Domestic Terrorism

By Jay P. Farrington

Somewhere between reality and fiction lies the essence of Jay P. Farringtons compelling first novel, Domestic Terrorism. A real-life street cop, Farrington expertly tells the tale of Wes MacGregor - a street-wise law enforcement veteran whose prophetic vision of the degeneration of Americas teenagers comes hauntingly true. Farrington introduces us to child armies who have turned away from their dysfunctional families, to gain the acceptance of a maniacal father figure, hell-bent on exacting his revenge on society in general, and Wes in particular. Ripped from real life events, Domestic Terrorism is a shockingly smart page-turner you wont soon forget.

Recently Domestic Terrorism was optioned to be cast as a movie or TV series by a production company in Los Angeles. Want know more? Visit authors website at www.domesticterrorism.net for news and upcoming events.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 14, 2001
• ISBN: 9781469113241

Jay P. Farrington

Jay P. Farrington is still a full-time police officer in the Southern California area where he and his family live. In his spare time Farrington enjoys tactical training, camping, traveling, physical fitness and writing. He continues to work on other novels inspired by his adventures and experiences.

Book preview

DOMESTIC

TERRORISM

_____________________________

Jay P. Farrington

Copyright © 2001 by Jay P. Farrington.

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

any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission

in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-7-XLIBRISwww.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

12548

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

PUTTING THE WORD OUT

CHAPTER 2

DANGEROUS MEETING

CHAPTER 3

WELCOME TO SACRAMENTO

CHAPTER 4

HOT COFFEE

CHAPTER 5

SHOCKING PRESENTATION

CHAPTER 6

THE BOMBING

CHAPTER 7

THE MEETING

CHAPTER 8

BAD NEWS

CHAPTER 9

DESERT MEETING

CHAPTER 10

RETURNING HOME

CHAPTER 11

GROUNDWORK

CHAPTER 12

RAIDS

CHAPTER 13

CABIN FEVER

CHAPTER 14

REVENGE

CHAPTER 15

SADNESS

CHAPTER 16

SORROWS

CHAPTER 17

DMV

CHAPTER 18

GRIEF

CHAPTER 19

CHAOS

CHAPTER 20

KAUAI

CHAPTER 21

TERROR BEGINS

CHAPTER 22

AWAKENINGS

CHAPTER 23

STORIES

CHAPTER 24

TERRORISTS

CHAPTER 25

DREAMS

CHAPTER 26

DESTINY ARRIVES

CHAPTER 27

DEADLY DECOY

CHAPTER 28

NEW JOB

CHAPTER 29

BUILDING THE TEAM

CHAPTER 30

SETTLING IN

CHAPTER 31

OFF TO THE ISLAND

CHAPTER 32

VIP

CHAPTER 33

MEET THE CAPTAIN

CHAPTER 34

ACADEMY FROM HELL

CHAPTER 35

TEST DRIVE

CHAPTER 36

TRAINING

CHAPTER 37

REMOTE CONTROL

CHAPTER 38

OPERATIONAL

CHAPTER 39

THE SURVIVOR

CHAPTER 40

MISSION ONE

CHAPTER 41

EVIL BELOW

CHAPTER 42

YOU’RE THE CAPTAIN

CHAPTER 43

UNCOMMON KILLER

CHAPTER 44

INSERTION

CHAPTER 45

WOLF IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING

CHAPTER 46

DIVERSIONS

CHAPTER 47

GOING IN

CHAPTER 48

FORGOTTEN ENEMIES

CHAPTER 49

DAY AFTER

CHAPTER 50

MISTAKES

CHAPTER 51

MISSION TWO

CHAPTER 52

HIGH STAKES

CHAPTER 53

PROJECT BLUE STARS

CHAPTER 54

BAD NEWS

CHAPTER 55

REINFORCEMENTS

CHAPTER 56

URBAN WARFARE

CHAPTER 57

AFTERMATH

CHAPTER 58

MEET THE GENERAL

CHAPTER 59

NEW TOYS

CHAPTER 60

IT’S A GO

CHAPTER 61

DARK SKIES

CHAPTER 62

YOU SMELL SOMETHING?

