The Saltwater Connection: Jim Scott Books, #6

By Mike Jackson

With the team now two-plus years into its activities, and the build-up to the beginning of Operation Iraqi Freedom going on, the Janitors embark on a far flung mission to thwart more evil deeds by al-Qaida…and Hamas.  In this book, The Saltwater Connection, Janitors Book #6, the line-up of the Janitors—as formed in Baghdad Butcher and refined in Back to Iraq—changes somewhat.  We lose one of the members of the team and add three new ones, Dan and Janet Orf from Dog Pound, Toboggan, and The Tickleton Affair, as well as a new character from this book.

 

It is a well-known fact that many of the Islamist Terrorists of various stripes assist others of their ilk whenever possible.  In this book, we have al-Qaida and Hamas working together in a white slavery operation…showing again that nothing is too deep a depth for these sickos to engage in.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike Jackson
• Release date: Oct 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215229910

Mike Jackson

After serving in the Navy, Mike Jackson went into construction for a couple of years, then into banking for a few more. His next endeavor was in sales, where he spent most of the remainder of his life…until he started writing. On finding out that the most enjoyable thing of his life was writing, he's kept at it for several years and is still plodding along. Mike is married with two adult children and two grandkids. Mike and his wife have one dog at the present time, but he is a pip…and runs the house.

Book preview

The Saltwater Connection

A Novel by

Mike Jackson

1.

Sarah Jane Mosley was more than just a bit tipsy as she headed for the expensive convertible her father had purchased for her twenty-first birthday.  It was in the parking lot of the sports bar in the Westlake Village section of Los Angeles, where she had been for several hours.  As she staggered up to it and fumbled for her keys, the side, sliding door of a van parked next to her car slid open and Haji Sitta jumped out, duct tape in hand.  With little wasted motion, he slapped it over her mouth as Abu Shihata jumped out, quickly grabbed her hands, and shackled them with handcuffs.

In less than ten seconds, the van pulled away from its parking spot, Sarah Jane inside with the two men who had overpowered her so easily.  The abduction had gone smoothly, with Sarah Jane so stunned and caught off-guard, she hadn’t even offered the slightest bit of resistance.  Once in the van, she was roughly shoved down alongside two other attractive young ladies, and was soon given a shot that rendered her nearly unconscious.

Driving the van was the third member of the abduction team, Ibn Ahmad, who, like Shihata, was a member of the al-Qaida terror network.  Haji Sitta was also a terrorist, but he belonged to Hamas.  That the team was a mixture of Hamas and al-Qaida terrorists was no accident.  Mustafa Zawahiri, overall head of the kidnapping operation, was a chief financial officer for al-Qaida, and had teamed with Hamas leaders in joint fund-raising schemes.  The setting up of a white slavery operation was only a portion of the overall money-raising plan.

Smuggling, drug running, and legitimate business (such as air cargo transport) were also involved, each in its own way making money for the two terrorist groups.  The twin-engine cargo plane they used to transport the women doubled as an air transport plane, for both legal and illegal items of commerce.

When they reached the small airport south of Los Angeles, Ibn pulled up to their plane, and helped the other two men quickly load the three women aboard.  Already on board were three other attractive young women, abducted the previous night in San Diego, who were being guarded by two more of the terrorist band.  Also aboard were several large boxes of cigarettes that would be smuggled into Canada along with the females, and legitimate freight for this trip.  More legitimate freight would be picked up at their refueling stop in Boise, Idaho.

In a matter of minutes they were airborne, on a flight plan for the Boise stop then on to their final destination of Calgary, Alberta, Canada.  By crossing into Canada, but flying under radar, they also had a planned stopover at a landing strip some miles west of Cranbrook, British Columbia, Canada, where their base of operations was located.

***

Mid-morning the following day, Dan Orf was busy doing paperwork at his desk in the Investigation Department he ran for Gold Rush Insurance when he was summoned to the company president’s office.  After he entered and was seated, the two men exchanged small talk for a few moments, then got down to the matter at hand.  "Dan, I’ve got one I’d like you to handle personally.  Chet Mosley’s daughter, Sarah Jane, didn’t come home last night, and her car was found at a sports bar.  Mosley says she would surely call if she...er...went home with a ‘friend.’  You know what a pain in the ass Mosley is, so I’d like you to get right on it.  If, and I stress ‘if,’ she has met with foul play, I don’t want Gold Rush’s name plastered all over hell and gone as not having done all we could."

