They still aren’t. But they were shrewd enough to have figured out a way to bring down two Iconic buildings in our largest city and murder thousands of our fellow citizens. Then we started taking them seriously – for about a day or two. Then the illiberal left took over and started calling terrorist attacks – ‘workplace violence’. And deployments of American soldiers to war zones – ‘overseas contingencies’. Giving terrorists ‘Miranda rights’. Absurd shit. So here we are. Like the woman who’s been bitch slapped by her boyfriend curled up in the corner waiting for him to come back and do it again. Not really a very dignified way for a country of men and strong women to act – now is it?”

“I get your outrage, but maybe we need to just focus on what we’re going to do over the next week.”

“OK. Sorry. I know I drone on. Like my Aunt Ethyl used to say –‘that Willy can talk the horns off a Billie goat’. Lee, I got this thing covered. The bad guys will attempt either a helicopter assault or try to ram the gate with a large truck. The walls are too thick to go through. They might try something more creative than that but we’ll be ready for them.”

“How’s the weather for tomorrow?”

“Hell, boy it always about 75 degrees and clear here in July. At pre-dawn it should be clear and about 55 degrees. Al Gores’ Global Warming doesn’t come to the Bay Area – except for a few days usually in September or October. That reminds me. You remember a couple of years ago when Al Gore sold this Current TV of his to Al Jazeera? Well, a little known part of the bargain was an Al Jazeera Newspaper that went along with the deal. The best part of the paper was the Fashion section. The latest styles in Burlap Sacks and Burkas. Big hit with the ladies. You notice how the left never gets upset with little inconsistencies in their heroes – even when Mr. Global Warming sells his network to Arab Big Oil who owns Al Jazeera? Or the fact that Al Jazeera has on more than one occasion glorified Islamic terrorists? Just sayin’. ‘All the News that’s Fit to Print or We’ll Cut off your Head’. My favorite headlines:  ‘Homicide Bombers – Are Martyrs Sexier than Tom Cruise?’ ‘Clitoridectomy – Your Rebellious Daughter will thank you in the End’; ‘Is it better to beat your wife before or after you rape her?’”

“Uncle Willy, you’re trying to distract me, to make me laugh. It won’t work. I don’t care about Al Jazeera. I want you to show me how use some of your weapons. I think I can be of some help.”

“Well, I’ll let you watch while we set up our big guns to take down the helicopter or the truck – armored or not. I’ll also give you a quick and dirty introduction to my favorite automatic rifle the Austrian Steyr Aug. It fires 650 rounds per minute. It’s going to spoil you. It’s light and easy to handle. You know I’ve had to use all sorts of mediocre to downright dangerous weapons in my military career. The M16s, now the predominant American made automatic weapon of choice for most of the military were jamming all the time when they were first introduced. We hated the damn things. They’re a pretty good weapon now. I’d have no problem using them in a pinch, but hey, gotta love that Teutonic engineering skill. Those bastards make nice guns as well as fast cars. You gotta love a nice design. You’ll probably want one after this. I sleep with one under my pillow. Just jokin’. But I do have one or two next to Sally’s and my antique doll collection. They both give me a warm feeling when I look at them. The dolls and the guns that is. That’s right, I collect some antique dolls. I got a certified 1912 Kewpie Doll made in Walterhausen, Germany. The first year they were made. Cutest damn thing you ever saw. Your granddaddy had one when he was a baby. So it’s sentimental to me and Sally loves ‘em too.”

 “Uncle Willy, sometimes I think you’re either a total genius or completely insane. I think I’ll go check on Patty. See how she’s adapting to her new surroundings,” said Fox.

“Take your pick. They kinda go together. Lee, you got yourself a keeper with that one. Don’t blow it!” said Uncle Willy.

“I don’t plan to. Thanks for the history lesson.”

“No problem. My guys will be here early setting things up. Don’t be offended but I want you and the girls to stay out of the way until we have our logistics all worked out.”

“Waddya mean don’t be offended? Of course I’m offended. I’ll keep my mouth shut and head down. I’ll do what you say, but I need to be a part of the action. When the fighting starts I’m gonna be here with a gun in my hand just like you. Hope you can understand that. This is not an option. This fight is mine. I’m not going to be relegated to sitting it out with the girls in the basement.”

“OK. In reality, if this battle lasts longer than six minutes I’ll be surprised. The enemy thinks we are going to be on the defensive. On the contrary, we are the ones on the offensive. And it will be a massive show of unified force. As Sun Tzu said in the ‘Art of War’, “We can form a single united body while the enemy must split up into many factions. Hence there will be a whole pitted against separate parts of a whole, which means we shall be many to the enemy’s few.” You heard of the ‘Six Day War’? Well, this one’s gonna be the ‘Six Minute War’. You blink you’re gonna miss it. But I can’t have you having any philosophical or pinhead discussions or arguments about tactics with me or the crew once the shooting starts. Got that? Do what you’re told. You’re a buck private in this army. I know we’re related, but you’ll get your stripes along with the right to open your mouth when you earn them.”

“Fair enough.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I see your potential. If I hadn’t seen you strut your stuff with my own eyes I’d be skeptical. I was impressed. From what I understand that girl Kim you knocked out is a killer. Lucky for you she didn’t take you out in the first blows. You’re good but you won’t likely have four chances to get your licks in in a real battle. You’ve got what it takes, but you have a lot to learn. If you follow directions and don’t argue at every turn I’ll let you play with the big boys.”

“Fair enough. Deal. See you at breakfast.”

Fox got up and walked up the stairs to the main floor of the house. Fox pulled out his iPhone and noticed on his that he had a text from his buddy Leary. It was not quite 3 p.m. Fox went to Patty’s room to let her know that he was going to make a quick trip to the city. He knocked.

“Come in,” she said.

“Hey it’s me,” he said, “I’m going to go out to meet a buddy. Will you be OK for a couple of hours?  He’s also an ex SFPD cop. I may talk him in to showing me where that local shooting range is near San Quentin.”

“I’m fine. I’ve got a Skype video call with my helpers in about thirty minutes. So I’ll be OK until you get back.”

She went back to the desk ostensibly going over her notes for her party. He kissed her on the cheek. She stood. They kissed passionately. He reluctantly pulled away.

“I’m really tempted. But I have a few things I got to take care of and you have business. Just keep that thought until I get back tonight,” he said.

Patty smiled. Fox smiled back. Fox never smiled. Fox walked out the door and down the hall to the front door entry way. Walked briskly to his T-bird. He should have had one of the cops guarding the compound go with him. He rationalized that it was more important to keep another body watching Patty rather than tagging along with him. He knew McKinnon wouldn’t have approved, but he didn’t really care. His recent successful battles had given him confidence. He rationalized to himself that it was a risk he’d take. He clicked the remote key fob and entered the T-bird. Before he put the ignition key in and turned it, he pulled out his iPhone and checked his messages. He started the car and waited impatiently as the gate slowly opened. He sped off in the proverbial cloud of dust.

40

Fox was feeling guilty for leaving the compound. He was following up on a text and a voicemail call from Leary. Fox got the connection between Habib and his terrorist brother, but he didn’t get Springer and the NSA angle. He remembered an Mp3 Uncle Willy had downloaded for him from a band called Spirit from the 60s and 70s. Since he had Bluetooth on this phone and a car radio with Bluetooth, he asked Siri to play 1984. The song was of course based on Orwell’s book 1984. He thought it appropriate.

1984 Knocking on your door

….He sees you every night

Calls himself big brother

but you know It’s no game

You’re never out of his sight

1984 Knocking on your door……

After listening to this song and a few others, forty minutes had passed. He crossed through the Waldo/Robin Williams Tunnel from the Marin side and was rewarded with the view of the magnificent orange towers of the Golden Gate Bridge. No more toll takers and the Fastrak device on his dash recorded another debit as he zipped through the toll booth slightly faster than the 25 mile per hour limit. In ten more minutes he was on Union Street. He turned off the music as he spotted a parking space. Fox was surprised that he found a rare parking space in the same block as Perry’s. As one of his dingbat co-workers once said when she found that rare thing known as a parking spot in San Francisco – “it must be my EST training”. EST?  Hell, he thought that crap had gone out of style in the 70s. He walked down the long corridor to the entrance past the host standing by a podium to the entrance. To the immediate right of the host was the bar area. As usual the place was packed and rocking with people jammed up against each other. It wasn’t even prime time yet, but the place was already full of folks getting an early start on the evening. On his right side as he was facing the bar parallel to the corridor he saw that giant Irish pug of Leary.

“Fox over here!” shouted Leary waving him over to his table.

“Well this is less than optimum privacy,” said Fox.

“Here, saved you a stool. The first one’s on me.”

“Red Tail Ale,” said Fox as the bar tender looked his way.

“Don’t worry. Down a quick one. Perry Butler is an old friend. He’s got a table in the backroom for us that we can have for about thirty minutes. We won’t need that long.”

Fox’s beer came. Leary picked up his glass. Probably scotch. Fox hoisted up his beer and looked at Leary. Actually, he had forgotten how scary that man’s face really was. His head was bigger than one of those fat Rugby balls. A few of his teeth were misshapen and crisscrossed on the bottom. Reminded Fox of swords crossed on the walls of medieval castles. The huge Irishman had red spider veins around his triangular squat nose. No doubt it was scotch induced. Fox felt guilty for thinking it but it always crossed his mind that Leary didn’t need a Halloween mask to go trick or treating.

“Cheers!” said Leary, and he downed at least a double if not more. Fox drank a couple of big gulps.

“I’ll have another double Chivas rocks, and my friend wants another beer,” said Leary to the bar tender who was anticipating the order.

When the drinks came Leary got up and pointed toward the back. Fox followed holding his bottle, and they found the back room that Perry had promised Leary. Leary handed the waiter a large bill.

“Keep this area private for about fifteen minutes and I’ll have another one just like this one for you,” he said.

“The waiter smiled and nodded his approval.

“Sit, sit my friend,” pointing at a round table covered by a blue and white checked cloth, “so tell me what’s what,” said Leary.

“I suppose you know that I got mixed up in some kind of police mess.” Fox responded.

“Police mess? What kind of police mess?”

“The kind where people get killed kind of police mess.”

“Oh, that kind of police mess.”

“It’s been crazy. But you’ve seen it for yourself. Audrey was a victim. She was trying to give me information and was killed for her trouble.”

Although Fox trusted Leary, McKinnon had convinced him that he should not mention any details to anyone. In reality, Fox was breaking the rules even talking to Leary.

“So what kind of information was she trying to give you?”

“Don’t know. She was going to show me but we didn’t get to her fast enough.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No. no. Not your fault. I was out of line. If anything it was my fault for not following her home. But with my new girlfriend in the picture I let it cloud my thinking. I should have seen that Audrey was desperate and in real danger.”

“Don’t beat yourself up either. I got there pretty fast. As I told you, if you had gone home with her, there would have been two dead bodies instead of one.”

“I suppose but that doesn’t make it any easier. Look, I wanted to pick the police side of your brain to help me break the code on who is behind all this. I have to believe it must be somebody associated with Seclarity. Definitely there are connections at ISI.”

“So who do you suspect Fox?”

“I don’t know – I was thinking it might be Fryman. But that doesn’t really make sense since they’d specifically wanted him out of the picture and not on the account at ISI. I also think that Scanlon who’s now at Jupiter had it out for me since his stint at Chico Systems. It’s stupid but he wanted me to go to Australia. I always wanted to go to Australia. That’s the big joke. But the timing sucked.”

“Ok. So great. What was the problem then?”

“He wanted me to go during Thanksgiving week. They don’t celebrate it down there in November, down under. I think they celebrate their version of it in May. So there was a big Unified Communications deal coming to a close during our Thanksgiving week holiday and he demanded I go. But I talked to my direct manager and got out of it. Anyway, my mother was still alive then. Thanksgiving was very important to her. I couldn’t let her down. Scanlon was pissed. Real pissed.”

“So for this reason Scanlon became your enemy?”

“Yeah. You don’t really know Scanlon do you?”

“Only by reputation. I guess he’s one of those obnoxious son-of-a-bitches that makes lots of enemies. But he got pretty high up in Chico before he left.”

“He was a cut throat bastard. Got rid of most of his competition and he did make it to VP level at Chico. Big deal. He was on the fast track to be Chalmer’s next in line. Of course years later the best and brightest at Chico left the company. They were all waiting to be Chalmer’s “next in line”. One of Scanlon’s enemies had a tape of him berating and sexually harassing one of his female reports. Not only was he laying into her with profanity, he was throwing all sorts of sexual insults at her. She had it all on her iPhone. But somehow he landed on his feet at Jupiter with a senior position. Money motivates him and he’s ethically challenged. I suspect he’s the kinda guy who could easily get mixed up with bad guys. But murder? I don’t know. Fryman. Same thing. They’re pricks but would they really be a part of something that insane? And what for – money? How do you live with yourself if you know you even indirectly helped to murder someone?”

“Foxy my boy, you never know. What about Habib’s assistant? She’s cute and all but maybe she’s in on it. Maybe your office manager was in on it and they killed her because she was getting cold feet?”

“Leary. It just doesn’t really make sense. Bonnie, the office manager?  Not a chance. Kim. No. I can vouch for her. She’s one of the good guys.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Trust me. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“OK, that’s interesting. So how about all these girls you work with. I heard you have a new one you met at work.”

“Yes, we kind of hit it off in the elevator. I don’t know. Until now the Marina Safeway was the number one spot for me to meet girls. Now I think it’s the elevator at work!”

“All I ever meet in elevators are fags and fat oriental chicks that like tall Irishmen. Let’s have another pop and then go shoot something.”

“So the way you want to start my lessons with a deadly weapon is to down a few adult beverages before we go to that range in Marin? You’re kidding right?” said Fox.

“In Texas I hear it’s common practice to get hammered before you start shooting things. It’s like a rite of passage,” said Leary.

“But we’re in California. We’re more civilized here.”

“Oh yeah, sure we are. As I told you on the phone, here in California after your third glass of Chardonnay, a little brie, an hors dourve or two, and then the customary snort of coke for courage, it’s time to climb in the BMW and go shoot something. You haven’t had any white wine or coke but I guess a couple of beers will get you in the mood. Are you ready to follow me over to the range near San Quentin?”

“Sure. Why not? I get that San Quentin is close to Uncle Willy’s compound. But it’s San Quentin. I’ll meet you there in forty five minutes or maybe a bit longer if the commute traffic is bad.”

