Bullies With Badges: Harbingers of Terror

By James R. Womack

Brutality is nothing new. It's simply a manifestation of a human tendency, abuse of power. In the case of police brutality, it's been present ever since a police -force has existed. It doesn't t matter whether you refer to soldiers serving as the Vi Iles Urbani of the Roman Empire era. Nor does it matter if you refer to certain ego-centric gunfighter sheriffs and marshals of the old west. The brutality in many cases was and is mainly ignored, denied, or excused under some pretext or another.

So why is public outrage about police brutality suddenly more evident? Mainly because of the presence of so many cameras. Cellphone cameras, surveillance cameras, regular cameras, TV news cameras and now drone mounted cameras. It's harder to hide such incidents, and the level of brutality in many cases is shocking. Add the obvious lies of such officers in the glaring light of video evidence, it's beyond shocking. Then the police chiefs who do nothing about it unless forced to, it's dismaying. But the real questions are why are there so many incidents of police brutality? And what could be the ultimate consequences if it continues? This is a work of fiction meant to look at this issue in ways the country is either denying or willfully ignoring. Especially when it comes to certain members of the population. Primarily denying or ignoring the ultimate consequences of continuing its entrenched racist attitude. An attitude that is creating a foundation of simmering hatred. A hate that can be exploited by the nation's enemies, indeed, may already be happening. As stated, this is a work of fiction but based on all too real experiences, observations, affidavits and in some cases, statements by police officers. The sheer numbers of renegade, sadist and racist police officers may be at the vanguard of facilitating, a new era of terrorism inside America's borders. Funded and supplied by not just Muslim extremists but a certain European and Asian coalition that would like nothing more than seeing the fall of the United States of America.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James R. Womack
• Release date: Jul 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781943276523

James R. Womack

James Womack is a Deaf writer who writes mainly science fiction short stories. Sometimes he dives into contemporary shorts on touchy social issues. Mostly, he just likes telling stories that a bit off the beaten path.

Book preview

Contents

Chapter One - The Lionheart Plan

Chapter Two - The Paladin Principle

Chapter 3 - Said Silently

Chapter 4 -The Lionheart Recruits

Chapter 5 - Candance Ethiopia

Chapter 6 - Whose Side Are You On?

Chapter 7 - Unspoken Truths

Chapter 8- Realities

Chapter 9 - Lionheart Implemented

Chapter 10 - Hunting Hunters

Chapter 11 - The Kim Jong-un Gambit

Candance Contained

Chapter 12 - The Alliance Untriumphant

Epilogue

Bullies With Badges

Harbingers of Terror

JRW

James R. Womack

Copyright © 2017 by James R. Womack

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

Chapter One - The Lionheart Plan

They should have listened to me. We wouldn't have lost so many leaders. Capable and experienced people. People who could have trained many future jihad warriors. Nonetheless, I knew this day would come.

Shahrivar Sherazi entered the spacious basement room. I stood to shake hands. I had to almost lean back to see his face. My being four feet and two inches made him a giant to me. More so with his being three inches beyond six feet tall.

Greetings Babak. The others will arrive shortly, one by one over intervals of five days each as you specified.

Necessary to further minimize our collective presence. No need to draw unnecessary attention.

Makhachkala doesn't lack a Muslim presence, my diminutive friend. Nor an Iranian presence for that matter. I think you're over cautious.

I simply grinned. Shahrivar being Shahrivar. Too timid to think progressively. Just as reluctantly to act decisively. But he had connections and money. So I had to endure him. And put up with his encumbrances to my plans. Constantly repeating and reminding him. Of goals. Necessary actions to achieve objectives. Assessing outcomes. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Wearying at times. But again, he had connections and money.

True, Shahrivar, but better caution than recklessness, eh?

Still, why meet in Russia when it would be easier and less costly to hold this meeting in our own home of Iran?

The Americans and their allies are too effective. They find our jihad hiding places. Their drones and bombers obliterate them. But they dare not send bombers or drones into Russian air space. And Makhachkala is close to Iran's border. Easy and quick access for jihad warriors traveling from Iran. It's safe for jihad leaders to meet.

Shahrivar's response was a wrinkling of his nose. Still unsatisfied, I suppose. I led him to the other side of the room. A large table with food placed on food warmers awaited.

Let's eat, Shahrivar. We have Abgoosht and Aash. Your choice of Ob‘eh Anar or tokhme sharbati.

According to you, Babak, we're supposed to speak English at all times as preparation for our agents' mission in the United States. You should practice your own policy. Now, is the soup made with lamb or goat? Is the vegetable dish meatless and made with noodles? I like noodles. How about the pomegranate juice? Is it truly fresh squeezed or canned? Bottled, perhaps? I'll have the chia seed drink. May I assume they are chia and not basil seeds?

You're right about the English. I slip at times when English has no precise equivalent. But enough fussing and complaining, Shahrivar. We may be in Russia by necessity. Still, I found capable cooks. They know Iranian food. Hush, friend. Let your tongue enjoy the flavors of home.

