A Grand Deception

By Daniel Hillard

In the beginning of May 2011, the world received news that one of the greatest manhunts in history came to an end. A wounded nation breathed a sigh of relief at finally receiving much-needed closure. A private investigator hired to find a missing person is led on a trail of intrigue and danger as he makes startling discoveries that challenge the misconceptions of what the world believed. How could this happen? Who is responsible for this Grand Deception? The answers are . . . INSIDE!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781646704583

Book preview

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A Grand Deception

Daniel G. Hillard

ISBN 978-1-64670-457-6 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64670-458-3 (Digital)

Copyright © 2020 Daniel G. Hillard

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books, Inc.

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

Table of Contents

Prelude

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Interlude

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

About the Author

Prelude

A small city floating upon

the great waters of the sea was how he often thought of this, his home now for the last seventeen months. He had enlisted in the US Navy as a young man fresh out of college, at the tender age of twenty-three. He, as well as his family, had been so pleased when he graduated from the Richard Stockton College of New Jersey with a hard-earned bachelor’s degree in education.

Then he found himself fighting against the gruesome prejudice that often haunted him as he attempted to enter the American job market. Post-9/11 life had become a time of turmoil and anguish that all but devastated his hopes of leading a simple peaceable life. He was never really sure if it was indeed the prejudice, or maybe it was just his own feelings of inadequacy that buffeted against him in his attempts to find the kind of teaching position close to his New York home like he had always thought would be within his reach.

When Ali, his college friend and study buddy, introduced him to a Navy recruiter, it opened up a whole new world of opportunities to him. After suffering through all those disappointing periods of multiple rejections, by joining the Navy, he was being given a chance to travel around the world. A chance to teach, to be able to freely practice his religion, to finally feel and be respected, and then he would even be get paid to do it. How could he turn that down? On a personal level, he believed he was also thereby setting a great example for all the brethren everywhere, who, like him, were American Muslims fighting against deadly racial prejudice while honoring their homes in the USA.

Now, here Ahmed was, serving his country on one of the world’s greatest aircraft carriers, the USS Carl Vinson. It was nicknamed Gold Eagle and sometimes referred to as Starship Vinson among the many other things it was also called by both the media and the ship’s crew.

The Carl Vinson was often acknowledged as a supercarrier and was actually the third commissioned Nimitz-class carrier. She housed about 3,200 crew members together with another possible 2,200 flight crew members. She was capable of about 30 knots and could carry about 85 to 90 total aircraft and helicopters but usually only had 65 or so actual aircraft on board at any given time. She measured over 1,000 feet in length and was over 230 feet wide. The ship was big enough, in fact, that a college basketball game between North Carolina and Michigan State was actually scheduled to be played on her deck, with the then president Barack Obama and other dignitaries to be in attendance. (North Carolina won.) She was indeed a veritable floating city.

The USS Carl Vinson in his eyes was a thing of great beauty even though she had been around since 1980. She was his home, and he loved the role that he played on her as the assistant training officer for all the crew members on board the ship. He had even become complacent in life thinking he had finally found his niche, and then life threw him one of those curveballs or maybe it was more of a sinker; leastwise that is how he would later come to think of it, even if only to himself. At any rate, he had always been proud of this—his achieved position, that is—until today, when he was given a packet of documents in a manila envelope containing some very unusual special orders marked Confidential and for your eyes only. These orders left him feeling very uncomfortable and left him with several unanswered questions, and because of the somewhat distasteful content, he began wondering exactly where it was that his loyalties really truly belonged.

