Tourniquet: Countdown to Eternity

By Richard D. Monson

Tourniquet is a gripping, hair-raising tale about the age-old conflict in the Middle East. It portrays an unthinkable yet plausible scenario leading to a no-win holocaust if the present situation goes unresolved. In his crisp, unique writing style, Monson proceeds to link the Middle East to the flash-point of the American border with Mexico. Fly with Israeli Air Force Daniel Kaplan as he protects Haifa Bay from the cold-blooded Osvaldo Sabino deep in the water below / Partner with Senator Madena as he flies to Mexico City with the Presidents plan for the Mexican borderhis Tourniquet / Hear A.E. Smith debate his love of the beautiful Alicia Roth, architect of the Tourniquet . . . and a Jew / Crash through the Mexican out-back with A.E. and Hector as they search for Alicia, captured and wounded by a band of Osvaldos outlaws / Live the suspense as in 2017 a plan is hatched to destroy the entire coastal Middle East / Escape the Mediterranean aboard the USS Kitty Hawk / See the bombing of the Gold Key Casino in Laughlin / Feel the heat as Alicia learns her real-estate father used her to engage in insider-trading / Warm to A.E. and Alicia as they dance and romance at the Cotton Ball in Memphis / Fly with Major Kaplan as he rescues a special artifact from ruins in Jerusalem / Marvel at Dr. Sobols spectacular museum on the El Sasabe river / And join the celebration as the great diversity that is Tourniquet comes together in a thrilling and amazing conclusion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 7, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452080321

Richard D. Monson

Professor Monson is a painter, art theorist, and teacher. As a painter he has exhibited in the US and abroad. As an art theorist he has presented numerous papers. In an early paper—“Aesthetic Direction in a Packaged Society,”—delivered to the Popular Culture Association in 1978, Monson presented his formula for the prediction of socio/political change. In addition he has written numerous academic works, notably Analytical Critical and Creative Thinking in the Visual Arts; a children’s book—A Tall Timber Tale, and a book for young adults, Passion and the Vulnerable Soul. Tourniquet is his first work of fiction. In Tourniquet, he takes his success at predicting socio/political change and extends it into the realm of pure fantasy. He identifies three startling events that will take place in the years surrounding 2017, in lands far removed from his Missouri ranch where he lives with his wife of 50 years, a riding mule and a chocolate lab. Monson is a graduate of the Kansas City Art Institute and the University of Oklahoma. Following a distinguished teaching career, he retired from the University of Central Missouri in 1997. 

Book preview

PREFACE

VIRTUALLY ALL HUMAN ACTIVITY RESULTS from some kind of pain.

Whether from an uneasy youth or from ancient ghosts, something in me is pained by the plight of the underdog—native Americans banished to reservations; inner-city Blacks, descendants of slaves; Jews, persecuted since ancient times; and poor Mexicans desperate to feed their families. There are others, but it is the stressful existence of two of these groups that accounts for this novel. Those of us who live in safety can only imagine the painful fear of those who live along the borders in Mexico and in Israel.

In 2006, news reports revived my concern for the plight of Mexican workers and the produce farmers who employed them. I wondered who deserved the most compassion, the workers, the farmers—perhaps the ranchers near the border overrun by trespassers. That same year, events in the Middle East worsened and, having great respect for the Jewish culture, and an Old Testament temperament, I very easily sympathized with their plight despite their current dominance over the Palestinians. I was disappointed that the respective governments and the US, which is heavily invested in both, could have allowed the situations to evolve to the perilous levels of today.

Approaching the situations as an art theorist, I interpreted the root cause to be the incompatibility of adjacent extremes—rich nations bordering poor nations. I reviewed correcting principles and found one that seemed to apply—assimilation—equalize the prosperity on both sides of the borders. Oddly enough, there is presently some assimilation in progress—drugs in, money out; girls in, money out; workers in, money out—but it is illegal and bloody.

I toyed with various solutions. The solution for the US/Mexican border problem becomes apparent early in the reading. I envisioned three options to the Middle East problem: (1) Israel could conquer and dominate the entire coastal area—possible, but extremely bloody; (2) the Holy Land could become an international park governed by an outside agency—given political reality, unlikely; (3) Israel could completely demoralize her enemies with the use of nuclear weapons.