CHAPTER 63:

NECESSARY EVIL

CHAPTER 64

SILENT BUT NOISY

CHAPTER 65

OLD ENEMIES NEVER DIE

CHAPTER 66

THE DEVIL IN CAMOUFLAGE

EPILOGUE

This book is dedicated to my comrades who have answered the call to service at home and overseas. May those who have given the ultimate sacrifice always watch over us while we continue to fight the good fight.

To my wife, Connie, thanks for being there and giving me the encouragement to write this book. Without you this book would still be random files on my computer. To the rest of my family and friends, thanks for the inspiration to create the characters. And lastly, thanks Punky for the technical advise on the SEAL operations-stay safe and come home.

PROLOGUE

April 8, 1992, 0200 Hours …

Undisclosed location over Northern Iraq …

As the rear ramp of the C-130 opened, cold bitter air came rushing in. The Jumpmaster gave the signal for the team to stand up. He inspected all eight men to make sure they weren’t having a reaction to the pure oxygen they had been breathing. Satisfied everyone was okay, the Jumpmaster then gave the order for the team do a final equipment and oxygen check. After everyone gave a thumbs-up, they waddled to the rear of the plane, wearing their heavy equipment strapped to their bodies. As Second Class Petty Officer Wes MacGregor looked beyond the ramp, all he could see was the cold black abyss of the night sky at 33,000 feet. Even with all the protective equipment he was wearing, Wes MacGregor could still feel the freezing cold air circulating throughout the rear of the plane. Wes looked to his right at Commander Doren Ramsey, who hadn’t said much to anyone since he had advised he was running the mission from the field. Wes had heard rumors about Commander Ramsey working for the CIA doing covert missions, but no one really talked about it. He thought it strange that a Commander was going on this mission. Usually they run operations from a remote location while a Chief Petty Officer acts as the tactical leader in the field.

Just then the indicator light turned green and Jumpmaster gave the signal to deploy with his hands. Wes’ stomach sank as he jumped into the blackness of night. This was only Wes’ fifth HALO (High Altitude Low Opening) jump for an actual mission. Operation Desert Thunder was to be a get in and get out mission. They were to set explosives in a Kurdish village in Northern Iraq where hundreds of Republican Guard soldiers were hiding out, detonate the explosives, eliminate any survivors, and get out. Intelligence reports indicated that the Republican Guard soldiers had already killed hundreds of the Kurdish Nomads.

As Wes free fell to earth, he kept checking the altimeter on his wrist since all he could see was blackness around him. He noted that he had fallen almost 10,000 feet. He looked around for any one else on his team and caught sight of the red glow of the altimeters of two others. A few moments later Wes heard Commander Ramsey’s labored voice in his headset reminding them to deploy their chutes at 5000 feet. By the time Wes checked his wrist altimeter again, he heard Commander Ramsey’s voice, Deploy chutes. I’ll see everyone at point alpha.

Wes deployed his chute and was relieved when it opened and he began to glide to the dark desert below. Just as Wes started to make out faint details of the desert, he heard a panicked voice in his headset.

Shit! I’m hung up! Shit! Shit!

Suddenly Wes saw someone fall just feet from him with his chute partially opened. Wes looked down in horror at his fellow SEAL falling to his death. Wes knew he couldn’t do anything to help him. Just then another black figure rocketed past him. Wes struggled to see what was happening below him through his mask. Then he noticed a parachute open below him, but he didn’t know whose it was. After Wes landed and secured his equipment, he hiked to point alpha, where he could see the team medic working on Petty Officer Werner’s leg. Commander Ramsey had free fallen into Werner and pulled his own chute. Unfortunately, the chute couldn’t handle the extra weight, so they fell too fast. Werner hit the ground first and suffered a compound fracture to his right lower leg. Wes could see the blood soaked BDUs cut back exposing the bone sticking out of Werner’s lower leg. Commander Ramsey was talking to the JOC (Joint Operations Center) advising them of the situation. Wes heard the last part of the conversation.

Negative, evac not necessary now. We will complete the mission.

Commander Ramsey looked up at Wes. You’re going to have to carry his gear. The mission is still a go. Frosty will survive. So let’s gear up and move out.