Dan nodded and frowned.  Chet Mosley was a well-known, if not particularly gifted, actor known for liberal, especially anti-war, activism.  Dan considered him a loudmouth jerk, but kept that thought to himself.  I’ll get right on it, sir.

Back at his own desk, the burley, tall, good-looking head of investigations signaled his wife, Janet, to join him.  She was a tallish, extremely good-looking redhead, with a very fine figure.  Smiling, she ambled over.  I saw you head into the lion’s den.  I take it we’ve got a hot one.

Dan smiled.  Yeah, love.  Chet Mosley’s daughter, Sarah Jane, is late coming home.  Mosley, or someone, found her car at a sports bar.  The boss didn’t say how much our coverage is, but I’d guess it’s substantial.  Pull the Mosley file while I make a few calls.

***

Even as the wheels of investigation were being put in motion, the plane carrying Sarah Jane, and the other five women was on its way to Canada, after having made the planned re-fueling stop in Boise.  Ibn Ahmad, sitting left seat in the plane’s cockpit, glanced over at his co-pilot, Abu Shihata, and grinned.  I claim that last one we picked up as mine to ‘indoctrinate’ into her new life-style.

Fine with me.  I like the second one we picked up in San Diego.  I’ll bet you she goes for more than the one you like.

Speaking of that, when is the next auction?

Mustafa said the next group of buyers was due in sometime in the next few days.

***

By the time the plane landed, and the illegal cargo was off-loaded, Dan and Janet were well into their investigation.  Chet Mosley and his wife had been interviewed—via phone, several members of the sports bar staff had been talked to, and the police had been contacted.  By late afternoon, Dan and Janet were back in the Gold Rush building when Dan received a call from one of his police contacts.  After listening to what the man had to say, Dan thanked him and hung up.  Then he thought a few seconds before looking at Janet with a frown.  It seems Sarah Jane wasn’t the only attractive young woman to seemingly disappear last night.  Two other young women were reported missing...all in the same precinct.  While it’s too early for formal missing-person reports to be filed, even our friendly neighborhood police can figure out something funny is going on when three women up and vanish on the same night.

What’s the story on the other two gals?

One went to a movie with friends.  The last they saw of her, she was headed for her car.  The car was found on a nearby parking lot.  The other one had dinner with her boyfriend.  They came in separate cars from their respective jobs.  He parked on a side street, she on the restaurant parking lot.  They were going to her place for...whatever.  The plan was she would get her car and drive by his parking spot, and he would follow.  She never showed, and he went looking for her.  Found her car, but not her.  All three incidents within a radius of about eight blocks.

Well, if the same guy—or guys—did all three, they’re pretty gutsy.  Nobody saw anything?

Nothing...at least not that the police have been able to determine.

What are we gonna do, honey?

Don’t know.

Not like my husband to be at a loss.

You have any ideas in that pretty head of yours?

Nope.  But I think you better call Mark and Mary.  Doesn’t look like we’re going to Hawaii next week for our vacation.

Yeah.  I’ll do that now.

Want me to go to the sports bar and start asking around, picture in hand?

Yeah.  After I call Mark, I’ll go down to the cop shop, see if they have pictures of the other two gals, and go ask around at the two places they disappeared from.

Okay, see you at home later.

Okay, dear.  Love ya.

Me you, too.  Later.

As Janet was heading out of the office, Dan called Mark Yomo.  Mark was a lieutenant with the Honolulu police department.  Dan had met him on a case in Hawaii, and met Janet while working that case.  The two men had formed a fast friendship, and their two wives got on well also, so the four got together once a year for vacation.  One year the Yomo’s would come to Los Angeles as houseguests of the Orfs, and the following year the Orf’s would go to Hawaii.

When Dan had Mark on the line he sighed.  Guess what?

Something’s come up, and you aren’t coming next week.

Good guess.  You into crystal balls these days?

The tone of your voice was my first clue.  What’s up?

Dan told him about the three missing women and Mark replied, Hmmm.  Hold on a second.

In short order, Mark came back on the line.  About two weeks ago, we had something similar here.  Wanted to check what our status was.  Three women evidently kidnapped the same night.  Nothing happening on any of the three cases.  We never put it together as one incident...at least until now.  Two young college students and a hooker.

What the hell?  I wonder if this is connected somehow?  Ours all happened within a few blocks radius.  How about yours?

Nah.  They were far flung.  Maybe why we didn’t connect the dots as to the possibility of one incident instead of three.  Only reason it stuck in my head was some black humor around here about bad things happening in threes.  Wouldn’t have even thought of it as three, except the pimp for the hooker is a snitch, so the guys handling his case paid a bit more attention than they normally would have.  Not that we approve of hookers being kidnapped, or anything.  What I mean is...hell, I don’t know what I mean.

