Reprisal

By Rob Alexander

The sequel to Repercussion

Carnage in London, buildings destroyed in Boston (US) and martial law declared throughout Europe. Despite the chaos caused by the cyber attacks on the Western World, the second phase of the attack had been halted.
The authorities believe that Ritter, the Al Qaeda mastermind behind the mayhem, is dead.
But a confirmed sighting of him in Lebanon elicits a fast reaction from the authorities desperate to find him before he can strike again.
Ritter is determined to exact revenge on Ginger Symonds and the others who prevented his attacks. His hastily arranged ambushes have cost him several of his men and caused the ruthless slaughter of innocent bystanders.
Their swift reprisal cost him his life and his most prized possession, his laptop.
Now Al Qaeda wants revenge and need to get the laptop back. Ginger Symonds and his crew have dropped out of sight, not realising that anyone knew the laptop still existed. As Al Qaeda frantically search for them through their global network of contacts, the authorities notice the huge increase in communications. What is so important?
Ginger Symonds has unknowingly become the target of an international hunt to either recover the laptop or prevent Al Qaeda getting it back; at any cost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rob Alexander
• Release date: Feb 5, 2012
• ISBN: 9780956222541

Rob Alexander

I live in Devon, in the Southwest of England. I served with 9 Parachute Squadron, Royal Engineers in the 70’s. I then ran my own retail business for over a decade before going to university to become a qualified youth worker. Once qualified, I became an expedition leader and free-lance outdoor pursuits instructor taking groups to various countries around the world. More recently I was a climbing instructor at the Commando Training Centre, Royal Marines.

Book preview

20th September

US 0330hrs UK 0830hrs Europe 0930hrs Lebanon 1030hrs

Saturday, 1030hrs Lebanon

A restaurant near Shtawrah, Biqa’ Valley

The obvious Westerner was studying the sweeping views of the Biqa’ valley from his table near the window. He tried to calm himself; the waiter seemed to be watching him. Was he sweating excessively? It was hot, but not that hot. He fiddled with what looked like his personal sound system as if he were selecting another track. ‘Some gizmo this,’ he said to himself. He slowly turned the body of the gizmo to face the group of people in Arab dress sitting near the window.

The waiter appeared at the Westerner’s table asking for his order. The Westerner stopped nodding in time with his imaginary music and pulled out one of his ear phones. In Arabic, with a heavy American accent, the Westerner ordered more coffee.

He looked back to the group, his eyes again drawn to the only female, her yashmak covering the lower half of her face, accentuating her deep blue eyes. Obviously not a true Arab, he thought, and her skin tone was lighter too. His contact had been insistent that he came here today, but at the same time was very scared giving him the information. He'd been demanding a lot of money for what he described as America’s number one enemy. He played with the controls of his gizmo until the group’s conversation became clear. He quickly flicked to another panel on the screen and then opened it to check that the sound levels were good and the miniature camera was properly focused. Once he'd confirmed the conversation was being recorded, he tried to concentrate on what was being said and keep nodding to his imaginary track. In reality, all he could think about was the idiot who designed this gizmo. In a covert situation, anyone sitting near their target and trying not to make eye contact tended to be suspicious. If the operative was sitting there, holding an electronic device constantly pointing towards a wary target, he was going to be in trouble. He had to make sure he didn’t make eye contact, especially as most of these guys hated Americans. He felt himself get hot and begin to sweat profusely when he remembered he had just spoken and so they now knew he was American. He kept nodding, avoiding eye contact as he tried to concentrate on the conversation and hold the camera still.

‘The operation has gone better than we could ever have imagined. The Infidels are running in all directions, chasing shadows. The means to destroy the West through its belief in capitalism are in place and everything is going well. The infidels are like dogs, at each other’s throats, killing and wrecking their cities and homes. They're not so civilised now! They now know how we feel; they can live in the shadow of the gun.’

