The Everpresent Threat

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The Ayatollah's Ghost

“Abdullah, units of American forces are grouping throughout the area according to our intelligence. It looks like they may begin to counterattack at any time.” Mona Ezatkhah, one of the many women who helped Adbullah’s attack that day and one of his most trusted advisors, stood before him biting her lip nervously.

“And why do you look so worried, my Mona? Do you not think the forces we have throughout the city are not equal to the task of fighting them off if they are foolish enough to counterattack? They will do no such thing. They value their president far too much to ever dare attack me. They will attack at other points, but not here. Not now.”

Mona Ezatkhah had worked quietly as a secretary in the Central Intelligence Agency for the past twelve years. She had responded to an ad in the newspaper that asked for forty words a minute typing rate, knowledge of Word, and a conscientious attitude as the primary requirements.

She had that and a Masters in International Relations, so she made the cut. That her parents were from Iran was an added plus for the personnel officer who recruited her as she had what the CIA needed so desperately, personnel who spoke and wrote Arabic.

She still worked for the CIA but so far had kept that fact from Abdullah. She had gone into his American line of organization when she had volunteered to raise money for “The Victims of Zionist Aggression Committee” in the Northern Virginia area. She was allowed to raise money and was told that big changes were coming but did not realize until the day before when she was pressed into service just how big.

Unable to contact her superiors and aware that she could do the most good if she stayed by Abdullah’s side until the right moment, she had obeyed his commands faithfully up until now.

As the situation became more and more desperate, she was trying to provoke a fire fight in hopes of freeing the president in the ensuring confusion. As a double agent, she knew that she took that kind of move only once, since failure risked exposure and would certainly cost her life. She decided this was not the time.

Ordered by her fund raising friends to go to a van on 16th street in Adams Morgan the day of the attack, she had been unable to contact her superiors to alert them to developments. When word came down that they were to carry out an armed attack, she was petrified but went along. She could do nothing but participate when ordered to attack the White House with her fellow fund-raisers.

One thing she now considered that, whatever the outcome, she would have to answer questions from the Agency about being a double agent for participating in the assault. She only hoped that she would be able to redeem herself by making the right move at the right time.

“Of course, Abdullah. I will return to my observation point on the roof and continue to report any developments.” She turned and walked out of the Oval Office from which Abdullah was placing calls to various places worldwide to brag of his success to friend and foe.

Although Abdullah found Mona useful over the years, he was well aware that she was no Aldrich Ames. Such spies came along once in a lifetime. As a survivor of terrorist politics in the Middle East he knew to suspect everyone. He found Mona’s information quite useful, but he knew that she could, one day, turn out to be a double agent. He put the thought away and walked briskly back to the bunker.

Abdullah gladly took a call from his commander of the World Bank attack, Razim, because he knew the twenty-five buildings of that institution were all within spitting distance of the White House and any counterattack would have to first recapture those buildings.

The World Bank was always vulnerable. Despite bomb warnings, thefts, and other types of crime against World Bank employees over the years, the guards there were not armed. Even airport type security gates with sensitive computerized weapons detection capability were deemed too inconvenient by the staff that convinced the Bank’s establishment that they were being paranoid.

The real reason the World Bank, IMF, and other related institutions had not installed such devices was that certain nationals had been walking out of these buildings with computers, information, and equipment for years. Much of this theft came by order from their home governments.

This security breach allowed Abdullah’s troops invade and secure the twenty-five buildings the Bank owned in under an hour. Near every point of entry they found Iranians, Algerians, Yemini’s, Chechen’s, and other foreign nationals that had been on their payroll for years perfectly willing to allow them to pass unhampered.

They also provided guidance to the most important Executive Director’s Offices, and to the trading floors where the Bank traded billions in currency, bonds, and notes every day.

Abdullah’s software engineers and programmers quickly set to work transferring money across borders electronically to accounts he had previously established in over a dozen countries. These included Hong Kong, Singapore, Geneva, Karachi, Panama, Berlin, Moscow, Paris, Tehran, Las Vegas, New York, Miami, Chicago, and Seattle. As he had so carefully planned, once inside the room where these trades were made, the actual transfer of funds was easy.

It was the getting inside such a trading pit that was always so difficult, not operating the computers that allowed the electronic and digital magic that permitted money to be transferred worldwide in nanoseconds.

