Sedona Chip: Jim Scott Books, #9

By Mike Jackson

In this the final book of the Janitor series, Sedona Chip, the French (under direction of the French President who has been a thorn in the side of our President during the War on Terror) make a foolish blunder.  The President, General Bradley, and the Janitors jump on the blunder to have a bit of comic relief after seven plus years of dealing with the terrorist threat.  During the effort to cause the French President—and a previously dis-credited French intelligence operative—as much grief as possible, the team also has to deal with several al-Qaida operations.

Good reading, and hope you have enjoyed the series.

 

Why a portion of the American public seems intent on "being more like the French" is beyond me.  This is the story of one in a long line of pompous jerks to hold the seat of President of France, and the type of foolish moves they have made over the years.  It is written with a bit of tongue in cheek, and lets my characters in the Janitor series have a bit of fun on the way out the door, so to speak.  Enjoy. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike Jackson
• Release date: Oct 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215938249

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

Sedona Chip

A Novel by

Mike Jackson

1.

A bright blue light shown briefly from the sky above, and the Iranian villa below exploded with such ferocity that debris was hurled high into the sky.  Standing on a hilltop nearly two miles away, Claude Basset—former member of many French Intelligence services, and presently a secret advisor to the French President—looked on in disbelief, even though he knew what he had just seen was supposed to happen.

***

Nearly six months previously, a member of the White House electronic security team looked at one of his screens.  I’ll be damned.  Those spooks are trying again, and they didn’t even tell us this time.

His superior came over to look at the screen.  Keep an eye on this.  I’ll inform General Bradley.  If it’s some of our people, he’ll know about it.

Army Major General Ellis Bradley was the Military/Intelligence Advisor to the President.  His phone rang, and he was told of the problem.  He grumbled, I’ll be right there.

A few minutes later, he was admitted to the highly classified, and secure area, and was shown the screen that showed a listening device signal had penetrated the supposedly impenetrable glass of the White House Oval Office.  He muttered, I don’t know a damn thing about this.

The area supervisor reached to block the signal, but General Bradley grabbed his hand.  Hold on.  Can you trace wherever this is coming from, back to its point of origin?

Well, yes, sir, we can.  But while we do that, everything said in the Oval Office will be heard by whoever this is.

General Bradley smiled.  Not to worry.  He’s only got two ranking Senators from the other party in there.  Anything said to them, the whole world will know about by five this afternoon.  I do have a question, though.  How long did it take you to discover this invasion?

The technician at the screen looked up.  About a heartbeat, sir.  When our guys tried to test their new gear, it took about thirty seconds to detect.  Whatever this system is, it’s crap.

Not knowing at the time how correct he was, General Bradley joked, It’s probably the French, then.

Leaving knowledgeable, and knowing smiles, behind him, General Bradley headed for the Oval Office, where he sat to wait for the Senators to leave.  When they did, he went into the office and signaled with his thumb toward the door.  Sir, you’re needed right away in the Situation Room.

The President nodded, got up from his desk, and followed General Bradley.  When the general took a turn that didn’t lead to the Situation Room, the President started to say something, but the general put his finger to his lips.

The President tilted his head to the side, but having full trust in Ellis Bradley, he followed along.  Sure he was now out of hearing of the invasive monitoring equipment, he muttered, Sir, I got you out of the Oval Office under false pretenses.  The real reason is someone is trying to bug the Oval Office.  They have succeeded, but not without being detected.  I hope you didn’t say anything important to the Senators, because everything you said to them was overheard.

The President chuckled.  Hardly, with those two.  Whoever overheard that conversation just knows I’m not too happy with the opposition party.

Good.

When they reached the room General Bradley had just left only a few minutes earlier, he and the President entered, and General Bradley asked, Any progress?

Yes, sir.  We know where the signal comes from, but haven’t got a read on where the output from the Oval Office is going yet.  May take a few more minutes.  We’ve asked for some outside assistance.

The President asked, Would someone like to brief me on this?

The area supervisor nodded.  Yes, sir.  Someone—yet undetermined—is listening in to conversations in the Oval Office.  We picked up the fact immediately, so could have stopped it at once, but I thought it might be our own folks trying out something new.  General Bradley told me that wasn’t the case, and told me to let the eavesdropping continue until you were brought into the picture.  The method being used is similar to our guys mixing microwave and laser capabilities—only this system is of poor quality. 

