Drone Strike: Boston

By George Sheppard

The very fabric of the American way of life was under attack.  Terrorists had threatened to bomb sporting venues from coast to coast.  Fenway, the Indy 500, and even the Rose Bowl faced imminent destruction.  If the FBI could not find the perpetrators in time, American sports fields would be awash in blood.

• Language: English
• Publisher: George Sheppard
• Release date: May 12, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393570776

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Prologue

Saturday, June 25, 2016

Twenty-eight years old and five feet, six inches tall, Sarah Kelley walked with the stride of some one who understood the effect she had on those around her. It was a complicated effect; some women were jealous and some men were cautious about showing their weaker nature. On the plus side, she rarely had to deal with fakes and charlatans. Her deep blue eyes that held such warmth and promise for those she cared about could turn icy cold for those who tried to use her.  No small degree of curiosity caused her to accept the invitation to meet with two former classmates from her old high school. She hadn’t seen Sean Thompson and Jack MacPherson in the fifteen years since graduation. With a perfect grade point average and runway model looks, she was considered to be out of the league of her schoolmates. It was not a designation that she sought; it was one conferred upon her by others. As unwarranted as it was, this stigma suited her personality to a tee.  She was totally goal-oriented and the moronic machinations of high school students held little in the way of fascination for her.  As she opened the door to a dimly-lit Boston bar, she could not help but wonder why Sean and Jack had sought her out after all this time. Her curiosity was truly piqued. She appreciated the meeting place; there was very little else like a good old Boston bar.  Friends warmly welcomed friends into their private little circle and they minded their own business. Bartenders were sympathetic and waitresses we’re genuine. Everything was the way it was expected to be, and that is the way Sarah preferred it to be.  Boston bars were like McDonald fries - you got exactly what you expected.

Sean Thompson saw her first and both he and Jack stood to catch her attention. Even though they were no longer shy little school boys, the effect of a mature Sarah Kelley hit them like a blow to the solar plexus. This was not the purpose of this meeting, so they fought to suppress the rush of testosterone and act like men on a mission. And they were. This was not a random, call-a-classmate meeting. They had a definite goal in mind and Sarah Kelley figured largely in that goal.

Sarah, over here, Sean was the first to speak. It is good to see you after all these years. You remember Jack MacPherson. He is still as goofy looking as ever.

Sarah took the offered chair across from Sean and responded as expected, of course I remember both you and Jack. After all we shared some of the same classes for three years. You two gave me and the rest of the class many laughs over the years.  And you never tried to hit on me like those football jerks. So I must tell you, it came as a complete surprise to hear from you after all this time.

Yeah, I guess it would seem totally strange, but, and I feel weird saying this, we need your help. And before you say anything, let me show you something. Jack, turn your head to the left. Sarah watched as Jack moved his left side toward her and she saw the long scar  that ran from his lower jaw to his eyebrow. An even six feet tall and 185 pounds, Jack was not really worse off; the scar added to a face best described as forgettable. While Sarah did not find the scar to be detracting, she was wise enough to understand that the real scar was internalized. Once, a few years ago, her father had counselled her on the over-application of make-up.  He hadn’t wanted her to cover her natural beauty with products. He just hadn’t been too tactful. He remarked that painting up a prostitute still left the woman a prostitute. The intent and meaning had been clear if somewhat crude. It was for Jack to wrestle with.

I signed up right after school. I know both you and Sean had scholarships, but I didn’t have two cents. The Army took me, trained me, and gave me a place to belong. This is a souvenir from two tours in Afghanistan. I am one of the lucky ones; no complaints, no regrets. And I am going back for six more months and then out. It’s the same old story for thousands of us who couldn’t afford to go to college.  I would like a chance to change my financial outlook.  Jack had stated everything in such a calm, matter-of-fact manner that Sarah simply accepted what had happened in the same way that Jack had accepted it - no rancour, no blame. She expected the strange comment about future finances would be explained in due course.

Sarah turned toward Sean. Well, that explains what Jack has been doing since school. What about you?