The orders seemed simple enough at first glance, although odd, but made him question why he was singled out and receiving a set of orders hand delivered directly from the ship’s communications officer. The orders seemed to him at first innocent, and then somewhat intimidating, and then even kind of presumptuous. Receiving a set of orders in this manner left several unanswered questions for him to ponder. Why was he being singled out and placed in this awkward position? Why was he given orders that made little clear sense to him? Why were the orders hand delivered in a secretive manner? He couldn’t help but feel there was some ominous underlying reason for these orders that he had yet to learn, and though he didn’t know exactly what loomed on the horizon, he understood to some degree why he was the instrument of these orders. He was after all, a Muslim, and who else could follow these orders? It didn’t make a whole lot of sense; but orders were orders and duty was duty, and so he would carry out these orders as best as he could, right down to the letter, exactly as prescribed.

In spite of his sense of foreboding, Ahmed remained loyal as he determined to himself to do this duty to the best of his ability, even if he didn’t understand, like, or approve of it! He also felt a little hurt that he and his fellow Muslims were about to be played like musical instruments by their so-called higher authorities. And after that, what happened next? Would anything ever seem normal to any of them ever again?

* * * * *

Malcolm took a hard look all around the galley area where he was working at the moment and decided it would again suit them just fine for their usual nightly meeting. This, the largest galley, was one of the four cafeteria-style lunchrooms used on his carrier. This lunchroom, the enlisted mess, was his favorite, considered informal with a triple line of tables for crew members to eat at, a service line along one side with doors marked in and out where you were able to choose between various salads and desserts and also receive a variety of drinks, self-serve soda fountain-style, to go along with your meal. Then there was another service line for the actual main-course foods, which on a ship of this size was always fresh, top-notch, and nutritious. The ergonomics of the enlisted mess was designed to feed a great number of the crew as efficiently as possible, and that meant great quantities of food being readily available, thus enabling the ship’s complement to continue their assigned duties or leisure activities with minimal delay.

The kitchens operated twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, often for extended periods of time. Cooks, cook helpers, chefs, chef helpers, food service specialists, whatever titles they fancied to put upon themselves, these proud shipboard workers were always busy maintaining the nurturing of a vast number of their country’s people. Malcolm was a cook in the S2 Food Service Division and spent a great deal of his time behind the food service line doing various types of food preparation depending on the menu for that or the following day’s meal. He grew up loving to cook and enjoyed it that much more when one of the officers or even the crew told him how great one of his specialty dishes tasted. Although he enjoyed the praise from the officers, he preferred to work here in the enlisted mess even more than elsewhere as it was a much more relaxed environment. He worked long hard hours, without complaint, whenever and as needed, and he often volunteered for extra work assignments. This partly because he was a Muslim and felt he needed to prove how good a sailor citizen he was, but even more so because he liked what he did and he put his whole heart into every big and little aspect of his cooking. He tried to make it perfect!

On the aircraft carrier the USS Carl Vinson, there was a total of five Muslims assigned to her. All five were friends with each other, and they also gathered together on a regular basis in the evenings for prayer and discussion. Whenever Malcolm was working and couldn’t get away, which often happened, they brought their meetings to him. They had started doing this in their first celebration of Ramadan together and decided to continue meeting and fellowshipping in a like manner, but without the fasting restrictions thereafter. The enlisted mess became their most frequented meeting place of choice, as it was quite convenient. Having ease of access for all of them, as well as the readily available food and beverages also being a contributing factor, possibly even the biggest factor, the mess was ideally suited for them. Though lacking somewhat in privacy, they had never received complaints from anyone about their meetings or religious practices.

Malcolm took great pride in being able to abstain from eating or even the tasting of his dishes as was customary during the feast of Ramadan. But to make life easier, he volunteered to work nights during Ramadan whenever that was possible. On a ship as big as the Vinson was, you needed to have a full-time full-service cafeteria for those of the crew who worked the night shifts, so nighttime work was almost always readily available to him.

Like on many previous occasions, Malcolm was working into the evening hours preparing some of the menu items for the following day when he saw his friend and fellow Muslim Ahmed enter the cafeteria. Glancing at his watch, he reassured himself of the correct time and wondered why Ahmed was arriving so far ahead of schedule. He couldn’t help but notice that Ahmed looked troubled and even more intense than was his usual.