Everyone made their way to a point 100 yards outside the target village. Behind the cover of a sandy hill, Commander Ramsey showed everyone on a map where he wanted them to set charges. With everyone clear on their specific tasks, it was time to go to work. The team silently worked their way to the village, keeping an eye out for any Iraqi soldiers. Wes methodically placed the explosives throughout the southwest area of the village. One thing struck Wes as strange. He hadn’t seen one Republican Guard soldier standing guard or patrolling the area. All he saw or heard was the ringing bells around the necks of the livestock wandering throughout the village. He thought things were going too easy. Wes dismissed the thought and focused back on the mission. When Wes pulled out the last set of explosives from Petty Officer Werner’s pack, he noticed that there were Iraqi coins taped on the outside of the casing for shrapnel. He thought it was weird because the explosives they were using were plenty powerful to eliminate personnel and structures. Then Wes remembered the rumors about Commander Ramsey being nicknamed Dr. Death because of the unique modifications he made to creatively kill the enemy. Wes positioned the device as instructed anyway and left the area. An hour had elapsed when Wes wired in his explosives to the remote detonator concealed behind a bush. When Wes retuned to the staging location, he realized that he was the last one back. Commander Ramsey stared at him and said, Did you do your fucking grocery shopping too?

Wes didn’t know how to respond. No sir, I just did a thorough job.

I hope so for your sake, added Commander Ramsey.

It was a quiet, uncomfortable hike back to point alpha. No one said a word. Once back at point alpha, Wes noticed that Werner was hooked up to an IV and passed out. His leg was splinted and wrapped up. Wes heard Commander Ramsey tell the team medic something. The medic argued back and said, If I give him anymore morphine, it could kill him.

Just do it, ordered Commander Ramsey. "We can’t afford to have him screaming in pain when we are heading to the LZ (landing zone).

The medic reluctantly complied.

Commander Ramsey started to pull out the remote detonator when the red light on the satellite phone flashed. Wes watched his face change as he spoke on the phone. Then he did something strange. Commander Ramsey unscrewed the antenna and said, Do not copy, I repeat do not copy. Transmission all static.

Commander Ramsey returned the phone to its holder and finished working on the detonator. Everyone was looking at one another not sure what to do. Wes knew that something wasn’t right. Everything about this mission was strange, especially the officer in charge. Commander Ramsey finished the detonator and said, After I detonate the explosives, be ready to move to the LZ.

Everyone started to gather up their equipment, when Wes asked, So, Commander, what did the base want to advise?

Commander Ramsey glared at Wes. They wanted to know our status. Now, get your god damned equipment secured and be ready to leave.

Yes sir, answered Wes.

After Commander Ramsey disappeared over the sandy hill, Wes quickly found the antenna and plugged it back into the satellite phone. Just as he did, he could see the flashing red light indicating that someone was trying to call again. Petty Officer Lyle looked at Wes. What are you doing?

Wes picked up the phone and said, Something is not right.

He put the phone up to his ear and said, Go base, I copy you now.

All Wes could hear was the frantic voice of someone on the other end. Abort mission! I repeat, abort mission! Target area is full of civilians. Original targets have left the target area! Abort …

Wes dropped the phone and looked at the others, Shit! Mission is aborted. The village is full of civilians. He is going to kill them.

Wes and Petty Officer Lyle ran toward the village to try and stop Commander Ramsey, but they were too late. Just as they reached the top of the sandy hill, the explosion rattled the valley, sending debris in all directions. Wes dove for cover and peered out his arms covering his head in horror as the village was engulfed in hot flames.

CHAPTER 1

PUTTING THE WORD OUT

Ten years later … 0135 Hours.

Romeo could see his breath in the cold night air as he walked up the dark, damp alley in an eastern neighborhood in San Diego. Garbage rustled around his feet as a chilly night breeze blew. He kept looking around for any cops who might be in the area. Romeo couldn’t afford to get picked up right now. There was too much at stake.