As I studied the situations, the possibility of a novel emerged. I wrote an outline. The novel would focus on the Mexican border and Israel. Options 1 and 2 for Israel would be implicit in the story, and option 3, the most outlandish, would be a cautionary tale—cautionary, because eventually the citizens will force their leaders to do something about the problems. That will be dangerous, for when the very powerful are forced to act, they invariably over-react. We have no idea how the US will finally resolve the problem along the Mexican border, nor can we guess how Israel will finally react to the pain of constant attacks. Israel has the second most powerful military in the world and it includes a considerable nuclear arsenal. She has exercised restraint in the past, but what about … let’s say in the year 2015 when massive rocket attacks continue to threaten her existence? What then?

I answered the what then for purposes of a novel and took the idea to my colleague Robert C. Jones. Dr. Jones is a distinguished professor emeritus of literature, publisher, editor and director of a writer’s circle. He offered words of encouragement and many very useful recommendations. I owe him a great debt of gratitude.

I then invented a broad cast of characters—top dogs and underdogs, plotters, killers and lovers—and placed them in actual places confronted with dire situations. Soon the characters took on a life of their own and, for nearly 4 years they led me through the writing process. In 2010, having nearly completed the book, I realized the need for qualified people to consult with on areas outside my realm of experience. I needed one person to check things Jewish, and one to check things related to the Air Force. As fate would have it, I found both in one man, Dr. Arthur Rennels. Arthur served in the US Air Force for 20 years where he headed protective service, conducted counter-terrorist training operations, and was team leader for the military’s equivalent of SWAT. He twice earned the USAF Meritorious Service Medal, Five USAF Commendation Medals and numerous other awards and decorations. Dr. Rennels is active in a Jewish congregation. His thorough attention to the more than eighty-six thousand words resulted in my correcting numerous outright errors. His understanding of the book’s meaning resulted in the improvement of several important areas of content—especially those concerning the Prime Minister’s actions and Major Kaplan’s thought process. His contributions moved me past a critical impasse and I am very appreciative.

I owe a debt of gratitude to Robin Jones for her observations and to Chris and Nancy for their hospitality. I thank my wife Joyce for her advice and tolerance over the past four years while I neglected my chores. I thank son John Monson, daughter Janet Bryan, and Doug Monson for their valuable advice, and I appreciate the suggestions made by several others who previewed the book. I owe a special thanks to John Wolfersberger and Joe Hatfield for their kind words on behalf of the novel.

In conclusion, if this novel enjoys some degree of success the credit will belong to Robert Jones. If it does not … the blame will be mine and I will be consoled that I will have had a good learning experience. I have learned something about writing, but in addition, many interesting things about the people of the two areas and our government’s involvement with them—the geography, climate and so on. Much of what I learned is included in the story and I will be pleased enough if a little education and understanding goes out from the book—some meaningful dialogue or creative thought—some cultural gaps bridged. If Tourniquet should prove to also be an exciting read, then I will be especially pleased.

INTRODUCTION

A WORD OR TWO ABOUT the writing is in order at this point. It has been noted that my writing style is crisp—some say, unique. Whether or not it is unique, it is crisp—and sparse. Tourniquet can be quickly read. However, because it deals with complex issues in widespread locations; because events move along rapidly; and because there are subtleties to be noted and cavities to be investigated; more will be gained by a slow, deliberate reading pace.

Tourniquet also has a large cast of lead characters to track. The list below should be helpful. Major Daniel Kaplan is our lead. Alicia Roth is a main character as well, and President Harrison after her. AE Smith is important to the story as are Prime Minister Jehiel and ace villain Osvaldo Sabino. The reader may have other favorites.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Belson, Clarence: Clarence is Vice-President in charge of overseeing Tourniquet.

Bin Hasan, Rafiq: Rafiq is Osvaldo’s Syrian control.

Cohen, James: Jim is President Harrison’s speech writer and Chief of Staff.

Farid-bin Al-Raham: Al-Raham is Prime Minister of Iran.

Gomez, Leandra: Leandra is Alicia Roth’s friend and assistant.