Assalam Alaikum, Ahmed. What are you doing here so early? Are you looking for a snack or something? asked Malcolm, trying to lighten the mood of his friend by mixing a shipboard Americanized version of the traditional greeting among Islamic friends with informal conversation as they had been doing for some time now.

Ahmed walked over to the nearest table, sat down, shook his head as though to clear it, and properly responded, Wa Assalam Alaikum, then continued in an automated doleful voice. Malcolm, my friend, we must discuss and prepare our brothers tonight for a very unusual assignment. It’s actually very distasteful to me, but I also understand it is absolutely necessary in spite of my feelings because it is in accord with our personal beliefs. He said this as he looked up toward his friend with a mark of sadness in his eyes.

Wait, wait, and slow down, you are losing me, what are you talking about? was the puzzled reply by Malcolm.

I am sorry, my friend, I too am puzzled by this. I received some special orders from the chief communications officer a short time ago, he began. As he continued in his effort to explain, he hunched over the table and seemed to relax a little bit.

You mean Lieutenant Berman? Isn’t he that guy who never talks to people, only the radios? Malcolm interrupted, acting mischievously.

Yes, him, and he told me not to share this with anyone except you and the brothers in our meeting tonight. Then he handed me this official-appearing document, he stated as he leaned back and stared down at the table with a faraway look in his eyes. As he pulled out a manila folder, he then continued, "It’s from an Admiral Darnel who’s at the Pentagon with the Department of the Navy. It’s stamped with

confidential

all over the place on every page."

I never heard of him, stated Malcolm.

Me either, but I believe it is authentic because of how it was hand delivered to me with all these official-looking markings and everything. Anyway, it requests that we, the Muslims on board this ship, prepare for an immediate burial at sea of another Muslim who will be transported here by helicopter early tomorrow morning. It states that we are to be sworn to secrecy in all these dealings that are to take place, and we are never to speak about this outside of our group, ever, to anyone. He said this while shaking his head back and forth slowly in disbelief; then his voice cracked. I didn’t even know anyone, other than the CRMD, was officially aware of our meetings taking place. Now we are being spotlighted, what do you think of that? CRMD stood for the Command Religious Ministries Department; these were the men on board who tried to stay aware of and help to accommodate all the religious activities on board a ship of this size, Christian and otherwise.

Are you making some kind of practical joke here, and you wanted to try it out on me first? Malcolm said with raised eyebrows while cracking a halfhearted smile at his friend.

No, no, I would never joke about something like this, he said while reaching in his pocket for the papers he had stuffed back in his shirt earlier. Here are the orders, and you can see for yourself what they say! I’m telling you the truth, and you know I don’t like to joke around. He then continued in a lower voice, Please don’t tell anyone outside of our group about this or that I showed this to you, but you are my brother and my closest friend, and I know I can trust you in anything. Tell me what you make of this, please.

Ahmed carefully unfolded the papers and spread them out on the table in front of them then looked at Malcolm and said, Here, you take a look at them, see what you think.

Malcolm saw that it was indeed an official-looking document with all the proper-seeming lines, statements, and directives that made it appear to be indistinguishable from any other set of orders. He studied it vigorously though, as he realized that he, like probably most any other military person, never really paid close attention to all those specifics that were on a typical set of orders. He realized that he wouldn’t know if it was bogus or not; but he thought, considering the source of delivery, it was most likely on the level, and why wouldn’t it be?