“San Quentin Prison is not quite as scenic as Alcatraz but it’s got a nice view too you know. We wouldn’t want our California rapists and murderers to feel slighted by not having a room with a view.  After all we have an image to keep up. Seriously have you seen the real estate San Quentin’s on?”

“Yeah. Pretty spectacular. Great views of the city.”

“It’s nuts to put prisons on real estate with this kinda value, but hey, I suspect the politicians who stick us with these deals don’t much care. It’s not their money,” Leary continued, “Anyway, to find the gun range, remember – it’s the exit before the Richmond Bridge. You miss it you gotta go all the way to Richmond and turn around. There’s really nothing else out there so as soon as you do your turn off it’ll take you right to the range. Can’t miss it. Well, not on two beers you can’t.”

Fox got up and left. Leary waited until Fox was out the front door and pulled out his phone and brought up his employer’s contact information. He called his cell. The man picked up on the second ring.

“How did your meeting go?” asked the man on the cell.

“Very well. Got some good information. I’m pretty sure we have some leverage on this deal. I have options. I’ll get what you need,” replied Leary.

“How soon?” asked the man.

“Tomorrow. Day after at the latest.”

“Call me when you have it,” said the man and disconnected the phone.

Leary got up. Threw a twenty on the table and put a hundred in the startled hand of the waiter. He worked his way through the narrow hallway, the crowded bar area and out the door.

41

From 101 Fox took the Sir Francis Drake exit and headed east. It snaked past the Larkspur Ferry Terminal and wound around to San Quentin. He took the exit right before the entry to the San Rafael – Richmond Bridge. As described, it U-turned under Sir Francis Drake Blvd. and he found the only building in the vicinity a short quarter mile drive heading west. He pulled into the lot. Marin Sharpshooting Range and Gun Store. He opened the door walked in to the sounds of a bell that alerted the clerk to customers. He saw a rotund man about five foot five with glasses wearing a San Francisco 49er cap. His cheeks were puffy and his eyes were little more than slits with tiny black pupils visible.

“Can I help you?” the clerk asked.

“Yeah. I’m meeting a friend of mine. He’s going to give me a lesson. If he’s here you would know. He’s about six five two hundred sixty pounds. Big Irish face.”

“Not here. I don’t think. No one matching that description.”

Just then Leary opened the ringing door. Spotted Fox talking to the clerk and stumbled in with a big snaggletoothed grin.

“Fox, I thought for sure I’d beat you here. No matter. Time to turn you into a killin’ machine!”

The little fat clerk frowned. Leary smiled back. Fox raised his eyebrows.

“Did you bring your own firearm or do you want to rent one?” asked the clerk.

“Fox, I’m going to let you try my Berretta later. But for this first round, let’s rent a Glock,” said Leary.

“You’re the boss, boss,” said Fox.

For the next hour Leary showed Fox how to load and shoot the weapons. They adjusted the distance a couple of times. He had the ear muffs and goggles adjusted for both of their heads. Leary’s head was a XXX. Fox thought he had a big head until he saw how much bigger the circumference of Leary’s goggles and straps were compared to his. He learned very quickly that without proper technique and concentration he was not that good a shot. He missed the target altogether at short distances in his first few rounds. But he was a quick study. By the third reload Fox was in the center about half the shots. By the end he was in the black middle every shot. Leary was impressed. Eyes shining, ears ringing, Fox bid Leary adieu, got in his car and headed back to the compound.

42

Fox arrived home a little before 11 p.m. quite pleased with his performance. He parked the T-Bird and quietly entered the main house. Uncle Willy had given Fox a security key card to enter the front door. He walked down the long hallway hoping Patty was still up. Fox literally bumped into Rossellini in the hallway as he took the last turn to his room. Rossellini was in a manic state to put it mildly. Fox herded him into the living room away from the bedrooms so no one would be disturbed.

“What is it Dante?” asked Fox.

“Mr. Fox, sir, I have some very astounding news about one George Joseph Springer,” said Rossellini literally jumping up and down.

“Hold still Dante. Have a seat. Take a breath. Start from the beginning.”

“As you know, Mr. Springer prior to joining ISI Semiconductor was Deputy Director of the NSA. The same organization that has been under fire the last five years and longer, if you want to go back to the days when our out of control Leviathan State imposed that dreadful Patriot Act.”

“Ok. I don’t need a commercial on the evils of government spying. I’ll leave that to Uncle Willy. I myself have given up a long time ago worrying about how much of my personal information the government or Home Depot or Wal-Mart has. Get to the point.”

“Well as it turns out, Mr. Springer has seen massive inflows into his many bank accounts. No doubt there are a few off shore accounts I haven’t yet hacked into, but it is apparent that the former Eagle Scout has found a way to make hundreds of millions of dollars using the information he is able gather. If I extrapolate to hidden off shore accounts that I cannot yet find, my guess is that he’s worth well over a billion dollars.”

“Let me get this straight. Springer is worth maybe a billion dollars? How does a former bureaucrat, high level or not, in the Government, and current executive at Technology firm make that kind of money? I get that he may be worth a couple of mil – but a billion?”

“Mr. Fox, Sir”-

“Fox is sufficient.”

“Yes, of course, Fox. I am not quite sure but my powers of deduction have led me to one startling conclusion. He trades in information for money. That is, his ability to tap into the information of virtually every American is worth billions to him and his co-conspirators. Phone records, emails, etc. etc. has made him a massive fortune.”

“I don’t get it. He’s not at the NSA anymore. How does he get access to all that information?”

“Apparently he does still have access. It is my theory, based on the facts I’ve been able to dig up through my most excellent cyber skills that several key ranking members of the NSA team are now uber-rich and they have a direct tap into certain important information databases. At first I suspected that it must be some sort of elicit racket or drug operation to rake in that extraordinary amount of cash. But I stumbled upon a thread. That thread led me to the conclusion that Springer and his fellow cyber thieves are exchanging information for money. And indeed that is exactly what these NSA and ex-NSA executives have been doing.”

“I’m not following. I get that they’ve got our medical records and that scares the hell out of me. I get that they’ve got information that they can use for political purposes. Are you saying they find out stuff and then bribe people?”

“Indeed that is one of the scams. But it provides only relative pocket change. The real money comes from the largest Insider Trading Scam in history.”

“Insider Trading?”

“Indeed. Imagine that you had every Wall Street mogul’s information on every major company in the market. That you knew exactly what, say, Warren Buffet was up to and when. And you not only traded on one Billionaire’s information, but on every important business mogul in America – hell, every mogul in the world!”

“Oh my God! So while everyone is worrying about the politics of spying on average Americans for political purposes, they’re really doing it for the money?”

“Yes, sir. It would seem so.”

“And this guy was an Eagle Scout?”

“Yes. And an esteemed Professor of Computer Science at the U.S. Naval Academy. Three Presidential Rank awards. Advanced degrees in Computer Science and Engineering from Columbia, John’s Hopkins, Georgetown. MBA from Kellogg Business School Northwestern. To the rest of the world it seems that our Mr. Springer has a spotless background. Well respected. And yet it appears he’s one of the biggest crooks in world history!”

“Mind blowing! Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely.

“Any thoughts on how this all fits together with this terrorist attack?”

“I have one theory that seems to make the most sense. When Springer left the NSA, he needed a cover. Through his government contacts he landed the ISI job. Problem was that his junior manager – one Habib Tehrani – was the brother of one of the top terrorists in the world. How that tidbit of information managed to slip passed the ISI HR department is fascinating. The same HR department, that, I’m quite sure, knows the minutest detail about all of the rather harmless folks who work for them but somehow managed to let this little piece of information get past their microscopic investigative prowess. This reminds me of the HP contractor hired to work at the Navy facility in the D.C. area that went nuts and killed a dozen people a few years ago. Oops. Now how did they let the fact that he was dishonorably discharged from the Navy and was ‘hearing voices’ slip through the cracks? After all they wouldn’t want a lawsuit for discriminatory hiring practices now would they? And of course, America somehow elected a POTUS that last time that couldn’t pass a security clearance to be on the team that protects him. Hmmm. Strange country we live in. But I digress. As you might imagine, terrorists, even ones with government sponsors need lots of money. What made bin Laden a formidable foe for all those years was his ability to tap into his family’s millions. Fortunately due to the indefatigable efforts our brave warriors and unsung heroes in the clandestine forces we tracked the villain down and our brave Navy Seals brought him to justice. But my insider hacker friends are convinced that the raid actually went down much earlier. Theory has it that the last POTUS needed the timing to be closer to re-election. Remember how they never showed any film of the body. That he was mysteriously tossed away at Sea? The body was long gone. Of course, we’ll never know the truth – just like we’ll never know the truth about his college transcripts and other miscellaneous tidbits of information that have been sealed and socked away from public scrutiny.

But I digress again. I am pretty sure that Habib Tehrani uncovered Springer’s ploy and began extorting millions for his brother’s terrorist project. In a roundabout way our own NSA is funding the logistical portion of this terrorist plot. I’m sure the evil doers are having many laughs over it.”

“This is pure sickness.”

“Indeed. Iran has no doubt funded and produced the nuclear weaponry, but our own NSA’s illicit funds are most probably directly, or indirectly, paying for logistics and transport or that portion of this plot directed by Ahriman.”

“An Eagle Scout?”

“Yes, an Eagle Scout.” 

43

Fox walked Dante back to his room. He waited until Dante had shut his door behind him. Fox knocked gently on the door to the room he shared with Patty.

“Come in,” said Patty.

Patty rose from the chair at her desk and greeted Fox with a warm hug.

“You are a vision. It’s midnight. No doubt you’ve been working for hours on your big party, but apparently you still manage to look like a princess, a goddess. I, on the other hand, look more like the proverbial frog,” he said.

Fox stared at her. She was indeed a vision. She smiled naturally. Effortlessly. He was transported to another world but it came crashing in as the dream world became the real world. When he thought logically about his growing attachment to Patty for any length of time, his insecurities popped up and showed in his wrinkled brow. Patty saw it and worked her magic to calm his fears.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I have already kissed you and if you look a little closer into the mirror, you’ll notice that you’ve turned into a prince!” she said.

Fox showed surprise as he looked into the vanity mirror, “Son of a gun I have!”

Fox leaned forward and kissed Patty. She pulled him toward her and they fell back together on the bed.

44

Fox had his internal alarm set for eight o’clock. He woke at eight thirty. Close enough. He slipped out of bed moving Patty’s arm gently to the side in order not to wake her. Between the two guest bedrooms was a large common bathroom. He locked the door on the other side. He wasn’t in the mood for having Dante burst in while he or Patty was in the shower. Although Dante obviously had a genius IQ his emotional IQ and social skills were pretty much nonexistent.  Dante would most likely be startled would not know what to do if he stumbled into the bathroom and found Patty in some portion of undress. Fox shuddered at the thought of what it would do to poor Dante’s psyche. The poor nerd just might have a coronary if he tumbled out of bed into the bathroom while Patty was there in the buff. Fox couldn’t help stifle a snicker. If you’re going die, having the vision of Patty nude as the last thing you see was not a bad way to go.

Fox showered and shaved. Patty was not a morning person so he let her sleep while he went down the hall to get breakfast and have a chat with Uncle Willy. Fox found Sally and Uncle Willy standing near the refrigerator. They turned when he entered the kitchen.

“Howdy neighbor. Ready to rumble?” asked Uncle Willy

“What, do you expect the bad guys today?” Fox replied.

“Maybe. Probably tomorrow. I’m guessing tomorrow early morning. They’ll attack at first light or just before. They’ll try to get us when they think most of us are asleep. And if we were average military or civilians, that might be a good ploy. Won’t work on my crew.”

“So you got a ‘crew’?”

“Damn straight.”

“I think I’ll go tend to some chores and let you two boys talk shop. It really bores me when you start talking about guns and stuff like that,” said Sally.

“Honey, don’t forget to DVR the soaps for me and Duck Dynasty too– OK?” asked Uncle Willy.

“No problem,” she said as she gave Uncle Willy a peck on the cheek and left the room.

“So this is what a long term relationship sounds and looks like?” asked Fox.

“I suppose. We might as well be married but at our age we saw no reason for it. Marriage. Marriage. I have a great laugh when I think of all the crap going on in society with gay marriage. All the straight people I know don’t bother to get married and gays these days, all they seem to want to do is to get married. Go figure. Social engineers pushing gays to get married. A civil right? Just like freeing slaves?  I’m having a hard time making that connection. So OK, if a state passes a law, fine.

Have you noticed that the left pushes democracy – but only if they get the result they want? If say California passes a proposition defining marriage as only between a man and woman, then democracy is no good. They pull out their army of lawyers and judges to overturn the will of the people if they don’t like the outcome. California’s Proposition 8 passed easily defining marriage between a man and a woman, even in a far left state. That lasted about a month until the judges and lawyers negated the will of the people. I’m happy for these gay folks. Or is that gay for these happy folks? Anyway, I don’t think they really appreciate the multiple levels that they’re messing with to get their agenda passed. They use the courts to overturn the will of the people and this is not democracy. We’ve even gotten to the point where a member of the SCOTUS – a beloved progressive man dressed in a black robe on the high court calls religious people who don’t approve of gay marriage bigots. So now if you are a Christian and your belief system doesn’t fit the left wing agenda, you’re a god damn bigot. Imagine that.

Wait till the Gays find out about the other side of the coin – divorce. Their lives would be so much easier if they just formed a good solid legal relationship whether it’s property rights or power of medical attorney and so forth and live together like me and Sally. That’s the only battle they really should be fighting. Instead they’ve been sold a bill of goods that if they get married, everything will be solved. People will no longer look at them as freaks. They will be treated as equal and live happily ever after. Until they get divorced.

Ultimately I do not care what a person’s sexual preference is. However, I feel sorrier for the Religious traditionalists who have their values trampled on by the government and their anti-Christian agenda. Again that’s the point. In the end the vast majority of people are not gay no matter how much society sells it as just another life style choice. And most people whether they go to church or not, self-identify as believing in God. Fact one is that gays and atheists will always be woefully outnumbered in America so they’re always going to be the freaks in the room when in the general public. So those freaks can congregate in the Castro and cities around America but they’re always gonna be freaks. No matter how much the government pushes the Gay agenda, they will never truly be members of the mainstream. Don’t get me started on that ridiculous acronym LGBTQ. I’m still living in the day when the only acronym I knew by heart that started with an “L” was LSMFT – Lucky Strike means fine tobacco. Yes, I come from a different age. A different era.