Harrison, Ted: Harrison is 44th president of the United States and originator of Tourniquet.

Hollander, Alfred: Professor Hollander is the architect for Sobol’s new town and museum.

Jehiel, Manachem: Manachem is the Prime Minister of Israel.

Kaplan, Benjamin: Benjamin is the teenage son of Daniel and Debora.

Kaplan, Daniel Aaron: Daniel Kaplan is member of the Knesset and a helicopter pilot.

Madena, Hector: Hector, an ex-senator from New Mexico, is Tourniquet’s purchasing agent.

McCord, Morse: Morse is a Kaplan’s border control agent, second in command.

Moreno, Santiago: Santiago is Kaplan’s counterpart in Mexican security.

Obregon, Emilio: Emile is Alicia’s favorite advisor/draftsman.

Roth, Alicia: Alicia is the architect and structural engineer hired to produce the Tourniquet.

Roth, Joseph: Joseph is Alicia’s well-to-do businessman father.

Sabino, Osvaldo: Osvaldo is the head villain.

Sichel, Hyman: Sichel is a Syrian double-agent member of the Knesset.

Smith, George Albert Everly: George (called AE) is an advisor to President Harrison.

Sobol, Dr. Alexander: Dr. Sobol is a physician to the Tourniquet and much more.

Weiss, Hanna: Hanna is the straight-laced museum director.

Witering, Helen: Helen is president Harrison’s private secretary.

In the way of disclaimers, it should be noted that none of these characters represents any actual individual either living or dead. Also, while much of the material covered in the book is generally accurate, any reader wishing to reference it for scholarly purposes is advised to first visit the library and/or the internet. This is a book of fiction.

Finally, several previewers expressed disappointment that the book ended sooner than they would have liked. I take their disappointment as a compliment. However, for those who will wonder what happened to so and so, I have added an epilogue outlining subsequent events in the lives of the principal characters.

Contents

1. Flash Point

2. Something in the Air

3. Warnin’ the Folks

4. The Matador

5. On Your Mark

6. The Envoy

7. A Major Consideration

8. The Eagle and the Hawk

9. The Possibilities

10. Not My Backyard

11. A Line in the Sand

12. The Consultant

13. Already Had the Ticket

14. The Deal

15. Out of Israel

16. Last Call to Jehiel

17. Your Lips … God’s Ears

18. A Damned Circus

19. The Rock and the Hard Place

20. The Old Mexican

21. I Have Your Doctor

22. Bad Day Out West

23. Morse McCord

24. Inspector General

25. A Pack of Wolves

26. To Create a Monster

27. Povenir

28. Hell on Corporate Identity

29. Wave Engines

30. Inner Conflicts

31. The Cotton Ball

32. Doctor Doom

33. Banderilleros

34. Three Days in October

35. Wine Jugs

36. Exodus

37. Grand/Land

38. Hills and Valleys

39. Sign the Damned Paper

40. Glass Boxes

41. Ships in The Night

42. A Sorry Deal

43. A Moment of Your Time?

44. Want to Get Rich?

45. The New Town

46. Grand Opening

47. You Seen Morse?

48. The Artifact

Chapter 1

FLASH POINT

DECEMBER, 2015

DONALD COOPER FELT THE FLOOR shudder. Whoa … what the hell! He looked out his office window at the row of large blue-gray generators far below. He checked his console. A blinking red light identified a problem with generator #5.

Better shut it down. He threw a switch and picked up his radio. Bobby Helms, you down there … ?

"Say, Chief, did you hear that?"

"Felt it, Bobby! … You see anything wrong down there?"

Don’t see a thing, Chief. Noise came from over on the east side.

Right, computer says it’s G-5. Better check it out.

Bobby passed G-14 in a fast walk, I’ll give it a look.

Cooper answered his phone, Chief Cooper here.

Donald, was that an earthquake?

Don’t know, Shirley. We think it’s a generator.

Felt like an earthquake!

You got tourists in there, Shirley?

A small group—another group waiting. Should I get ‘em out?

No, just tell Mike to cut his spiel short. But hold the next group ‘till we see what’s goin’ on. Okay?

Will do, Donald.

