Two Islands: Terror in the Lowcountry

By Allan Winneker

BEAUFORT, SOUTH CAROLINA: its a quiet town, filled with southern sensibilities and the slow pace of the American Lowcountry. Jacob Lee is an attorney in Beaufort, where he lives with his wife and son. Life is gooduntil the Lee family is thrust into a terrorist plot to kidnap a high-ranking Marine Corps officer.

The abduction is a ruthless attempt to avenge a Hamas terrorists imprisonment in Israel. No one would have expected such a thing to happen in Beaufort, which makes the small town such an ideal target for a surprise terrorist attack. Soon, the lives of two families are devastated by a horrific week of torture inflicted by the American-based terrorist who orchestrates the crimes.

Two Islands: Terror in the Lowcountry presents a rare picture of radical Islamic terrorism taking place in a small, residential southern community. Soon, the FBI and Department of Homeland Security are pulled into the plot. But will they be too late to save the Lee family? Or will Jacob Lee find a way to fight the war on terror in his own backyard and send the terrorists back to where they came from?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Dec 13, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450273169

Allan Winneker

“Border Line” is Allan Winneker’s fourth work of fiction. He became interested in the subject after learning of the many dangers faced by the U.S. Border Patrol. Winneker, a native of Philadelphia, enjoyed a 38-year career in marketing management before retiring to begin writing novels and enjoying life with his wife Betty on Callawassie Island in South Carolina. The Winnekers have two sons and three grandchildren. Allan’s first novel, “The Expatriate”, was published in 2002.

Book preview

TWO ISLANDS

TERROR IN THE LOWCOUNTRY

ALLAN WINNEKER

iUniverse, Inc.

New York Bloomington

TWO ISLANDS

TERROR IN THE LOWCOUNTRY

Copyright © 2010 by ALLAN WINNEKER

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4502-7314-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4502-7315-2 (dj)

ISBN: 978-1-4502-7316-9 (ebook)

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 12/06/2010

Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 48

CHAPTER 49

CHAPTER 50

CHAPTER 51

CHAPTER 52

CHAPTER 53

CHAPTER 54

CHAPTER 55

CHAPTER 56

CHAPTER 57

CHAPTER 58

CHAPTER 59

CHAPTER 60

CHAPTER 61

CHAPTER 62

CHAPTER 63

CHAPTER 64

CHAPTER 65

CHAPTER 66

CHAPTER 67

CHAPTER 68

CHAPTER 69

CHAPTER 70

CHAPTER 71

CHAPTER 72

CHAPTER 73

CHAPTER 74

CHAPTER 75

CHAPTER 76

CHAPTER 77

CHAPTER 78

CHAPTER 79

CHAPTER 80

CHAPTER 81

CHAPTER 82

CHAPTER 83

CHAPTER 84

CHAPTER 85

CHAPTER 86

CHAPTER 87

CHAPTER 88

CHAPTER 89

CHAPTER 90

CHAPTER 91

CHAPTER 92

CHAPTER 93

CHAPTER 94

CHAPTER 95

CHAPTER 96

CHAPTER 97

CHAPTER 98

CHAPTER 99

CHAPTER 100

CHAPTER 101

CHAPTER 102

CHAPTER 103

CHAPTER 104

CHAPTER 105

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER 1

Friday, April 20, 2012

Brigadier General Bradley Lewis was, to any trained observer, a spit-and-polish Marine. His buddies often made fun of the way this was manifested in his everyday behavior. But it was genuine, not for show. Lewis was liked because he put it out there, day in and day out. He was the real thing.

Unfortunately, however, bad timing was getting in the way of making his latest move for the Corps a smooth proposition. Negotiating with a hard-nosed rental homeowner was rapidly becoming a time-consuming, frustrating process.

Coming to Parris Island just as the base commander’s residence was being gutted and remodeled, he and Rebecca, his wife of twenty-seven years, were forced to find living quarters off-base. The commander’s residence wouldn’t be ready for another six months. Tri-Command housing at Laurel Bay was not appropriate for the General’s rank. Lewis and his wife sat in the realtor’s office

Listen, even the Marine Corps has financial limitations. Just because the Corps will be paying the rent is no reason to hold me hostage on this lease. I need to see some flexibility on this deal, or Becky and I’ll have to look elsewhere.

The agent, a stout, balding real estate salesman, quickly concluded that this would end up being a difficult deal to close. Brokers representing homeowners in a rental mode typically disliked the process, as well as the size of the commission, which was based on the total value of the lease. When a military family was the prospect it was even more problematic.