As far the military angle. Well I have read my texts on Sparta. Quite a bit of homosexuality or at least bi-sexuality going on there. And they were by far the meanest, bad ass warriors of their time. Maybe of all time. So in principle, I am all for gays and women in the military. Again it’s not really bad if done correctly, but it’s not. What the Ruling Class is doin’ is social experimentation. You put dozens of women on battleships for months with a bunch of horny sailors – it’s a breeding ground for, well, breeding for one. Sexual harassment. Lots of distractions. Segregation of the sexes unless absolutely essential for a particular operation should be the logical rational policy. But when you’ve got the illiberal left and the societal experimentation going on let’s pour some gasoline on the fire and see what happens.”

“Uncle Willy I think I dig your point of view. Gays and women in military. DADT – don’t ask don’t tell for Gays. For women in the military, segregate them from the men unless absolutely necessary for an operation.”

“Too late for that now Lee. We ain’t goin’ back to any sane policy. Once they pass a progressive rule or regulation, the media takes over. They beat up ‘normal’ people until they acquiesce. They keep callin’ them bigots and ‘tea baggers’. Do you know what a ‘tea bagger’ is? I bet most of the morons who parrot the masterminds don’t even know. It’s actually a pornographic term for a ‘scrotum sucker’. Well, I know who the perverts and ‘scrotum suckers’ are. They’re in LA and NY, not in Middle America. The average American simply wants lower taxes, jobs and a growing economy – and if they have sex, when they’re not clinging to their guns and religion – it’s missionary style. Amen. But that’s what the left does so well. They use the Saul Alinksy ‘ridicule’ tactic. Damn if it doesn’t work like a charm – especially when you’ve trained the media and Hollywood to be the public relations arm of your radical agenda.

Sadly, the illiberals of both parties have unmoored us from the Constitution and rational discussions on the issues just aren’t possible anymore. The radical ‘transformation’ is away from prudence and toward social and societal ‘evolution’. That is, we’re screwed. We are, as my buddy Levin calls it – in a post Constitutional Republic. There are no longer any checks and balances for stupid or tyrannical polices.”

“We still have a Constitution.”

“Not really. All the branches of Government are now merged together into one giant Leviathan entity. The notion of Separation of Powers is dead. Anyway, nothing we can do about it for now. We can talk more about politics after we kill off the bad guys. The good guys will be here shortly to take care of business.”

“How many did you find?”

“I asked for six. I got six.”

“Six? That’s it? How many do you think the bad guys’ll send?”

“I expect we’re probably going to see anywhere from twenty to fifty. Maybe more. I expect a frontal attack on the gate and at least one or two air assaults. Most probably helicopter gunships.”

“Your six guys, you and me makes eight – that’s it?”

“Well, they’ve got skills and I got all kinds of toys to blow away the bad guys. My boy Jack is bringing one of the best snipers the CIA ever had. Most of the bad guys will be killed in the first minutes of this siege. My only concern is that when we blow up the helicopter it doesn’t get close enough to the main house to do us any major damage. Unlike Scipio at the Battle of Carthage, I will not be shedding tears for my enemies when I annihilate them.”

“Wait a second. Wasn’t Scipio a Roman who led the assault on Carthage? I don’t want be pedantic here, but weren’t the Carthaginians like us – the one’s defending themselves from the Roman siege?”

“Yes, it’s just an expression. But in reality we’re the ones with the real firepower here. It’s just those poor schmucks out there won’t know it until it’s too late. As I told Jack before regarding other famous sieges like Masada, Carthage, or the Alamo – they didn’t have my firepower. The reality here is that unlike those famous battles, the bad guys here don’t have years to make this happen. They’re going to have to do this in America with Homeland Security, the FBI, and all the other organizations focused on preventing the next great terrorist attack on the homeland. Granted our government is inept. But that’s really due to the fact that so many in leadership positions are made up of political appointees rather than men and women of substance, accomplishment and honor. I still have faith in the average cop or agent to slow them down while we blow them out of the water. I don’t mean to be over-confident. There might be surprises. But I’m anticipating a six minute war. It will no doubt not make it into a compendium of the great battles of the 21^st century. I don’t suspect it will be recognized in the military texts as impressive as Israel’s 1967 Six Day War, but I expect that this skirmish may find its way into a West Point or Annapolis war college lecture. I’ll give it myself if they don’t throw me in jail first for being a subversive or a threat to their totalitarian state.”

Fox got up and paced back and forth and reluctantly started talking, “I hope you don’t take this wrong. I think I’m going to enjoy this. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Son. I’m not taking anything wrong. But you’ve changed. I’m hoping it’s a good change. But I’d be lying to you if I said I wasn’t just a bit concerned. You were into sports. Not guns. Is it that you’ve matured or that you’re reverting back to childhood? I can’t say you’ve grown up. But I can’t say you haven’t. Let’s just say the good and bad of all this has just bit you on the ass.”

“Look, things are surreal right now for me. Even in the midst of this terrorist siege, all you talk about is your conspiracy stuff. Patty’s all focused on her party which blows my mind because she actually understands that people are dying and she’s still that obsessed with that damned party. Maybe it’s her defense mechanism. I don’t know. I love her. I love you like a second dad. But, yes I’ve changed. It’s like somebody put me in some kind of science fiction contraption that has transformed me into a different person. I look the same. I talk the same. But the world is different to me. I don’t know. I guess I’m going through Bruce Wayne or Peter Parker transformation. Not that I’ll become a super hero, but I do have a righteous anger. I do feel like taking out bad guys is my calling.”

“Whoa. That is some transformation. Not sure if that’s love or fear talking or both.”

“Neither. Don’t get me wrong. My love for Patty may indeed have been part of this transformation. Sure I have fear like anybody. But there’s a thrill and a drive I can’t quite explain. Some of it I’m sure comes from my competition in rugby and swimming but it’s different. Some guys are meant to be boy scouts and help little old ladies across the street. And some guys are meant to pick up weapons and kill bad guys. I think I’ve finally found out who I am.”

“So, you want to join the FBI or CIA or something?”
“Maybe. Right now I just want to help you take down as many of the bad guys as I can. In my previous life before this transformation, I would have wanted nothing to do with picking up a gun and firing it at another human being. Now I want to. I’m looking forward to it the same way I looked forward to a finals event in a swim event or a big rugby game.”

“You know this ain’t rugby.”

“Oh I know it. But I also know that I’m a freak. I guess I was before this transformation. Even more so after. I’m meant for this. Swimming and rugby were only outlets for me until I found out that I have always been meant to do this – kill bad guys.”

“Lee. I hear you talkin’ but I can’t believe my ears. Maybe we’ll see some action today but probably it’ll happen tomorrow real early when they expect us to be asleep. Our guys will be wide awake and ready for them. Will you?”

“Absolutely. I appreciate the heads up. If I get a good four to six hours sack time I’m good. I’ll hit it about 10 p.m. so that I’m up by 4 a.m.”

“Tell me one thing. I don’t get this transformation. On one extreme you’ve created the perfect girl out of this Patty in your mind. How much of it is real? Don’t get me wrong. She is a doll. Good looking. Sweet. Smart. Strong. But you idolizing her, making her out to be some mythological goddess is not healthy. She doesn’t sweat. She glows. She doesn’t talk. She sings. She doesn’t walk. She glides. She floats on air. She’s a master work of art in more than three dimensions, beyond time and space. Boy, Fox, you are beyond gone for this girl. She’s pretty but she’s human. I’m sure if you take a little time, you’ll come back down to earth once you find out some of her flaws.”

“She has one that I know about.”

“What’s that?”

“She seems to have fallen for me too.”

“Based on what you just said to me, that’s a definite flaw. Don’t get me wrong. I hope like hell you can find a mate like I have. I’m just worried about you.”

“Don’t be.”

Fox was not going to hear any more talk on the subject. Uncle Willy went back to the issue at hand.

“After lunch we’re going to do a weapon’s check and have a little target practice. I understand you’ve had your first lesson with nine millimeter at the shooting range. Is that right?”

“Yeah. I have some skill. Not saying I’m a natural. That sounds pompous. I missed everything until I found the zone. I’m OK with a handgun. And I’ll get better. I’d love to see how your little Austrian – what do you call it?”

“Steyr Aug. My baby. We’ve also got a few big guns for the helicopter gunship or vehicle I expect them to use. When we get everybody together later I’ll go into more detail. I’ll be handling the big toys. My Special Forces guys will take out any bad guys outside the compound – if there are any of them left after we blow them to smithereens with the big guns. We’ll have a little strategy session. They might throw a curve or two at us, but our guys can handle it. We’re prepared for just about anything. And if they somehow bring enough force to overpower us – which is extremely unlikely – my basement Panic room will keep the girls and Dante safe.  I don’t expect an Alamo. I expect it’s gonna be more like Sam Houston’s bunch routing Santa Ana.”

Fox nodded and almost smiled.

45

At 09:30 hours Jack buzzed on the gate alarm. Through the security camera, Uncle Willy saw a green GMC Tahoe carrying Jack and five men.

“Jack, park over by the cottage. You’ll find a space where the other cars are parked. Take the path back to the main house,” said Uncle Willy into the security microphone by the door.

“Roger that Bill,” said Jack.

Jack and his buddies were not quite what Uncle Willy had expected. Although they were dressed in green camouflage fatigues, to a man they resembled accountants more than trained killers.

“Bill, I want you meet my team. These guys are the best of the best. Jeff and Ian are ex-Seals. Jacob and Larry are ex-Delta. Steve got tired of the CIA. Just for the record, each one of these guys was top of his class in college. Jeff and Ian graduated from Annapolis. Jacob and Larry from West Point. Steve got an engineering degree from Cal Poly. Not sure how or why the CIA thought a pointy head from Cal Poly would be a fit. Since he’s with us, I guess he wasn’t a fit after all.”

“Not quite true. I had a nice ten year career with the CIA. It’s just more lucrative and fun to work for myself,” countered Steve.

“Steve makes a point. These guys here are ‘independent contractors’. Today they’re our team. I don’t want to speak for all of them, but I think they’re just too bright to spend their lives reporting to pencil neck bureaucrats,” said Jack.

“Welcome all, my name is Bill. The part of my family that likes me calls me Uncle Willy. My family and acquaintances who don’t like me call me ‘Crazy’ Uncle Willy. Jack calls me Bill. To make things simple, you can call me Sir,” said Uncle Willy smiling.

They all shook hands. Uncle Willy led the group down the stairs to his bunker. In addition to his comfortable Lazy Boys he also had a small conference table that seated eight. Near the head of the table was a white board. The team sat around the table.

“I have coffee or water. What would you like?” asked Uncle Willy.

Jack and Steve asked for water. All the rest wanted coffee black. Willy pointed to the small fridge stocked with water.

“Water’s in the fridge. I’ll be right back. I also want to have my nephew Lee join us,” said Uncle Willy.

He walked up the stairs and down the hall to the kitchen. Sally was in the kitchen making a large pot of coffee.

“You’re a mind reader. I guess you saw the crew that just showed up,” said Uncle Willy.

“Yes, I did. Interesting group. No offense, but they don’t look like they’re very tough,” said Sally.

“You know what they say about looks being deceiving. These guys are real bad asses. But more importantly they’re really smart. They’re wiry and tough as nails. Four of the five have been through either Seal or Delta training. The odd man out was ten years with CIA as an operative in some bad ass places.”

“I always thought those guys were supposed to look like the muscle bound freaks. That’s what they look like in the movies.”

“Some of them are but most are not. My experience is that stamina and intelligence count for a lot more than brute strength. I know Jack. He’s a great guy. His team is perfect for us. I didn’t want to scare anyone else but I think you know that we’re likely to see some heavy duty action.”

“Yeah I get that Bill. What are you expecting?”

“My guess is that we are going to see a helicopter or large truck. Maybe both. Either they’re going over the wall or they will try to ram through the gate. Either way, we’ve got the firepower to stop them. I want you to keep Patty and Dante distracted and occupied. Patty should be easy. She’s got her party to think about. Don’t know about the computer geek. Just keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t get in our way. Lee will be with us finishing up our plan of attack and going over possible strategies.”

“I’ll keep them occupied.”

“When the action starts, I want you to take both of them down to the bunker. The crew will be upstairs where the action is. If things get really hairy, you know the last resort. Find the panic room and close it down. I don’t think it’ll come to that, but it’s always good to plan for a worst case scenario.”

“The coffee is ready. Need anything else?”

“No thanks. My little fridge downstairs has water. Coffee black for the crew. I’ve got enough mugs down there. I just need the large thermos. If you run into Scipio – just tell him I won’t be shedding any tears for my enemies.”

Sally looked at Uncle Willy and shook her head. She was going to ask him what that meant but changed her mind and didn’t bother. He’d get around to explaining what it meant eventually.

46

The day went smoothly for all. Fox, Uncle Willy and Jack’s team ran through a few scenarios and prepared for the expected attack. Dante was occupied and very pleased with the bandwidth and speed he was getting out of his Internet connection. Patty was doing Skype Videoconferencing with Tina and Penny and all was going well. Sally was puttering around the house making sure everyone was taken care of, fed, and watered. Fox was finding this whole exercise incredibly invigorating. Instead of nerves, he was calm. But not “a calm” he had ever felt before. It was like he was a bee buzzing over a flower suspended in space. Every fiber of his being was alive and awake. It was if he had an adrenaline high while simultaneously in a transcendental state.

Uncle Willy, the aging warrior, had checked and double checked his plans. Although he talked in terms of old school, he was very much up on his planning software, and much more computer literate than he let on. But this project was not about building. It was about destruction. Like all great warriors, he had made sure that death would reign upon his enemies.

They had a rotation for manning the security cameras that was straightforward. The fortress compound did not need sentries. There were cameras covering full 360 views. There was a very sophisticated motion detection system around the entire compound. The main thing now was to make sure that the two anticipated major attack points – via the gate and air were understood by all. The Seals and Delta guys were ready for their raids if it was necessary to flush out and eliminate bad guys outside the compound. Uncle Willy knew that it was highly unlikely it would come to that, but he wanted them prepared just in case.

The firepower and defense system that Uncle Willy had installed was ingenious. With technology and firepower properly deployed, a few well trained men could easily destroy virtually any attack. If the attackers had unlimited numbers and time, certainly any fortress could be breeched. But their enemy didn’t have the luxury, time or the ability to assemble the numbers needed. Uncle Willy knew full well that the attackers were heading into a suicide operation. Only they wouldn’t know that until it was too late.