I get the message, as garbled as it is, pal.

Thanks, I think.  Wonder if this has happened anywhere else?

Don’t know.  Maybe we should make a few calls.

Guess so, Dan.  I’ll try Frisco...I know a couple of guys on the force there.

Okay.  I’ll try San Diego and Seattle.  Got a guy on the force in Seattle who used to work for me here.  Met a gal from there, and moved to make her happy.  Doing okay on the force up there.

I find anything out, I’ll call you.  About time for you to head home...want me to call you there?

No.  After I make my calls to San Diego and Seattle, I’m gonna go check out two of the areas where gals disappeared from.  Janet’s checking out the sports bar where our insured was before she went missing.

How is the redhead?

Fine.  Mary?

Great.  She’s been taking some classes.  Now that our kids are on their own, she’s been getting antsy for something to do.  Got in mind to teach.

Bet she’d be good at it.  After putting up with you all these years, kids would be no problem.

Funny.  Real funny.  Talk to you later.

So long.

Dan’s call to his friend on the San Diego police department netted the information that a woman had disappeared there, but only one.  His friend told him he would check further.  The call to Seattle was a bit more complicated.  First, Dan’s friend was off-duty, and Dan had to call him at home.  Then the friend had to do some checking, and called Dan back nearly an hour later with the news that there had been three women abducted the same night ten days previously, but—like the Honolulu police department—the Seattle department hadn’t put it together as the same incident.

While Dan had been waiting on the return call from Seattle, Mark had called back with the information that the San Francisco police had an incident of three women apparently kidnapped the same night and, like the other departments, hadn’t concluded that the three incidents were connected.

Only after all that information had been gathered did Dan leave his office.  It was nearly ten o’clock when he finally reached his home, to find Janet propped up in bed waiting on him.  As he came into the bedroom, Janet asked, Anything?

Yes and no.  No to witnesses from last night.  How about you?

Nadda.  What about your ‘yes’?

We’re really in one this time.  I called Mark about our trip.  Honolulu had three women disappear the same night.  San Francisco and Seattle, too.  San Diego one, but my pal down there is gonna check further.

Wow!  What do you think it means?

Not sure.  What in the hell is somebody—or somebodys—doing with all these women?  Beats the shit outta me.

Doesn’t make any sense.

It does to whoever’s doing it.

***

Many of the women in question were in cages inside a large barn-like structure ten miles west of Cranbrook.  They were naked (except for shoes), had been sexually abused by their captors, and were waiting to be sold to the highest bidder.  Al-Qaida and Hamas had sunk to new depths.  The terror organizations were now raising money in the white slavery business and, when the American authorities finally figured out what was going on, had added a new form of terror to their lists of horror.

While the pickings were easy now—and would become more difficult once what they were doing became public—Mustafa Zawahiri could hardly wait to see the furor caused when the American press got wind of all the women who were disappearing.  He was tempted to inform the press himself, but decided to bide his time, and keep up the kidnappings with relative ease, until the Americans figured out what was happening.

He had planned carefully.  The plane had been purchased in the Philippines and flown from there to Hawaii, on to San Francisco, then Boise, and into Canada with the first load of cargo and the first six women, kidnapped from Honolulu and San Francisco.  Those six and six more kidnapped (three each from Seattle and Portland) had been put up on the block for the first auction.  Seven of the women had been sold at that auction for nearly eleven million dollars, which was divided—less expenses—seventy percent to al-Qaida and thirty percent to Hamas.

The next auction promised to be a grand thing, in the opinion of Mustafa.  In addition to the remaining five women from the first auction, there would be six from Los Angeles and San Diego, plus an additional twelve from the cities of Salt Lake City, Las Vegas, Tucson, and Phoenix.  The customer base would be nearly three times the four who attended the first auction, and Mustafa hoped to net at least thirty million dollars from the sale—oil money that he felt would be much better spent in the war against the infidels, than on the excesses of the rich...though, of course, in this case, it was both.

The smuggling operation was also paying a handsome profit, and each trip south introduced two more members of al-Qaida into America.  The plane always left with seven crewmembers, and came back with five.  Of his original contingent of forty men, four were already in the United States and were eventually to be integrated into cells already in that country.  Getting into Canada had proven no problem, but with the increased efforts of the Americans it was growing more and more difficult to get men into that country.  In the next few days he planned to try sending sixteen more men across the border in automobiles, hoping that their forged papers would suffice.

