Hot Ice

By Royal Bouschor

America's worst nightmare is coming true. well-funded and well-trained terrorists are carrying out a jihadist mission to bring chaos and destruction to the United States. A simultaneous attack on Washington, DC and the Midwest will slice the country in half by turning the Mississippi River into a roiling body of radioactivity and rendering the crippled U S leadership helpless.

Currently, a powerful blizzard is the only thing hindering the terrorists' attempt to smuggle their nuclear material and other supplies across the border between Ontario, Canada and Minnesota.

Until now.

A top secret, government organization is assembling a special operation force to hunt the terrorists down and prevent the attacks. retired CIA agent Zack Sinclair, his old partner and close friend Mickey O'Leary, and CIA operative Sarah Johnson unite to lead a team that must race the clock that's ticking down to the potential mass destruction of two cities.

Following in the same suspenseful and action-packed spirit as his previous novels, The Gimlet Plan and Deadly Crossing, author Royal Bouschor's Hot Ice brings to life the frightening realities America faces as the prime target of many terrorist cells.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Royal Bouschor
• Release date: Apr 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311831408

Royal Bouschor

Royal Bouschor was born and raised in Duluth, Minnesota. he is a graduate of the University of Minnesota and the Wiliam Mitchell College of Law. Bouschor has practiced law in Tucson, Arizona for fifty years and served as a judge for eighteen. He is a businessman, and international hunter, a traveler and the cofounder of the International Wildlife Foundation, which built the prestigious International Wildlife Museum in Tucson Arizona. Living in Arizona and Sonora Mexico, for many years, Bouschor hunted the Arizona/Sonora border regions and northern Minnesota and is familiar with the border problems that beset the United States. In addition to Hot Ice, Bouschor is the author of The Gimlet Plan and Deadly Crossing and in currently at work on a fourth book.

Book preview

I want to thank my good friend Bill Quimby

for his guidance and editing skills he has

honed over the years. He taught me

a lot about the writing process.

Prologue

Earl Biledeau looked out the frost covered kitchen window at the steel grey day for about the tenth time. He scratched the stubble of his grey beard and rubbed his rosy face that resulted from his work outdoors in the cold. He was sipping on a cup of strong black coffee with a little of his brother Charlie’s home brew in it. The men favored their Scottish mother more than their French father.

The bachelor brothers were dressed in their ever present bib overalls and red flannel shirts that set off their rugged looks and highlighted their cold blushed faces. They wore their hats and dirty boots at all times, in or out of the house. They looked like, and were, typical down to earth farmers, six feet tall with strong bodies that had started to go to paunch. Their gray hair looked like it hadn’t been combed or cut in weeks. The 2 men had lived in the house since they were children and just never moved out after their parents passed away several decades earlier. The house hadn’t changed much over the years and being in their sixties they didn’t think there was any reason to make any changes.

I wish those guys would show up Charlie, I’ll be damn glad to get rid of that big damn crate out there in the shed. Christ it took all morning just to dig the damn shed out of the snow and there’s more coming. What do you suppose they got in that thing that’s so secret?

Damned if I know Earl. We got paid and we don’t ask questions, remember? It’s supposed to be some kind of a surprise. Big fish fry they said and wanted to keep the box frozen. It’s been frozen all right. That’s for damn sure.

Hell yes but I’d still like to know what’s in that thing.

None of our business Earl, his brother said sitting by the hot cast-iron wood burning stove in the kitchen sipping on his spiked coffee.

Chapter 1

Adnan Bahar was a tall lean man, six feet tall with a short cropped beard that matched his black hair. His prominent nose stuck out of his face like a hawk’s beak and and made him conspicuous. It was a benefit when he passed through customs and used his passport because there was no mistaking him. It was a handicap when he wanted to be unnoticed so he kept a supply of bushy mustaches to distract from its prominence as much as possible. He went to great lengths to disguise his features as much as possible. Today it was not an option. When he had met the Biledeau brothers originally he wore no disguise.

The nose fit his character perfectly. He was keenly observant and could be as deadly as a hawk when he wanted. He was dedicated and intent and expected everyone else to be the same.

Adnan had been in Canada for three months planning and organizing. This mission was his master stroke and he wanted everyone involved to feel the same way about it as he did.

His parents immigrated to Canada from Syria when he was a child and they brought him up in all the Syrian traditions and taught him well on how to disguise his belief in Allah in their new nation. He excelled in school and as a young man traveled to Syria via Europe on many so called European educational tours all orchestrated by influential people. He was the perfect undercover operative in Canada.

The dark blue Toyota van moved through the Quebec streets lined with naked trees asleep for the winter in the grey vault of the day. The plush evergreens stood in solid contrast to the snow covered ground. Traffic was slow in the big city, but they weren’t in a hurry and they didn’t want to draw any attention.

