Dirty Bomb Crisis: Jim Scott Books, #29

By Mike Jackson

Dirty Bomb Crisis, Jim Scott Books #29, brings back Fred and Rosemary Dupree, who are invited to spend a vacation with Jim and Holly Scott, so the four of them can get better acquainted, after their experience together in Assassin I Am.  On their way to the island nation of Dominica, they stop at the Cayman Islands for a day or two, because Jim has some business to take care of there.  Their vacation is cut short when Fred interrupts the attempted murder of a hotel maid.  Before leaving the island, they unearth an assassination plot.  The plot involves a dirty bomb, to be used by terrorists on targets a very rich Wall Street tycoon wants killed.  Shortly after their return to the U.S., old friends of Jim are brought into the picture.

That the possibility of a dirty bomb attack on the United States has grown since the advent of ISIS is in little doubt.  It is now likely that both ISIS and al-Qaida have access to the nuclear materials needed to build such a bomb.  This story adds the threat of a Constitutional crisis, if the bomb in question is used as intended.  Having consulted with four different Constitutional experts, I came up with three different possible outcomes, if this bomb was used as desired by the evil man who joins forces with terrorists.  The reader is free to select the one he or she wishes to. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike Jackson
• Release date: Feb 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215560525

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

Dirty Bomb Crisis

A Novel by

Mike Jackson

1.

Knowing there was only one way to save the woman, Fred Dupree got up on the rail of his veranda.  Even though he knew it would be close—he jumped.  His right hand got a firm grip on the railing of the room where the sounds were coming from, but his left hand slipped off.  Using brute strength, he held tight as he raised his left to grasp the railing with both hands.  After taking a deep breath, he jerked himself up to and over the railing. 

As Fred raced to the sliding glass doors and flung them open, the would-be killer had just grasped the woman’s head with both hands.  She sat transfixed, unable even to scream.  When Fred barged into the room, both villains heard, but it was the man holding the woman who had to turn her head loose, as he reached for his weapon.

***

Looking back just minutes before Fred made his leap, he with his wife Rosemary—still in swimsuits and flip-flops from their time on the beach—had walked onto the veranda of their third-floor hotel room, carrying drinks.  They clinked their glasses together, but just as Fred was about to make a toast, they heard the unmistakable sound of someone being slapped.  That was followed by a man asking, One more time...who put you up to nosing around our room?

A female voice answered, No one, sir.  As I told you, I ran out of towels when cleaning your room.  I was just here to leave more.

So you simply ignored the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on our door?  Not once, but twice, since you admit to having been here earlier.

Sir, there was no such sign on your door, or I would not have opened it—let alone come in.

The man speaking looked at his partner, who shrugged with a guilty look on his face.  The speaker, who was obviously in charge, jerked his head as he walked to the slight opening in the glass door leading to their patio.  When the other man reached his senior terrorist, the team leader asked, Did you forget to put the sign up?

Yes.  She is probably telling the truth about the towels, too.  When I came in, I noticed she was entering the bathroom carrying towels.

Alright—for now.  We will discuss this further...after we dispose of her.

How?

You walk over to her, and politely snap her neck.  Then we put her in the bag on her cart.  Next, we take her down a floor, push the cart onto the landing of the emergency exit staircase, and then immediately check out of this hotel.

What of our expected call?

The number he was given was to my cell phone, idiot.  Now, go break her neck, before I break yours.

As they had been listening, Fred noticed that the accent of the apparent leader who had spoken was Middle Eastern.  Also as they listened, he had placed his drink on the table next to him.  When the leader of the two told his companion to kill the woman, Fred acted.

***

When Fred barged into the room, the would-be neck breaker got his weapon out.  He turned just as Fred reached him.  Fred grabbed hold of the hand holding the gun, then spun the man around just as the leader fired at him, resulting in the bullet hitting and killing, the man he held.  While the dead man started to sag, Fred freed his gun from his now-lifeless hand. As he whirled around, he fired a snap shot at the leader—hitting him in the forehead.

As soon as Fred made his jump, Rosemary knew she couldn’t repeat the maneuver—due to her much smaller stature—so she had raced back into their room.  With her drink still in hand, sloshing over the rim, she darted into their bedroom, tossing the drink at a couch on the way.