47

Uncle Willy’s prediction was pretty close. The attack indeed started at just about 5 a.m. It was actually 4:48 a.m., but close enough. Fox was on his second cup of coffee when Steve, who was manning the security monitor, gave everyone the alarm. Naturally Uncle Willy had an alarm that was appropriate to his eccentric personality. The alarm sounded similar to the “haoogaa” Submarine alarms that are used in the Navy. How or why he chose this particular sound, who could possibly figure. Uncle Willy saw an old Submarine war movie and liked it. Just that simple. The alarm cracked up Steve. Steve the sniper was known for his seriousness and his power of concentration. It comes with the hours of making like a statue, the tediousness yet precision and patience needed to pull the trigger and take out a target perhaps a mile or more away.

Lots of smiles from the crew. Fox thought about smiling but quickly went into the zone instead. No doubt smiling at an ‘haoogaa’ sound was a strange way to start a mini-war, but that’s how this one started. The girls and Dante were down in the basement. Dante was bouncing off the walls. Patty was a little nervous. Sally tried to keep them calm.

“Dante, you can have anything you want except caffeinated coffee,” she offered.

“Nnno. Nothing. Thanks,” he said.

Patty couldn’t help but smile.

“How about we play some cards to get our minds off this?” asked Patty.

Dante’s head shook in the affirmative and Sally pulled a deck from the left hand drawer in the table against the farthest wall from the door.

Steve, perched in position, had spotted the large truck at about a mile out.  He was anticipating a target at a range of 800 meters or less. There was no wind to speak of, and the only challenge was the fact that he hadn’t had the luxury of more than a couple of practice rounds from the platform that Uncle Willy set up for him. His rifle of choice was the Cheytac M200. It had a range of over 2000 meters. He was hoping to put his baby to the test. 800 meters was still a nice distance but he would have no problem. He didn’t. The truck was spotted a mile and half away. At the 800 meter mark, Steve put one .408 Cheytac cartridge through the right eye of the driver. The right side of his head exploded. Steve was a little upset. He aimed between the eyes. That got the job done. It reminded him of Gallagher, the guy who made a living using a sledge hammer to smash watermelons to get a laugh. Jack, Fox and Uncle Willy were all looking at the video feed that had a high power lens on the camera focused on the driver when the right side of his head exploded. No one was laughing. There were a couple of “oohs and aahs”.

After the driver was dispatched, everyone dispersed to their designated positions. Uncle Willy had a command console that controlled not only the video surveillance cameras but also some interesting remote weapons. Jack and Fox were close by and took up their assigned positions after Steve drew first blood. As predicted, the first assault came from an eighteen wheeler that was about a mile down the road. The big concern now was what to do if taking out the driver did not succeed in stopping the truck. Uncle Willy had thought that land mines or some type of IED (improvised explosive device) might be a simple solution to this type of attack as any siege would inevitably pick attacking the more vulnerable gate than the wall itself. Instead of IEDs which could have been problematic for friends as well as foes, Uncle Willy had a much more creative solution. He got the idea at the airport parking lot that allowed cars to move forward but not to back up due to sharp spikes that would blow the tires out if a car went in reverse. He built a twenty foot long underground rack of spikes pointed in the direction of an incoming vehicle. By remote control the hydraulic lift would push about four hundred six inch long sharp steel spikes above ground in just over one second. Uncle Willy did his math and figured that a large multi-wheeled vehicle would max out between fifty five and sixty five miles per hour. The truck had eight hundred yards to reach maximum speed when it hit the gate. At six hundred yards the spikes would come up. Sixty miles an hour equals one mile in a minute. The distance they would be traversing was about a third of a mile. So Uncle Willy timed the spike rack to lock above ground in a little less than twenty seconds from the start of the truck’s run at the gate.

After the driver was taken out, one of two general outcomes were predicted. If the driver pulled to the side the truck would lurch and ram into one set of trees on either side of the road. If the driver fell forward, which was what happened, the truck would continue forward. So Uncle Willy timed the release of the spikes. As advertised, the spikes went up a couple of seconds before the truck. The truck doing approximately fifty five miles an hour hit the spikes and the wide tires were shredded immediately and flew up on both sides of the road. The front cab lurched to the left at a slight angle that grew more pronounced as the weight of the men and material loaded into the container pushed it forward. The container flipped sideways, and continued into the brush, and took about fifty yards to come to a stop.

Uncle Willy and Jack took their positions on the platform next to the gate. Jack was an expert at using the anti-tank shoulder mounted weapon, SMAW. It was actually overkill. The first missile destroyed the cab and most of the container with men and material. The bad guys who struggled out of the wreckage were taken out by the two Deltas in a quick firefight. No contest.

Jacob and Larry checked for any other survivors in the wreckage of the crash. There were none. Total elapsed time was three minutes.

As expected, a blip was picked up on the radar App on Willy’s iPad. It appeared thirty seconds after the truck was destroyed. Yes, Uncle Willy had a radar application on his iPad. It was a special present from General Roger Allen Jones. General Jones was one of the several extremely influential people he had saved in Viet Nam. There was no commercial availability of this App. Jack would get the honor of taking down the chopper with his surface to air missile. There were two concerns. One was to make sure this wasn’t a stray military, commercial chopper or radio weather chopper. He got confirmation from McKinnon’s men that this was a military gunship and it was not one of theirs. Second concern was that he needed to take it down in an area that would do the least damage to the compound, fence or buildings. At approximately five minutes after the beginning of the engagement Jack’s SAM locked on the Bell AH-1 Cobra. At the six minute mark the Bell was destroyed, pieces fluttering down east and south of the truck. No survivors. Wall untouched. House good. Battle over.

The magnificent seven or eight, if you counted Fox, had destroyed a significant assault on the compound. Down: an attack helicopter with approximately fifteen soldiers aboard and a truck with about twenty plus the driver. Jeff and Ian, the Seals double checked for survivors. There were none. Scipio was not shedding any tears. They drove out in a Ford F650 flatbed specially equipped with a wench and dragged the truck cab to the side of the road. The spikes were remotely lowered back into the ground by Uncle Willy. Uncle Willy also called McKinnon who agreed to get tow trucks and military supply trucks and men to remove the bodies and debris. By noon the site was nearly back to the way it was before the assault – except for a couple of large burned out patches and one oak tree that was felled by the sliding truck container. Uncle Willy made an off the wall comment that the oak would be chopped up for firewood to smoke his famous baby back ribs. The attack and response was just as Uncle Willy had predicted. A six-minute war. The whole thing was surreal to Fox.

Everyone met for lunch. Sally and Patty were serving the men at the dining table that had been extended to accommodate all eleven. It was the six minute war. And it was over. Fox wanted more. He hadn’t even fired a shot.

Fox was snapped out of his funk by an incoming text ping sound he had set up on his iPhone. It was from Leary. He had a message to meet at his condo. It was labeled “Urgent. Got new information. Very Important!” After chowing down in a hurry, Fox kissed Patty on the cheek and told Uncle Willy he was going to follow up on a possible lead that his friend Leary might have. Uncle Willy cautioned Fox, and asked him to let McKinnon handle it. But it was to no avail. Fox was too wired from the assault and his limited part in it. He was not going to take anyone’s advice. So Uncle Willy reluctantly acquiesced. Fox jumped into the T-Bird, waited impatiently for the gate to open, and sped off. He slowed down to do a quick double take of where the action had taken place just a few hours earlier. Then floored it to meet Leary.

48

Forty five minutes later Fox was parked in his garage on Francisco Street. He got out of the T-bird and he ran up the three flights of stairs to his unit. He started to put the key into his condo door with his right hand as his left hand grasped the bronze handle. The door was ajar and moved slightly just before the key went in. Instinctively he slid sideways to make himself smaller. A hiss of a silenced nine-millimeter parabellum whizzed by his head.

“Come. Join us. You’ve missed most of the fun already. I have your girlfriend here by the couch. I almost gave up on you and was going to finish her off without the pleasure of seeing you watch her final silent screams,” said a familiar voice.

Fox’s initial reaction was panic hearing the word ‘girlfriend’, but then his heart rate slowed and he focused. Fox couldn’t believe his eyes. It was Leary sitting on one of Fox’s dining room chairs with his feet propped up on the table. His gigantic shoe and leg covered most of his table. He held a gun with a silencer in his right hand. His left hand was stroking the forehead of the naked and beaten Carmella. She was bound and gagged with some sort of contraption with a ball in her mouth that was strapped around her head – an S&M thing. Fox was disgusted and angry. If he had not met Patty, Carmella undoubtedly would be the woman in his life. Carmella, the beautiful Filipina from work, was reduced to a quivering mess. Her feet and hands were tied together with black plastic cable ties. Her knees were under her chin and she was in obvious pain and discomfort. Her left eye was wide with fear. Her right eye was puffed up and closed like a boxer’s after a losing fight. Fox was relieved, concerned, a little guilty and extremely angry all at the same time. Relieved that it wasn’t Patty. Concerned and a bit guilty that it was Carmella. Fox didn’t waste time with second thoughts and brought his anger under control. He was finding the zone.

“Shut the door. I’d hate to have to kill more people than absolutely necessary,” said Leary pointing his gun at Fox.

Fox shut the door.

“Pull up a chair and join the fun.”

Fox remained standing. “What the hell are you doing? What kind of sick bastard are you Leary? I thought I knew you.”

“You don’t know the first thing about me Fox. Or should I call you Alvin?” Leary said sarcastically.  “Now do yourself a favor sit down so you can watch. Or of course you can lie down after I blow out both of your knee caps. I want you to have a front row seat. It should be fun. She’s really quite the looker. I really didn’t want to have to smack her in the face, but she’s a real handful. She’s a real fighter this one. By the way, I kinda like ‘Alvin’. Instead of being Petey Perfect, can I call you the swimming Chipmunk?”

Leary burst out in uncontrollable laughter and caught himself as he saw Fox start to inch forward.

“Don’t even think about it Alvin or I’ll blow your Chipmunk nuts off!” shouted Leary, starting to laugh again but then catching himself.

“What the hell is this all about? Why are you involving Carmella in this?” asked Fox trying to control himself.

“We have plenty of time to go into all of that. I have spent the last decade watching you float through life without a care. Sleep with any girl you like. Everybody loves you. Not a fucking care in the world. What’s hard for everybody else is way too easy for you. It’s time for you to pay. And I suspect this won’t be very easy for you to watch.”

“So this is some kinda revenge? What for? I never did anything to you. If I did something, then this should be between you and me. Leave her out it. I’m here. Let the girl go. Anyway, she’s not my girlfriend. You got the wrong girl.”

“Well of course you’d say that. So noble. But before I began playing Doctor Mengele on her —“

“You sick fuck”.

Fox started to go for Leary’s gun, but Leary fired a warning shot that just missed Fox’s ear. It hissed by Fox’s head a second time. He could feel the air stir and it stopped him in his tracks.

“Sit the fuck down hero. You’ll never save her if you’re dead. You were a lifeguard once. You remember the first rule of lifesaving don’t you? That’s right, save yourself first. Hardly gonna be any good at rescuing your princess here if you’re choking in a pool of your own blood.”

Fox sat down and began to focus. His pulse was rate was slowing down. His mind was moving faster as the world moved in slow motion.

“Okay, Leary. What do you want?” Fox asked.

“Well, I guess I’ve already found the USB drive. As I thought, you just left it on your desk. Sloppy. You always were sloppy with paperwork and things. I checked its contents on your computer. My, my, you leave the USB drive on the desk unsecured. Then you have your laptop without even a password for security to access the Window’s operating system.  For a supposed Internet computer security expert you don’t seem to be too concerned with it on your own devices.”

McKinnon and Rossellini had made a fake copy of the original USB drive. It had a GPS device imbedded so that they could track it and ultimately lead to the bad guys. Fox expected to find Habib holding the fake USB drive. Not Leary. He was having a hard time wrapping his mind around how and why Leary was involved in this.

“Normally I don’t have crazy Irishmen breaking into my house. But I don’t get it. All these years I thought we were friends. What the hell did I ever do to you? Why are you doing this?”

“Well my little Aquaman, the USB drive is business. But taking you out is for fun. Actually, for profit too, but most of all, I just want to see you suffer.”  He paused and smiled. “I don’t know. You don’t need to ask what I want or why. It’ll make me feel good. That’s all. That’s why. I don’t claim to be a shrink, but I think making you suffer and watching you watch your latest girlfriend suffer is an added benefit to a really nifty plan that’s going to make me a very rich man. And did I already say I get to watch you suffer? This is – well, how can I put it? It will do wonders for making up for all the lucky fucks like you that don’t deserve the gifts they’ve been handed. Revenge? I don’t know. I guess you could call it that. You just don’t deserve what you’ve got.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I know you’ve got a five million dollar home in Pebble Beach. You must be worth fifty times what I’m worth.”

“Well, for you it’s not about the money. Yeah, it’s the fact that everybody loves you. You get any girl you want. And I’m sure that if you wanted more money you could make that happen too. I hate you. I’ve always hated you. I just hate you because I wanted to be you. But that’s impossible. Look at me. Look at this goddam Irish mug of mine. My pasty ass skin. I look like a fuckin’ leprechaun on steroids. A freak. Look at you. Mr. Perfect.”

“Waddya talkin’ about? I’m not perfect. I’m in debt up to my ass. I broke my nose playing Rugby. I’m not perfect by a long shot.”

“Even your goddam broken nose attracts chicks. Never seen anything like it. But you know this isn’t really about you. Finally watching you fall is just a little extra. It is just icing on the cake.”

With that Leary looking directly into Fox’s eyes put the silenced gun to Carmella’s head, moved it slightly and put two rounds through the pillow next to her. Fox leaped up but Leary caught him with a perfect blow to his head, the back of his hand to Fox’s temple. Carmella started crying hysterically. Fox rolling on the floor.

“You’re no fun Fox. I thought you’d give me a better fight than that.”

Fox lay on his left side groaning and holding his head. Leary put his size fourteen shoe on Fox’s shoulder and gave him a good push. Fox fell backwards. He put his hands to his head and slowly started to stand. He was groggy but he was doing his best to focus.

“Don’t get any more ideas Fox my boy. I’ve just decided you’re going to go for a swim. And show me your diving form. But before we have fun, I’m going to make you write a little letter. Sit.”

Fox sat.

“On the table behind you, you’ll notice there’s a ball point pen and a sheet of regular 8 ½ by 11inch white computer paper. I’m going to dictate a letter and you’re going to write it exactly as I say. If you do then you get to live at least another thirty minutes. If you don’t, well I’ll kill you right here and still make it look like you killed her then committed suicide.”

Fox turned his back and picked up the pen. He was trying to focus but he was still a bit groggy.

“Write this down: ‘God, please forgive me. I didn’t mean to kill her.’ You get that?” asked Leary.

Fox nodded. And wrote.