The younger man sat back and looked out of the window at the view of the Biqa valley before continuing. ‘We must be patient and wait at least a week or two before we begin the next stage. We’ll stay here with our brothers, away from the chaos in the land of the unbelievers. Nearly everything is in place, but timing is crucial. In the meantime I've a personal score to settle with some meddling Englishman called Symonds who almost ruined everything. When I find him, I'll take great pleasure in arranging something to repay him for his interfering.’

‘But you can’t go back there,’ Muhammad Hamaduna said, slightly worried.

‘Why do we have to go back in this electronic age?’ the female answered.

Husayn Murad, leant forward, flicking his shemagh over his shoulder. ‘How did you escape the chaos?’

The female with the blue eyes spoke with obvious excitement. ‘Stedman just drove straight past the factory to where I was waiting. It was easy; the explosion that destroyed the building was huge and a little close.’

Stedman Ritter leant forward, laughing. ‘The fools were following my cell phone as I expected. I drove past the parking lot and tossed it out of the window. Perhaps the explosion was a bit closer than I'd planned, but it was spectacular.’

The conversation became fuzzy as the waiter got between the gizmo and the table. He spoke to the Arabs and glanced towards the American.

‘Oh shit, the bastard is alive,’ the American muttered, suddenly realising who he was listening to. He looked up quickly. ‘Damn, I think I’ve been rumbled and Langley is gonna want to hear this.’

One of the Arabs used his mobile phone and the conversation became agitated.

The American threw some money on the table and headed for the door. ‘Time for a quick exit,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Now, how the hell does this thing transmit?’ He looked at the meter on the machine and saw it had no signal. He felt a sense of panic, as he continued muttering to himself. ‘Shit, now of all times. The most important bit of information I'll have ever got my hands on and the fucking machine doesn’t work. I’ve gotta get this information off to Langley, now.’

He cursed as he left the building and out into the bright sunshine. Initially, temporarily blinded, the walk to his car seemed incredibly long. He tried not to hurry as he heard doors slam and shouts behind him; instead he kept his eye on the meter, looking for a signal. He reached the car, jumped in, and started the engine. He saw the signal meter flicker and with a sense of relief he tapped the transmit sign on the screen.

He didn't hear the gunshot, feel the gizmo being ripped out of his hands or notice he had left the road as his car plunged down the cliff towards the valley.

Stedman Ritter looked angrily at the transmitter, especially the little screen that said, Message sent.

Muhammad Hamaduna, gently put his hand on his shoulder. ‘Whatever your plans were, you’ll have to change them. You cannot stay here now. As soon as the Americans get that signal they'll send their Special Forces to kill you.’

Ritter shook his head slowly. ‘Now they know I’m alive they’ll hunt me down.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Get the plane fuelled. We’ll leave immediately and start the next phase a bit earlier than planned.’

*****

Chapter Two

Back to the top

20th September

US 0348hrs UK 0848hrs Europe 0948hrs Lebanon 1048hrs

Saturday, 0348hrs Boston

Operation Panther

An urgent shaking roused General Chuck Harvey from his fitful sleep in his chair. The General was in charge of Operation Panther, a joint agency task force trying to catch the cyber terrorists. He sat up, rubbed his hands roughly over his face, stretched and then ran his fingers through his close-cropped grey hair in a vain attempt to wake.

‘General, there is an urgent message from Langley. They’ve found Ritter. He’s alive! They’re sending a surveillance tape they've just received from Lebanon.' The General looked at the haggard face of Bob Victor and noticed his eyes were sparkling bright again. ‘God, do I look that bad as well?’ he thought as he followed him out of the office.

Major Tom Johnson, his second in command, was already there. 'General, the GPS signal originates from a restaurant near Shtawrah, in the Biqa’ Valley, Lebanon. The transmission only lasts just over four minutes. But, it confirms that Ritter was there about 16 minutes ago. That would be about 1030hrs, local.'

'No chance the bastard is still there?' the General asked.

'No chance, sir. When you watch the clip you'll see the group getting pretty agitated towards the end and the camera is moved in a hurry. The agent obviously felt he'd been compromised and made a run for it to transmit the recording.'

'Any news on the agent?' the General asked, receiving a slow shake of the head as an answer. He started watching the clip. 'I want to know everything there is to know about these other two Arabs.'