I smiled and motioned for him to stock his plate with the delicacies. Using a step stool to give myself height, I did the same. The meal was a good one. We passed the time speaking on mutually agreeable topics. Topics that dissolved even Shahrivar's disagreeableness. Such as our country's growing military prowess. Thanks to our scientists and our Russian and Chinese allies.

As promised, the rest of the jihad representatives arrived. It took a month for all to be present. I insisted they not travel as a group. Thus avoid elimination by a possible drone strike. All finding their way to the large basement facility. So large it had a bed for each person. Sporting three bathrooms and a kitchen. Well decorated and somewhat colorful. Well ventilated. Some people in some Islamic countries would consider it a luxurious home.

The representing collective came one by one. One representative five days apart. Except for the Komitet gosudarstvennoy bezopasnosti and Guojia Anquan Bu. They came as a quadruple. Two KBG and two Chinese Ministry of Security officials. Each team reporting directly to their government's highest office. They had arrived ahead of Shahrivar and myself.

The jihad representatives were hand picked by me. Not solely. They did have to meet my criteria. They had to understand English. And having learned it by immersion. That is lived in America from birth until age fifteen. They had to be children of Muslim families. Families who insisted their native tongue be spoken inside the home. But only English outside. Who made sure their son also knew and embraced their native culture. Its history. At age fifteen, they were sent to a jihad camp. Each to one made up of members of their national origin. A Pakistani to Pakistan. A Yemeni to India. An Iranian to Iran. And so on. I assigned overseers. An older person who had also been similarly harvested. The overseer indoctrinated the new arrivals. And made sure they maintained their English skills. Especially their American regional accents. Recruits watched numerous American videos and movies. Not just any video or movie. It had to feature a character or story representative of the region the child lived. With speech patterns to match. The child had the watch the media repeatedly. Memorize a character's lines. Recite them to the overseer. The overseer listened for accurate pronunciation. This and their jihad warrior training continued until age twenty-two. Weapons training. Hand to hand combat. Explosive device production from commonly available materials. Graduation tested the level of their loyalty. Also weeded out the chance of CIA or other agency possible infiltration. They were fully prepared for self-sacrifice. Explosives attached to them or vehicles. They were taken to targets. Then instructed to position themselves. Finally, covertly activate the device. Unknown to them, a spotter was positioned to watch them. Also unknown to them, the devices were inert. Activation of the dummy device proved they were true jihad warriors. And certainly not contaminated by an infiltrator. However, the selection process was still not complete. They were collected and brought back to the overseer. Graduates expressing resentment or dismay were further evaluated. Resentment or dismay at being denied martyrdom were magna cum laude graduates. These were the recruits who represented their jihad factions. Representatives sworn to set aside their various ideologies and rivalries. Sworn as well to forsake all vows of revenge against rival jihadists. To function as a team for the duration of my mission. All for the mutual aim or desire to bring down the United States. Shahrivar disagreed with this, of course. No doubt fearing it would end badly. Remembering past peace pretensions. How groups ended up murdering their guests. This was Russia. Russians wouldn't allow such double-crossing. They didn't like messy incidents. And took provisions to assure they didn't happen. But Shahruvar is Shahrivar. He sat, arms folded and scowling. I motioned to my guests.

I looked at each of my handpicked vanguards. All young and at least six feet tall. None overweight. The life of jihadist didn't allow many to be overweight. Low-fat meals, constantly afoot and on the move. Having to lug weapons and ammunition about. That in addition to carrying food and water. Often in an arid climate and hilly terrain. So I had a bunch of young, lean lads. All at least six feet tall, the Tehrik-i-Taliban being the tallest. He was five inches taller than anyone else in the room. Baby-faced Zeyd. The handsome Pakistan twins Fadi and Elyas. Perpetually smiling Tariq. Saif, who always seemed relaxed. The business-like Sami. Faud, who always seemed amused. So here they were. Together for the first time since an earlier Iraq meeting.

    Let's begin by stating your jihad group and your assigned Western names.

    Tony Bulson, Hezbollah.

     Bob Jennings, Taliban, Pakistan Division.

    Darrin Perkins, Al-Qaeda, Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan.

    Ron Calhoun, arakat al-Muqawamah al-Islamiyyah Islamic Resistance Movement.

    English only, Ron, I knew I would have to remind them periodically.

    HAMAS.

    Start again, I instructed.

    Ron Calhoun, HAMAS.

    Jeff Mosher, Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan.

    Henry Toliver, Islamic State of Iraq and Syria.

    Mine is Jacques Nevins.

I then turned to the KBG and CMSS representatives. All four men sat almost statuesque at the table. Individual faces ranging from stern to utterly blank.

"I'd like to now introduce our Russian and Chinese benefactors. However, you will not be provided their names. The KBG has provided passports and other documentation. They have decades experience in counterfeiting American Documents. They are also arranging your transportation and reentry into the U.S. You will do so by different modes and routes. They are also providing doctors. These doctors will perform a painful procedure. They will remove your fingerprints. Then replace with skin from the soles of your feet. This minimizes the implanted skin being rejected by your body. You will be housed in a large chalet bungalow in a rural area. Away from prying eyes. You will have an Iranian cook. Six nurses, one for each of you. They