In the bedroom, she jerked her piece of luggage with a false bottom up onto the bed.  Fast as she could, she extracted her silenced 9mm Smith & Wesson pistol.  Weapon in hand, she tore out of the bedroom, then the suite itself.  In the hall, she went to the first door on her left.  It was locked, so without a bit of hesitation, she fired three times at the lock.  When the door seemed to move just a bit, she leaned against it, forced it open, and ran in...gun at the ready.

Fred had already checked for a pulse on both men, untied the woman, and helped her to her feet.  He glanced up at his wife.  They’re down and out.  This lady seems to be a maid—pull her cart inside, then shut the door.

Um...the door may be a problem.  I shot the lock to get in.

Do your best.  For now, after a few fast words with this lady, I need to make a call.  You wanna get my phone, after you deal with the cart and door?

Both still in their swimsuits, Rosemary knew the answer to the question she was about to ask, I don’t have my key card...do you?

No.  Get the cart in here, close the door, go down to the lobby, then try to find Jim or Holly since I can’t call them without my phone.  Don’t wanna use the room phone.  Holly said something about looking around in the gift shop...Jim muttered something about getting a drink while she did.  Tell ‘em what’s going on.  Then get back up here.  While down there, get another key card.  I’m damned sure not gonna go back to our room, the way I came.  I nearly didn’t make it the first time with adrenaline pumping—no way to make that jump again.  Leave your gun.

Look, dork, I already feel the dope for not thinking of the key card, then shooting out the door...so give it rest.  I shoulda known you’d be okay, and just moseyed over.  Catch.

Rosemary tossed her gun to Fred, who caught it without difficulty.  She didn’t know if he did or not, because as soon as she tossed it, she left to get the cart.  After she pulled it inside, she shut the door the best she could, before heading to the elevator.  Arriving at the first floor, still in her swim suit, she was pleased to notice a few admiring glances as she walked through the lobby, before she went in search of either Jim or Holly.

Her first stop was the gift shop, but neither was there.  After looking into the café, she tried the inside bar.  Both Jim and Holly were there.  They, of course, noticed Rosemary as she walked in.  Jim stood up.  Join us for a drink, Rosemary.

No, thanks.  Fred needs some help.  He just killed a couple of guys in the room next to ours, because they were about to murder the floor maid!

Jim held up his hand.  Whoa, whoa—hold on there.  Come again?

Rosemary quickly explained what had happened.  Even as she did, Holly signaled the waitress to bring their tab.  With the waitress on the way over, Jim nodded at what he was hearing, then replied, Okay, we’ll go up to the room, as soon as we settle up.

First, I’ve gotta get a key card for our room.  We both left ours there.  I hope they don’t give me any crap, since I don’t have any I.D. with me.  I glanced at the desk as I went through the lobby, but the gal working there is new to me.

Holly, you take care of helping Rosemary—I’ll go up to the room.  Which one is it, Rosemary?

314...as you know, we’re in 312.  Facing our door, it’s the one on the right...coming out it’s the one on the left.

At her comment, Jim gave her a funny look.  Rosemary mumbled, Sorry.  That was a stupid thing to say.  But according to my husband, I’m on a stupid roll.

Holly laughed, There must be more to this story, which I plan on getting, if my husband ever decides to go help Fred out.

Jim shook his head, as he walked off. Later.

After Holly paid their tab, she walked with Rosemary toward the front desk.  Rosemary didn’t know Jim and Holly all that well—nor did Fred—both having just been invited for this trip, after they had assisted with a Super-Secret mission Fred had been assigned.  She also didn’t know much about them, other than they were super-rich, with all kinds of friends in high places...including the President, the Secretary of Homeland Security, plus the CIA Director.  They also knew Hector Garcia, a man Rosemary dearly loved, and thought of as a father figure—though those words would never leave her lips.  She did know from Hector that—like herself and Hector—Jim was a Marine.  Also, Jim had paid for Fred and Rosemary’s home. 

What she didn’t know, among other things, was that Jim had spent the last almost half of his Marine Corps career working for the CIA as a field agent.  Or that later on he had led a team that did off-the-books work for the President at that time, starting just as that President was coming into office, and going on for about seven years after the 9/11/01 Islamist attack on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.  Then he had funded a covert operation out of the CIA for four years...one that worked closely with British SIS (MI6) and SAS.