Abdullah had studied capitalists for years and knew that money, and money above all, was what mattered to them. If the president wasn’t a good bargaining chip, there was always their money to consider. It was the ultimate back up plan. A good negotiator always has foolproof backup plan, and Abdullah was an outstanding negotiator.

Besides providing excellent cover for his forces should the Americans launch a counter assault, the World Bank was important for another reason. As an agency of the United Nations, it would be another vehicle for him to ensure enough votes for a Palestinian homeland in the General Assembly and the Security Council.

Arafat and the others had blown that chance over the years and he was going to make sure that such a chance was not lost this time. The capture of the World Bank and its sister agencies was his ultimate insurance that the United Nations would deliver on his demands even if the United States somehow had the audacity to try to prevent his plan from succeeding.

The United Nations would also be the place where he would negotiate the departure of his forces from the United States. There would be no sympathy for the United States position at the United Nations once the majority of nations realized that the United States was no longer be useful to them militarily, economically, or politically.

Abdullah intended to bombard the international media with this very message thousands of times over the next few days. It would reach a crescendo when the final vote was taken at the United Nations for the People’s Islamic Republic of Palestine.

Abdullah handed the president’s phone to his trusted aid, Aziz Omar. “Well, Aziz, you were right about the trading pits. We were able to reprogram them to flow to our accounts. Very good. Very good. Now I shall take time to pray to the East, which, if I am right, is from this window.”

Abdullah, like Napoleon, realized that a show of religion was often necessary for the troops to maintain their loyalties. He was a fanatical nationalist at heart, and viewed all religion as superstition and empty gestures.

The Islamic faith under which he pretended to view the world was so important to him he knew was a cover, a useful device to rally to masses to his cause for winning a country where he would rule. So, to maintain the image he turned to the East and began to make believe he prayed, saying entire pages he had memorized from the Koran in his youth.

Aziz kept guard over him as he did, remembering other situations he had shared with him over the years. At one point in southern Lebanon, the Israeli commandos had him pinned down and they were near capture. Abdullah had prayed then and afterwards figured out a way to elude capture by hiding in a bombed out house.

In Kuwait, when the international forces moved to liberate it he prayed, then took an American helicopter he had bought on the international arms market and painted American insignia on it. Then, he slipped through the American net before their forces could realize it was not Americans heading to Iran.

Over the years, Aziz knew that no detail was considered too small for Abdullah to check on. From the Muslim American’s who provided him with inside information, explosives, weapons, vehicles and people to undertake his attack on the Americans, to the loyalty of members of his organization that he would have exterminated once he found out about any disloyalty they might harbor.

He knew that if the situation at the White House grew tight, as it had in the past, Abdullah would pull it off with a minimum of loss to the July 1st Stick Force. After all, when he had been held in a Turkish jail many years ago, it was Abdullah who had freed him. Why not believe him now!?

As Abdullah continued to pray, the genius that led to his now standing in the Oval Office overwhelmed Aziz. He had planned this moment for twenty years, actively lining up troops and supplies and allies for the past ten. Everyone had doubted his ability to take the White House, let alone to deliver a fatal blow to the American Way of Life, and yet that is exactly what happened.

It was Abdullah who had discovered that the manholes covering the electric, water, gas, and phone utilities that ringed the streets around the White House were the means to penetrate its much vaunted security. His sources in these utilities provided him with the blueprints that gave him all the information he needed to design a plan of attack.

His agents selling hot dogs, shirts, and photo opportunities immediately around the complex were so sure of the schedule of mundane deliveries -- paper, food, bottled water, coffee, uniforms for the servants and all the other mundane day-to-day routine arrival and departures -- that he knew the precise time to attack was during the changing of the maintenance staff when security was most lax.

It was a timeline that proved invaluable in the early minutes of the attack. It was the kind of attention to detail that always led Abdullah to his greatest success. It was his engineering background in the hands of Satan.

Every detail had been studied, practiced, and mastered. Nothing was left to chance. One of the thousands of Saud cousins had been so excited about the plan when he was given a sketchy outline he contributed nearly a billion dollars of his oil revenues.

He hoped that this would finally avenge his humiliation at the hands of the Americans, including the bombing of his own house and the death of members of his family from that bombing. It was he who was now on the phone to Abdullah.

“Salem malekim, my friend! You are a hero in my land and yours as well I am sure. I look forward to a visit to your new nation next week. May we both give glory to Allah and the Prophet Mohammed on this great day!”