Bob Victor, an intelligence officer from the CIA currently seconded to Operation Panther, answered immediately. 'I've a positive ID of both of them. One is Husayn Murad and the other is Muhammad Hamaduna. They're both on our most wanted list. In fact, there haven't been any other reports of these two being seen together. They've both got strong links with Al Qaeda and organising terror campaigns. I'm waiting for other agencies’ files.'

The General was only half listening. 'Get me a secure line to the Joint Chiefs. We need eyes in the area, now.'

'General, got the Joint Chiefs on the line,' Bob said, handing him the phone. The General listened for a minute or so, before he put the phone down. He found a chair and sat down. 'Our orders are to keep looking for evidence of a second cyber attack. They want us back at Crypto City to maximise the use of the facilities there. The Mediterranean Fleet has been ordered to go-about and steam east to support any possible ground action. A Delta team has already been dispatched to Cyprus in readiness for a ground operation. We're gonna have to rely on eyes and ears on the ground for intelligence, we can't get a drone in position quick enough.'

The drone, or Predator, an unmanned aerial vehicle, was capable of eighty miles an hour with a range of 450 miles. It was regularly used for surveillance operations where it could stay airborne for 24 hours. In flight it would continually transmit high-resolution, real-time images. The cameras were powerful enough to easily pick out individual car number plates. On this occasion it would've been especially useful as it was also equipped with two Hellfire missiles. A positive sighting of Ritter could have been resolved immediately.

The General continued. 'They are gonna re-route a satellite, but he'll be long gone before that's in position. Bob, it's crucial you keep pushing your team. Maybe, you could check the passenger lists and private jets. He must have used a jet to get there, and it must have had a flight plan. We gotta find that bastard fast. He’ll be spooked as hell now. He’s certain to bring his plans forward. But where the hell is he? The bad news is that they want me in Washington now. They want to know what’s going on and what I’m gonna do about it.’

*****

Chapter Three

Back to the top

20th September

US 0355hrs UK 0855hrs Europe 0955hrs Lebanon 1055hrs

Saturday, 0855hrs GMT London

The Brigadier’s Office

Brigadier Colin Forest sat back in his chair as soon as he put the phone down. The Brigadier was in charge of an offshoot of British Intelligence and had been working closely with Operation Panther. The Brigadier was the complete opposite of his US counterpart. Where General Chuck Harvey had a barrel-chest, weighed in at well over 200pounds and had cropped grey hair, the Brigadier was a short, wiry man. The Brigadier had fairly long, curly, dark hair. His dark hair was thinning and he habitually brushed it with his fingers when he was deep in thought, much to the amusement of his men. They claimed that his unconscious action was probably the cause of the hair loss. Unfortunately, this was compounded by his other habit of smoothing down his now non-existent 70’s gaucho-moustache with his finger and thumb. Operation Panther was an American multi–agency task force set up to catch the group of cyber-terrorists who had caused worldwide chaos when they caused the financial systems to fail. They had established that Ritter was the mastermind behind the outrage, but after he had been declared dead in Boston, killed by one of his own explosions, the hunt for him had ceased.

The Brigadier wasn't sure what to make of his feelings. He was a little surprised that the call from Chuck Harvey had initiated such feelings. Was it excitement or dread? Both he and Alain Leroy, his opposite number in France, had always maintained that Ritter had staged his own death in order to initiate a second attack. They had been proved correct about the first part, but that would also mean the countdown had begun. What would the outcome be? Ritter had been very unlucky to be spotted so fast. Unfortunately, it might cause him to panic and start the next phase of his plans. They could have done with more time to pre-empt his next strike. He tried to concentrate after hearing the terrible news. There'd been carnage on the streets of London. Thousands of people had begun demonstrating on the streets when the cyber-attack had taken out the financial system, rendering their credit cards useless. There had then been a run on the banks, which had quickly run out of cash. The crowds had turned into a mob, determined to protest at Downing Street. They had killed several of the soldiers on the first barricades on Downing Street and then tried to overrun the final barricade, manned by the Paras. Soon, in the cold light of day, the final toll of the carnage would be known. The media would have a field day, full of accusations about the use of machine guns on the streets of London. He could already see the headlines, A Bloody Sunday in their own capital city. The politicians would already be sharpening their daggers, clamouring to get on various committees to find a scapegoat. Colin Forest knew that if Ritter got his way this was only the beginning. He had found and exploited a security weakness and used it as a catalyst to cause chaos in a money-driven society. The repercussions in the financial industry and economy as a whole would be felt for months, if not years, to come.

