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By Harold Alvin

IN JULY OF 2007, the IAEA confirmed
that North Korea had started to shut
down its main nuclear plant at Pyongsong. It is hoped they will continue to
dismantle their nuclear weapons.
Sergeant Mac Erick recovered from his gunshot wounds and the infection that
ravaged his body. However, the infection did damage his heart. He spent several
weeks in the hospital before receiving a medical discharge. His best buddy Sergeant
Leyton Wesley accompanied him back to his hometown in Melbourne, Florida
where he continues to undergo therapy for his left shoulder. He is working as a
video and camera communications expert with one of the major broadcast affiliates
in his hometown.
Sergeant Billy John later transferred to the U.S. base in Germany where he
continues to develop his special expertise in explosives. He is recognized among
the top five demolitions experts in the world.
Sergeant Leyton Wesley completed his tour of duty in South Korea. For a short
time he preformed contractual work for the U.S. Army. He has since moved back
to his home state of Texas in Richardson where he operates a successful camera
and photography shop. He is married and looking forward to his new baby.
Greco Mohammed has retired or at least that what he says at the moment.
This time might, however, be different. With Maria, his wife, they live in Georgetown
with twin boys who both have their mothers famous blue eyes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479767540

Harold Alvin

Born on a small farm in southeastern Kansas, he attended college in Florida and continued his education by attending Dallas School of Mortuary Science. He passed the Texas State Licensing Board for Funeral Directors and Embalmers. He enjoys reading and has many thousands of books in his private library. A number of his poems have been published. He is an Avid reader and traveler. He has traveled in the United Kingdom, Japan, Singapore, South America, Mexico. He is married and lives in Texas.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

P AUL J. CUSHING sat in his office, deep in thought about the impact of the merger of the CIA, FBI, Secret Service and twelve other organizations under one heading: the Department of Homeland Security. Sure, the theoretical synergy of so many different offices sharing information would have been great but Cushing knew all too well the mavericks, some of them in his own office, who always set out to make their own mark. Earlier, someone leaked information that the Secretary of Defense had helped to start a defense espionage unit back in 2001. Rumsfeld, one of those mavericks who made Cushing antsy, had been unhappy with the CIA and decided an independent unit would be necessary for the war on terror. Arrogant and brusque, he announced his intentions:

"We need to circumvent the red tape, cut through all the bullshit put out by the extreme liberal left. One way to do this is to form this new group. We will call it the Strategic Support Branch.

"This group includes linguists, interrogators, and technical specialists along with the recently empowered Special Operations Forces. They, according to some, had been operating in Iraq and Afghanistan since the start of the war in 2003. According to the leaked information, General Robert E. Miers, chairperson of the Joint Chief of Staff, declares the focus of this information is on emerging target countries – Somalia, Yemen, Indonesia, Philippines and Georgia. This closely guarded secret group will report directly to me.

"Two of our main goals – set back in 2003 and 2004 – were to give combat forces better information about their immediate enemy and to find new tools to penetrate and destroy the shadowy organizations such as Al-Qaeda, which pose global threats to U.S. interests in conflict with little resemblance to conventional war.

"The purpose is that this group is subject to fewer legal constraints. It involves new interpretations of Title 10 of the U.S. Code, which governs armed services, and Title 50, which governs, among other things, military intelligence. Under this title, all departments of the executive branch are obliged to keep Congress fully informed of all intelligences activities. The law exempts traditional military activities and their routine support.

In other words, the CIA has one set of restrictions and oversights and the military has another. The original program was funded in the fiscal year-oh-five budget under the name Humint Augmentation Teams. We later changed the name. The chairperson of both the House and Senate Armed Services Committees supported the programs. One senator stated these intelligence programs were vital to our security interests and he was in favor of these programs.

