Chapter 3
Bryan Caldwell walked to the podium, in St. Louis, to address the leaders of the Sons of American Liberty. His troops had been training for many years for this. The Sons of American Liberty had secret squadrons in cities from coast to coast. Caldwell kept the squadrons small to avoid detection by the FBI and he barraged his followers constantly with real and imaginary mistakes that the American leadership made. Caldwell had carefully picked his people over twenty years; picked them so well that the FBI had no idea they even existed. A few candidates with big mouths had to be silenced along the way, but Caldwell's present forces were well-trained and ready to make America great once again.
America would be great again right after it got rid of the Muslims, Jews and the Mexicans that were taking jobs that Americans needed. If the Mexicans wouldn't go home voluntarily they would have to accept the justice that Caldwell and his followers had planned for them. The blacks would be allowed to stay but they had to realize that this country was a white, God fearing country and if they wanted to stay they had to abide by the white rules. America was a Christian country and non-Christians were not welcome.
Caldwell paused before he spoke, soaking up the adulation of his followers, "Brothers, America has been shamed by the inept leadership in Washington. Our troops are being slaughtered in Iraq. In most countries where our troops are stationed, they are afraid to leave the base. In Europe, where some of the troops have their families, the children of the soldiers and airmen have been murdered and the women of the soldiers have been made sex slaves of the Muslims in that country.
Caldwell did not have any reports of these acts against the families of American troops in Europe but he needed to galvanize his followers. His followers would protect American women and children to the death.
Caldwell continued, "In seven days the Muslim scum that have refused to accept American goodness and have sworn allegiance to their Arab homelands will come to know the wrath of true American justice. The rag heads are going to realize that their fake God will not help them and only the true God will show them the way. Our expeditionary forces are in position and are preparing our revenge. The attacks will be coordinated to occur at the same moment. There is no way that the Muslims can protect themselves from us. It is our time now."
Caldwell had to pause as his followers stood up and cheered his words. He looked around the room and soaked up the love of his people. This is what he was born for; to make America great again.
Caldwell put his hands out to silence the followers, "It is time for all of you to disperse to the cities of our country and help us to send the message that if you help the enemies of America you are going to feel our justice. Our justice will be swift and deadly. You have all been given specific tasks to accomplish and your orders stand. Your missions will be completed even if it means that you perish. You will die knowing that God and your country will honor your name as long as the American flag flies over this country. Your sacrifices will become the songs that mothers sing to their children at night. Brothers, I order you to go and complete your tasks. America must show the world that we will not be cowed."
Caldwell walked off of the stage to the thunderous approval of his followers. He smiled as he thought about his followers already in place and ready to turn America around. His plan had been in the works for twenty years and some of the greatest business minds in America had reviewed the plans and fine-tuned it and made it workable. The FBI would be aghast if they knew of the American companies that aided and supported the Sons of American Liberty.
Caldwell slipped into the cornfield that hid his headquarters on his six hundred acre farm in Indiana. Most of the buildings that were used for the works of the Sons of American Liberty were underground and corn grew on top of most of them. This kept them safe from the prying eyes of the government's satellites. Caldwell took extreme measures to insure that he was not detected by the satellites.
All traffic to the farm was by trucks that had tarps to hide the followers and once at the farm the people got out of the truck in pairs and immediately darted into the cornfields. If anyone was watching, it would be almost impossible to tell that this was anything but a working corn farm. Any movement on the farm was controlled to avoid bringing attention to them. Even the people in the town that was closest to the farm had no idea that anything like this was going on right under their noses. The farm had classrooms, offices and even a firing range under the cornfields.
Every big city had a squadron that blended in with the local population. It was at the squadron in Detroit that Mark Swift looked down on the Mosque across from the office that he rented. The office was on the second floor of an older four story building and had windows that could be opened. It provided the squadron with the perfect angle for the rocket propelled grenades to be shot through the windows of the mosque and hit the floor before exploding. The plans was for each of the four men in the squadron to fire two RPG's each into the mosque and then rush the building with the incendiary devices and throw the devices through the shattered windows. Mark was sure that no Muslims would survive the attack. He knew that similar plans were in place for two other mosques in Detroit and also at mosques in New Jersey, Washington, New York, Seattle, Chicago and Baltimore. In all, twenty-three mosques were targeted to be destroyed.
Mark walked away from the window and sat at his desk. He turned on the computer and checked his emails for the message that he was waiting for; the message that would start the operation and convince the Muslims to get out of America and go back to their own country. This would be only the start. If the Jews loved Israel so much, let them go there and leave America to Americans.