Okay, I think I’ve got it.  Ellis, what do you propose?

We continue to let it alone, until we find out who is trying to get a read on your conversations.  Once we know that, we...you...can make a determination as to what to do about it.  I would like to know now, though, just how far this eavesdropping penetrates into the White House.  Is it confined to the Oval Office, or does it go beyond?

The supervisor answered, Only the Oval Office, and I’m sure they are having to listen closely to pick up everything said there.  As I told you, this system they’re using isn’t very high grade.

General Bradley smiled.  It seems to me—when the President wasn’t here—you told me it was ‘crap’.

The technician at the screen cleared his throat.  That was me, sir.

General Bradley laughed.  So it was.  I hope you’re right.

I am, sir.

The President mumbled, Gentlemen, and turned to leave the room.

General Bradley followed, and over his shoulder instructed, Let them continue to listen.

In the hallway outside the room, the President looked at General Bradley.  Okay, Ellis, for now I watch what I say in the Oval Office.  You let me know when you know who is doing this.

Yes, sir.

It took six hours of diligent work by the Secret Service, the FBI, some members of Military Intelligence, the phone company, and, of course, the White House electronic security team, to track down where the intelligence gathered from the White House wound up.

When he was told, General Bradley got the President out of the Oval Office.  The French, sir.

You’re sure?

Yes, sir.  The signal goes from here back to the source of the equipment, then by land line, right into the French Embassy.

Suggestions?

Jim Scott and the Janitors.

What, you want him to invade France, and take them out with his eight men...er, and women.

General Bradley laughed.  No, sir—though they probably could handle the job.  But after CIA plucked him from the Marine Corps, he became one of the best counter-intelligence officers they ever had over there.

You’ve got an idea, and you want to see if he comes up with something along the same lines, don’t you, Ellis?

Maybe, sir.

Get him over here.

Yes, sir.

Stanley James Scott had been a Marine Major who served with distinction during the Desert Storm conflict to free Kuwait.  He had then been recruited into the CIA by his now-father-in-law, Andrew F. Hollins—‘Drew’ to everyone.  Early on in the President’s first term in office, Jim had been asked to put together a team of non-government employed individuals who would do off-the-books (black bag) jobs for the President.  By then, Jim had left the CIA and he readily agreed.

After a few changes in personnel for various reasons, the team now consisted of Jim; his wife Holly, daughter of Drew Hollins, and former FBI agent; Hector Garcia, a retired Marine Master Sergeant, who had served with Jim during Desert Storm; Daniel Orf, a retired Navy Chief Petty officer who had been a SEAL during a portion of his career, and his wife Janet who had worked with Dan at an insurance company’s investigative department; Harry Chickumunga, a retired Marine Sergeant Major, who had also done four years in the Army, working with a Special Forces group; retired Army Sergeant Major Bruce Edmonds, who was part of the Special Forces group Harry had served with; and former Navy Corpsman Rodney Clampton, who had served in the Navy with a Marine unit during Desert Storm.

General Bradley returned to his office, thought for a few minutes, and then called Jim, who answered on the second ring.  Jim, here, General.  What’s up?

Got a funny one.  The President wants you over here as soon as you can make it.  May as well bring the whole crew.  They’re all good thinkers, and we need some thinking on this one.

Do I get a hint?

The French are bugging the Oval Office.

You’re shittin’ me.

No.  And for now, we’re letting them think they are getting by with it.

We’ll be out of here in about ten minutes.  Our collective state of attire sucks right now.  I, for one, am in shorts and a tank top.  Holly, you don’t even want to know about.

If it’s anything like that, I do.  See you in a few.

On our way, sir.

Holly looked over at Jim.  What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?

Slippers and a thin robe at ten in the morning isn’t what one should wear to the White House, darling.

I just got out of the pool.

Half an hour ago.  Pack up, guys.  We’re all going to 1600.

The Janitors facility, located on Andrews Air Force Base, called the Joint by them, and the Scott Facility by those on Andrews, had eight-suite sized bedrooms, a large kitchen/conference room, and a work area, where their computers were housed.  It also had a fifty-meter swimming pool, three lanes wide, in the basement, along with a work-out area and firing range.

Holly and Janet had been down in the pool for their morning swim.  Janet hadn’t even taken her suit off yet, as most of the team was in the kitchen area, having coffee and snacks.

Janet gave Jim a pleading look.  I have to shower first.