He drove north out of Quebec and slowly worked their way through the township of Charlesbourg heading to the small farm run by the two French brothers who had fallen on hard times. Subsistence farming was a thing of the past and the long winters in this part of the world made it all but impossible to make a living that way. They were perfect for the job he hired them for. All they had to do was keep the crate in their shed that was far from the farmhouse and not tell anyone about it. He had someone from time to time fly over the farm and the observers never saw any telltale tracks of any kind in the snow around the remote shed. The Canadians had followed orders exactly but they were well paid.

He looked over at Muhammad Hadad, the man who would lead the team into the United States. He was a lean man dressed in jeans and a dark shirt. His height was several inches less that Adnan’s but he was fit and dedicated. His ruddy complexion would fit in anywhere. He was a man no one would take for the man he really was. With a smile he said, Remember you’re William Foster and you’re called Fos by everyone. It’s important that you get your men to talk and think in English only so you don’t screw up. You only refer to me as George. Remember I’m George Sweeny and nothing else. You got that? Your English is quite good and I’m sure the others speak it like a native, seeing they came from here.

Yes George. I’ve talked to the boys about this ever since they arrived in Quebec last week. They know the routine. I’m ready and they’re ready. No one and I mean no one is going to mess this up. This is just too big of a thing. We’re gonna fuck the Americans big time. We’re going to divide that country in half, he said as he chuckled.

Nice leather jacket Fos. Where did you guys get your clothes?

We bought everything in a thrift store with the cash you supplied us. We haven’t used the Visa or MasterCard yet because we don’t know how secure they are.

You don’t have to worry about that Fos. Both cards go to the same Toronto bank account and there’s plenty of money there so you’ll have no problem.

The guy in Toronto that made up your Canadian and U S passports and drivers licenses and other ID created the cards as well. They’re legit cards and will be honored. They’ll never be questioned as long as they work and they will work as there are adequate funds available to you.

"That’s great. I didn’t want anyone to have any new clothes. We have to fit in around here but looking at how the people dress up here I think we may be dressed a little low class. The biggest problem was shoes. The California guys never wear anything but Nike running shoes and I couldn’t change that. The 2 Canadians only wanted boots.

Tell me about your men. I know you picked them but how do you feel about them?

They’re OK George. The 2 black guys from California are pretty stable. They were in the drug smuggling business in San Diego before they came to us. I guess it got too hot for them down there and thought it was time to get lost and God knows they got lost with us in a heartbeat.

They got along right off the start and the men named them appropriately.

What names did they give them? He said as he looked over to Fos.

The Johnson guy we call ‘Willie’ they named Mash’al Aman because he burned down a Jewish grocery store."

George laughed and said, Mash’al, the ‘torch’. I guess that fits. What did they name the other guy? What’s his name?

Washington Abrams; we call him ‘Abe’. He was named Kaseeb Sarkis because he has for kids by three different women.

George shook his head smiling and looked out the window. Kaseeb, the ‘fertile’; Yes they named them well. How did they take to their new names?

They thought they were great and got a real kick out of them.

Fos had been looking out the window the entire time he was talking to George. He couldn’t imagine these cities were all clean and the people walked around well dressed in a casual, unhurried fashion. The West was fascinating him with its prosperity.

They did well in their training in Syria and fought well there and in Iraq both. At least they didn’t get killed. The men seemed to like them and they got along well. They caught on to things fast and really wanted to make a statement so I think they’re ready for the task. I think they’re the ones I want in St. Paul at that winter carnival thing that draws all the crowds for the ice castle and ice carvings. They’re clever and feel they can get away from the area without any problems and coming from California their English of course is excellent. They’re confident in what they have planned and the two of them have discussed it in some detail. I think they’re perfect for that job.

The two Canadians are brothers and aren’t real smart and their English is poor no matter how much they practice. They lived up north in some fishing camp on a big lake. They were a Russian Indian mix of some kind. The California guys gave up on working with them but I still do my best to get them to practice. Their Russian is good I guess. I don’t speak it but they seem fluent in it and the problem is they speak to each other in Russian all the time and not English no matter how much we try to drill that into them. I’m sure they even think in Russian and not English no matter how long they lived in Canada; Hell they lived way up north in some Allah forsaken fishing village.

That’s the reason I figure they’re good for the University of Minnesota job. There’s a whole range of cultures there and they can get into position where they need to be without much contact and should go unnoticed I’m sure. The area we’re looking at doesn’t have much traffic and is primarily used for parking and delivery. I think their delivery van will fit right in. It’s in the back of large classroom buildings and it looks like we may be able to take out a chemistry building at the same time. It may have some interesting chemicals in it to add to the mixture. They don’t have to speak to anyone on that job, but in St. Paul those guys will have to talk to several people I’m sure to explain their presence. The big brown UPS truck fits in OK but it’s still damn obvious and they may have to do some explaining, Fos said as he continued to observe his surroundings.