Leary continued his dictation, “‘I just couldn’t have her looking at another man. I’m going to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge tonight. Life is no longer worth living. Please forgive me.’ Got all that?”

“That’s it?  Not exactly poetry. This isn’t even bad Ferlinghetti,” Fox said sarcastically.

“Shut the fuck up. It will work just fine. If the sharks don’t chew your carcass or you get washed away. Wait. Pick up that Chronicle over there.”

“What?” Fox asked.

“The newspaper. Find the tide charts. What’s the current doing at midnight at the Golden Gate?”

Fox fumbled through the Sporting Green where the puzzles and the tide chart were listed.

“Flooding,” said Fox.

“Perfect. You’ll be coming toward the city rather than going out. They’ll find your carcass. Let’s go.”

“Before we go, you said this isn’t all about me. What else is it then? There must be something else that is going on.”

“OK, since you’re gonna be dead in a half an hour, I guess I can fill you in.”

“Can you at least let me cover her up?” Fox said as he pointed to the closet near the front door.

“Always the gentleman. Good idea. I plan on having some more fun with her when I get back from our adventure. Then I’ll put a bullet between her eyes and make sure your prints are all over the gun I use. Before you get a blanket for your girlfriend, I want you to grab this.”

Leary pulled out a Glock nine millimeter.

“Hold this,” he said.

Fox grabbed it and pointed it at Leary. Leary laughed.

“You don’t think I’d give you a loaded gun do you?” asked Leary.

The gun clicked twice.

Leary pushed the silencer into Fox’s solar plexus while he pulled the Glock from Fox’s hands. Leary had plastic gloves on and put the Glock into his coat pocket. Fox walked to the closet reached up and found the blanket and covered Carmella.

Fox returned to his chair and looked at Leary.

“Why would you take me shooting if you were planning to kill me,” Fox asked.

“Good question. I thought of putting a hole in your head right there at the range. But that would have been too easy. And too public. This way is much better. A lot more fun.”

Leary stared at Fox for a couple of seconds and asked, “You remember all those times I talked your head off on the phone, right?”

Fox nodded.

“By the way, how come I always call you, but you never call me?  I know you’re just so fuckin’ popular and busy you don’t have time for your mentor who helped guide you. Some folks are just ungrateful and take people for granted. Anyway, you remember that schmuck Wes Folker? One of those goddam techies who started his own little company. Little shit made millions. Worked for Chevron as I recall for some puny salary. Sonofabitch made twenty or thirty million at least when he sold his half-ass little distribution company. And remember that jerkoff Andy Martin. The guy worked for me when I was at Infodata. He was easily the worst sales guy I ever had. I let him go. Fired his ass. So what happens?  He somehow lands a job at Ascent. They got bought by one of those goddam AT&T spin-offs. Could never keep up with them. AT&T bought NCR, then divested NCR. And bought Paradyne. Paradyne spun off. Then old AT&T was bought by Southwestern Bell and changed their name back to AT&T. Really confusing. No? Back to Martin. He’s currently worth a hundred million. A hundred goddam million dollars. How the fuck does that happen?  I’m smarter than all those guys put together. You know what Fox my boy? After I throw your sorry ass off the Golden Gate Bridge, I’m going to track that bastard Martin down in Palo Alto. I know where he lives. I think I’ll rape his wife then blow his brains out after I make him write a suicide note too. Revenge is nice. But I’ve got a really big pay day coming from Habib.”

“Habib?”

“Yeah. You think all this shit happened by chance. I get that you are one of the luckiest son-of-a-bitches I ever met, but no Mr. Fox, this was not a coincidence. This whole ISI deal was planned a long, very long time ago. You, being a friend of mine, it was all part of the plan. Yes ISI wanted the technology, but they also needed a really good diversionary tactic to convince the morons in the FBI that there were nukes headed to Texas when it was really going exactly were Ahmadinejad and those jihadists in Iran have been telling the world for years it would go. The plan is to wipe Israel off the face of the map. This whole Jewish history shit just cracks me up. Back in the thirties long before you or I were born this righteously insane jackass jumps up on beer hall tables in Munich talking about the evil Jews. He writes a book. My Struggle he calls it, telling the world and Jews exactly what he was going to do. And they ignored the son-of-a-bitch. ‘He’s crazy’ they said. And you gotta hand it to him. He said he was going to wipe out the Jews and he damn near did. They said the same thing today about Ahmadinejad. He’s nuts. This new bum Rouhani said the same thing but only behind closed doors. Not quite as upfront about it as his predecessor. But what do all these lefty Jews do? Well they fought against this pro-Israel president, but they were all for anti-Semitic Carter and the last schmuck POTUS who actually attended a Madrasa whose middle name was Hussein – the guy that signed a deal that gave Iran billions that actually helped them to speed up their nuke program. For smart people you’d think these left wing Jews would have had a clue that they might not be best of friends with a guy whose middle name is Hussein. What can you say – the very definition of self-loathing? Literally in a couple of days, there will be little if anything left of Israel. I wanted more than 20 million bucks, but hey, I gave my services to them cheap because I knew I was going to get my revenge on you and your sweet little Filipina honey. She tasted nice.”

“You piece of shit Leary!” shouted as he jumped forward.

Before he could get his hands on Leary, Fox was struck hard on his right shoulder and neck with handle of the gun and he fell down in a heap. Fortunately Leary missed his collar bone and or it would have a great deal more painful and a much longer lasting injury. He got up slowly.

“Jesus Leary. You can’t get away with this,” Fox screamed.

“Why not? I’m smarter than all of you. See these plastic throw away doctor’s gloves. No prints.”

“They’ll find something. A hair. Something. They’ll catch you. Or I’ll do it myself.”

“Well look at you! Cocky bastard. I have a feeling no one’s catching shit between here and the bridge. No one’s catching me period. Although I might just blow your brains out right here if you don’t shut your fuckin’ mouth. Get up!”

Leary pointed his gun at Fox and then motioned for him to open the door.

“You’re going to drive your little Turbo. We’re going to Fort Point. No. Got a better idea. We’ll just drive up to the last lot on this side of the bridge,” said Leary.

“Wait a second. The bridge is closed to pedestrians this late,” Fox responded.

“Sure it is. I guess you’d have to know someone in the maintenance crew with a key to unlock the gate to get in.”

Leary holds up a key chain with several keys on it and shakes them for effect.

“Get moving.”

Fox stood. Then down three flights of stairs with Leary and the gun shoved right up against Fox’s lower back. Leary pushed Fox over to the T-bird and got in with Fox. Leary took the passenger seat with the gun pointed at Fox’ ribs. Fox pushed the remote opener attached to his visor. The door opened slowly and the car backed out on to Francisco, then did a K turn heading west. He took a right on Mason and then a left on Bay Street, made the light at Van Ness, and then turned on Laguna. He sped by Fort Mason and the Marina Safeway and continued on Marina Boulevard. When he got to the Marina Green, he merged onto Doyle drive and took the last exit before he crossed the toll booths. Fox pulled into a parking spot in the nearly empty lot. All the tourists and their cars were long gone.

“This is the fun part. Please don’t make me kill you here. I’m really looking forward to watching you take the plunge! Did I say ‘take the plunge?’ I crack myself up.”

Leary found the key to the gate. He opened it and they walked onto the pedestrian walkway. Since it was closed there was no foot traffic. Lots of muted lights and there was little car traffic coming and going. No one was in sight on the walkway. The burnt orange and yellow haze slicing through the intermittent fog made the whole scene seem even more surreal than it already was.

“Don’t stop. Keep going.”

They walked out about a quarter mile and Leary ordered Fox to stop just shy of the south tower. To the west the fog was rolling in heavy. He couldn’t see the Pacific. Just the black of night and stars darkened and hidden by the fog. The city side was different. He could see the city lights and the lighthouse light blinking on Alcatraz. Coit Tower, the Pyramid, the series of rectangular structures in a row that made up the Embarcadero Buildings all were easy to spot despite the rolling and dissipating fog.

“OK Fox it’s time for you to practice your high dive. Of course, this will be your last dive so make it a good one for all your fans. I expect you to give it everything you’ve got and make it one to remember. Nobody here to watch you but me. At least I’ll remember it! I still expect you to give it everything you’ve got! For Cal. Go Bears!”

Fox’s back was to the low railing that hit him a bit above the belt. Leary had the silenced gun aimed chest high. He was wondering if he was going to have to fire the gun to motivate Fox. Just as he was about to decide whether to shoot or not, Fox faked right as if he were going to start over the railing but spun left like a bolt and caught Leary’s wrist with his left forearm. The gun flew out. A lightning kick found Leary’s groin with his knee. Leary bent over and rolled away to his right. Fox tried to hit Leary with a right, but Leary dodged it and came up with a roundhouse left that knocked Fox back hard enough that he almost went backward over the rail. But he twisted and landed on the pavement. Leary on his feet kicked Fox in the side and then went for the gun that was near Fox’s head. Fox found the gun, and in the struggle, it flew over the railing between the cabling that lined the street side of the walkway. It landed in the traffic lanes before Leary could stop Fox. Leary continued to kick Fox who managed to roll away. As Fox got up, Leary threw a left that backed him up close to the street railing and cabling. Leary picked up Fox in a bear hug and threw him against the bridge railing. As Leary went to push him over the rail, Fox managed to sink to his knees and, with all his might, grabbed Leary mid-thigh, shot up and leaned backward. The momentum carried Leary over the bridge railing, and as Fox turned, he saw Leary flailing almost the entire 245 feet down to the San Francisco Bay below.

Fox stood there for several seconds catching his breath. Fox saw flashing lights of a SFPD police car screeching to a stop near the gate and two uniformed cops were running toward him. They both had guns drawn. Fox didn’t say a word. He just held his hands up in the air. One of the cops masterfully pulled Fox’s arms behind his back and cuffed him. Fox did not resist.

“What the hell happened here?” screamed one of the cops.

“Just call Detective Schwartz at the North Beach Station. He’ll help sort this out. I’ll fill the rest in as soon as I sit down and process just what happened myself. My best friend. Somebody I thought was my best friend tried to kill me. I think he killed a couple of women. I don’t know. I thought he was my friend.”

49

Fox had his cuffs removed at the North Beach Station. Schwartz and McKinnon walked him into their less than comfortable interrogation room.

“Coffee?” asked Schwarz.

“Not unless you can put some brandy in it,” answered Fox.

“How about we forget the coffee and go straight for some Scotch?”

Fox nodded.

“How’s Carmella?” asked Fox.

“She’s shaken up a bit but fine. We’re gonna talk to her more tomorrow. She’s staying with her mother. She told me to thank you. It looks like if Patty doesn’t work out for you Carmella will,” said Schwartz.

“I really didn’t do much.”

“You threw that crazy psychopath off the bridge. He couldn’t make it back to do more damage or kill Carmella. She gets that. She told the cops about what you did to try and help her. Another beautiful woman in your debt.”

“I like girls.”

“I like girls too but I don’t have them lining up like you do.”

“Yeah, it must be the way I dress and my grooming habits.”

Schwartz and McKinnon cracked up at that comment. Fox was totally disheveled. His shirt was ripped at the collar and he had a good size hole in his pants at his left knee. After they all had a good laugh, Fox pulled out his phone and said, “Can you give me a second?”

They both nodded affirmative. His call was brief. He checked in with Uncle Willy at the compound who couldn’t believe what had happened. Uncle Willy was ready to go into one of his rants when Fox cut him off. Fox was not in the mood. He told Uncle Willy he’d be back in the morning. They left it at that. They disconnected.

For the next couple of hours, McKinnon, Schwartz and Fox went over the basic information they had. They let Fox take a quick nap on Schwartz’s couch in his office. At seven a.m. Fox bolted up from one of his flying dreams disoriented. He stumbled off the couch and made his way toward the front door wiping the sleep from his eyes. Nobody stopped him. He was in a nightmare and Scotch induced trance when he walked out of the North Beach Station on to Power Street squinting from the bright morning light.  People were just starting to begin their day. Out of the corner of his eye he saw what looked like a mugger attacking an elderly woman. He couldn’t help himself. He ran to help but got there too late. Before he could bend over to help the old woman the mugger pivoted, turned on him, and cold cocked him from behind with a solid punch to his right eye. Fox fell to the pavement. The mugger gave Fox a solid kick to the chest that did some damage. Fox got up slowly. He reached down to help the woman when an officer came running at him from behind.

“Get your hands up in the air!” the cop screamed.

Fox put his hands up in the air. His ribs ached and he could hardly lift his right hand higher than his head. He wiped some blood from his nose. After his ordeal from the previous evening and this unexpected beat down, he did indeed fit the profile of what a street thug mugger would look like. His disheveled appearance was evidence enough for the cop who cuffed Fox. Second time in less than twelve hours. Must be a record Fox thought to himself.

“Ma’am, did this man attack you?” asked the cop.

“I think so,” she said as she wiped dirt off of her and straightened her skirt.

“I didn’t mug her. I came to help her. Her mugger is running across Washington Square Park by now,” said Fox.

“Ma’am, do you mind joining me for a short walk to the station over there in the next block?” asked the cop.

“Sure. Where’s my purse?” she asked Fox.

“I don’t have it. The guy who actually mugged you has it,” he replied.

The cop led the old woman and Fox to the station.

“Find Schwartz, he’ll set you straight,” said Fox.

“Schwartz is gone for at least two hours. He’s a got a breakfast meeting with the Chief,” said the cop.

“Good grief,” said Fox as he was led to the all too familiar holding tank.

Fox looked at and the unkempt collection of misfits in the holding tank. Just what he needed. He stopped to help a little old lady in distress and lands in the North Beach jail holding tank with a black eye, bloody nose and sore ribs looking at snaggletooth drunks who were pointing and laughing at him like he was the freak in the room.

50

Fox was running the timeline for the last few hours through his head. It was about 1 a.m. when he was picked up at the Bridge. He spent a couple of hours with McKinnon and Schwartz going over what happened. A nightmare on Schwartz’s couch for another couple of hours. Then the icing on the cake was another two and half hours in jail after getting kicked around by a mugger, falsely accused by an old lady, and having to wait for Schwartz to get back to straighten it all out. A nurse had been called in to attend to his injuries. She was very professional. The nose would not change noticeably, though it might be a bit swollen for a few days. He was definitely going to have a shiner. His ribs were sore but not cracked.