By the time Jim came through the door to room 314, Fred had spent enough time with the maid to have her laughing a bit.  He had found out her name was Matti Carpenter.  She was married, had two children, and was twenty-six.  Her mother was half-African, half-Carib Indian (from the island nation of Dominica), while her father was British.

The mild laughter came about, after she responded to Fred when he asked, How were you so calm when that guy was about to kill you?  Didn’t you hear them calmly decide to kill you?

Yes, I heard...but I simply closed my eyes, and prayed to God for help.  My prayer was answered when he sent my guardian angel to rescue me.  Thank you.  It was bold of your daughter, to come in waving a gun to protect her father—even if you didn’t need saving.

That was my wife.  She’s a lot younger than me, but not so young as to be my daughter.  When I was twenty, she was three, I proposed and she agreed—but we had to wait a few years to get married.

Fred had grinned when he said that.  His comment was what elicited Matti’s laughter.  It was just then that Jim came in and looked around.  He asked, Hi, Fred—what’s up...besides the two bodies?

Fred, who had been looking through the briefcase of the leader of the two-man team on the floor, shrugged and told Jim what had happened.  Then he introduced Jim to Matti, as he set aside the laptop he had found in the briefcase, and started looking through a folder.  Just as Jim was about to respond, Fred held up his hand.  Holy shit!

Jim came over to him, as Fred held out the folder and passed it to him.  Jim only had to go through about four pages, before he knew why Fred was so alarmed.  "John and Glenn told me you had a nose for trouble—but this is beyond the pale.  Matti, we have no way of knowing who these guys were, or if they are here alone, so I think we best offer you some protection.  Don’t be alarmed—I’m only being overly cautious, but what Fred found in this folder is a very serious matter.

Are you married?

Yes, my husband is a banker...assistant manager at his branch.

Children?

Yes, two.  You are getting me worried, if you don’t mind me telling you so.

Sorry, but as I said, I’m only being very careful here.  There is no way you should be connected to this situation, but I don’t want anything to happen to you or your family, in case I’m wrong.  How old are your children?  Where are they right now?  As to your husband, is he at work...and which bank?

Matti identified the bank, and added, He is working.  My children are with our neighbor—they are six and seven.  I only work for their education.  Everything I make goes into an account for that purpose.

Matti blushed slightly, when she realized she was rattling on, telling Jim more information than he needed.

He noticed the blush but ignored it, assuming it was probably from nervousness at being told her family needed protection.  In an effort to calm her down a bit, he explained what he had in mind for immediate protection, As soon as my wife and Fred’s get here, I’ll have them look after your children, with you in tow.  After the rest of us get dressed in something besides swimming gear, I want you to clock out for the day.  Let your manager know, you will more than likely need to be taking a few days off.

I might get in trouble for that.

No, you won’t—I own a big chunk of this hotel.  I’ll make sure you will be given all the time off you need.  Now, about your husband.  You can tell him, but no one else, about this matter.  This just so you can tell him why your entire family is being protected.  He will have to take a few days off, also.  As it happens, I have enough money in his bank to provide enough pull to get him the time off without question.

Before Matti could respond, Holly arrived with Rosemary.  Jim looked at Holly, Honey, you and Rosemary go get dressed, and pack up.  We’ve got a serious situation here.  Fred, you go with them, change, then hotfoot it back here.  Come back armed.  Better take Matti with you.  You can introduce her to our ladies on your way out.  I have a few calls to make, pronto.

After those four left, Jim thought of the time difference, then went ahead with making a call to the Headquarters of British SIS (MI6).  He called the direct line to the office of the Chief of SIS.  When she answered, Jim got right to the point, Hi, Maggie—I’ve got a mess here on Grand Cayman.  I’m in a room with two dead bodies...terrorists, I’m sure.  The real problem is we found a folder with plans for a dirty bomb, along with a photo of what appears to be a completed one.  I need this place to be sanitized.  Also need a Geiger counter run over the room.  We’ll look for the bomb before your guys get here.  If we find it, I’ll let you know.

Margaret (Maggie) Doyle Littlefield, Chief of MI6, had known Jim for several years, starting when she was a highly thought of field agent.  She had married an Air Force Special Forces Medic with the CIA-led team Jim had funded, during the first four years of the previous administration.  He became an MD before Maggie became Chief.  She asked, You at the hotel you own there?