Just as Mustafa was mulling over these thoughts, the plane arrived.  He went out to greet the new arrivals.  He was quite pleased at the group of women.  His men had picked well and, as always, he let the plane crew have the first opportunity to break the women into their new life, while other men unloaded the contraband materials from the plane.

Ibn Ahmad roughly took hold of Sarah Jane and led her off to his quarters.  Once there, he told her to disrobe.  She refused, only to be slapped in the face—with an open palm, not to disfigure the merchandise.  Then he commenced tearing her clothing from her, prior to the hell she was about to undergo.  Ibn and the others on the plane knew they only had a short time before they had to take off for the trip to Calgary for the delivery of the legal cargo onboard the plane, and he was in no mood to waste precious time.

***

Dan woke up from a fitful night’s sleep, and over breakfast decided he had a call to make for help with the Sarah Jane Mosley case.  He called Jim Scott, a man he had recently met on another case.  Stanley James Scott headed up a think tank/action team under the direct control of the White House—more precisely, the President himself.  The team was known as the Janitors, a name indicating ones who cleaned up the messes of others.

In that earlier meeting with Jim, Dan and Janet had been given secure cell phones that had a feature of direct dialing to each member of the Janitors.  Jim’s number on the phone was 1.  Dan pushed that number, and soon had Jim on the line.  Uh, Jim, this is Dan Orf.

Hi, Dan, how are you?

Fine, Jim, yourself?

Couldn’t be better.  What can I do for you?

I have a bit of a problem.

After explaining what they had found out, and knowing that Jim had supposedly the best computer system connected with the government—even though Jim and his team were not actually employed by the government—Dan asked if Jim could run a fast check, and find out if any other women in groups of three had been abducted from other cities.

In a matter of minutes, Jim replied, This looks like a nasty business, Dan.  Honolulu, San Francisco, Seattle, Portland, San Diego, and Los Angeles all have similar reports on file, in that order.  I know you said your guy in San Diego only knew of one, but there were three...the night before your three in Los Angeles.  I’ve flagged my computer to let me know if any more pop up.  Anything else I can do for you?

I guess not, at least not right now.  That is unless you have any ideas that might help me.

Not off the top of my head.  But I have a real bad feeling about this.  If you don’t mind, I think I’ll run it by John Engle and the big boss.

Not at all.  Please do.  I sure as hell use all the help I can get.  Tell John I said ‘hi’ if you will. 

Sure.  Talk to you later.

Jim hung up the phone, and looked around at his team.  To the kitchen.  Let’s grab some coffee and have a brain-storming session.

As the team headed for the kitchen, Jim called the Director of the FBI, John Engle, filled him in on the information, and told him it was possible the kidnappings were connected.  Next he called General Ellis G. Bradley, who was the Military/Intelligence Advisor to the President.  General Bradley was Jim’s direct contact into the White House.  After talking to Jim, General Bradley made a mental note to mention the matter to the President the next time he spoke to him.

2.

In Cranbrook, Sarah Jane Mosley sat on the edge of the cot in her cage suffering something between shock and anger.  She had been sexually active since sixteen and, until the brutality she had just suffered through, had always enjoyed the experience.  Worse she now discovered from one of the girls who had been there for the first auction, what was in store for the assembled group of kidnappees.

They would stay in the roughly six-foot by six-foot cages until the next auction, at which time they would be paraded on a stage to be bid on by God-knew-who.  One could only guess at what would happen then.  She had also been informed by one of the old hands that anytime one of their handlers felt the urge, they would be taken out to service the man who picked them.  She was told that one the woman had been used fifteen times in one day, so the old hands were glad to have reinforcements to cut down the number of times they would be chosen, even if sorry for those added to their midst.

As Sarah Jane sat there, she idly picked at the bandage covering the spot where blood had been taken from her.  No one there seemed to be able to figure out what the blood draw was for, but all felt it probably couldn’t be any good for them.

***

On the way to their office, Dan and Janet discussed getting surveillance tapes at all three locations where the previous night’s kidnappings had taken place if they were available. When they arrived, Janet headed off to handle the tape hunt while Dan filled his boss in on what he knew. Then, on the way back to his office, he saw Chet Mosley coming into the front foyer.  He ignored the man as he headed on to his own office, to see what Janet had found out on the tape front.  Janet soon told him that tapes were in fact available.  

Dan nodded at Janet’s report.  Okay, honey, why don’t you get them.  I have a feeling I’m about to be summoned back to the boss’s office.  Chet-the-asshole-Mosley just came in.