Schwartz was not very sympathetic. In fact, he found the whole story quite amusing. Fox shook his head at the absurdity of it. After another belt of scotch, Schwartz and Fox each had one last quick discussion about recent events – omitting the mugging. They were putting all the pieces of the puzzle together. Leary. Habib. Ahriman. It was starting to come into focus. Fox found his way back to his car and drove off, swearing not to not get diverted by little old ladies getting mugged. Fox was ready for Patty and a nice hot and cold shower with some rest. After forty minutes of light traffic, Fox pulled past the compound gates and parked in his usual space.

Fox opened his door and immediately sensed something was wrong. He saw Uncle Willy standing outside with a pained expression. Fox slammed the door on the T-Bird and felt his heart rate increase with each step as he approached the main house and Uncle Willy.

“OK, out with it. What happened?” demanded Fox.

“She’s gone,” said Uncle Willy.

“Who’s gone?”

“Patty.”

“Whadya mean she’s gone? How? When?”

“She just walked out the gate. She had a taxi waiting with one of her helpers.”

“How the hell did you let this happen? Why weren’t you watching her?”

“Look, people need their privacy. You can’t blame me for that fool girl’s behavior. Sally just had a nice girl talk with her and then she looked out the window and saw Patty getting in the cab before she could do anything about it. There was another girl in the cab. Figure it must be one of the worker bees for her big party. You know how obsessed she is about that damn party.”

“Damn it to hell! I know McKinnon’s gonna be pissed but I gotta find her fast before Habib or one of his men does. I’m pretty sure I know where she’s going. I just doubt if she’s going to get there without an escort.”

With that Fox ran back and jumped in his T-Bird. Impatiently he tapped on the steering wheel as the automatic gate slowly responded to the weight of the car and began opening. As soon as the opening was large enough he zoomed through it with the metal of the gate scraping the passenger side mirror.

Fox picked up his iPhone and hit Patty’s contact number. Four, five, six rings and then to voicemail.

“Patty, this is Fox. As you probably know I’m on my way to find you. I’m heading over to your apartment. Let me know where you are as soon as you get this. Please call and let me know you’re all right. Dedication to your craft is one thing, but you don’t need to put your life on the line to do it. We’re close to wrapping this thing up. We just need to round up one of the really bad guys here. We have to get him before we can let you go back to your normal life. Call.”

He hit end and threw the phone on the passenger seat in disgust.

The phone rang. He grabbed it quickly expecting it to be Patty. It was a 408 area code.

“Fox we need to talk,” said Habib Tehrani, “I have something you want. I will give her back when you give me what I want. The USB drive for your pretty Patty.”

Fox felt his heart rate slow as he took a long breath. In another time in his life he might have started screaming and making demands. Instead he slowly started finding the zone.

“Where are you?” he asked coldly.

“I am at my other office. Different building down the street. It is near the main ISI headquarters. Patty is safely tucked away.”

Habib smiled as he remembered how he gave her chloroform on a handkerchief and the way she fell limp in his arms. He was very tempted to have his way with her but the clock was ticking and he needed the USB drive.

“Where are you? Do you have the USB drive on you?” asked Habib.

“On the Marin side of 101 about ten minutes from the city. I have the drive,” answered Fox.

“My office is about an hour and a half from where you are now. I will text you the address. The USB drive for your girl. If not, well I expect I’ll have some fun with her before I cut out her heart out and feed it to my dogs.”

“I’ll be there.”

Fox hit ‘end’.

“Fox, Fox, you there?” said Habib.

No answer. Fox had hung up. Habib clicked ‘end’ and thought about having his way with the lovely Patty. But he stopped himself. He’d prefer to have her awake and struggling. All in good time. First the USB drive. Then kill Fox. Then he would have his fun.

After an hour and twelve minutes, Fox pulled into the parking lot address he’d been given. The lobby door had a magazine keeping it from locking. The building was a small non-descript brick and steel warehouse looking structure. Habib was playing hide and seek. He made an announcement over the intercom as Fox entered.

“Mr. Fox, when you hear the buzzer that unlocks the door and see the red light turn green open the door straight ahead that leads to our offices and join us.”

The LED light next to the door to the offices turned green and buzzed. Fox coolly walked through it. He was focused. He had an identical brand USB device with him but not the one Habib wanted. Fox found Habib’s office. The door was cracked slightly and he saw Patty bound and gagged. A handkerchief in her mouth was held in place with a tie. Fox’s eyes went from her to Habib who had no tie on. Then he turned and focused on the tie around Patty’s head. She sat up when Fox came in. She was on a drab grey couch. Habib closed the door as Fox walked toward Patty. She was surprisingly cool. He made a note of that. Yet another positive trait. Cool under pressure. Fox turned to face Habib behind him.

“You will notice that I have a gun with a silencer. There are no workers here today. I gave them the day off. I won lots of points for that. They love me here. But you did not come here to learn about my impressive management skills. My, my. Looks like Leary did a number on your face Mr. Fox. Let us save a lot of time. Put the USB drive on my desk.”

“Actually Leary hardly touched me. I had another little incident helping a little old lady. Long story. Anyway, I’ve got it in my car,” said Fox, “Untie Patty. Let me see her walk out the door to the car first.”

“Ever the Boy Scout. Now why would I make the first move?” asked Habib.

“You need this USB drive. You can’t carry off your attack and kill all those American infidels without it.”

“You really are humorous. What makes you think we are targeting America? Well, not this time anyway. I knew that the NSA and the others would tap into our Satellite conversations so I developed a simple code.  Not complicated really, Houston is Haifa. Texas is Tel Aviv. Jacinto City is Jerusalem. Funny really. That part of the plan was a joke. But the logistics of moving the bombs from Iran to Beirut and then to their targets, now that was complicated. Synching up the two ends using the Bofee-Gelman public-private key exchange, that is a daunting task. We have a very elaborate plan, and as they say, even the best laid plans go awry. Did I say ‘best laid’? I think I made a joke. As Springer told you, humor is not my strong suit. You are not smiling Mr. Fox. Still upset about the ex-girlfriend. What can I say? That damn ex-girlfriend of yours Audrey. She really was – what is the expression – one hot mess? You can pick them. But this one. Now she is truly worthy of a Prince or a Sheik. Maybe I will sell her to one. And when my brother and I pull off this attack we will be rewarded with virgins and beauties to rival even the glorious Ms. Patricia Rollins.”

Leary wasn’t lying or mistaken Fox realized. The attack was going to be Israel. Not Texas.

“I expect you’ll get your seventy two virgins, but don’t you have to be dead first? How about I help you make than happen?”

“Please. Your attempt at humor is tiresome. Dying for a cause is for the little people. And Allah be blessed, my brother has dodged death for decades. Perhaps for him that is his fate. But for me. I like ladies in the flesh, like lovely Patty.”

“You won’t be getting the USB drive until Patty is safe.”

“You really do not get it do you? I thought you were a smart guy, but maybe not so much. We know that a lovely damsel in distress is your Achilles heel, so we used Audrey as bait. Unfortunately she stole my drive and we had to get rid of her. Sad, really. She was truly exceptional in bed. She wore me out. I must say you do know how to pick them. I guess by now you figured out that your good friend Leary was working for me. But to tell you the truth, I think he would have taken you out for free. He really hated you.

Well, I suppose I need to thank you for saving me – let us see at last count – yes, twenty one million dollars. You really have the nine lives of a cat. The drug dealer was just supposed to tail you. You offed him, or I guess he offed himself by taking too many pharmaceuticals. Either way, one for you. Then Audrey was going to be a trap for you but it failed and she had to be eliminated. I guess that one is a push. We offed her but that is one I would really like to have back. I was talking to Leary while he was stupidly on the phone at your office and the fool was overheard by your office manager Bonnie. He had to take her out. So finally, I threw in another million because we were running out of time. That is how we got the number up to twenty one from twenty. You win again. I do not have to pay Leary a thing because he is dead. So in the end I am the big winner after all! He tried to kill you at the Golden Gate Bridge and well, I must give you credit for being part cat. But as they say, I think you have run out of your nine lives. We never expected you to make it this far. Sadly, your heroic efforts must come to an end.”

While Habib was talking, Fox inched closer to him. One other exceptional skill that Fox possessed was amazing hand speed. He exhibited some of that speed in his match with Kim and his moves on Leary. From the time he was a small child he played the slap game where one person has his hands on top of the opponents open hands. The object of the game is to move fast enough so that the person on the bottom tries to hit the person’s hands on the top before he moves them away. If it was a clean miss they change. If the person hits, then he continues. Fox always won. His hand speed was such that he was always on bottom and his opponent gave up at some point after their hands turned bright red from all the slaps. With lightning speed reminiscent of his childhood, Fox slapped down Habib’s hand and the gun flew to the floor. With a quick right forearm to the chest Fox knocked Habib back over his desk. Before Habib righted himself, Fox was standing in front of him with the gun. But it was not pointed straight at chest level. It was aimed at Habib’s left knee.

“This is a game you probably won’t enjoy. I suggest you give me the answers I want quickly. Each wrong answer will result in a bullet to one of your extremities starting with your knee caps. After a count of one. That’s right, one. No count of two. No count to three. I don’t have much time, I will continue. Just so we’re clear. Knees, elbows, feet, hands, penis, one for each scrotum sack, and so forth. Think fast. Where is Ahriman? And one.” No answer.

Fox shot Habib’s knee cap and it exploded. Pieces of bone flew up on some papers on his desk. Habib screamed in agony.

“And one”.

Fox shot Habib’s other knee cap. Similar result. Blood spattered on side of his desk and Fox felt some on his cheeks.

“And.” –

“No more. No more. He’s in Beirut,” screamed Habib writhing on the floor.

“What’s the address – exact location.”

“In my phone, it’s there.”

“Habib, you’re a smart guy, but I guess this is what happens when you rely on computers instead of yourself and your instincts. Your math skills were a bit rusty. I have only used up a couple of my nine lives. Besides that’s just an expression. Who’s to say I don’t have more than nine lives. I know one thing for sure. Your sorry ass only has only one.”

Habib went for Fox’s gun. Fox fired one bullet directly into Habib’s crotch. He put a second bullet through his hands covering his crotch. Another through his left foot. Another through his right foot. He watched him writhe snake like screaming for about thirty seconds.

“Damn, I got them out of order. I said the elbows before the feet. I must remember that the next time.” Fox said talking to himself.

He emptied the rest of his magazine into Habib’s head and body. The blood splattered on the floor like a Jackson Pollack painting. Fox grabbed Habib’s coat which was hanging on the hook behind his door and covered his face. Fox ejected the 25 round Glock extended .22LR ammunition magazine and put the gun on the desk. Leary would have been impressed with how well and how fast he excelled in his hand gun training. Leary was always a good mentor, but Fox had some real concern about his friendship and loyalty. Perhaps Leary would spend an eternity in Hell thinking about it.

Fox walked over to the couch.  Gently, he untied the tie around Patty’s head and took the handkerchief out of her mouth. They embraced. She squeezed him tightly.

He asked, “Are you alright?”

She answered, “A lot better than he is.”

51

Fox and Patty returned to the compound about two hours later. Fox didn’t say a word to her about leaving and getting captured by Habib. She felt bad enough. Fox was just happy he found her safe and there would be plenty of time after this ordeal finished to discuss Patty’s reckless dedication to her business. On the way, Fox gave Schwartz and McKinnon the address and story filling them in on Habib. Fox looked like he’d been through a war. He had. After a hot shower, a bowl of Sally’s Tortilla Chicken Soup and a couple of hours of rest, Fox started to feel and look human. Sally told Fox that Uncle Willy wanted to talk to him in his bunker. Fox got up gingerly and made his way down the steps. He was alone. Uncle Willy wasn’t there yet. He found the big box chair very inviting and sank down into it. He propped his feet up on the ottoman and closed his eyes.

Fox eyes opened when he heard the door opening above. Uncle Willy joined Fox in the bunker.

“How you doin’ Lee?” Uncle Willy asked.

“A little tired, but I’m doing much better after a little rest and Sally’s soup,” said Fox.

“Some good news. McKinnon was able to get a new UCLASS – unmanned carrier launched airborne surveillance and strike plane – to locate and target Ahriman for the takedown. The Dwight D. Eisenhower is the only carrier left in the Persian Gulf after the geniuses in the last administration decided that funding free phones and the EPA saving slugs were more important than national defense and building an economy that grew jobs. Fortunately this new toy should be a big help. This carrier drone will help get this Ahriman. You know this new baby is making a few Navy pilots nervous, but I personally think they have nothing to worry about. We’re a long way from an all drone army and navy. But it’s nice to know we have them available. Since this new administration’s policy is to cut back on the use of Predator land based drones against terrorists hiding in Pakistan and elsewhere, we’ve been forced to use this new toy. So we exchanged a land based drone for a carrier based one. Works for me. Good news is that despite the best efforts of our morons in the executive department to leave us defenseless, we’ve still got enough weapon technology to give us an advantage over the bad guys. And our people in the field for the most part are pretty good. They’re dedicated. The benefit of an all-volunteer force. Some of them just give up when they find out how damn hard the job is, with rules of engagement that leave them with one hand tied behind their back. But most of them certainly have more character than the politicians running the show. This crew is certainly better than most of the General officers and the executive branch bozos who make these lame political rather than military decisions. Thank God for the Israelis and what’s left of our Intelligence assets on the ground. The biggest problem with the damn Drone attacks, you know these unmanned assassination assignments, is that although it may save a few of our guys in combat, it makes Intelligence gathering harder and we miss a lot of stuff. Rather than capture and interrogate bad guys to get lifesaving Intel, we’re simply taking them out. Don’t want to get the POTUS’s hands dirty. Ultimately the shortcuts don’t work. It might look better politically. Be more antiseptic. But we need ongoing Intelligence that comes from live humans, not dead ones, to prevent these major terrorist plots.

Despite our bumbling leaders, with the help of the Israelis and what’s left of our Intelligence in the region, we are ready to roll. In the end though it will be up to Kim, Rivka, and Naurian to take down Ahriman and grab that remote software encryption key.”

“Uncle Willy you’ve really come up to speed pretty quickly here. How did you get all this inside skinny so fast?” asked Fox.

“Son, I’ve got some good friends in high places. Your old man was not the only one who’s friends with our Attorney General. Once I found out about the mess you got yourself in, I did some snooping. I got a hold of Riley. He put some pressure on McKinnon who spilled the beans on the whole project.”

“Great. I’m going too.”

“Not a chance. I don’t think you’re quite up to this. You just had the crap beat out of you. What – you been in three or four fights for your life in little over twenty four hours? You’ve shown that you have skills but you’re still untrained. You’d get yourself killed and could put the whole operation in jeopardy.”