Dan muttered, Then she’ll have to put on her face, try to pick out what best to wear to see the President, then...

Stop, Janet ordered in mock anger, as she hurried out of the conference room, on her way to the room she and Dan occupied.

Soon everyone else was heading toward their respective rooms to get changed.  Twelve minutes later, they were loading into two of their cars.  When they reached the White House, they went to the entrance they always used, and Jim smiled as he noted the Marine on duty was one who was familiar with the Janitors and their illegal guns.  All routinely carried silenced Walthers, which they now handed over to the Marine, who knew three of the party were also Marines.  He said not a word as he passed them on through, in time to meet General Bradley, who was walking to meet them.  He led them to the Situation Room, where the President waited.

Once greetings were exchanged, General Bradley outlined the problem.  When he finished, the President asked, Any ideas, off the top of your heads?

Janet raised her hand to a few chuckles.  The Janitors had picked up the habit of raising their hand to speak from an industrialist/scientist named Arnold Buchanan when they had worked with him on a situation involving a Chinese spy.  After years of exposure to the Janitors, the President and General Bradley were familiar with the hand-raising, and the President nodded.

Janet, the tallish extremely good-looking and well-proportioned redhead, smiled.  Obviously, if you’re letting the snooping continue, you want to feed the French some borsch, or some other yucky stuff.  Why not give them the idea that we have some super weapon that could wipe them out, just for the fun of it?

Everyone at the table looked around it at each other, and the President answered, Why not, indeed?  Jim, you and your team continue to amaze.  Work up a plan, expand the idea, and get back to me.

As the President stood up to leave, Jim replied, Yes, sir.

After he left, Bruce raised his hand.  Jim, we’ve known for some time that Iran has some of the al-Qaida big wigs rat-holed inside their country, and CIA has a pretty good idea where.  And I, for one, have always found it strange that France has never been struck by al-Qaida, and have felt for some time that they may have a patsy-finger arrangement with them.  If we feed the French this deal about a super weapon, when we get them in above their heads, why not tell them—via the President in the Oval Office—that we’re gonna take out the al-Qaida safe house in Iran with the new weapon?

Hector raised his hand.  And blow the shit out of it with conventional stuff.

Dan added, How about the weapon is some super laser, and it shoots down a big blue light as we blow the place?

General Bradley just sat back and smiled, as the ideas kept coming from the Janitors, glad that he had suggested them, and the President had bought it.  The continuing flow of ideas soon had a fake facility being built somewhere—really just a shell of a building—and that building supposedly housing some part of the super weapon...this to help prove out the connection between the French and al-Qaida...if such a connection existed.  After Rodney had raised his hand to offer a suggestion, Dan suggested that Arnold Buchanan be involved in the program.  It was also suggested that Sedona, Arizona be the site of the fake facility to be used, that way making it easier to enlist the help of former Janitors Drew Hollins and Boris Telman, who had retired to the area.

On and on the ideas flowed, until Jim called a halt.  Okay, we have enough raw ideas.  Let’s go back to the Joint, start putting this all down on paper, and refine it.  You agree, General?

Sounds good to me.  Go for it.  I’ll give the President a rough outline of what you’ve already come up with.

***

As the Janitors headed back to Andrews, General Bradley went to the office the President would now be using for most matters, as it had been agreed to that only information they wanted the French to have would be discussed in the Oval Office...matters that it made no difference if they overheard...or direct mis-information.

Seated in front of the President, General Bradley shook his head.  You won’t believe what Jim and the Janitors came up with in about ten minutes.

After he filled the President in on all the rough ideas bounced around by the Janitors, the President looked at him and laughed.  Ellis, that was a very good idea to involve them.  Thanks.

You’re welcome, sir.  I rather like it myself.

The part about the satellite shooting down a blue light...is that going to be hard to accomplish?

I wouldn’t think so, sir.  The Defense Department has several launches scheduled—some in conjunction with CIA, some not.  I know one of them is due to be stationed in orbit over Iran.

Good, give the Secretary a call and see if we can fix that one with a strong blue light.  He’ll love this deal.

General Bradley laughed, I’m sure he will.  Bet that bird goes up with the blue light, if he has to attach it himself.

Then the President laughed as well.  Either that, or send one of the former generals on the thing with a blue flashlight.  Or he could send one of the malcontents who have been snapping at his heels trying to gain favor with the libs in case we don’t hold the White House when I’m done.

