Caldwell The Enemy of My Enemy

1. Auflage 2018
ISBN: 978-1-5439-4729-8
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet/DL/kein Kopierschutz

E-Book, Englisch, 300 Seiten

Mr. Caldwell retired as an Airborne Army officer after twenty years' service which included combat tours in Vietnam with 2nd Field Forces and D-71st. He then served as a Hospital Administrator for twenty-four years before retiring in 2013. His education credentials include a B.S, an MBA, a post-graduate fellowship in Healthcare Administration and the U.S. Army Command and General Staff College. Mr. Caldwell holds a Black Belt in Taekwondo and is a certified SCUBA diver. He enjoys camping, fishing, kayaking, and his Harley Davidson Softail. He and his wife Patricia live in Pike Road, Alabama. While in Monte Carlo, a brilliant Saudi playboy starts having dreams and auditory hallucinations. During these visions, he believes that the Archangel Gabrial is commanding him to resurrect a modern-day Caliphate, establish a new Islamic world order and become the first global Caliph. As the frequency and intensity of his dreams increases, he starts hearing a single, overpowering voice which lays out a plan for horrific terrorist attacks against the United States. The plan centers around a plot to attribute the attacks to North Korea forcing the United States to retaliate. The result will be an all-out nuclear war with China and Russia. The 21st Century Caliphate will emerge from the ashes of this exchange, subjugate or destroy surviving infidels, and establish its Caliph as the undisputed ruler of the planet. At the same time, a despised, increasingly unstable POTUS loses a bid for a second term in office. The POTUS vows revenge and intends to immortalize himself as the president who surgically removes a 'tumor of a dictator' before a new administration takes office. He has the determination and commands the military might to do so. He also has a radical strategy to contain the conflict and to restore what remains of North Korea once the dust settles. These forces run parallel until they intersect at a terrifyingly plausible, explosive conclusion.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Caldwell, Richard