What do you see Fos? George said as he watched the man.

Fos jerked back and looked at George, who was staring at him.

The windows; There are glass windows everywhere and they’re all clean. The buildings are kept up, the sidewalks clean, the stores are full of goods to sell and the people are clean and dressed well. How do they do that?

George laughed and said, You’ve been in the field to long Fos.

I haven’t seen glass in a window in months. Most of the windows aren’t even made to hold glass. The only windows I’ve seen were in the bigger cities and the glass was dirty or broken. I guess there isn’t enough water to clean the windows there. Did you see the size of that damn lake we’re on? Blessed be to Allah and its all drinkable. That’s almost impossible to imagine. The desert gets in your blood and you think the whole world is like the one you know. This place must look like a garden in the summertime.

George looked at him with a concerned look. He knew Muhammad had never been in the West before. It was a shock to his belief system but he had known the man for many years and knew he was dedicated. Don’t get too carried away Fos. We have work to do. You know what a mosquito is?

Well I’ve seen pictures of them. Why?

The sky is full of them in the summer. They land on you and shove a long needle like tube into your skin and suck the blood out. They fill up a big pouch in their body with blood and fly off.

Are they really that bad?

Believe me they are everywhere. Some carry diseases. You know what a no-see-um is?

Never heard of it.

It’s another little bug that lands on you. He is so small you can’t really see him. He spits on your skin to numb it then takes a bite out of you and flies off. When the spot starts to itch and you scratch it the little guy is long gone chewing on his dinner.

Why are you telling me this George?

"Everything and everywhere has its good and bad points Fos.

Don’t worry about me George. I’m ready to teach these infidels a lesson. You don’t have to worry about me.

George smiled as he turned north on highway 175 looking for the cut off to the Frenchmen’s farm north of Beauport.

The landscape was changing to snow covered fields. Farmhouses were set well back from the road with barns, silos and out buildings. Evergreens were planted in lines as wind and snow barriers and everything looked quiet and peaceful. He shook his head, everything was coming together.

Keep in mind that when we turn those dirty bombs loose in St. Paul at the winter carnival there will be lots of people around to add to the excitement. Several of the buildings are glass high-rises and there’ll be one hell of a lot of glass flying everywhere. They won’t have any idea of what’s ahead for them as they’ll be too damn busy cleaning up and carrying off bodies and the injured. Hell the flying glass could cover several blocks in downtown St. Paul. There’s going to be a serious injury problem that will keep the authorities busy. Lots of those people will have been exposed to radiation and the runoff from ice and snow that’s turned to water from the hot blast goes only in one direction and that’s to the Mississippi River. It’s going to be the hottest ice they’ve ever seen, he said as he chuckled. The hottest ice show ever for the winter carnival, George said as he smiled at Fos and scratched his head under his baseball cap.

The radioactive waste will flow all the way to New Orleans in the charcoal that we will add to the mix. The charcoal will contaminate everything it comes in contact with. The little particles will lodge on the shores, boats or anything they touch. They’ll be testing and cleaning the river and the banks for years. The fire department will only help in our efforts by adding water to the mess and washing it down the storm sewers that’ll dump it into the river. It only has a couple of blocks to go. Whatever gets hung up on the ice in the river will soon be sent downstream. There’s no stopping it Fos. Hell they probably won’t catch on the radioactivity until it’s way too late, if ever. They’re going to have their hands full for some time after the blast, that’s for damn sure.

When we touch the one off at the University of Minnesota it will contaminate the whole damn Minneapolis campus and dump tons of debris and contamination into the river at that point. It’s only a few feet to the river. Hell, we’ll cut the country in half alright and their river transportation will end in a heartbeat. Oh yes — they’ll get the message. They’re so damn busy watching Washington DC, New York and the big cities they won’t even think about this one. The Mid-west is probably the last thing on their minds but there won’t be any fishing or swimming in the Mississippi River for a long time.

"This is a master stroke Fos, so don’t screw it up. You keep control of your boys. They don’t have to know what’s going on but you do. It’s a one way trip and you know it. You’re a martyr Fos and everyone at home will bless you.

I presume your men have some idea of what’s going on, but I also presume they don’t know the big picture.

"I haven’t told them anything except their job and they think they’re going to blow up a bunch of buildings. They do suspect from all the information they received before they got here that there’s some radiation involved, but I told them there wasn’t much to it; it was really all for show and nothing more, but they’re concerned about the radioactivity. They know we don’t have an atomic bomb or anything. They were trained in fertilizer/diesel bomb making and have it down pat. They know that’s what they’re going to