After the announcement, Rumsfeld contacted Cushing at the CIA. He wanted a small-specialized group for a particular mission. Paul knew many good men had retired from the CIA with impeccable files: Greco Mohammed was one. Yes, he had retired two years ago and had moved to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil to live with his nurse, Maria Altos, the woman who helped bring him back to health after the mugging on the streets of Rio. The mugging was a setup by the desk clerk of the Copacabana Palace Hotel.

Cushing and Greco maintained the slimmest of contact since the events of two years ago. Cushing’s private plane was used, in 2005, to carry the remains of Greco Fassoud the noted terrorist to Rio for burial in a private cemetery. In fact, Greco Fassoud and Greco Mohammed were the same. Greco Mohammed had slowly recovered from his injuries suffered in Mompox, Colombia. Cushing sent a security coded e-mail to "the bird of prey."

I know you are enjoying the surf at Copacabana and Ipanema beaches. I have a unique job that requires your expertise as a linguist. You will be in charge of the group. This group will have six people: you and three others plus two guides. I will allow you to choose from a list of people that I will give you. I really need your help. It is a dangerous mission. If you are captured you may even be tried for treason. It will create an international crisis. The United States, of course, will deny any knowledge of your existence. Let me know of your decision. PJ

Greco was really enjoying his life in Rio. The first time, since he lost Jo, his first wife, he was happy and life now had real joy with Maria. She was a great nurse; an outstanding friend and he dearly loved her. He had long ago told her all his past life and his involvement with the CIA, Al Qaeda, MS13 and the drug dealers of Colombia. He no longer looked over his shoulder nor did he have to stay one step ahead of those he dealt with and still yet another step or two ahead of the CIA who always was searching to kill him. His CIA tenure took on near-mythic status. Greco Fassoud, the universally hated Al-Qaeda who answered only to Osama bin Laden, had died from wounds received in a shootout at Mompox between CIA agents and drug dealers. His files with the CIA were sealed and stamped closed. The reason given was deceased: body unrecoverable.

Greco promised Maria that no secrets would ever keep them apart again. At times, he was like a boy, giddy with the warm intimacies he shared with his beautiful Latin bride. Still, as profound as his love for his beloved nightingale had grown, he could not escape the embrace of his genuine love for his country. Sometimes, a silent cue from Maria – a touch on his shoulder or a slight brush against his cheek – signaled that she was acutely aware that, as deep as their love had become, his love of national duty and respect transcended every other emotion. Greco often wondered if Maria was genuinely satisfied with what he could really give her emotionally as her best friend.

Maria still worked at the hospital. She had so much to offer to her patients, as Greco had discovered so intimately during those tenuous days of recovery a couple of years earlier. While she was at the hospital, he spent the mornings on the beach, walking, running, giving his body a chance to recover his fighting condition. For toning his arms, he usually carried two dumbbells weighing ten pounds each. His biceps were nearly as impressive as they were during his Texas college days.

The injuries he suffered nearly took his life and, without ever letting Maria know, he wondered if he could ever recover to the physical condition he had when he worked on the project. Getting back to his old self revived those dormant yens for the tightrope action. After twenty-three years of out-maneuvering his quarry day in and day out, Greco seemed like the antithetical candidate for an office job. The daily workouts restocked his adrenalin. Today’s workout was particularly satisfying. He could feel and see the results of his efforts. Returning to their apartment, ensconced in a government compound, Greco showered, donned his cotton terry robe, and sat at his laptop, secured courtesy of prudent government officials, to check his email. He smiled when he noticed PJ’s communication.

This is exactly what I need.