“Well, I may be the only person who can guarantee its success.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am the only one who knows the Seclarity encryption key software backwards and forwards in case there’s a need to make changes on the fly. Believe me there will be. They’re going to need to set up a communication link from the other side of the world. When they get the key on the laptop or however they find it, they’re going to be communicating from who knows what kind of Internet connection. No doubt someone will have to make some modifications on the fly.  Rivka is no doubt brilliant, but there’s no way she can come up to speed in time to gain the kind of familiarity she needs to have to make those changes. It would take days to get her up to speed no matter how brilliant she is. We don’t have days. We need somebody there who knows this shit when the takedown happens. They’ll only have hours, maybe minutes, to troubleshoot and make necessary modifications in order to synch up systems and exchange keys properly. That person to do this is me.”

“Not sure if I follow all that mumbo jumbo, but you’re pretty convincing. Sounds like they may have to take you. So you’re arguing that sending you is the only way to make sure this connection happens? When they recover the device, you’re the only one on short notice that can trouble shoot the software so that they can communicate with both ends to stop the automatic detonation from kicking in. Does that about sum it up?”

“Ding. Ding. Ding. You got it. It’s really not all that complicated. If we don’t synch the systems prior to the time when the preset for detonation is scheduled, taking down Ahriman will be a pyrrhic victory. So I’m curious – have you told your son who lives near Houston to evacuate yet?”

“No.”

“But why not? That’s crazy.”

“There’s something fundamentally wrong with favoritism on any level. I’ve railed against favoritism my whole life. How the ruling class pushes public schools for everybody but they put their own kids in private schools. How they pass healthcare bills for the masses with all sorts of penalties and mandates for compliance, but make exceptions for themselves and their cronies to make sure they get their ‘Cadillac coverage’. Why do you think they call me crazy? My son is in harm’s way with two million other souls and I cannot just selectively save him. I got to – I mean we’ve got to save them all son.

I’ll talk to Kim and McKinnon. You get ready. You’re going to take a private military jet to the Dwight D. Eisenhower. You’ll be close enough to the action that once the team has taken down Ahriman, you will be shuttled in on a helicopter or vice versa. Maybe they’ll capture him with the device and take it to you on the Eisenhower. Kim won’t object to that strategy. It’s the only one that makes sense.”

“Uncle Willy, I admire your principles. Reminds me of a biblical story.”

“Biblical Story? You’re not comparing what I’m doing to what Abraham did, are you? I’m not sacrificing my son for my God. My faith is in you and Kim to get the job done. That’s all.”

 “I’ve got some good news for you. God has given your son a reprieve.”

“What do you mean?”

“The bombs are supposed to go off in Tel Aviv and Haifa.”

Uncle Willy was both relieved and troubled by the news.

“A blessing for me but a curse to Israel. But you’re not going to let that happen are you?”

“No we’re not.”

“I bet you didn’t know that these terrorists knew American football, did you?”

“What?”

“Ya know Lee, everything of any importance I ever learned was in the fifth grade – and Pop Warner football.”

“I’ve heard the saying about Kindegarten, but Pop Warner football?”

“Yeah, I know, you spent more time swimming and maybe didn’t play much football. But you see, this is a perfect example of a ‘misdirection play’. That is, everybody on the line is going one way, but instead of handing off to the runner following the blockers, they hand off to the back going the other way. My favorite play in the Fifth Grade Pop Warner league. But the only problem is, for the play to work, the defense has got to buy the fake.”

As Fox got up, Uncle Willy went to his computer and clicked on “The Shapes of Things” from the Yardbirds. Cranked it up loud. Fox stopped and listened in the light at the top of the stairs.

Shapes of things before my eyes,
Just teach me to despise.
Will time make men more wise?
Here within my lonely frame,
My eyes just hurt my brain.
But will it seem the same?

Come tomorrow, will I be older?
Come tomorrow, may be a soldier.
Come tomorrow, may I be bolder than today?

52

The Mossad agent was a long haired darker version of Kim. In a way, she also reminded Fox of his college crush Natalie. Natalie was the Sabra he met at the University of Texas. She was the reason he spent a cold winter in Israel with a redneck Christian fundamentalist archeologist/biblical scholar. Small world. The Mossad agent’s name was Rivka. Hebrew for Rebecca. He was wondering how he found himself surrounded by so many strong beautiful women. Was it him or just fate?

After a fast and frantic flight on a government private jet from SFO, with a short layover in Paris, Fox landed in Tel Aviv. From there it was a quick hop on a Sikorsky SH-60/MH-60 Seahawk helicopter, where Fox joined Kim and the team aboard the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower somewhere in the Persian Gulf. They had less than twenty four hours to find Ahriman, his computer, and stop the order for the detonation of the bombs. They now knew that Tel Aviv and Haifa were the locations for the detonations. This meant more to Rivka than to the others. Israel’s survival would depend on the skills and courage of three women and two men. Rossellini was manning the computer with the USB drive in California. To say Rivka was jacked up would be an understatement. But she had to control it. Like Fox, she had that mysterious ingredient that allowed her to function at a very high level when most people would fold.

Rivka’s plan was bold. They were going to capture Ahriman at his Mosque in Beirut. But Ahriman was not going to be easy to find. He had many body guards. Like Saddam Hussein he intentionally hired men who had a strong resemblance to him. They provided a level of assassination insurance. The team had a short window to find Ahriman and capture his remote communication device. Time was running out. Simply taking out Ahriman without confiscating his remote device would not stop the attack. Ahriman’s remote device was the only way to communicate to Rossellini with their key on the other end to stop the automatic detonation.

Mossad, Shin Bet and the women had a good plan for taking down Ahriman and recovering the device. The UCLASS drone would provide firepower to distract Ahriman’s men. Once they had penetrated the Mosque, essentially his compound, Rivka would use her detailed knowledge of what the real Ahriman looked like to find him so there would be no mix-up. Once they had the real Ahriman they’d locate the laptop, USB device or PC to find the Bofee-Gelman encryption software.

Rossellini’s theory was now confirmed by Shin Bet intelligence, Israel’s terrorism task force. The final order would definitely be transmitted using the Bofee-Gelman encryption key exchange to synch up with the captured USB drive. The documents, pictures and recording were only half of the puzzle. It had now been ascertained that preliminary locations for placing the bombs were included in the pictures and instructions imbedded in the voice recording and the Arabic documents.  The two devices using the Bofee-Gelman encryption algorithm and key exchange would be the way they could guarantee a secure transmission of the final instructions and do it over an inherently unsecured Internet.

To make the plan work, Ahriman would have to believe that the USB drive had been recaptured by Habib. That required some finesse since Habib had been rather ruthlessly disposed of by Fox. Dante was key to setting the trap. ‘Key’ being the operative word in more ways than one. He cracked the relatively simple password on Habib’s computer that Fox had captured when he rescued Patty. Dante sent Ahriman a fictitious email that helped to locate Ahriman as well as calm his fears when he found himself unable to communicate to Habib via satellite phone. One of Dante’s emails from Habib complained of a problem with his satellite phone. They hoped that Ahriman would buy the broken phone excuse and the need for Internet only conversations. Ahriman was waiting at his Beirut address while the team prepared for the take down. Ahriman did not show any activity that would indicate any change or suspicion on his end. He bought it. The trap had been set.

It was clear now that capturing Ahriman, or more precisely, capturing the remote device was the only way to prevent the next Jewish holocaust. Consensus at Mossad was that the strike date and time had already been given and the detonation was on auto pilot. The nukes would be detonated if no further instructions were given before the assigned time. The suitcase bombs, or more accurately the ‘Backpack’ nukes, were already in pre-determined locations in Tel Aviv and Haifa. Mossad and Shin Bet, with the FBI, had cracked the code, translated the Arabic on the USB drive stolen by Audrey, and figured out the locations in Tel Aviv and Haifa. But even if they overpowered Ahriman’s team and found all the nukes before the pre-set time for detonation, they still would not have had time to move them to a safe place (a dubious concept at best) before they would automatically be detonated. The only way to stop the holocaust was to first establish the encrypted connection between the two remote devices, and then give the abort command before detonation.

The Mosque Ahriman occupied was in Beirut’s Achrafieh neighborhood, not far from the car bombing in 2012 that claimed the lives of top security official Brigadier General Wissam al-Hassan and seven others. The take down was fast and efficient. It was like the female dream team of international spies. The best of Israel, America and Persia. No contest. Ahriman’s men were not without skills and they managed to kill two men of the six person assault team, but they were no match for the girl’s Dream Team.

Kim found an entry hall where most of Ahriman’s men had taken positions. She used her sniper skills and picked off three of them within fifteen minutes. Rivka and Naurian, once the hall was cleared, located two potential targets that could have been Ahriman. Rivka grabbed her Steiner Nighthunter binoculars from her pack and located Ahriman quickly. He was the man farthest away, which made sense. His men were going to try to protect him at all cost. Which in fact they did. Five guards were dispatched by Naurian and Rivka in a relatively quick fire fight. Naurian preferred the Steyr Aug. Rivka used her Israeli standard issue Uzi. They were careful not to hit their last target, Ahriman. In the end, Ahriman turned out to be a coward. He threw his gun down when he saw that he had no chance, and he began to bargain and plead for his life, whimpering like a baby. So much for the great warrior. They reached him cowering in a corner.

Kim got a flesh wound from a ricochet, but other than that, they all came out uninjured. Kim joined the others, raised and pointed her Berretta at the quivering coward in the corner. Before she put a bullet through Ahriman’s head, Naurian and Rivka searched this final room and found his laptop. Kim, being the least respectful and most ruthless, had one parting comment before she shot him.

“Say Hi to those virgins for me,” she said, as she fired between his eyes. In turn Rivka and Naurian fired shots, one through each eye for good measure. Rivka packed the laptop in her pack, and the dream team jumped into their Highlander SUV for the trip north of the city to the U.S. embassy heliport. A marine helicopter, like the one Fox rode, the Sikorsky, flew them to the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower. The clock was ticking.

Fox was waiting in the Eisenhower’s tiny Communications room. Mossad, working with Shin Bet, quickly coerced intelligence from a couple of Ahriman’s men who were captured outside the Mosque. They confirmed that the automatic command for detonation would be at 05:30 hours local time for Tel Aviv, right before first light. This was ten hours later than San Francisco time, which was 7:30 p.m. or 19:30 hours the day earlier. The helicopter was scheduled to land at 03:00 hours with Ahriman’s laptop. Fox would have a little over two hours to connect with Rossellini and override the detonation command.

Rossellini was ensconced in a massive communication center in the San Francisco FBI offices. He was shaking. If he wasn’t so afraid, Rossellini would have been thrilled by all the advanced communication’s gear. Fox, on the other hand, was in a very cramped Comm Room on board the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower. The reality of attempting to set up satellite Internet connections aboard the Eisenhower in the middle of the Persian Gulf was starting to sink in. He could see that there was a nasty storm brewing. The moisture and cloud cover would no doubt disrupt their satellite connections. Fox was on speaker with Rossellini preparing him to exchange the keys in order to allow for the secure communication. The key exchange was going to allow them to jointly establish a shared secret key over an unsecured communications channel. The secret key then would be used to encrypt the commands using a symmetric key cipher. Once the secure communications was achieved, the order to override or abort would be given. Any other attempt to stop it would result in automatic detonation. They had to establish the secure connection and then give the command to abort before the preset detonation time of 05:30 hours.

Due to the weather, by 05:00 hours, the key exchange had not been achieved. Everyone in the Comm room on the Eisenhower was on edge. Fox had Rossellini reload a patch for the software and he downloaded it. The connection was intermittent. At 05:15 they seemed to finally get a steady uninterrupted connection. At 05:20 hours they were close to making the key exchange when the line cut out once again. There was a collective sigh. Some looked down. Some just stared at Fox’s laptop. Others covered their face.  Fox and Dante tried one last time at 05:28. Everyone crowding the room was on edge. Fox was frantically typing the last commands as the clock changed to 05:29. They had achieved a successful connection, but Fox still needed to give the abort instruction. The command was not obvious. Fox tried ABORT, STOP, END and as many synonyms as he could think of. As the clock was about to change to 05:30 he typed in “Tehrani”. A message on the screen read “ABORT Is Successful”. The ladies and the senior staff crowded into the tiny Comm room on the carrier were pumping fists and giving high fives screaming for joy. Fox had beads of sweat running down his face. Kim took his sweaty face in her hands and kissed him on the lips. His eyes were open in disbelief. He hoisted her over his head then set her down gently. All three girls surrounded Fox and kissed him. After a couple of minutes of joy, Rivka stood there alone smiling with tears running down her face.

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you.”

53

Over the next twenty four hours with the help of Rossellini and the FBI, Israeli Special Forces located and disarmed all the suitcase nukes. The Israeli government took possession of them. There was little resistance. The UCLASS came in very handy on this operation giving cover fire to the agents. Mossad working with Shin Bet had killed all the terrorists involved with guarding the nukes and suffered only two fatalities in the raid. The event was not reported in the media. The takedown in the Mosque was reported as a Sunni attack on a Shiite Mosque. Only a handful of people in Israel and America knew how close they’d come to another holocaust.

Forty Five Days Later

McKinnon had made a surprise visit to the compound to make a rather stunning announcement. After their exceptional work in stopping a nuclear holocaust in Israel, Naurian, Dante, Rivka, Kim and Fox were invited to meet secretly with Israel’s Prime Minister David Ashkenazi in Jerusalem to be awarded a medal never before given to non-Israelis. That was the good news. But McKinnon had not just come to the compound to give everyone the good news. McKinnon had also used the award as a pre-text to get into Uncle Willy’s compound and to convince him to turn over his surface to air missiles. As much as he respected Uncle Willy, he could not knowingly let that kind of firepower stay loose in the wilds of Marin. Maybe someday they’d see that they were on the same side, but for now Uncle Willy’s distrust of the government made it difficult to have more than a temporary truce.  Uncle Willy’s mercenaries were introduced to McKinnon. They were polite but they didn’t trust the present government any more than Uncle Willy did. McKinnon overlooked the automatic rifles and the other weapons. Uncle Willy was not pleased to say the least. But then again, Uncle Willy had connections and he was not particularly upset about the minor setback. He was not expecting an immediate need for SAMs anytime soon. He knew he could get anything he wanted just by picking up the phone. He’d have whatever he wanted within a week.

Both Fox and Rossellini were offered jobs in McKinnon’s Black Ops group. Rossellini enthusiastically accepted a position to become a part of the McKinnon’s geek squad. Fox was asked to enter a training program and eventually join Kim as one of only a select group of field agents. Fox nodded his agreement, and shook McKinnon’s hand, and almost smiled.