Leseproben

Chapter 2 Abdulla smiled as he watched the BBC coverage of the attack from his suite in the Hermitage Hotel in Monte Carlo. He always felt a tingly, physical, thrill, and more than a little satisfaction, anytime Jews or crusaders were slaughtered by, well anyone, but especially Jihadists. He didn’t truly understand why, since he didn’t conform to anywhere near the letter of the law as it related to Islam and he had no personal hatred for Jews or infidels. It was almost as if ingrained in his DNA. As he had done for the past five years, Abdulla had come to Monaco to watch the Grand Prix and to preen around the casinos and discos with his always beautiful, always young, and expendable “catch of the day.” He had shipped his Lamborghini Aventador Coupe to Monte Carlo; he wasn’t about to be out shown by the scores of other, thirty-something, multi-millionaires in town at the same time, and for the same reason. These displays of grossly excessive wealth and testosterone had become something of a ritual with his crowd, and he loved it. Abdulla smiled at the BBC broadcast showing the images of carnage and mayhem. Censors had removed most of the gore from the news footage, but the terrified screams and utter panic was obvious and felt in an odd, perverse, sort of way, pleasing to his senses. Abdulla was from Qatar, the first-born son of an unbelievably wealthy family. His father, a sheik, had parlayed a substantial inheritance into an enormous, diversified, fortune. Following in his father’s footsteps, and heeding the advice of British investment advisors, Abdulla had grown his family’s wealth even more. Despite his overly extravagant lifestyle, he was a shrewd and cunning businessman. As with most of Qatar’s elite, the core of his family money had its origin in the oil and nature gas fields of the relatively tiny peninsula. Were it not for having what is generally considered one of the three largest reserves of natural gas, and oil, on the planet, Qatar would be dirt poor, more appropriately “sand poor.” Compared to its neighbors, it had no other natural resources; nothing to mine and virtually no arable land. Historically, Qatar had the reputation throughout the Arabian countries for breeding camels and not much else. Thanks be to Allah, and the internal combustion engine, those days were long gone. Today Qatar boasted the highest per capita income in the world and Abdulla was at the top of the heap. Abdulla’s family had sent him to an all-male, military academy in Switzerland for his secondary education. At first, he felt entirely out of place among the other students in his Freshman class even though the majority were also transplants from other European and Middle Eastern countries. Thanks to the school’s academic demands, and intermural soccer, he soon made friends and found himself bonding closely with a bookish, religious extremist, from Saudi Arabia. It was here that Abdulla began to develop a love and appreciation for math and science. It was also the time when his religious and political views, shaped by what some would consider peculiar perversions, began to meld and his aspirations for power and control started to emerge. Almost every weekend he and his friend, Saad Al Talal, had stayed awake late at night reading the Quran, dissecting every line of every Sura, and discussing the various aspects of Sharia law. Although he didn’t consider himself to be an Islamic fundamentalist, much less an extremist, Abdulla’s beliefs were being fashioned, not so much from Saad’s feverous rantings, but because of his thoughtful examination of Islam and his blossoming penchant for violence and power. Abdulla found himself enamored by the concept of a regional, even global, caliphate. While lying in bed, waiting for sleep to bring the intensely vivid dreams he experienced almost every night, he would sometimes imagine himself as the Caliph. The undisputed ruler of all the territory and all the inhabitants of the caliphate. His fantasy included infidel slaves and meting out brutal penalties for breaking even minor laws. Crowds would part as he walked among them. Men and women alike would cease talking, or whatever they were doing, and bow in his presence. He would be recognized and revered wherever he went. In time, his fantasies began to consume him. Like Abdulla, and all the students at the academy for that matter, Saad, or rather his family, was incredibly wealthy. He could also trace his royal heritage back for hundreds of years, not just the last several, petroleum-dependent decades. Saad’s family always projected a conservative appearance publicly, both politically and with their Islamic beliefs. However, privately they regularly funneled considerable amounts of cash, maintained in untraceable off-shore accounts, to extremist groups in various parts of the world. Although they received the lion’s share, this funding wasn’t always limited to Islamic terrorists. In years past, family money had even found its way to the Irish Republican Army and a violently radical group, Aum Shinrikyo, in Japan. Politically, the family maintained the appearance of being closely allied with the United States and the European Union. In reality, they detested the thought of any association, much less support of, these infidels. Without knowing he was doing so, Saad continually injected this hatred, and contempt, into Abdulla’s subconscious thoughts and beliefs. More importantly, he exposed Abdulla to the subtle art of deception; deliberately projecting one image while being, in some cases, the total and complete opposite. Abdulla’s friendship with Saad lasted and grew, the entire time they were at the academy. At the end of their Sophomore year, Abdulla traveled to Riyadh with Saad to visit with him and his family during the vacation period separating the school class year. Abdulla was amazed at the opulence of Saad’s family estate. Abdulla’s family home in Qatar was lavish but seemed squalid compared to the palatial extravagance Saad had grown up in. It was during this visit that Abdulla began to develop his passion for driving and exotic cars. On his sixteenth birthday, Saad’s father had given him a Ferrari; a red, 570 HP, 458 Italia. It was staggeringly beautiful and looked like it was breaking speed limits just sitting in its garage bay. The problem was there wasn’t anywhere in Riyadh where its beauty, power, and speed could be truly appreciated. Saad longed for the day when he could take it to the UK, Germany or Austria, and scream down the speed limitless sections of the Autobahn. Every single day, during their vacation time together, Saad and Abdulla would venture out to one of the long stretches of desert highway, driving faster and faster each day, trying to get a feel for the nuances of the Italia’s gears, steering, and sheer power. They took turns driving and were careful to demonstrate, one to the other, their skill and daring behind the wheel while at the same time showing respect for the car and to Saad’s father’s trust. They would also take along a couple of the AK-47’s that Saad’s father kept in his Riyadh estate. After arriving at a remote site along highway 40, which eventually led to the holy city of Mecca, they would fire hundreds of rounds at rock targets, lizards, or hapless sand snakes that happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Once they had spooked a pair of Arabian Oryx when they started to fire. Abdulla had started to aim at the fleeing animals, but Saad reached out and pushed up the barrel. He admonished Abdulla for even thinking about killing one of the graceful beasts. He laughingly warned, “don’t even think about it. Not only is the Oryx nearly extinct, but it’s also the national symbol of, and one of the few animals in, your pitiful little country.” Abdulla chuckled then shot back a comment about Saad’s compassion for a wild goat but at the same time his willingness to chop off some reprobate’s head for screwing another guys wife. Then on a somber note, he told Saad that he had never seen a public execution. Saad told him that public executions were no longer announced in advance but that he would see if one was to be scheduled during Abdulla’s visit. Then, somewhat offhandedly, he remarked: “if not we will arrange for one.” Two days later Saad informed Abdulla that an illegal Iraqi immigrant had been caught trying to bring heroin into the country from a boat docked in a port in Jiddah on the Red Sea. He had been convicted of smuggling and sentenced to death. The execution was to be carried out on Friday, and Saad’s father had agreed to escort he and Abdulla to the event. For the rest of that week, Abdulla’s mind raced with a mixture of anxiety, anticipation, and emotions he had never experienced before. He hardly slept Thursday night and when he did his dreams were even more vivid and violently intense than they usually were, and that was almost beyond comprehension. Abdulla and Saad were awakened at the first light of dawn Friday morning by one of the hordes of male servants who were constantly flitting around the estate. They dressed and joined Saad’s father for the morning prayer and then a breakfast of boiled eggs, cheese, pastries and strong Turkish coffee. The condemned drug smuggler wasn’t fed breakfast. He hadn’t been given anything to eat or drink since sundown the day before. His guards didn’t want him pissing all over himself later this morning. Around 0800 a huge Saudi, wearing a black suit, a thin black tie, and a dazzling white shirt, picked Saad, his father, and Abdulla up in a Mercedes S600 Maybach...