However, for the moment, Greco knew that the hardest part of his mission, at the outset, would be to win Maria’s endorsement. He quickly shot a response to Cushing:

"I am deeply interested but I want to talk with Maria before making any decisions." GM

Greco anxiously awaited Maria’s arrival. Because their house-cleaner and cook had the day off he prepared dinner for them and even set a candle on the table and chilled their favorite Chardonnay. Maria was always punctual and she arrived home at exactly six p.m. As usual, he met her at the door, kissed her long, and announced he had prepared their evening meal. She was tired but hungry. She washed her hands and sat down at the table. Greco lit the candle and poured her a glass of their chilled wine. The meal seemed hardly a challenge for Greco. He settled on an appetizer Sopa de Palmito (cream of palm heart soup), Stroganoff de Camarao (shrimp stroganoff) for the main course, and Merengue de Morango (strawberry meringue) for dessert. The stereo was playing their favorite music from among Brazil’s most celebrated guitarists and composers – Luiz Bonfa. Two of Greco’s favorites were Menina Flor (The Gentle Rain) and Perdido de Amor (Almost in Love) and nothing would be complete without their favorite song Nos Dois (Us Two), which featured Luiz Avelars on the keyboard and guitarist Richardo Silveira.

Greco had rekindled his youthful, romantic ways. Attentive as always, he asked Maria for details about her day. He enjoyed listening to her talk about her work. Rarely had he seen anybody feel so consistently rewarded by the trials, challenges, and achievements of work. Good or bad days, Maria truly loved her career. When they had finished their candlelight meal and their wine, he told her he had something important that he wanted to share.

For the first time this evening, Maria frowned. Greco could see in her face that she was suspecting the worst. He silently slipped the printed email to her hands. As if she barely finished reading the first sentence, she started to pepper Greco with questions. He did not know. All he kept saying was that he wanted to talk with her first before finding anything else about this new assignment. He repeated, three times, that he understood her hesitation about the clandestine nature of his work. And, then, as if it really was needed, he told Maria how much he loved his country. And, after all, he could not sleep knowing that a global war could throw hundreds of millions lives into catastrophic disruption. In fact, the war could end civilization for many nations.

Their conversation continued far into the night.

Maria’s concern could not be hidden.

Oh, Greco, I was so afraid when you left Rio to go to Cartagena. Then the man who attacked you in your room.

Yes, Maria, I understand. It is for these reasons I stand strongly committed to my country.

Maria was a bit irked at Greco’s formal tone.

Greco, I know and understand your love for your country and I would love to be an American, too. When I was kidnapped and finally learned of your near-death experience from the shooting in Mompox, I lived through so many nightmares worrying about you.

I know, Maria. but my country calls for me and I cannot ever ignore that.

But, Greco, if I lose you… ?

You won’t lose me. I will come back. I love you so very much.

I love you, too, but without… I don’t think I could survive.

Greco waited a long moment in silence.

Maria, please read the email again.

They discussed the possibility of his being captured and tried as a spy. Fresh as the concerns seemed now, Greco always had faced that possibility. As much as she tried to obscure the fact, she knew his heart was in his work. He certainly was good at what he did. She saw the restlessness every day and she knew that eventually he was going to go back to his work. She just did not know when. She loved him so much she would have followed him to the ends of the earth if only he had asked her. And, Greco knew the huge sacrifice that his wife would offer, confident that her love was extraordinary in its genuine nature.

I know that your heart is set on being of service to your country. Above all else, I want you to be happy.

Greco steeled his internal emotions. Her gifts would have been incomprehensible to the rank and file modern-day skeptic of virtually every other relationship.

I want you to be happy as well.

He knew she wanted him to marry her and he had never proposed or even hinted marriage. For a moment, he studied her face, looking for the slightest of physical cues.

What do you want to do with your life?

What do you mean by what do I want to do with my life? I am a nurse and I thoroughly enjoy being able to help. Ever since I was a little girl, I always wanted to be a nurse.

I mean what are your goals in life, your ambition? Where do you see yourself in the next twenty years?

She glanced at him and quickly looked away. Her azure eyes scanned the ceiling as if it were a clear, sunny day where those fluffy cumulus days become the stuff of carefree daydreams. After about fifteen seconds, she turned back to Greco.

I would like to become a U.S. citizen. I want to marry, settle down, have some children and have someone who loves me and wants to spend as much time as possible with me.