Really not as exciting as Jack, Sean replied. I teach robotics at an upstate technical school. With the increased interest in developing and utilizing GPS guided robots for a wide range of commercial applications, my students learn to build a wide variety of machines. Oh, sorry. That really sounded like an ad for the school. Anyway, I have been there since I had a small stint at MIT where I was given a ground-floor look at future developments and then I was let go because of a decrease in government funding. So Jack had his job because of government funding, and I lost mine because of a lack of funding. The government gives and the government takes away. But, even a short term at MIT provides an excellent reference for other jobs.  And that is my story to this point. How about you?"

Sarah had listened carefully to both Sean and Jack and tried to analyze what had been said and why she was here. Sean, at six feet, two inches,  was taller than Jack, but, in every other sense, they could have been brothers. There was something about Sean that seemed slightly different, something running under the surface: Time to stall. Guys, I get an invite to a bar and nothing to drink or snack on? How about a Bud Lite and some crispy chicken  wings? While chicken wings were her snack food of choice, she really needed time to consider the implications of what had been said. Sadly, nothing really presented itself as a reasonable explanation for such an unexpected meeting.

Right, sorry about that, chief. Jack, order the same for me, too. While Jack walked up to the bar to place the order, Sarah had a chance to ask Sean a crucial question.

Jack has already had two tours and, obviously, came closer than anyone wants to come to a fatal injury. Why is he going back? Surely he qualifies to stay stateside?

You must have some psychic blood running through those fine looking arteries. The answer to your question lies in the answer to your long range plans for your future. I don’t mean to sound so cryptic, but we should wait until Jack returns with the food and drinks and we ease into the topic.

Sarah’s mind swirled around the thousands of implications of Sean’s last statement without landing on any logical conclusions. She was as pragmatic as she was intelligent so she simply enjoyed the beer and the wings until Sean was ready to get to the point. Her current position was not all that exciting that she was willing to get up and walk out on something that was, at least, intriguing. The petty jealousy she endured in school had been replaced by sexual discrimination and harassment in the workplace. Sean and Jack didn’t know it, but she was ready for a little intrigue - as long as it was nothing more than that. After all, what could a school teacher and a scarred vet be up to!

Sean seemed to be the driving force behind the meeting. Sarah waited patiently for him to broach the subject. She had just finished her order of wings and Sean began his pitch.

Sarah, Jack and I know that you have some connection to the banking industry, something that we have very little knowledge of. What, exactly, is it that you do? Is it something that you can talk about? We realize that banks are very secretive about what they do to screw Joe Q. Public, but we also know that you are in deeper than the neighborhood bank. I ended up listening to one of your ex-boyfriends from your job go off on you when he was drunk. He bitched that you found more illegal off-shore accounts than anybody else in the office and that you lorded it over them. Any truth in that?

That must have been Danny Robbins. He just doesn’t understand the nuances of the search for wire transfers and off-shore accounts. I received an official commendation for uncovering hidden accounts and he couldn’t stand that I was recognized and he wasn’t. Anyway, is that why I am here? You want to know about my job?  Sarah’s tone was a little less cordial than it had previously been. She looked from Sean to Jack in a futile effort to look into their minds and determine exactly what was going on. Did they really know that she was working for the Financial Action Task Force ( FATF) that had been set up to levy and recover tax monies on trillions of dollars parked in off-shore accounts? Were they aware that there was between US$1.5 trillion and US$2 trillion dollars stashed in the Cayman Islands alone? Was that what they were up to - raiding off-shore accounts or some other half-baked attempt at robbing from these banks? Time to end this little trip down memory lane. There is absolutely no way I am getting involved with stealing money from those accounts, she pushed the words out through clenched teeth, obviously disgusted with the brazen, idiotic approach.

Wait, wait, you have this totally wrong. No way do we want to raid somebody else’s accounts. We want to set up our own accounts. Please just hear us out and then decide, Sean almost begged her to listen. Sarah had risen to her feet and was preparing to walk out. The desperation in Sean’s voice coupled with the notion that