There it was! The message was from SOAL@comcast.net. Mark opened the email. It said that the sender hoped that everything was well with him and that his mother would arrive at five in the afternoon on Friday. Mark beamed; it was finally going to happen. It was about time; he had been in place for almost a year now. America had lost its way for a while but it would soon be made right again. Friday would be a day that America would mark as its rebirth.
Mark gathered his men and began to go over the plan. By Friday each man would know the plan by heart and would be able to accomplish his mission even if the police tried to interfere. The backpacks were prepared with the incendiary devices and placed next to the door so that the squadron could grab them and run to the mosque. After the mission, each man in the squadron would go in a different direction to a safe house in a different city. They would receive further instructions from headquarters in a few weeks after the attacks on the mosques.
Mark watched the others at work on the devices. On Friday America would know the Sons of American Liberty and all patriotic Americans would rally around the organization. Caldwell had told the members of the squadrons that were attacking the mosques that America would reward them with high positions in the new government.
On Friday the squadron went over the plan several times and checked and rechecked their equipment. The RPG's were set by the windows facing the mosque and the weapons were loaded. Mark put a notice on the office door that the office was closed and the company was going out of business. He didn't want anyone banging on the door. There had never been a company and the office was only used as a staging area for the mission.
At four thirty all of the men took their position at the windows. There were only two windows in the office so each man would fire his two RPG's and then step away and let the other two fire their weapons. The first two men would grab their backpack containing the incendiary device and start for the mosque; the second two men would follow right behind with the other two backpacks. The devices were to be thrown through the windows of the mosques after the RPGs were fired and the men were to run and get as far away from the mosque as possible.
Mark watched as the second hand moved. At exactly five o'clock he yelled go and he and the other man fired their two RPG's at the windows of the mosque. Both of the missiles went through the windows and the explosions blew out the remaining windows. Mark and the other man jumped away from the window and rushed to the backpacks and started down the stairs. As he ran down the wooden steps he heard the sound of the other weapons firing into the mosque. The street was strewn with debris and he slipped a couple of times as he rushed the mosque. Both of the men reached the mosque at the same time. Mark nodded to the man and they set the devices to go off in ten seconds. They threw the incendiary devices through the windows and started to run. A man staggered out of the mosque with a gun in his hand. His clothes were in tatters and he had burns on his face and arms. The Muslim put his arm against the building to steady his aim and he fired twice at Mark before the incendiary device went off. The blast killed the Muslim that had fired the shots.
Mark felt the searing pain of the bullets enter his back and he fell on the sidewalk. He tried to get up but his legs wouldn't work. The pain was horrible and he began to claw at his back to get the bullets out. He stopped clawing at the wounds as he began to lose consciousness. Mark felt his face getting wet and when he opened his eyes he saw that his face was in a pool of his own blood. He tried to scream but his heart stopped before he could get the scream out.
Bryan Caldwell watched the news reports on the attacks. There had been seventeen attacks on mosques in the United States the reporter said. One attack was thwarted by police when an alert citizen happened to open a door, while she was taking her daughter around to the offices selling Girl Scout cookies, and saw men with weapons going over battle plans. Several of the other attackers had been captured and were being questioned by the FBI. The death toll in all of the mosque attacks had risen to four hundred and fifty-three and was expected to go higher.
Caldwell struck his hand on the desk. Only seventeen mosques hit! He would put out orders for the cowards that didn't have the courage to complete their mission to be terminated. Although he felt that the men that been captured would never talk, he decided that it would be best to leave the farm for one of the safe houses that only he and a couple of others knew about. He had money stashed at each of the houses so that it would be possible to hide out for quite a while. Bryan Caldwell slipped out of his headquarters and began to make his way to the SUV that he kept fully fueled for just such an occasion.
In the Sudan, Africa:
Carl and his spotter made their way to the farm house that had been the staging area for the assassination. They had been traveling at night for two days, carefully avoiding any contact with the population. They hadn't detected any teams that might be tracking them and they had no problem making their way through the grasses and brush. There had been a lot of military activity, around the site of the assassination, for the first few hours after the assassination but they had not been spotted.
Carl watched the farm house from the security of the grass. After about an hour of watching, an African woman walked out of the house and began to spread her freshly washed clothes out on the branches of the brush surrounding the hut to dry. The woman dropped a bright red garment into the dust and Carl saw her kick the garment as if she was angry at herself for dropping the cloth and having to wash it again. She raised her arms up to heaven as if berating god for having made her drop the garment into the dust.
Carl looked at his spotter and nodded. The actions of the woman had been the signal that it was Ok to come on in. The woman was a CIA operative who had been on station in the Sudan for about ten years. The man that was supposed to be her husband was also a CIA operative. Both of them had been invaluable to the interests of the US.
Carl waited until dark and then made his way to the hut and the
hidden room under the floor.