Perish the thought any one of those idiot libs should get in here.

***

When they reached the Joint, Bowser—Jim and Holly’s half-beagle, half-basset—charged up and demanded attention.  After greeting the little dog, and going with the rest of the team into their conference/dining room, Jim glanced at the team.  "Everyone put on their thinking caps.  I’ll try to put all the ideas we’ve had so far in some semblance of order.  Feel free to interrupt as we go along.

"First off, we’ll assume General Bradley can arrange the blue-light special.  The next order of business is to get Arnold on board.  We’ll also have to get Boris and Drew to agree—which I’ll have a heart attack over if either of them says ‘no.’

Somewhere along the line, we have to verify where those al-Qaida hotshots are located.

Hector nodded.  While we’re checking on that, we should start getting some of our explosives in.  To do this so it looks like some super weapon blew the place, we’ll need a ton of stuff.  Gonna take several trips, unless we can air drop the stuff on skids.

Jim looked at Hector, and nodded.  You and Bruce can take care of that.  But first, I want Bruce to see if he can get some pictures of the suspected safe house from CIA or someplace.

Holly asked, Jim, what about Ben?

Very good idea.  When we’re finished here, I’ll give him a call.  Now about the fake building—any ideas?  I’ve got a few, but want to see what someone else may come up with.

Harry nodded, Saw something on the news the other day...on our friendly ‘fair and balanced’ news network, of course...which gives me an idea.  I know much of the land around Sedona is Forest Service, so how about the President issues a low-key Executive Order calling for a privately financed visitor’s center...as a tourist attraction.  I’m sure we have enough mad money lying around—which we’ve pilfered from al-Qaida’s accounts—so we should be able to foot the bill.

Jim nodded.  I like it.  You work on the design, Harry.  Holly, you contact your dad and work with him on getting Arnold on board.

And so it went on into the night, as the Janitors cussed, discussed, and revamped the overall plan.

2.

In the morning, Jim called General Bradley and asked, You have the time to come out to the Joint, and see what we’ve put together so far?

Sure.  About an hour.

We’ll be here.  See you then.

By the time Jim made that call, several things had already been accomplished.  Jim had called Benjamin Schiller, the number two man in Mossad, the Israeli intelligence organization.  Ben had told him the Mossad did indeed have pictures of the facility the Janitors were inquiring about, and also had updated satellite photos of the area.  This told Jim that Mossad probably supplied the core information as to the existence of a safe house inside Iran for al-Qaida higher-ups on the run.  Ben agreed to email the information he had to Jim.  They were old friends, and normally cut through red tape for this type of information—in most cases, with the blessing of their respective bosses.

Andrew F. Hollins—former CIA legend, former member of the Janitors, and father of Holly Hollins Scott—and Boris Telman—former KGB super agent, also a former Janitor—both now retired and living in Sedona—had agreed to be of whatever assistance they could.  Drew had also agreed to help Holly recruit Arnold Buchanan.

After looking at photos Bruce was able to lift from the CIA computer, Hector and Bruce had figured out how much of what explosives would be needed to completely destroy the compound. At the direction of the President, the Janitors had been given certain access codes to the CIA computer.  Thus, with their super computer in the Joint, they could access other areas of the CIA computer—much to the dismay of a succession of CIA Directors.

Harry designed the building, which would house components of the fake program of the super weapon.  His design allowed for it to actually be completed into a visitor’s center, when the operation was over.

When General Bradley arrived at the Joint, he was brought up-to-date on the Janitors’ plans, and what they had accomplished so far.  When Jim finished the briefing, General Bradley added what he’d come up with, Your blue light from a satellite is feasible, and being worked on as we speak.  The President already issued the Executive Order...hidden amongst several others that will draw more attention.  My question now is:  when do you want to start feeding the French a large dose of misinformation?

Soon, I would think, sir.  I’d like them to be made aware of some of the things we’ve planned in time for them to send someone to observe the building process in Sedona.

Very well, let’s work on our first little play-acting script for the President.

Jim and the general worked more than an hour on the first bit of deception for the President to put forward.  When completed to their satisfaction, General Bradley left for the White House to confer with the President.

After he explained where the Janitors were, and what they planned, General Bradley and the President rehearsed their parts in the coming theatrical performance, as the President jokingly called it. 