“Malekim Salem! We have much to celebrate soon but first there is much work to do. You will forgive me if I return to my work, Sir?”

Abdullah did not want his forces to get their asses in a sling while he chatted with the Saud cousin. Knowing the Saud’s as they were, he knew their habit of running on and on and their superior “We own the Holy Land. Submit pigs” attitude. He was also well aware of what happened to Hitler‘s forces at Normandy when the Nazi leader had failed to devote every moment to countering the American threat.

“As you wish. Were you able to transfer the repayments of which we had agreed before this operation?” The Saud cousins had not ruled Saudi Arabia for so many years because they were not crafty. He wanted a fifty percent repayment from Abdullah, and he wanted the money transferred from the World Bank through third parties and into his accounts before the Americans had a chance to interfere.

“Oh, yes. You should find the money in your account when you next use your ATM card.” Abdullah joked.

“Very good. Salem malekim.”

“Malekim Salem.”

Early on in the planning of the operation Abdullah had been obsessive in his efforts to ensure that no security force, Arab, American, Israeli, or otherwise, penetrated his forces. He set it up much as Amway or a Ponzi scheme would, with circles of ten that had to be penetrated one after another to be traced to his hand.

When he had been a student he had earned extra money representing Amway to the other Middle Eastern students at George Washington University. As the Shah had paid the university handsomely at the time to accept Iranian students, Abdullah had a large customer base and succeeded up as far as the diamond club. It was an organizing scheme that served as the very model for the July 5th Strike Force, and served it well.

The ultimate responsibility for protecting the president and his complex rested with the military. They had plans upon plans and contingencies to do so, especially since crashing planes and spraying bullets into the White House had become an American hobby of late. But an attack on this scale was never considered a real possibility in a blind spot that only the military could keep to itself.

Much like the ancient Roman Empire had considered an attack on Rome beyond the realm of possibility and therefore suffered ten times the damage they would have had they taken such an attack seriously, Washington suffered the same fate eighteen centuries later.

So when high caliber guns, grenades, shoulder launched missiles, and fixed bayonets were pulled from briefcases, offices, cars, vans and trucks and aimed at the White House guards, they were a victim of surprise, the main strategy of all successful military campaigns.

What Adbullah had learned from the Oklahoma City bombing was that a truck with a painted corporate symbol was excellent camouflage for an American version of an improvised explosive device (IED). All the knowledge of years of using IEDs on American troops in Iraq was useful when using the same devices against them in their own country.

So he loaded up the streets of Washington with all the usual delivery trucks one night -- Choi’s Fresh Vegetables, Pepsi and Coke, Weyerhaeuser Office Products, etc. -- created no stir when they appeared all over downtown just before the attack. And crashing the White House gates with semi’s proved to be most effective in overcoming physical barriers to their assault. They always made it over the barriers.

With the coordinated ground cover laid down from rented office space in the area immediately around the White House to support them, the initial assault teams were able to overwhelm what resistance the Marines and other military personnel within the compound were able to muster. They were cut down individually before they ever had a chance to chance to mount a coordinated counterattack.

All the security measures installed around the White House complex in the past decade -- the floor lights, trip wires, sirens, electronic surveillance devices, the concrete barriers, the closing of Pennsylvania Avenue in front of the structure -- had done little against the overwhelming firepower the Jihadi’s concentrated on the White House.

What came under assault elsewhere at the same time -- Capitol Hill and the Pentagon, Manhattan Island, the Hancock Building in Boston, the TransAmerica Building in San Francisco, the Sears Tower, the Seabrook and Sandia nuclear power plants, the Space Needle in Seattle, the Conoco Tower in Houston, Independence Hall in Philadelphia, and dozens of other points carefully chosen by Abdullah for maximum impact on destroying the American juggernaut and stunning the American psyche so deeply they would have to agree to the establishment of the Palestinian nation.

The bombs planted at the Boston Marathon had been worth the sacrifice of a few nobodies. They taught them how attached Americans were to their traditions, symbols, and heritage and he hit them hard from all three angles based on the success of the Boston Marathon bombings.

In a matter of an hour the White House assault proved to be a monstrous success for Abdullah. In one fell swoop, he had captured the President of the United States, his wife and children, many of his trusted aides, and a good portion of the White House staff. Now, over the President’s line he was hearing of the success he was having all over the country. Allah was good to him indeed, PBUH.

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