Bobby stopped and walked around generator #5. Chief Cooper, I’m down here at G-5. Looks okay … just a little water around its base. Want me to check the others?

Water around its base! I’ll be right down. Cooper switched the entire bank of generators off-line. On his way down the several flights of stairs, he phoned the Tourism office. Shirley, better go ahead … get ‘em out!

The huge generators were winding down as the chief approached. Hey Bobby, he glanced at the base of the generator, You say there’s water?

Just a little … it’s back here, boss. Bobby walked around, pointing to the rear of the generator.

Cooper trailed the water to the wall. He touched the wall in several places, smelled his hand, rubbed his fingers together. He backed away, still looking. He approached again, running his hand across.

Bobby watched the chief’s inspection. Got a problem, Chief?

Cooper turned, held Bobby’s glance. Then, barely above a whisper … "Everybody out, Bobby—tourists, people in the gift shop … check the rest rooms. Get everybody out … . Now!

Bobby headed for the gift shop.

Chief Cooper rushed back to his office, opened a small door and threw a switch. Honk! … Honk! … Honk! echoed through the cavernous interior and bounced off the cliffs outside. Red lights flashed. He called topside. "Clear the cars, close the road … then get the hell out, this is not a drill!" He then cautioned Mead Recreation and the Cottonwood City Police. His next call was interrupted by a second shudder, deeper than the first. He stood … listened. He heard nothing. Looking out the window to the generators below, he slowly put down the phone.

At 10:50 a.m. on December 2nd, 2015, the great water of Lake Mead opened the tiny crack and huge chunks of concrete and a mass of water roared through the sheer granite walls. Within hours, 228,537,000 cubic meters of water, tons of sediment, and thousands of square meters of debris emptied from Lake Mead, rushed through small towns, and soaked into the desert sand. No one in the immediate area survived.

* * *

Osvaldo Sabino swam silently away from the docks lining the eastern edge of Haifa Bay, Israel. Once safely back at the mouth of the bay, he awaited his three suicide bombers. The first bomber approached from far out at sea. He passed Osvaldo and exploded his boat against a dock, destroying several buildings. Osvaldo counted, Number one … . Perfect! Moments later his second boat echoed the first … . Excellent! He awaited his third boat.

7:14

As Major Kaplan flew over the bay he noticed a flash of light in the dock area. Better check that! He banked the chopper left, and scanned the eastern shoreline. He radioed base. Lod, this is Apache-13—Kaplan. I report an explosion in the eastern dock area, Haifa Bay. He saw another flash of light farther in, and throttled back. BGM—Lod, there’s a second explosion! Looks like the southeast section!

7:16

Osvaldo’s third boat was racing toward a heavily populated dock across the bay. Kaplan banked his chopper. Can’t let you go, buddy! His gunner set the sights and fired … One thousand … two. The boat disintegrated from the blast, throwing water and debris into the air and onto the docks. Buildings shook, windows shattered.

As Kaplan made a wide turn to the northeast, in search of remaining boats, a blast of hot smoke hurled the machine up and out of control. Good Lord, they’ve hit the refinery!

7:18

Osvaldo, in deep water at the mouth of the bay, felt the rumble of Refinery #2. He smiled, turned, submerged and quietly left the bay. He headed for his ship, the Bella Madre, anchored twenty-eight kilometers out in the Mediterranean.

7:20

Lod responded to Kaplan’s call, but the AH 64 was reeling out of control—pushed out to sea by the updraft from the burning refinery. He regained control, only to realize the chopper was losing power. He checked his gauges … . Overheating! The chopper rolled to its side and began to rotate. Losing the tail rotor … . Damn! He cut the engines, trimmed the rotors and reached for the oxygen. Lod, Apache-13, Kaplan, 6 kilometers northwest of base, headed down. Now, nothing but the sounds of rushing wind and distant sirens. Smoke filled the cockpit. The craft dropped, churned into the sandy beach and burned.

* * *

In the shadow of the Washington Monument, truck farmers dumped load after load of rotten fruit and vegetables on the Capitol lawn. A stocky man in an expensive dark suit, Senator Ted Harrison, stood with others on the steps of the Capitol, watching. Right on, dump that crap, he said to himself, and keep it comin’.