Maria, I truly understand your hopes, dreams and desires. Over twenty years ago, I too, had those same desires and I stood helpless by a bedside and watch my dreams slip into eternity. A big part of me died that day. The ashes of those memories turned cold and I became just as cold and distant. My biggest fear always has been losing someone I love and I could not bear that prospect with you…

Suddenly, Greco choked up. He paused, collected himself, and took Maria’s right hand.

Maria will you marry me?

Of course, Greco, you know I will.

She grabbed Greco, hugged him as tight as possible, and kissed him repeatedly. Tears streaked her soft cheeks.

You have made me so happy! I can’t wait to begin making arrangements.

Then let us plan this wedding as soon as possible. I will email P.J. and ask for at least forty-five days before I take this job. I’ll also ask P.J. to get the necessary paper work, so we can get you on the fast track for citizenship. We’ll get this done as quickly as possible. INS will issue a proxy making you an American citizen.

Greco immediately e-mailed the request and PJ started moving as soon as he finished reading the email. For Greco, PJ knew he could set the wheels into motion so that everything would be in order within forty-eight hours. He emailed Greco and advised him that all of his requests had been approved. Just as quickly, he would send the names of the men he would suggest to Greco for the assignment.

This time, they would be going into North Korea to log the location of two suspected nuclear laboratories and the scientists working at those sites. Undoubtedly, the United States government would deny all connections should Greco and his team be discovered. Carrying no identification, they would be working under a new branch of government that reported directly to the Pentagon. While the group would be working under the Strategic Support Branch umbrella, the mission would be named ICON International Covert Operations Nuclear. In the event the mission failed, the United States government would refer to the group as overzealous mercenary rogues, or soldiers of fortune.

Greco had no questions. His response to PJ was one word.

Agreed.

The next day, Maria went to the hospital and requested a sabbatical leave for at least one year. She did not want the hospital to suspect anything except that Greco was an employee of an oil company. She constantly feared that drug dealers, soldiers for hire, and others would put him instantaneously on their hit list if they found out he was alive. The administrator knew how hard Maria worked and when she told him that Greco had proposed to her the night before and she had accepted his proposal, he granted her request without any further questions.

She went home, feeling exuberant and triumphant. The next day, she called the Archdiocese of Sao Sebastiao do Rio de Janeiro. It would be a Roman Catholic wedding. She called Cardinal Archbishop Eusebio Oscar Scheid. Since he had baptized her as a baby, she wanted him to handle the wedding ceremonies.

Cardinal Scheid beamed with satisfaction.

Has Greco ever been married?

Yes.

Maria’s eyes reflected her sudden worry.

Well Maria, you know, I cannot perform the wedding ceremonies if he is divorced. The Church will not recognize the marriage, nor can we ask the blessing of God on such an action. It is a very short notice to petition the church for an annulment, that is if you want it granted in the next few weeks. These actions, sometimes, takes months to get approval. They could also be denied.

He saw the disappointment in her face. However, Maria suddenly brightened.

Oh, I forgot to tell you his wife is deceased. She passed away over twenty years ago.

That’s one obstacle resolved. Oh, Maria, before I forget: What is his relationship with the Church?

"His relationship with the Church?

Yes.

Well, he converted to the Church from the Islamic faith over twenty years ago when he married Jo, his first wife.

Oh, in that case I will be happy to pronounce my blessings and the blessings of the Church on you both.

She called the florist and arranged for flowers, orchids and red roses to decorate the church and the reception area. She went to see her dressmaker. Angelina Facenda, the tailor, was very happy for Maria. She took her measurements and said it would take about two weeks for the dress to be ready. It would be white A-Line design with a sweetheart neckline and pink floral appliqué around the bottom of the gown. The bridesmaids would wear pink strapless full-length Georgette dresses and a dark rose ribbon bow at the natural waistline with pleats in the front only. Maria called her three best girl friends – Estrella Gorden, Erika Fuentes, Elize Corazon – and asked them to be bridesmaids and they rushed into the shop the same day to have measurements taken for their respective dresses.