Before heading to the Oval Office, the President noted it was a little after two.  It’s only a little after eight in France.  Since I’m sure what we’re about to discuss will reach my French counterpoint about ten minutes after we speak, from now on I’d like our little acting sessions to be later in the day—say between seven and nine.

General Bradley smiled.  You’d rob the poor French President of sleep by sending our little messages in the middle of the morning, French time.  Shame on you, sir.

The President just chuckled.

The President entered the Oval Office, soon followed by General Bradley, who started the ‘play,’ Sir, I have an update on the death ray project.

Go ahead.

Hopefully, the satellite will be launched within the next month.  Plans for the building to house the triggering computer are finished, and construction should start shortly.  The controlling computer chip has been a bit of a problem.  Of the five produced, only one is correct.  One would expect a few bugs along the line with a new super weapon.  The good one is under lock and key, and will be transported to the computer complex—under armed guard when the building is completed.

Fine.  Thank, you General.  Keep me apprised of progress.  Umm, one thing, what is the target date for the first test firing?

Hard to say right now, sir.  My best guess would be three months.

Thank you.  Anything else?

No, sir.

After General Bradley left, the President made a few phone calls of little importance—that he didn’t mind if the French overheard or not—then he too left and went to the office he would use until the conclusion of the disinformation program.

General Bradley was there waiting for him.  I think we did a pretty good job, sir, if I do say so myself.

You’re a born actor, Ellis.

***

About the time the President and General Bradley had started their performance, Holly and Janet were headed to Luke Air Force Base on a military flight arranged by Jim, who had a good working arrangement with the Wing Commander at Andrews.  It had been decided to let Janet go with Holly on the recruitment of Arnold Buchanan, because she knew him and his wife, Nancy, as well as Holly did, since both had worked with him in the past, when a Chinese spy had been intent on killing the scientist/industrialist.  Drew, Boris, and Dan—as well as some other people—had also helped to keep Arnold alive, and were well-known to him. 

After seeing Holly off, Jim was busy with refinement of the overall plan when his cell phone rang.  Noting the Director of the FBI, John Engle, was calling, Jim answered, Hi, John.  What’s up?

What do you know about this tapping of the Oval Office thing?

How do you know about it, and what makes you think I know anything?

You just answered a question with a question.  But to answer yours first, after some of my people helped trace where the tap was going, you and your crew popped up at the White House, shortly after we knew the French were the culprits.

Oh.  On this one, I think we need to check with General Bradley to see what I can and can’t tell you.  You know, the old ‘need to know’ crap.

Okay, I can appreciate that.  Now the other thing.  We’ve got four terrorists on the run from one of the safe houses we’ve been monitoring.  Headed north.

After John told him the stops they had made so far in the flight north, Jim did some mental calculations.  Sounds like they’re headed to Cranbrook.

Any clue as to how they might get there?  What route they’d take?  We’ve totally lost them.

Yeah, maybe.  You want help, or just info?

Well, maybe both.  Guess I can clear the ‘help’ part with General Bradley and/or the President.  Since you obviously are working on the something you can’t tell me about, do you have the time to help out?

Sure.  This is a long-term deal...months probably.

Okay, I’ll give Bradley a call, and get back to you.

So long.

The safe houses John had mentioned were al-Qaida facilities around the country that Jim and the Janitors had systematically emptied of terrorists.  It had been decided—after the Janitors had done their work—the FBI would monitor the safe houses, in case more al-Qaida members turned up at any of them.  In this case, some had arrived at one of the safe houses and, rather than arrest them at once, the FBI had been monitoring them, to see if more could be swept into the net.

During his call to General Bradley, John was told the general would have to get back to him.  Then the general went to see the President, and briefed him.  The President thought just a second.  Okay, bring John into the loop on the death ray deal, and if Jim feels he has time to help out with the terrorists on the run, he has my blessing to do so.

General Bradley then called John back, filled him in on the French situation, and told him if Jim wanted to help with the fleeing terrorist problem, the President had okayed it.  Then he added, But I need to give Jim a call on another matter, before you talk to him.  I’ll give him the okay to help you, and to discuss the death ray freely with you.

Next, General Bradley called Jim.  "Jim, we created a monster, as it were, with Tim Scalley.  After the President got him promoted to Brigadier, he was assigned a task to do over at the Pentagon.  He’s proven so adept, the boys over there don’t want him taking time off to fly you around to God-knows-where.  Since the President authorized you giving John