When he reached the rusty security gate leading to the tan, graffiti-stained stucco apartments, he took one last look around. He recognized the graffiti AKB which stood for Asian Killer Boys, and the name Snipe spray-painted under it. He knew he was in the right place. Romeo checked the handle, which was locked. He quickly scrambled over the rickety security gate and walked upstairs to apartment number six, where he could hear loud hip-hop music. Romeo pounded on the door with his fist, causing the window to the left to rattle violently. He then stepped to the side while he cautiously scanned the alley one last time. The door swung open and the music blared. A thin Asian male with bleached, spiked hair appeared, wearing baggy black jeans and a green shirt.

Yo, Romeo, what’s up? he asked. Come on in.

As Romeo walked in, he could smell pot and stale beer. He noticed a couple of guys sitting on a stained tan couch smoking from a purple bong. Romeo remembered that the Commander didn’t want any drug addicts in the group. He scanned the rest of the guys in the room, sizing them up to see if they had what it would take. At over six feet tall, Romeo was almost twice the size of everyone else in the room, except for one who was too busy making out with a girlfriend.

Hey Snipe, can we talk in private? yelled Romeo over the music.

Yeah, no prob. You want a beer first?

No, I’m good. I don’t have a lot of time.

They walked back to the rear bedroom and closed the door, making it easier to hear.

This is my aunt’s room, so it’s cool, added Snipe.

So what’s up? I hadn’t seen you in a while.

I’ve been busy. I’ve gotten hooked up with something big and I wanted to know if you were interested.

How big?

I can’t give up much yet, but I know you will be down with this shit. I’m talking plenty of guns and plenty of action. You’ll even get military training.

Snipe laughed. Training? You mean like boot camp.

Romeo grinned. Yeah, kinda like boot camp, but a lot better.

So who’s running the show anyway? Because I don’t know anyone who can get weapons worth a shit anymore.

He’s called the Commander and he’s dialed in with serious connections. He’s putting together an army but only wants to use serious players.

It sounds cool. I was getting tired of hanging out with these dipshits anyway. What do I have to do to get hooked up?

There will be a meeting in two days at an abandoned drive-in theater on the East Side. Everybody who shows up gets a hundred bucks. Anyone who joins up gets a lot more.

Cool, a hundred bucks. I’m down with that.

I want you to put the word out to your homies, but not the tweekers. The Commander doesn’t want any fucking addicts.

Just then somebody came barging in laughing with a girl hanging on his shoulder.

Tiny, get the fuck out. This is my aunt’s room.

Tiny was a large Asian male who had a reputation among the gang as a good fighter. He was obviously drunk and told Snipe to fuck off or he would kick his ass. Romeo stood in front of the large, drunk Asian and blocked his way.

Hey, my friend told you to get the fuck out. Now go get laid somewhere else.

Tiny nudged his girlfriend away and glared at Romeo with his glassy, bloodshot eyes.

I’m going to use this room and you’re not going to do shit about it. So, get the fuck out of my way.

Snipe protested to Romeo. Hey, come on Romeo, I wouldn’t fuck with Tiny. He’s been in martial arts since he was a kid. Nobody has beaten him.

Romeo ignored Snipe and pushed his right hand into Tiny’s chest, causing him to stumble back. Tiny took a fighting stance by spreading his feet apart and holding his fists in front of him.

Come on bitch, you want to go?

Romeo grinned and said, I heard you were the bitch around here.

Snipe cautiously back away and mumbled, Oh shit.

Tiny became furious at the comment and threw a series of punches at Romeo. Romeo ducked away from the first barrage of blows. As Tiny swung again with his right fist, Romeo sidestepped to the left and trapped Tiny’s right arm by grabbing his elbow and wrist. Romeo pulled Tiny off balance and twisted his right arm, exposing the outside of the elbow. When he fell off balance, Romeo continued to pull on Tiny’s arm with his right hand making it rigid. Romeo then came down with all his weight at Tiny’s right elbow. Snipe cringed as he heard the cracking of bones when Romeo dropped his weight across the joint. Tiny fell face first to the ground, where he started to scream from the pain. Romeo still had a hold of his arm where he noticed that the bone was poking through the skin now. He let Tiny’s bloody arm flop unnaturally to the floor. Romeo turned toward Snipe, who couldn’t believe what he just saw.