Meanwhile, Greco knew that his family would require more than simple, one-word assent that he gave to PJ. Suddenly, his mind reeled with scores of questions. His family would want to learn and know everything about Maria and how they met. Of course, the first challenge would be to help them deal with the shock that their beloved son, in fact, is very much alive. His mother had a light heart attack when she learned of his death. Greco worried about her physical condition if she knew that he was alive and getting married. At the time, the CIA told Greco’s family he was dead and his body was unrecoverable but they were still searching for him.

CHAPTER 2

I T WAS A beautiful, bright sunny mid-March afternoon in Detroit but the forecasters indicated a fast-moving late spring cold front with possible sleet and snow. The FedEx man at the Mohammed home surprised the elderly woman. For more than two years she had dreaded answering the door since that dreadful day when two CIA men, dressed in black suits, informed them that her son had died. He had lost his life in South America and his body was unrecoverable. She was shocked that her son was not only working for BHP Petroleum, but that he also was a CIA agent. The protocol for information and notification was much like a witness protection program as much to provide a safe harbor for Greco’s family as it was to give him the effective cover he needed.

The news sent her to the hospital for a few days. Dr. Benadina, the long-time family physician, had previously diagnosed her with heart disease, warning her to be as careful as possible. She had suffered cardiac arrest and he gave her some glycerin tables to place under her tongue to use as necessary. Her husband had also purchased a portable defibrillator for emergency use.

On the second ringing of the doorbell, she went timidly to the door. She opened the door to the deliveryman.

Is this the Mohammed’s residence?

Yes it is.

She looked lost for a moment.

Are you Mrs. Mohammed?

Yes I am. How may I help you?

He handed her a single package – a FedEx overnight letter.

Please sign here.

She took the package, signed her name, thanked him and closed the door. Walking back to the kitchen table, she scanned her memory furiously for any name of anybody in Rio de Janeiro who would be sending her a package. Her mind darted rapidly back and forth, settling on the notion that perhaps someone had crucial information about the whereabouts of her son’s remains. She prayed using one hand to work her prayer beads as she carried the FedEx package to the kitchen.

Allah, please, I beg grant me some closure on the loss of my son.

She sat down at the kitchen table, illuminated by bright sunshine streaking through the window. She gave up her composure and tore at the package, glanced at the contents, and rose from her chair. She reached for the windowsill above the sink and grabbed a bottle, struggled to open it with trembling hands, and finally placed a glycerin tablet under her tongue.

Had this been a terribly cruel joke?

She barely recovered herself when she reached for the phone and called her husband.

Papa, close the shop now and come home as quickly as possible and bring Rafael and Al Sheik with you. Please hurry. I need you now. Please!

Mama, Mama, what’s wrong? Talk to me!

I can’t talk now! Come home quickly.

He heard the receiver drop with a thud on the floor and then the line went dead. The urgency of her tone, the near frantic call for help made him think of the worst possible case. He had never heard such fear in his wife’s voice.

He always has been the calm one in the family, the optimist who nevertheless knew that his wife would never exaggerate physical pain or trouble. Maybe she was suffering another heart attack. The doctor had warned them, after she barely survived the shock of getting the news about her son’s mysterious death, that she might not be able to sustain another deep, emotional bolt of news affecting her family.

Fortunately, there was just one customer left in the bakery and he was just about finished. Mr. Mohammed followed him silently, opened the door, and immediately flipped the sign to Closed. Please come again. He pulled the shade down, locked the door, went into the back and told his sons Rafael and Al Sheik that something apparently bad had happened. Maybe it was Rebecca, their sister. She was working in Ann Arbor as a student teacher in one of the biology labs at the University of Michigan while she was finishing up her studies for a doctorate in molecular biology. The two sons removed their aprons, washed the flour residue from their hands, put on their jackets, rechecked the locks of the front door and, with their father, walked out the back door. Silently but with quickstep efficiency, they finished the routine by securing the three dead bolts on the back door, got into the 2005 Ford Explorer. They lived close to each other, no more than a few blocks apart and they always rode to and from work together. The trip was about ten minutes without traffic or closer to thirty in heavy traffic.