"Yeah...room 314.  You might have your guys bring along someone they can trust, to fix a door that now has a shot-out locking mechanism.  I’ll clear it here at the hotel—and, by the way, I only own part of this place."

Yeah, yeah.  I’m going now, so I can get the help you want on the way.  Nice mess you dug up, pal.

Wasn’t me—I’ll explain later.  Bye.

By the time Jim made his next call, Fred was back, wearing slacks, sports shirt, and sports jacket.  Under the jacket, he wore his weapon in a shoulder holster.  Jim nodded when he came in.  Check this place over for the damned bomb.  I gotta make two more calls...to John and Glenn.

Get right on it.  Matti is with Holly.  Rosemary is dressed, and packing up.

Jim just nodded as he walked out onto the patio-styled veranda.  As he started to make his next call, he looked over at the veranda he knew Fred jumped from.  He called out, Hey, are you nuts, Fred?  No way in hell I could have made that jump.

Fred hollered back, You’re only six feet.  I got two inches on you, and needed every bit of my advantage in height to make it.

Jim grinned, before he called John Engle, the Secretary of Homeland Security, on a special cell phone—actually, a satellite phone—that Jim had given him.  Hi, John.  I’ve got one hell of a mess for you...and Glenn.  I’ll call him next—or you can.  Anyhow, your friend General Dupree uncovered a big-time problem, when doing his best to play a ‘knight-in-shining-armor’ to rescue a damsel in distress.  We’ve got two dead terrorists in the room next to the one Fred was staying in, here on Grand Cayman.  In their possession was a folder with plans for a dirty bomb, along with a picture that certainly looks like it could be a completed one.

Leave it to Fred...guy has a nose for trouble.  Sorta reminds me of you.  Do you have anything else...besides what you told me?

Yeah, two laptops.  I’ll get ‘em to our plane, where I can use my master computer link to break into ‘em.  Don’t want to fool around with them here.  Guess I could with my laptop, but would feel better using the set-up on the plane.  I’ve got Maggie sending a couple of her MI6 agents to clean up the mess, but want to get things rolling before I decide on our next step.

Send me what you can, when you can.  In the meantime, I’ll give Glenn a call, to tell him to expect the same data to come into his shop.

Thanks—talk to you soon.

2.

About the time John Engle was calling CIA Director Glenn Burgess, Fred reported, Nada, Jim.  I guess we could look for loose boards or something, but I’m betting it ain’t here.

I didn’t think it would be, but we’ll wait around, once Maggie’s troops show up with their Geiger counter.

Maggie, as in Chief of SIS?

Yeah...an old friend.  She’s sending a clean-up crew to remove the trash.  They’re gonna fix the door, too.  For now, let’s pack up what we have in the way of intelligence, while we wait for our gals to get here.

Fred nodded, as he went to where he’d found the briefcase, along with the laptop that came out of it.  He put the laptop back inside, along with the file folder.  Then, he put the other man’s laptop on top of the briefcase, which he had laid on its side.  While he was doing that, Rosemary arrived.  Our luggage is outside, dear.

Good job—thanks.  Jim and I are just waiting for everyone to get here.  He’s arranged for a team of SIS—that’s MI6, in case you didn’t know—agents to clean up the mess I made.  Also waiting for Holly and Matti to get back.

Gotcha.  I knew...about MI6, that is.

Holly and Matti were next to arrive.  Jim went into the bathroom, to quickly put on the clothing Holly brought him.  When he came out, he asked Holly, Dear, how about taking Matti home, rounding up her kids, then her husband.  We better take them with us...unless Maggie wants to arrange for their protection.  Matti, would you like a nice visit to the U.S.—or would you rather stay here in the Caymans?

I’m not sure.  I better talk to my husband about that?

Of course.  Jim knew both wives were armed, because he had seen Fred give Rosemary her gun back—plus knowing Holly was carrying.  He added, Honey, why don’t you leave now, taking Rosemary with you.

Had already planned on it, hubby.  See you at the plane?

Yeah.

Holly turned to Matti.  Do you have a change of clothing here?

Yes.

Rosemary, please go with her while she changes, and meet me in the lobby.  I’ll handle getting the luggage down to our rental car.  Uh...Jim, that’s gonna leave you without transportation.  You planning on getting another vehicle?