General, I’m sure that we can arrive at a mutually beneficial agreement, general. Why don’t you give me your bottom line and I’ll see what we can do. The homeowner is anxious to close the deal and I am confident that for the Parris Island base commander he will go the extra mile.

The general offered up what he believed would be an acceptable figure, considering where the homeowner started the negotiation. Perkins nodded. That’s a reasonable counter offer. Let’s see how it goes down.

I’ll take you at your word. Call me at my headquarters office and let me know where we stand. I want to get this done as quickly as possible.

Lewis and his wife left the real estate office, climbed into the government-licensed Jeep Commander and headed southwest out of Beaufort to Parris Island, a short fifteen minute drive. It was a balmy eighty-degree April afternoon, and the waters of Battery Creek shone marvelously in the late afternoon sunlight.

I really do like the house, Brad, Becky said, as they turned off of Parris Island Gateway and approached the guard at the entrance to the base. And it’s less than ten minutes from the Island. I certainly didn’t care for any of the other officers’ residences available on the base.

I’m with you love. Let’s think positive. I’ll wager that we’ll get a call in the morning with some good news. Then we can get our furniture shipped down from Quantico and start settling in. The guard at the gate saluted and they drove on to the officers club for lunch.

Lewis, recently promoted to Commander, Eastern Recruiting Region, Marine Corps Recruit Depot, Parris Island, was a forty-nine year old, twenty-eight year officer in the Marine Corps. A couple of inches over six feet and a trim, fit native of Elmira, New York, Lewis was an admired and well liked leader, respected by his subordinates, peers and higher-ups in the Corps. His close-cropped blond hair was receding a bit in the front and graying at the temples, but his deep blue eyes, friendly smile and deliberate gait presented an appropriate picture of a man chosen to lead such a prestigious military installation as the Marine Corps Recruit Depot at Parris Island.

In 1715, an Englishman named Colonel Alexander Parris purchased the island and eight small surrounding islands. Plantation life flourished there until the Civil War. Marines were first stationed on Parris Island in 1891. At that time, it was a small security detachment, attached to the Naval Station at Port Royal, the forerunner of Parris Island.

On November 1, 1915, Parris Island was officially designated a Marine Corps Recruit Depot. Training has continued from that day to the present. Today, the facility trains about eighteen thousand recruits each year. It also houses the only Marine battalion in the Corps designated to train female recruits.

Brad Lewis was named commanding officer in early March 2012, replacing Brigadier General Lance Maxwell, who was reassigned to lead the 2nd Marine Expeditionary Brigade, assigned to conduct training missions in Afghanistan. The two men happened to have entered the Corps the same year, both graduating with commissions as second lieutenants from the Naval Academy.

Lewis then went on to a number of assignments in the Pacific, returning to the U.S. to attend the Naval War College, prior to his latest assignment at Quantico as Marine Corps Base Commander. He was at Quantico for only six months, having returned from the Middle East while on assignment with the Marines Special Operations Regiment, based at Camp Lejeune, NC.

The Special Ops mission was carried out in support of an Israeli Army initiative in southern Lebanon. His assignment at Quantico was cut short when the former Parris Island commanding officer was reassigned. Lewis was considered the best candidate for the post, given his background in the Corps and the fact that his wife was a native South Carolinian. They met when Lewis went through there on a training visit twenty-eight years ago.

Lewis and Rebecca, known by all as Becky, nee Newberry, fell in love at first sight, when they were introduced by another young Marine officer at a party in Beaufort. There are three children, two married sons and one daughter in her senior year at Clemson, her mother’s alma mater.

______________________

CHAPTER 2

The Bose alarm radio sprang to life, filling the bedroom with a Carly Simon ballad at six-thirty in the morning. J.B. Lee was conditioned to react with enthusiasm when the alarm sounded, moving with dispatch to exit the king-size Tempur-Pedic bed and moving directly to the kitchen to flip on the coffee maker and back track to the walk-in closet to throw on his workout gear. The morning exercise ritual was the next imperative.

Jacob Baron Lee, a tall, lean, slightly balding, and fit forty-five year old native of Beaufort, made sure that the availability of strong, hot coffee was assured in advance of his wife’s awakening, typically less than half an hour later.

Lee, a local attorney, and one of less than thirty living direct descendents of the Confederate Army’s leading general, was shaving in the door-less shower when Molly Ann eased up behind him and planted a kiss on his bare shoulder. A spray of water on Molly’s forehead backed her away

J.B., don’t forget, you have to go after Jonah by ten or so. He’s depending on you to get there by lunchtime.

I’m on it, sugar, J.B. replied, as he exited the shower, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. Why don’t you come along?