Fearing the worst, they rushed into the house, shouting her name.

I’m here in the kitchen.

The three men appeared to be overcome with relief. Her husband spoke.

What’s wrong? Mama, what’s wrong?

One of the sons noticed the prayer beads on the floor. They knew something extraordinary had happened. Since that terrible day in 2005, she always had her prayer beads in hand. Now, she was crying and kneading her hands as she always did when she was nervous and upset. She tilted her head toward the letter lying on the kitchen table in front of her. Her husband, his hands trembling as badly as hers, picked up the letter and read it. His face flushed red and then tears choked his voice as he turned to his sons.

Your brother is alive!

His wife stopped crying and looked up at her husband.

Greco is alive?! Are you sure? Are you sure that this isn’t a cruel joke?

Rafael took the FedEx package, looked in the pouch, reached inside, and removed twelve plane tickets. His eyes grew wide.

Look! Here are twelve round-trip tickets on American Airlines to Rio de Janeiro.

His brother, Al-Sheik, grabbed the tickets and counted them out loudly.

This is incredible. Twelve tickets?! The children are in school. How can we take them out of school and take them to Brazil?

He looked at his father.

What shall we do?

The tears had been replaced with the urgent, planning tones of a professional travel agent. Rafael clicked his fingers.

I know. We will call Fayeeda, the woman who worked at the nursery school.

The mother chimed in.

Which woman? They have several women working there.

You know, the widowed lady that lived with her parents over on Cain Street.

Who?

"You remember the elderly couple killed a few months ago in the car and train crash. They were the ones who ignored the train crossing signs at Luther and Seville Streets.

Oh, now I know who you mean. Why is she not working?

After a group of teenagers set fire to the nursery school, she has been unable to find work. Besides, she can drive the older kids to school, pick them up, look after the little ones and prepare their meals.

Rafael smiled broadly.

Good idea. She can stay at our house and look after things until we return. We need to call her and, yes, Rebecca, she will be so excited.

Al-Sheik pulled his cell phone out of his right pocket.

I’ll call Fayeeda now and then Rebecca. It’s four o-clock now.

Fayeeda picked up the phone on the first ring. Al-Sheik told her the adults would be traveling to South America and they would be gone for a few days at least – possibly as many as five. She was very pleased to help out and assured Al Sheik that she would take good care of the children.

Al Sheik thanked her and hung up. The call had lasted barely three minutes. He turned to Rafael and his parents.

Fayeeda said there’d be no problem and she will be happy to care for the children. I’ll call Rebecca. I bet she is still at school. What I am saying? She’s always there.

When the operator at the University of Michigan directory assistance center at the research park answered she said, University of Michigan, how may I direct your call?

This is Al Sheik Mohammed. May I speak with Rebecca Mohammed in the research center?

Is this an emergency?

Yes this is her brother and it is somewhat of an emergency.

Al-Sheik had to muffle his giggles.

Please hold. I’ll put you through to the lab.

The phone rang four times. A man who sounded like a very young student answered.

Lab, yes?

Yes, this is Al-Sheik Mohammed. May I speak to Rebecca Mohammed? It is an emergency.

I’m sorry. She just stepped out but she should be back momentarily. Can I take a message or would you like to hold?

Al-Sheik sounded impatient.

I will hold.

He tapped his fingers incessantly on the kitchen countertop. After about forty-five seconds – what really had seemed like an eternity – he heard a click and his sister’s familiar, optimistic voice came on.

Hello, this is Rebecca Mohammed.

Becca, this is Al Sheik.

Hi! What’s up?

Becca, I have incredible news.