Yes—my next move.  Hold on.  Matti, were you finished with this floor?

Yes, except for the towels for this room, which I had just put in the bathroom...oh, more towels for the next room over.  Then I’m done for the day.

"Go ahead and take care of the towels next door, put your cart up, then go change.  Rosemary, go with her, while Holly deals with getting a bellboy up here, and getting us all checked out.  Put all the luggage inside your room, Rosie."

Mr. Scott, if you ever call me ‘Rosie’ again, I shall be forced to castrate you.  Other than that, I will do as you asked.

With that, the three women left the room, as Jim looked at Fred.  Feisty one you’ve got there, my friend.  I love it.

Yeah...me, too—most of the time.  Early on in our relationship, she warned me about ‘Rosie’.

You might have passed that on, pal.

Should have.  Guess we better see if our dead terrorists happen to have passwords, et cetera, on their person.  Would certainly make getting into their laptops easier.

I was about to say the same thing.  You check out the one nearest you.  I’ll take care of the other one, right after I arrange another vehicle.

Just then Holly popped her head back in.  Don’t forget to look in their undies.  Remember that time I found something under a guy’s stuff?  Oh, the bellman is on the way up.  I’ll take care of getting you wheels—check at the desk on your way out.  See you, dear.

Jim just grunted, as he reached into the pocket of his jacket to find what he knew he would:  a pair of surgical gloves.  He took them out, looked them over, and then offered one to Fred.  As he glanced at Fred, he saw him putting a pair on.  He joked, "You might have offered me one of your gloves."

I saw you pull yours out.  Glad we both have ‘em...no way I’m looking under a guy’s nuts for something barehanded.

Jim nodded in agreement, as he squatted down next to the man who had been the leader of the team, while Fred did the same with the body of the other man.  Fred emptied the man’s pockets, finding a large wad of local currency, a passport, and wallet.  He just dropped the currency on the floor, after deciding he’d leave if for the MI6 clean-up crew.  He found nothing of use in the wallet, though there were a few credit cards, plus a couple items of identification.  The passport seemed, at first sight, to offer nothing, until he noticed the number was underlined in pencil.

Jim, this could be nothing—as it should be—but this dope underlined his passport number on the inside cover.  You wanna bet against it being a password or access code?

Nope....I’ve found out terrorists aren’t too bright.  Good catch.  I’ve found nothing that could be either passwords or access codes...at least not at first blush.  We’ll take their passports and wallets with us, for another look-see later.  Guess it’s ‘strip the bad guys’ time, Fred.

Yeah, okay.  One number isn’t gonna help all that much.

Both men checked the shoes and socks of their man, then carefully stripped the body in front of them, looking for anything that might be written on the clothing.  Fred had his man down to underpants first, but found nothing there.

Jim had the same lack of success, until he got to the underpants.  Damn, and damn.  My guy crapped his pants.  You wanna trade bodies?

No, thank you.  Mine only peed.

Jim grunted, as he pulled the underpants down.  He sighed when he saw tape attached to the scrotum.  He was just freeing the tape, when two men came into the room.  In a flash, Jim and Fred had their weapons out.  Both men put their hands halfway up.  One asked, Are one of you guys named Jim?  If so, Maggie sent us to sanitize this room for you.  She suggested we ask you, the name of her husband to verify.

Jim replied, His name is John, but is called ‘Jack’ by everyone.  Welcome—thanks for coming.  Sorry to dump this in your lap, but we have some rather serious fish to fry, in a hurry.

As he spoke, Jim put his weapon back in its shoulder holster, while one of the MI6 men walked toward him, looking down at what he was doing, as well as the mess in the area.  Blimey, glad you’re the one fishing around in that chap’s pants.  What a mess.

As Jim shrugged without reply, the other man walked over to see what his partner was talking about.  Bloody hell—I hope I don’t do that when my time comes.  But you seem to have found something of interest.

By then Jim had wiped the tape and piece of paper attached, on the body’s shirt as he was gently pulling the piece of paper free.  I’m hoping this is the access codes and passwords to his laptop.  Did Maggie tell you what this is about?

"Yes, sir...she mentioned ‘dirty bomb,’ right before she told us to take orders from you.  I must admit I’m very glad to see you have