Patty was not pleased by the announcement but after her recent ill-advised escape from the compound and misadventure she was in no position to argue. She also knew it would have served no purpose to propose that Fox return to his old world. She accepted the fact that he was a different man than the one she met in the elevator. In fact, the day after he got back from the Persian Gulf he tendered his resignation at Seclarity. She knew if not McKinnon’s group, Fox would have found another one to join. She accepted his change reluctantly because she knew who he was now. She knew it was of no use to argue. McKinnon also informed Uncle Willy and Fox that Springer, two ex-NSA senior executives and three present NSA executives tragically died in an unfortunate plane crash on their way to a vacation in the Bahamas. Uncle Willy couldn’t hold back his joy at the news but caught himself in time and overdid it just a bit by saying that it was a tragedy and he hoped they’d rest in peace. He tried his best, but he just couldn’t contain a big smile on his face.

Patty’s big party for San Francisco’s A list social types was a huge success. Rossellini got his picture on the front page of the San Francisco Chronicle stuffing one of Patty’s tasty Chicken Skewers in his face. She got a blurb in the New York Times as well as great reviews in all the local papers. Patty’s very wealthy friend Harry, who gave the big party she planned and catered, was very jealous when he saw a picture of Patty and Fox in one of the more prominent photos in the San Francisco Chronicle’s reporting of the Gala Ball for opening night of the Opera. Fox was appropriately dressed in white tie and tails. Patty put Cinderella to shame in a low cut black velvet Zang Toi gown with a magnificent long Trane, intricately beaded in silver. Fox was over the moon that the Opera had somehow managed to land the beautiful British Mezzo-Soprano Katherine Jenkins to play the lead in Carmen.

And of course Patty and Uncle Willy were very excited for Fox. This would be the first time the Israeli Medal of Valor was ever given to non-Jews or Jews who weren’t already Israeli citizens. The Israeli government gave Fox immediate Israeli citizenship which was his birthright by having a Jewish mother. So there were, technically speaking, three non-Jews given this precedent setting award. Attending the ceremony were a dozen souls: two members of Ashkenazi’s cabinet representing Mossad and Shin Bet, Ashkenazi, Uncle Willy, Patty, McKinnon, Schwartz plus the five recipients of the medal. Schwartz was quite proud. He was an American Jew. After a simple genealogy scan from Ancestry.com it turned out that Uncle Willy was also part Jewish. His father had escaped the Nazis in Germany by changing his son’s name to a German derivation of Fox. Fox had assumed all these years that his father was a German of Christian descent. His father was also a German Jew whose parents had moved from Warsaw to Berlin in the early twentieth century. Uncle Willy’s father had kept one of the German derivations of Fox, Schlaukopf. The literal translation of Schlaukopf is “clever or smart head” but it was also used as slang as in “clever as a fox”.

The Prime Minister gathered everyone in the Israeli equivalent of the Oval office. No media. The public, especially the Israeli public, could not know how close the terrorists had come to wiping Israel off the face of the map. Like many such ceremonies for other heroes of clandestine operations, only a select few got to know what actually happened and who the real heroes were. In his perfect Princeton educated New England/English accent and beautiful baritone speaking voice, David delivered a simple and stirring introduction.

“Ladies and Gentlemen. We gather here today to honor warriors who have shown us unrivaled bravery, intelligence, and courage. Their actions saved our God given Holy Land of Israel. These men and women who stand before you are true heroes. This is the first, and perhaps the only time, that this highly esteemed award will be given to non-Jews. In the past the award has been given exclusively to Jews in our great wars which we have fought since our founding. I have decided that we, as a nation and a people, must show our gratitude for this extraordinary bravery and heroism. The will and ability to prevent a second Jewish holocaust took acts of heroism we can never repay. 

There is no way that the Jewish people and the state of Israel can ever properly thank these heroes, but it is my hope that this award is a start. Since there is no political capital to be derived from this secret event, I think we can dispense with the issue of my political motivation. And of course as we know, politics is never involved in the presentation of awards. (He paused for the laughter.) In the past I’ve voiced my opposition to giving Peace prizes to those who have a history of promoting terrorism while using the expediency of peace talks to further through world opinion what they could not do militarily. Or for giving a Peace prize based on the simple promise that someday a prominent man may someday do something of value when we later find out that he’s a dithering wannabe bomb thrower who prefers drones to real on the ground intelligence. But I digress. Today, we break tradition with this award. I’m sure some among the orthodox will be appalled that we have inducted non-Jews into this previously all Jewish pantheon. But they should not be. For these great souls who stand before us are all Jews. If not by birth then in spirit. Maybe this is a trend. I hope so. Perhaps Christians and even Muslims can join hands with Jews to promote the glory of life in good deeds, and not revel in Man’s more base and dark instincts. Today I give this – the Medal of Valor – to Lee Fox. I understand he doesn’t want me to give his full given name. I personally don’t understand his difficulty. I am a big fan of the Chipmunks!”

Smiles and laughter from the group. Fox turned red and almost smiled.

David continued, “I want to also praise Naurian Javari. An Iranian Muslim by birth. She has proven to be a great friend and ally of Israel and the West. She and her FID brothers and sisters give us all hope for better relations with Iran and the Muslim world. To the courageous Kim Jackson of the FBI I want to thank you for your bravery. I hear your injury was only a flesh wound and that it will heal, but I hope you will take the scar, and after it heals the memory, that you received from that day as a badge of honor that you will carry it with you with pride. To the brilliant and eccentric Dante Rossellini we thank you for the amazing gift of life you have given to our people. There have been many creative and idiosyncratic Jews who have contributed mightily to the sciences. You fit right in. And finally I want to thank our own Rivka Cohen. How do you help from beaming with pride when a member of your family is a hero? She not only saved lives by her actions but literally saved the lives of her people, her race, her heritage and thousands of years of Jewish history. How do we thank such a person?  Rivka one day will be a name revered like Miriam, Rahab, Deborah, and Esther. Perhaps she will replace me one day as Prime Minister. I wish I was able to sing your praises to the all the citizens of Israel and implore them to vote for the next Golda Meir – the next woman Prime Minister – Prime Minister Rivka Cohen!

I said I was going to keep this brief, but then again I am a politician and as you all know – we love to hear the sound of our own voices. To call us narcissistic is an understatement. Certainly my brothers and sisters who hold high office in other western countries don’t really think they have big egos or need to spend their time looking in the mirrors and checking their make-up for the cameras. Just ask them – when you can pry them away from prostrate crony donors offering various incentives trying to curry favor. Of course, that never happens here. So it is my great hope that someday we’ll all have leaders with the courage and intelligence of Rivka Cohen who can overcome the venality of the office, a leader who is a true hero representing the people with honor and dignity.”

And one by one The Prime Minister placed a Medal of Valor around their necks and shook their hands.

“I have asked them all if they’d like to say a few words. Ms. Jackson, Mr. Rossellini, and Ms. Cohen have chosen to let their actions speak for themselves. If only our politicians could make such proclamations to let their deeds and not their rhetoric do their speaking. Mr. Fox and Ms. Javari please speak for the group.”

Fox went first.

“I want to thank the Prime Minister and the State of Israel for this great honor. This has been a life altering experience to say the least. But rather than simply thanking the members of this team I want to single out something that I think will do the most to help keep Israel safe, and indeed to keep Western Civilization safe, now and into the future. Mr. Prime Minister, I’m sure you are aware of the contribution now of the FID, an organization called Free and Democratic Iran. I believe it is time that you and the enlightened leaders in the West work more aggressively with them to depose the brutal theocrats in Iran. It is time to be proactive to the Iranian threat – not just to protect Israel but to protect all of Western Civilization. Partnering with the FID will go a long way toward that goal. Thank you.”

“My name is Naurian Javari. I have been a follower of the Mujahedin-e-Khalq, a resistance group whose goal it has been since the fall of the Shah, is to take back Iran from terrorists and religious fanatics that have stolen our once great civilization. MEK was originally a Marxist group, though now they’ve moderated somewhat. Nevertheless, I became disenchanted with their oppressive ways, the hate that permeated the MEK. I saw them replacing one type of tyranny for another. So we formed the FID which stands firmly for Freedom, Democracy and Religious tolerance. Not just for Iran but for all nations. The recent events that joined former enemies together have been life affirming and life changing for me as well in ways I cannot begin to explain. It’s not that I set out to help save the Jewish State. Not at all. Many of my people are filled with hate. We started out very much as young radicals against the Shah. I was one of them. But I learned the hard way that sometimes the ‘cure is worse than the disease’. You cannot cure hatred and bigotry with more hatred and bigotry. We replaced the Shah with a cult that fueled its very existence on hate. Not just hatred of the oppression from the Shah, but we were fed lies about the West and the Jews. There are indeed some in the Mujahedin-e-Khalq even today who are so blinded by pettiness, prejudice and hatred of Jews that they do not see how inextricably the civilizations of Persia and Israel are intertwined. Perhaps one day they can look past differences and embrace all of our similarities. We are both of ancient cultures that have been under assault by militants who have taken over a religion. In a fundamental way these barbarians who have taken over Iran are no different than the Nazis that took over Germany and turned a prosperous tolerant society into a cult of murderers that attempted to wipe Jews from the face of the earth. Today we have heard the same sort of rhetoric coming from this sickness that now occupies so much of the Middle East and especially Iran.

In the beginning, my objective was merely to stand up for my culture and the Persian people who were being turned into little more than Nazis. With the stark parallel between what happened to Germany and what has happened to Iran, I came to the striking conclusion that the common denominator was the irrational and malignant scapegoating of Jews. So yes, I started out as a simple freedom fighter for my people, but I would like to think I have become much more than that. I will not be silent. I will not be neutral. I will not ignore evil.  I think Elie Wiesel has said it best:

‘I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.’ ‘Indifference, to me, is the epitome of evil.’

‘Finally, we must remember: ‘Never Again’. Thank you”.

With that David started clapping rhythmically and everyone joined in. Fox turned to Patty and kissed her. Patty beamed a huge smile of approval. Fox smiled back.

Fox was very moved by Naurian’s speech. Everyone was shaking hands and milling about congratulating each other. He turned to Uncle Willy and asked, “What did you think of her speech? Wasn’t it great!”

Uncle Willy looked Fox directly in his eyes and said, “You know Lee, I’m all for righteous causes. I’m there with you for saving the oppressed. I don’t think we should stand by when we see a gross injustice like mass murder of any kind. I just caution you that someday you’ll have a leader who’ll make a pitch to the masses that they should go in to one of those backwoods bastions of barbarism and ask our sons and daughters to sacrifice their lives without any real sense of what the objective is. They won’t be able to tell the bad guys from the good guys. And like some of the empty suits we’ve had for leaders they’ll be too timid or they won’t have the willingness to go for all-out war that would actually accomplish their objective. Or if they do go to war, they’ll forget why they’re there. They’ll let the anti-war crowd and the illiberal media undermine their resolve. They’ll snatch defeat from the jaws of victory like they did in Nam or Iraq.  We’ve already had the examples in Kosovo where the only way the guy in the Oval Office could get it up was by tossing a few Cruise missiles. In Syria it was worse. Our historic President threatened actions but blinked and essentially lost all international support for going after either Assad or Iran. But that feckless half-ass kabuki theater made us all less safe. Now Iran has Nukes and it’s only a matter of time until we see more of their terrorists like Ahriman. Running from bullies is always a bad idea. The only way to stop a bully is to punch ‘em hard in the face. But if you’re going to talk about ‘human rights’ and bleeding hearts to justify putting our lives and treasure on the line, you better goddamn have the willingness to put boots on the ground and do some serious ‘regime change’. If not it’s simply a masturbatory act. But since we’ve wasted monetary and political capital going after the wrong bad guys, we’re too neutered to ever act in a meaningful way. So instead of the truth, we get emotional appeals to save the “Children” when you know they don’t give a goddam about the children. They only care about their political future. When it comes to questions of war and peace, melodrama is not a strategic plan. And if you actually do engage in ‘regime change’ you better be sure that the new guy’s not worse than the scumbag you just took out.

And one last thing. You know when those millions of poor blacks in Sudan and Rwanda were butchered by their government, the bleeding heart media didn’t bother to report it. Hardly a peep out of them. No one seemed to care. Are these reporters racist when they lobby for and speak out for some wars but stay silent for others? Maybe. But my guess is that they don’t really report on anything in a country that doesn’t have a Ritz Carlton, Four Seasons or other suitable place for an aspiring Pulitzer Prize winner. They need room service and a well-stocked mini-bar don’t you know.”

Fox just shook his head and said, “No wonder they call you ‘crazy’. It’s like this whole world has gone through Alice’s Looking Glass. Folks like you telling the truth are called crazy and the Mad Hatters running things are called sane. Don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I can’t tell you everything McKinnon told me about my new job. But I think you’d approve. You know, as I was leaving your bunker the last time I was there, I heard that song about the ‘Shapes of Things’. Really liked it. Some things are definitely going to change.”

Epilogue

One month later

San Francisco was experiencing one of those Indian summer days it is known for in late September. Tourists visiting San Francisco in July who expect warm weather are often greeted with a chilly reception. Late September and into October there are a few magically warm days in the seventies and above, where one can actually sun bathe comfortably. Today was such a day. Fox, Leyla and Patty were on the Polar Bear Club beach nestled on towels in their swim suits. Patty had on her one piece. Once again the Polar Bear Club was graced with Botticelli’s Venus in a blue Speedo. All she needed was the large clam, and to stand upon it in the nude, to make the picture complete.  Stu and the old timers could only wish. The gawkers and geezers were out in force to get a peek at Perfect Patty. She felt a little self-conscious but she put up with it for Fox’s sake. They watched one of the members with her infant son make sand castles. Leyla had a small notebook with names. She said that her sister wanted a good Persian name for her baby due in six weeks.

“You know Leyla means dark beauty. Appropriate don’t you think?” said Leyla.

Patty and Fox nodded in agreement. Fox tried to smile. Patty smiled, her bright red lipstick shining in the sun. Leyla began reading from her book.

“Ok. Starting with the letter ‘A’. How do these names sound? Aara, girl, adoring. Afra, girl, praise.  Afsar, girl, leader.  Ahriman, boy, destructive force.”

Fox looked at Leyla. Then turned to Patty.

He spun back to Leyla. Doing a double take he said, “You’re making that up, right?”

Fox sat there with his mouth open. Later he could swear that he heard the song ‘Shapes of Things’ coming from a boom box far off on the Aquatic Park side of the beach. It was getting louder and louder.  

*The end*