A short, dark figure of a man descended the steps to stand beside Harrison. Looks like a major mess, eh, Senator?

Well, good afternoon Senator Madena. Awful mess, what we gonna do about it?

"What are you gonna do about it? My term’s up."

Right, Hector … a difficult matter.

Hector turned his head. Whew, Senator, did you get a whiff of that? Santa Cachucha, I’m goin’ back in. Several steps up, he glanced back, laughing. I understand the cops turned away several trucks of rotten chickens over on Washington Drive!"

Chapter 2

SOMETHING IN THE AIR

DECEMBER 22, 2015

A SLIGHT MAN IN JEANS and sport jacket, Ted Harrison’s speech writer James Cohen, mounted the Capitol steps and, distracted … tripped on a step.

Whoa, Jim, how you doin’?

Jim straightened himself. Sorry, Boss, watching the garbage parade.

Look over there, Jim. Farmers are mad as hell, and I can’t blame ‘em. Poor devils, they’ve got real needs.

Their needs include screwin’ up the Capitol lawn?

"Hey, Jim, even I appreciate their problem, and I’m from a family of row croppers. We got machinery for that. Theirs is all hand work. They need people in their fields."

You’d think they could get help here in the States, but of course, we won’t do that kind of work.

Right, Jim.

Jim added, The Mexicans even send money home!

Right, Jim, good people, but we can’t keep lettin’ ‘em sneak through. People won’t stand for it … and we damned sure don’t need another ‘Hoover.’

Jim waved to a passing colleague. True, Senator, an awful deal. How’d they do it—how did they manage to blow the dam?

"Best we know, this truck from Mexico crashed through, or cut through a section of the US/Mexican border fence, came up to Lake Mead above the dam. From there, scuba divers took this new explosive Quick-Gel—starts off liquid then solidifies underwater—to the dam. They released it into a generator intake manifold and set it off … end of story. Hell of a thing to have happen, Jim."

I agree, Senator, major loss … shows our vulnerability out west.

"All over the country, Jim. The citizens—the voters—are mad as hell about our lack of border security. It’s been goin’ on too long."

Right. Well, Senator, the new and better fence they have planned will put a stop to that kind of business—if and when they get it done.

The fence, Jim? It’s a sham—government at its worst! It’s been proven ineffective. It’s wasteful and above all … cynical.

True, Senator … . But cynical?

"Congress has been posturing on border security for years, started before my time here. But I know their thinking—what they said to each other. Went something like this … ‘The public wants the border closed, but the fruit, vegetable and chicken industries need their workers, and our wealthy supporters want their maids, gardeners and pool boys.’ A few of ‘em probably even need their dope. ‘How can we please the voters and the big money supporters? I know … let’s build a fence! It’ll look like we’re fixing the problem, but we’ll leave lots of gaps, and we’ll let the project drag.’ That’s cynical thinking, Jim."

"Well, Senator, I don’t know what your colleagues thought but I know what I think. The thing has cost a lot of money—twelve billion and counting."

"A terrible waste. We could seal the border in three weeks, Jim, but that’s not what we really need. What we really need is a controlled border."

Well, you’ve got to admit, it’s tighter than it was.

Yep, it’s tighter, but the thugs still make their way through, and the meek workers—the good people—they comply. Our farmers can’t get the people to work their crops, and so … here they are with their garbage parade. I say, bring it on.

The breeze shifts. Whew! Jim turned away. All garbage smells the same … damn!

The senator inhaled and smiled. Smells like honeysuckle to me, Jim. He slowly surveyed the vast mall. Jim, I’ve got my platform now. And you and I … we’re gonna walk that platform right into the White House!

Chapter 3

WARNIN’ THE FOLKS

DECEMBER 2015

FROM THE MAINTENANCE HANGAR AT Ben-Gurion military, Harold Jaye glanced at the man walking towards him. You look like hell warmed over, Major. Shouldn’t you be home in bed?

Daniel smiled, First Debora, and now you, Harold. Everybody’s a doctor.

Well, sorry, it’s just that you look pretty beat up.

Been laid up some, few cuts and bruises, and this shoulder’s messed up, he winced as he rotated his shoulder in the sling, but I’m okay.