Not this time. Just bring him home safely. It’s been close to four months since his Christmas break.

Lee didn’t respond, and threw on his clothes before kissing his wife, grabbing a cup of coffee to go, and speeding out to the garage to his BMW X5 for the drive to the office.

The car trip from Lee’s home on Preachers Island to the center of Beaufort normally took a little less than thirty minutes. If there were any traffic problems, typically accident-related, on two of the three bridges he had to cross, it could be considerably longer. The earth and asphalt causeway leading off the island was the first, followed by a short bridge over the Chechessee River, and a much longer one over the Broad.

This sunny, brisk Friday morning the traffic was light. Lee needed a couple of hours in his office before leaving for Charleston. He and his law partner, Benjamin Holt, had a meeting with a prospective new client who wanted to open a business in the adjacent town of Port Royal. Lee and Holt, LLP, was the second largest law firm in Beaufort.

Parking in the small lot adjacent to the office, located on Craven Street, Lee ran into Holt exiting his Lexus GX460 and they entered the office together.

Why do we both need to meet with this guy? Holt asked, as they picked up their phone messages lying on their administrative assistant’s desk. Rose Wiley, a girl-Friday office whiz joining the firm ten years ten years ago, looked up from her computer screen.

Mr. Evans wants y’all to join him for breakfast at Blackstone’s, Wiley said. Walk, don’t run, but he’s there now.

The two men hurried out the door. Blackstone’s, a local favorite for breakfast and lunch, was two short blocks away. Evans waived to them as they entered the restaurant.

Thought we could get to know each other over some bacon and eggs. We can regroup at your office afterwards, Evans said.

Lee ordered his usual French toast with bacon. Holt passed on breakfast, asking only for cup of coffee. Within forty-five minutes they were on their way to the office.

Evans, a transplanted Atlanta native, was finalizing his plans to open a medical spa in the adjoining town of Port Royal. His brother, a dermatologist, would run the operation, with the help of Harold and a twenty-nine year old laser therapist. It was planned as a full-service spa facility. The Evans brothers were negotiating a lease agreement for a property on Ribaut Road. Lee & Holt were selected as the attorneys to handle the ongoing legal affairs and immediate startup needs of the new business.

Now I am mighty interested in moving ahead under a full head of steam, Evans said, as the meeting moved into high gear. Royce is a medical man, without any inkling of how to set up and run a business, so I’ll be your man to get this thing done.

At ten thirty Lee excused himself and darted out the door to the BMW for the ninety-minute drive to the Citadel. The road, U.S. route 17, heading north, rambled through the ACE Basin, passing through plantation country. It was four lanes about two thirds of the trip, with a section of two-lane highway remaining along a few stretches of the road.

Jonah Lee was nearing the end of his junior year at the Citadel, and planned to join his father’s practice after moving on to law school, his preference being Duke. An excellent student, well liked by his classmates, Jonah was looking forward to his one-week spring break. He was hopeful, but not optimistic that his girlfriend, Lisa Padgett, would be able to join him over the weekend. Padgett, also a native Beaufortonian, was a freshman at Clemson.

Thanks for coming up to get me, dad, Jonah said, after greeting his father in the lobby of Murray Barracks. Let’s catch some lunch and start for home. We can eat in the cafeteria, or go somewhere else.

I’m fine either way, son. If we hit the road, what’s your preference? Is it fast food or something reasonably healthy?

There’s a pretty good barbecue place on Route 17, just south of town, Jonah said. And they’re fast. Okay?

You’re on. Let’s go. You can bet your mother is anxiously awaiting your arrival.

__________________________

CHAPTER 3

Telephone service in southern Lebanon was at best inconsistent. Quality of transmission was poor, particularly in the small town of Salima, where Mustafa al Muhammed had his temporary headquarters. He was a vicious and respected Hamas operative, holed up in Salima, where he was born, to avoid detection and arrest in Beirut. His family had a small restaurant there.

I must speak with Hamoud. He is determined to do this thing that will without question cause us many problems and undermine our efforts elsewhere.

Mustafa was ending the conversation with his chief contact in Gaza, the de facto home of Hamas. He attempted to play down the gravity of the situation and alleviate the frustrations, but was failing to do so.

I fully understand your concern, but we have given Hamoud permission to act as he wishes, with his assurances that his team will perform with skill and precision. He is one of our most trusted people in the States. I have the utmost confidence in his ability to execute this operation with complete success. In his view, his brother’s misfortune must be avenged. Should he fail in a way that is injurious to Hamas, he will be dealt with accordingly.

Allah be praised, the contact said. I will hold my tongue for the time being. Mustafa ended the call and immediately phoned Hamoud, better known in the United States as Dennis Rizzo.