He pulled himself together quickly and picked up the phone. 'Woody, page Norry and Ross, please. Tell them to come in, ASAP. Get them on the next available flight to Malaga. We should have a copy of a surveillance tape winging its way to us. Burn off a copy for me and bring it in, please. Oh, forward a copy to Alain Leroy as well and get me some transport and tell him I’m on my way. '

He picked up the phone again. ‘Woody, ring Alain Leroy and warn him a copy of the tape is on its way. More importantly, better tell him to warn his contacts around Europe to look out for any unusual incident. Ritter is on his way.’

Within thirty minutes Major Norry Bedford and his second in command Ross McBean knocked at his door and entered his office.

'I take it you two expected a call?' the Brigadier asked with a smile. 'Ritter is in Lebanon and knows he was spotted.' He waved them to some seats and played the recording.

'I want you to start looking for Ginger Symonds and his crew. The tape confirms that Ritter considers them unfinished business. If you find Ginger, Ritter will come to you.'

He paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. 'My guess is that they'll be in Spain, especially as they've got a shed load of Euros to spend that they consider the spoils of war. Why break a 9 Squadron tradition? When a bunch of Para Engineers have worked hard, they’re going to play hard, and where better than Spain. You're booked on the next available flight to Malaga. Start there, as it's the gateway to many of the best-known lager-lout hotspots.' He looked at his watch. 'You better get going; it leaves in a couple of hours. You've been cleared to carry weapons on the flight and at the other end. Introduce yourself to the locals, as they could be helpful. But, keep it low key; tell them that you only want to put Symonds and company under surveillance.'

Norry and Ross started for the door when the Brigadier spoke. 'Try the car hire offices at the airport. They'll have a copy of all driver licences and their holiday addresses. The problem is they'll almost certainly be closed. Then, you'll have to find someone to open the door without starting a nation-wide manhunt. If you do get to speak to anyone from the car hire company, no doubt they'll remember them, as they most likely paid with cash.'

'Good luck. There'll doubtless be several companies,' the Brigadier said as an afterthought.

Colin Forest’s mind moved on to Ginger Symonds. Ginger had been kidnapped by mistake, but managed to escape and get back to the UK. He had met up with some of his old Para and Bootneck mates and stopped Ritter’s plans. Going by their recent performance, Ginger and his bunch of geriatrics had a better prospect of catching Ritter. He laughed out loud. ‘Geriatrics.’ His lads had nicknamed them Ginger and the geriatrics. Most of them would be in their forties, I’d hate to think how old my lads think I am if they call that lot geriatrics. He laughed again. The silly sods would probably have agreed to be the bait if he had been asked. What chance did the security forces have? The establishment relied on the use of intelligence gathering from numerous sources, but how much of it had now been compromised? The departments were full of political correctness, not prepared to make decisions in case it affected careers, stifling those who really could make a difference. They spent their time battling red tape or the Health and Safety regulations. Perhaps the events of the last few days would shake up the establishment. No chance, he thought as he came to a decision. Norry and Ross can have a snoop about to find our missing geriatrics, unofficially. He smiled, thinking to himself that this time I’ll have some men on the ground when Ritter shows up.

Saturday. 1045 hours. Paris.

Direction de la Surveillance du Territoire.

(DST; Directorate of Territorial Surveillance)

On arrival in Paris, Brigadier Colin Forest was shown into a conference room. He saw that the conference table was strewn with files and the centre was covered by several large pieces of paper. Alain Leroy jumped up to welcome him. ‘Colin, good to see you. Coffee?’