Fuck, where did you learn to fight like that? No one has ever beaten Tiny.

Show up at the meeting in two days and you’ll find out.

CHAPTER 2

DANGEROUS MEETING

48 Hours later … 1945 Hours

Romeo stood by with Snipe as he looked around at the different gangs that showed up. He figured there were almost two hundred or so gangsters from the San Diego area. It didn’t take long for a few fights to break out among the rival gangs. Just as things were getting out of control, Doren Ramsey walked out of the shadows and fired a fully automatic rifle into the air. The group fell silent, and the only noise heard was the brass casings falling against the ground. Some of the group fell to the ground thinking they were being fired upon. Slowly everyone stood up and gazed in surprise at a dark figure holding the automatic rifle. Doren, with his dark hair tied in a ponytail, towered over the crowd standing in the back of the truck. He stood six foot four, wearing camouflage BDU pants and a tight, black T-shirt that showed off his defined muscles. He glared at the crowd in front of him with his dark, sinister stare. His dark eyes slowly scanned the group.

You can beat the shit out of each other, but go do it somewhere else. For the rest of you, I have a business opportunity for anyone who is up for it, announced Doren.

Doren tossed the rifle toward Romeo and jumped off the truck. Someone from the black gang to Doren’s right interrupted, Hey, where the fuck is my hundred bucks? I want my money before I listen to some bullshit from some white motherfucker.

A few others started to openly agree.

Doren pointed toward the mouthy black gangster.

Okay. I’ll give everyone their money first, if any one of you can kick my ass. I’ll even let them use a knife.

Laugher erupted among the crowd. As the laughter quieted, a muscular, young black man with corn-rolled hair with red beads walked toward Doren. He took off his shirt, exposing the gallery of dark green prison tattoos. one of the tattoos across his chest was his nickname—Creeper.

He pulled a shiny six-inch knife out of his baggy jeans and said, Let’s go dawg.

Doren took off his shirt, exposing hideous scars along with a tattoo of the SEAL team emblem and other tattoos he had gotten inside prison. He looked at Romeo, who was holding the rifle, and told him to kill anyone who interfered. Everyone formed a circle around the two men. Doren taunted his opponent as they circled around each other.

I hope you know how to use that knife. otherwise, I’m going to plunge it into your throat.

oh, I’m going to cut your white ass and then I’m going to take all the money.

Well, quit your talking and do it bitch. I heard you were all talk anyway.

With his right hand, Creeper swiped at Doren’s mid-section. Doren arched back as the blade whizzed past his ribcage. Doren kept taunting him.

Come on, you can do better than that. You hold that knife like a bitch.

Creeper sprang forward at Doren’s stomach with the shiny blade. Doren anticipated his move and sidestepped to the right. He snapped his open right palm into Creeper’s right hand, knocking the knife out of his hand. Doren immediately followed up with a lightning-fast punch in the face with his left palm. As Doren made contact with Creeper’s nose, blood spewed out of his nostrils, spilling down his chin. With his opponent stunned, Doren then grabbed Creeper’s left arm and swung him to the rocky asphalt. Doren now had him face down on the ground. He wrapped his muscular right arm around Creeper’s neck and started to squeeze. Creeper panicked as he started to pass out from lack of blood to his brain. Creeper used what last strength he had to try and pull Doren off his neck, but Doren was too strong. Doren knew if he squeezed a little harder he could snap Creeper’s neck, but he decided not to this time. Instead, he told Creeper to yell that he gives up loud enough for everyone to hear. With what strength he had left, he nodded his head. Doren released his grip and stood up behind Creeper, who stayed on the ground coughing and choking for almost a minute. One of the other black gang members lunged for the knife that was knocked out of Creeper’s hand during the fight. Romeo raised the rifle and took aim at his head.

Don’t do it, or I’ll fucking kill you!

He backed away from the knife as he realized there was a rifle aimed at his head.

Creeper finally got up and looked in astonishment at Doren. As he wiped the blood off his face with his left hand, he said, Motherfucker can fight.

Doren laughed as he said, T-dawg said you’d probably try and kick my ass.

Creeper got a surprised look on his swelling face.

"How do you know T-Dawg? He’s