Malik, we must be careful. I suspect that our friend in Gaza may end up causing us some problems with our people in Lebanon. Once again I need your assurance that what you plan to accomplish will succeed.

Mustafa, please do not call me here in South Carolina. We should communicate through our mutual contact in New York. He will phone me with whatever information you with to pass on. This will be in everyone’s best interest.

Very well. When do you plan to commence your operation?

Within the next few days, Hamoud replied. My associates arrive here today. It will not take us much time to execute the mission. This general will not live to see the month of April come to a close.

Good. We will then be able to get on with other important work in America. Farewell, my friend. Good fortune. Allah be praised.

Malik bin Hamoud was Dennis Rizzo to J.B. Lee, his temporary next-door neighbor.

____________________________

CHAPTER 4

Brad Lewis conducted a brief meeting with his chief of staff, Colonel Thomas Bender. The 4th Recruit Training Battalion reported a missing recruit that morning. The commanding officer of the Battalion made the report. He noted that it was the first AWOL, or Unauthorized Absence, at the base in four years.

Lewis directed Bender to organize a search party, notify the Beaufort County Sheriff’s office with a description of the recruit and instruct the MP’s to be on the lookout for him, although it was not very likely that he would still be on the Island.

General, there is a personal call on your line one, said the Sergeant Major who was Lewis’s headquarters administrative aide. I told him you were in a meeting, but he wants to talk with you as soon as possible.

Tell him I’ll call him back in less than an hour. And get a number. Lewis assumed it was the broker with news on the house rental.

The missing-without-leave kid, last name Ramirez, was having a rough time of it, the battalion commander said. He was probably going to be shaken out within the next couple of weeks, with five more to go. I hope we can get hold of him before he tries to go too far. From what I understand, he doesn’t have two nickels to rub together.

The battalion chief, one of the toughest unit commanders on the base, had limited patience with non-performing recruits. The Corps made every effort to see that these youngsters had the support they needed from their training hierarchy to make it through the entire boot camp experience. Going absent without leave pretty much ended Ramirez’s very short-lived trial with the Marines.

Lewis wrapped up the session within ten minutes and gave the sales agent a call.

General, I am pleased to confirm that the homeowner has agreed to the terms of the lease. Based on our last conversation, I believe this should meet with your satisfaction. Would you like me to fax the paperwork to you, or would you prefer to meet me in my office at your convenience?

Fax them to me at the number on my card. I’ll let you know what we decide.

Lewis phoned his wife, who was not in their temporary living quarters. He then got her cell phone voicemail and left a message. Hey beautiful, it’s me. Sounds like we have a deal on the house. I need to call Washington to get the final okay on the numbers, and the broker is faxing me the paperwork to sign. Talk with you later.

The sergeant major poked his head in the general’s office door. Sir, there’s a County Deputy Sheriff on line two. Bradley took the call. General Lewis here. Have you got something on our AWOL this soon?

General, this is the sheriff’s office calling with some good news. We have Richard Ramirez in custody in our Beaufort office. He was brought in a few minutes after we got the call. One of our deputies eyed him making a phone call at a gas station located just this side of the Broad River Bridge. He’s pretty shook up and looks like he’s had a rough day. Judging by his appearance, he must have been hiding somewhere in a wooded area close to the Base. The deputy said he matched the description we were given. What do you want us to do with him?

Bring him to the front gate. I’ll have the gate people alerted. They’ll take it from there. And thanks for your assistance.

The AWOL was from a small town near Pittsburgh and had just turned eighteen. His parents were notified. He would likely be placed in custody and either be treated under Article 15 or be subject to a summary court martial. The discretion as to how to treat the matter was solely that of the commanding officer. The unit commander would normally decide on the course of action. The third option would be a general discharge from the service.

Have Colonel Harris pay me a visit in the officers club, the general said to the sergeant major, as he put on his jacket and walked out the door.

_________________________

CHAPTER 5

Jonah Lee looked forward to the break. His junior year at The Citadel was anything but easy, with a full load of courses and a rough schedule of golf matches. Jonah was the number two seed on the varsity team, carrying a four handicap and an intensely competitive demeanor.

He and his dad drove up to their two-story, Lowcountry style home and parked the car in the driveway. As J.B. closed the driver-side door, he noticed his next-door neighbor’s garage door was open. Out walked Dennis Rizzo. Hey J.B. Rizzo yelled. How’s it going?

J.B. didn’t know Rizzo well. He and his wife moved to the island only three weeks ago, for some reason choosing to rent the house next door. The owners, good friends of the Lees, were in South America. He