Taking the Brigadier by the arm Alain pointed out his spider chart on one large sheet of paper. Alain began to explain his thoughts. ‘Initially, I believed Ritter had tried to implement, what the Americans call a Fire-Sale. This involves a three-step cyber-attack. Step one; you take out the transport system. Step two; you take out the financial and telecom systems. Step three; you take out the utilities, gas, water, electricity and nuclear. Computers control all these various areas. If you attack any one group the computer system would cope, attack all three and the system crashes. He looked at the spider diagram on his desk for the umpteenth time. Each leg had a heading, but the bubble in the centre remained blank.

Alain Leroy leant his elbows on the table, stroking his grey beard. ‘He could have successfully completed his attack on the first two steps. But he didn’t, even after clearly demonstrating his ability to infiltrate the highest levels of security.’

He pulled over another big sheet of paper covered with the names and links supplied by Chuck Harvey. ‘I’m puzzled by some other aspects. Ritter planned things well, but I can’t see where he’s going. The links the Americans found answer a lot of questions, but . . .’ He started tapping the paper with his pencil.

Colin Forest nodded. ‘Put a new heading, Media. Colin Forest jumped up, grabbed a clean sheet of paper and began writing. ‘Bear with me a moment,’ he said. ‘People couldn’t get their money from the bank. No radio or TV. No media caused a panic. There was a run on the banks and panic buying. He used the media, or lack of it.’

‘Agreed, but what’s your point?’ Alain asked, but then answered the question himself. ‘He created chaos. But, why stop there? Maybe, he can’t make his next move until things calm down.’

‘The bastard.’

‘What?’ exclaimed Alain.

‘Think about the effect the media assumptions had on share prices. The stock in any company targeted by Ritter would have plummeted after today. Talking about the stock market, think how the events of the last few days will have affected the price of any of the financial institutions involved.’

‘Oui, oui. Of course.’ Alain was rummaging through paperwork on the table. ‘Look!’ he said pulling a report from a pile. ‘This report states that Sandford Ruben at Midtown Investments placed a bet on the stock of Century Industries Inc, Seabrooke Components and CP Foods going down.’ He made a disbelieving noise, then continued in a heavily sarcastic tone, ‘Strange, a real coincidence that he placed a bet on the day the IRS were going to visit Ruben about insider trading. Even more of a coincidence is that it was the same morning that they all got blown to pieces.’

There was a disgusted expression on Colin Forest’s face. ‘Ritter is one cold, callous bastard. He must have control of Ruben’s systems and will still collect, despite the destruction of the company buildings and its staff.

Colin Forest began fiddling with his glasses again. 'He seems to be working for, but at the same time using, Al Qaeda to cover up his own criminal activities. I wonder how much he’s siphoned out of the various banks during all the chaos he caused.’

Alain Leroy tapped his pencil on one of the legs of the spider labelled, Super computer. ‘Hell will freeze over before he loses control of his computer. He'll have to complete his side of the bargain for Al Qaeda or they'll kill him. He needs that computer. The Americans are stupid if they really think it got destroyed. They’re probably trying to cover up the fact that they still haven’t got control of some of the satellites and have been unable to track the computer down. It could be anywhere in the world.’

Colin Forest nodded in agreement, ‘It all comes back to computers. There are reports of computer violations all over Europe and the US.’

‘And Australia and Hong Kong. There are even reports from Russia and China.’ He paused, and shook his head. ‘This confirms something that's bothered me for a while, the concept that this is a global attack by Islamic radicals. If you accept their reasoning, you're either a believer or an infidel. The extremists argue that since there's no pure Islamic state, then the whole world must be Dar ul-Kufr, The Land of Unbelief. So nobody is safe, they’ve declared war on the world, but especially the Americans and Europe.’

On the way back to London the Brigadier rang Chuck Harvey and told him about his meeting with Alain Leroy. Chuck had quickly pointed out that the countdown had begun as most of the financial companies had already got their systems back, but the databases were a mess. The next problem would be on Monday morning, when the banks opened. How could they prevent another run on the banks? That alone could bring the country to its knees. If there was another major incident who knew what the outcome would be?