Guy is a jerk, from what I can tell.  Good luck with him.  I’m on my way.

Janet went over to Dan, pecked him on the cheek, and left.  She had been gone less than a minute when Dan’s intercom buzzed.  Soon thereafter he was in the company president’s office, and had been formally introduced to Chet Mosley as the man who was running the Gold Rush investigation, even though Dan had already interviewed Mosley and his wife by phone.

Mosley was a shortish man with thinning hair in his early fifties.  After introductions he asked, What have you done so far?

Dan, who was ready to get his hackles up, looked at the little activist actor with disdain painted on his face.  We have interviewed everyone we could find who was in or around the bar where your daughter evidently spent two to three hours.  So far we have turned up nothing of interest.  We are coordinating our efforts with the police, of course.  At this point they haven’t found out anything of use either.  One of my assistants is on the way over to pick up the bar’s surveillance tapes from last night, and we will carefully review them to see if we can spot anything.

Chet puffed up his chest.  And if you don’t, what then?

I’m not sure...sir.  Do you have any suggestions?

I’m not an investigator.  Why should I have any better ideas of how to proceed than you do?

Dan nearly said lack of knowledge didn’t stop Mosley from getting on his soapbox for any number of other things, but choked off the words.  You can rest assured that we will thoroughly follow up any leads available.  At this point I’m afraid we have very little.  I do suggest you stay where you can be contacted in case this is a kidnapping for profit.  Have the police set up phone tap equipment at your home?

Yes.  My wife is staying home waiting on any possible call, and I shall be returning there shortly.  I just wanted to come in and see if you were doing any better than the police.  Which, I’m sorry to say, it seems you aren’t.  I pay this company a lot of money in premiums—including kidnapping insurance for my entire family.

Yes, sir.  That is why we are on the case, doing the very best we can.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a few details I’d like to check on while waiting on my assistant to return with the surveillance tapes from the bar.

I want to be kept informed of any progress you make.

Yes, sir, replied Dan, as humbly as he could.  Then he turned and left the office before Mosley could say the magic word that would get his pasty face punched by the clinched fist of Dan, who already had all of Chet Mosley that he felt he could handle.

A short time later, Dan was called back into the president’s office.  Just wanted to thank you, Dan, for the way you kept your cool while the charming Mr. Mosley was here.

"No problem, sir.  I kept telling myself that the man’s daughter had been kidnapped."

True, but he’s an ass.  Anything going on with the case—anything you didn’t feel like sharing with him?

Yeah.  We’ve got a hell of a mess on our hands.  That said, Dan proceeded to bring his boss fully up to date.

When he finished, the response was predictable.  Good God, Dan.  Do you have any ideas about what-in-the-hell’s going on?

"None.  Any idea that runs through my mind is worse than the last one.  I’ll bet we don’t like it one bit when we find out what is going on."

I don’t think I’ll take that wager.  Good luck.

Thanks.  See you later.

So long.

When Dan got back to his office, Janet had returned and was watching the first of the surveillance tapes.  Without saying anything, he sat down and started watching the tape also.  Janet glanced over at him.  How’d it go with Mosley?

Don’t ask.  Just watch the tape.

Yes, boss.

Hush, Jan.

Janet grinned, and returned to watching the screen without further comment.  Nearly everyone—except Dan—called her Jan.  He only used the shortened version of her name when he was unhappy with her, or at least trying to make a point firmly...such as be quiet and watch the tape.

By fast-forwarding the tapes, they were able to watch all three for the presumed time from preceding, and on through the periods of the kidnappings.  When the last of the tapes had run, Dan looked at Janet.  Well?  Spot anything of interest?

I noticed the same guy at the restaurant, and at the bar.  Not necessarily anything unusual about that, but he appeared to be alone in both cases, and that restaurant seems a dating kind of place, if you know what I mean.

I do, and good eyes, honey.  I missed that.  How about running back both tapes to when he was on them.

Janet did as instructed with the restaurant tape.  There, the guy in the not-too-well-fitting suit and a tie that doesn’t go with the suit.

Dan chuckled.  ‘Now I know how you spotted him, and I missed him.  Blow him up and print."

Due to the fact that many hours of surveillance tape watching was necessary in their investigations, Gold Rush had purchased the very best of equipment.  Therefore, Janet was able to get a rather good likeness of the man, who was—obviously unknown to them—named Mahfouz Atif, a Hamas terrorist.

Dan carefully looked at the picture of Atif while Janet inserted the sports bar tape, found Atif again, and followed the same procedure of enlarging the picture and printing a copy.