Daniel looked over the carcass of a helicopter. Is that it?

That’s what’s left, Major.

Find anything out?

Substructure’s all screwed up, whole thing’s beyond repair.

I can see that, Harold. What brought her down?

Rear gearbox was fried.

Right, I had to shut her down to keep from rolling.

Good thing. If she’d rolled, you’d have dropped like a rock. Harold walked to his bench, It looked like a part failure at first. He got a shop cloth and showed Daniel a white powder smear on its edge. But then I found this in the rear gearbox. They studied the smear. It’s colloidal silica. That’s what brought her down.

Daniel scratched the gritty powder with his fingernail. Well, I’ll be! Probably should check the bulk supply, whole shipment could be contaminated.

Good theory, Major, and we will, but there’s silica in the fuel tank too. That stuff wouldn’t be in two different barrels from two different sources by accident. No, this stuff was planted.

You don’t say … planted?

Harold nodded, I’ll be filing my report to Security, don’t know where it’ll go from there. He paused, Probably nowhere, if what I hear is true. He shot a questioning look at Daniel. Jehiel’s not pleased with your activities, right?

Daniel nodded, I’ve heard there’s some displeasure.

"Think he did it?"

Him? Daniel was walking around the chopper. No, I don’t think the Prime Minister ordered it.

Sichel?

Daniel paused, looked at Harold. Hyman Sichel’s a vindictive man, and he’s got some pretty rabid followers. I wouldn’t rule him out.

Reports say you blew up the boat that was headed for the west side, saved a bunch of lives.

We got the third boat.

"I’d expect as much from a national hero … your gunner okay?"

Daniel fingered a loose piece of the fuselage, Mark is fine, and enough of that hero business, I just happened to be in the area … got lucky.

"Right, Major … you sure look lucky."

Daniel continued his inspection. Guess I am lucky, he thought, didn’t start out that way.

Daniel’s father, Sam Kaplan, was killed by a falling crane when Daniel was two. After his father’s death, his mother, Evelyn, who had married Sam while visiting relatives in New York, took Daniel to Israel to be near her family in the town of Afula.

Troubled by the loss and the move, Daniel became reclusive. Evelyn’s brother, Raymond Price, a career military officer, seeing the problem, took him under his wing. He taught Daniel about the outdoors and gardening. He taught Daniel the martial arts of Karate and Shuai Jiao and instilled in him the discipline and ideals of the military.

Daniel emerged a confident and well adjusted adult. He graduated university with a degree in aeronautical engineering and entered the Israeli air force. He left full-time service and at age thirty five became one of the youngest members of the Israeli Knesset.

Fine wife and family; a comfortable home, Daniel thought. I get to choose my hours with the border patrol, I have a responsible position in parliament, and plenty time to garden. I am a lucky man.

Harold broke the silence, Still warnin’ the folks, Major?

What? Oh yes … yes, a few. But I don’t like telling civilians what they ought to do, and I’m not real certain Jehiel will follow through with his threats. What about you, Harold. You concerned?

Not for myself. Wife’s got a cousin in Switzerland. She and the kids went there till things settle down.

Chapter 4

THE MATADOR

DECEMBER 24, 2015

THE LAUNDRY WAS ONE OF a very few businesses in Povenir, a small town on the north edge of the peninsula, some 9 kilometers from Cancun. Dusty sandburs and sun dried grass surrounded a simple, white, concrete block building with LAVANDERIA in blue lettering above a large plate-glass window. The window was bare, but for a round white clock outlined with a blue neon circle … cord hanging down. From a small office in back, Osvaldo Sabino planned his moves. He organized the crews, developed routes for moving drugs, and planned his destabilization. He had a fleet of small vans; several boats; a small ship—the Bella Madre; a crew of devoted agents; a small militia and plenty of cash. Osvaldo gained satisfaction, however, only in the quality of his strategies. And while those substantial qualities had earned him the respect of his peers and the fear of his enemies, he felt they were not up to his standards. He had left the building.

Osvaldo’s aid, Juan Laguna approached the building … waved to a woman seated in a corner near the open door. New laundress, he observed,