*****

Chapter Four

Back to the top

19th September

US 2300 hrs UK 0400 hrs Europe 0500 hrs

Friday. 2300 hrs. Boston.

Operation Panther.

‘What was the point of trying to destroy half of Boston?’ mimicked General Harvey. ‘The dumb bastards!’

Tom Johnston, stayed silent, but grimaced in sympathy. What could he say? The General had just got back from a meeting with the Chiefs of Staff in Washington and looked completely shattered.

‘I’ve had my balls chewed, kicked, and stamped on. The stupid bastards! Destroying Boston has given us the mother of all headaches. Where the bloody hell do you start?’ He glared at Tom Johnston.

‘Not a good trip then, sir?’

‘My, are we expert in understatement. Bad? It was fucking terrible. We gotta get this arsehole fast or we’ll find ourselves probing the Iranian ground defences on foot. Jesus, they wanted to know what the hell we’d been doing.’ He flopped back into his chair. ‘Gimme a drink before you hit me with any more bad news. I’m absolutely done in.’ He thought for a moment before he said quietly. ‘Sorry Tom I forgot you were in Boston and witnessed the carnage.

Tom Johnston strode over to a filing cabinet and brought out a bottle of Jack Daniels. His weary face managed to give a half smile in response He poured a good measure into a coffee-mug. ‘Only for medicinal purposes,’ he said as he poured himself one as well. He lifted the coffee mug in a silent salute. ‘I need this after today; it’s been the longest day of my life. God, I really feel like shit. You’ll need that drink when I bring you up to speed. It ain’t a pretty picture.’ He picked up the phone. ‘Bob, pick up your mug and come to the office. The General wants an update.’

‘Oh,’ was all he got as a reply.

Bob strolled in and immediately offered Tom his mug for a belt of the medicine. Bob dropped into a chair and the General noticed how tired he looked. ‘Hard going?’ he asked.

Bob nodded, gazing at the contents of his mug. ‘Bloody frustrating, more like it.’

Tom took a slurp of his drink, before pointing at the white board. ‘What we wanted was a breakdown of the companies targeted by Ritter. These are Century Industries; Midtown Investments; Seabrooke Components and CB Foods. What would have normally been a relatively easy exercise has turned into a bloody nightmare.’

He tapped the headings on the board. ‘All the buildings were totally destroyed. The incendiary devices completely wiped out the customer records. The cyber-attack means that we can’t access any of the bank records, therefore, there’s no easy way to check customers. Bob went to the IRS, but all their records are linked to the banks. They weren’t a lot of help, none of the staff turned up, saying it was too dangerous on the streets, and it’s the weekend anyway.’

He banged the board. ‘It’s the same problem with the computer violations. We’ve collated the companies, but have been unable to speak to anyone, again, as it’s the weekend and there have been some riots or something.’ He took a sip of his JD.

The General stopped him. ‘Calm down. Let’s look at what we do know. The media? He’s used the media every time and they will be working. Get hold of the editors and give them a heads-up on what’s going on. Explain that we need their help.’

Tom Johnston interrupted, ‘General, you’re gonna have to clear that from above. You know how paranoid the big Chiefs are about the Press and TV.’

‘We’ve gotta stop this bastard. We need to know about incidents as they happen. The security forces are at breaking point trying to clear up the mess that he’s already caused. Ritter knows he’s caused chaos, he did it on purpose.’

‘General,’ Bob Victor said quietly. ‘I think you better listen to this before you go any further.’

The General looked at the grave, fatigue-lined face. ‘What you got, Bob?’

Bob Victor shook his head, ‘Not good. We knew that CB Foods was in the flavour industry, but we didn’t realise how highly secretive the industry was. They consider it essential to protect the identities of their clients and their brands. Soft drink, snack food and fast food companies all rely on their unique product taste or aroma and its secret formula. The aroma of food can be up to 90% responsible for its flavour. That same science allows the same flavour companies to produce the smell of famous perfumes and household