Everything seems to be in order, he said as he was scanning through the documents’ official-looking headings. Then his eyes caught up to the line that started by saying, Special Instructions:

You are hereby ordered to assemble the onboard group to which you belong of Muslim individuals hereafter referred to under the code name Night Owls and advise them they are to stand by for and give assistance to one Commander Amir Mustafa in the immediate preparation and burial at sea of an individual being flown on to the USS CARL VINSON on 2 May 2011, at approximately 1000 hours. This burial proceeding must and shall occur in accordance with all Islamic precepts and practices. The deceased individual is nonmilitary and will be buried at sea without any military honors and with as little fanfare as is possible. No other personnel will be in attendance other than those ordered to do so and only as are listed below. This burial will not be permitted to be recorded by any means, and neither shall any pictures or discussion of this event ever be permitted to take place. Be prepared for and comply with all additional verbal instructions from Commander Mustafa, who will be fully in charge until further notice of the Night Owls and overseeing every aspect of this burial.

Wow, he exclaimed as he shook his head in disbelief, I never heard of anything like this in all my years with the Navy. I wonder who it is that’s going to be buried, and why would any Muslim be buried at sea instead of on land? He shook his head in disbelief. And all this is supposed to be hush-hush and kept very secretive? I do not like the looks of this!

Hey, he then said loudly with a start, since when did the Navy know we have meetings on this ship? Is there somebody on board here who has been spying and reporting on us?

Now you see what I mean! said Ahmed. This is all so confusing, but I guess our only recourse is to follow the instructions. Do me a favor and get the rest of the guys together as soon as you can and explain to them what is going on. Meanwhile, I want to go talk to Lieutenant Berman, maybe he can give me some more information about this whole thing.

Malcolm looked more carefully at the specific details and saw that all five Muslims on board the Vinson were mentioned by name in the lines underneath where it said distribution to, and he wondered to himself if things would ever seem normal again for any of them. He also noticed there were five copies of the orders, one for each of them.

As Ahmed got up from the table and walked away, Malcolm also wondered to himself how the others in the Night Owls would react to all this. Night Owls, he thought with a feigned chuckle, and who came up with that! At least he could take comfort in knowing that they would all be in this together, and though he didn’t like it, he knew they would see it through to the end, but only because he knew it was their religious duty. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread as he continued to ponder all this that was happening.

* * * * *

The entire burial took place in the North Arabian Sea without a hitch. The commander and his special detail properly prepared the body by washing it, draping it with a white linen sheet, placing it on a board, and then releasing it into the sea in a weighted bag to anchor it down. The burial took place from the lowest deck of the carrier with the commander and the five Muslims and only one other member of the crew being present. The solemn occasion was properly executed according to all the Islamic customs with Commander Mustafa officiating with the expected prayer as was duly required.

Shortly thereafter, after giving additional brief instructions and swearing all to secrecy, the commander, who had pretty much kept to himself except as was required by Islamic faith, departed mysteriously on the same helicopter as he had arrived in. His instructions were brief, concise, and mostly about maintaining secrecy concerning the whole affair. They were then dismissed and told to go to their respective berths and told they should continue in prayer until after sundown. They seemed all too happy to comply with this as none of them had much stomach for what had just transpired. It was especially bothersome too, considering they had not been given any time to prepare for the burial, and they all felt at a loss for words as well as saddened by this whole quiet affair.

* * * * *

The newly named Night Owls agreed to meet in the enlisted mess sometime later to discuss things among themselves. Malcolm had been instructed by the mysterious commander to be present there as though working so as not to draw any attention to that which just took place and that their usual meeting should go on as though nothing had even happened. Conversation was light at their meeting, but their usual evening prayers were understandably dutifully lengthier than usual.

Mohammed Jones, who was the youngest of the group, was the first to bring the day’s events back into perspective. Mohammed had converted to Islam after having grown up in an atheistic family where nothing to any deity had ever been practiced. He had been befriended in high school by an Islamic family that seemed so close-knit and full of love and respect, whereas his own family seemed to be disassociated from each other except when they were fighting. He developed a close personal relationship with them and later converted to the Islamic faith. Now he was feeling queasy about the whole affair, having never experienced death firsthand, especially like this. He was also worried that he might not be reacting properly in his newfound religion and was seeking the approval of the others, hoping that he had handled himself properly in such bizarre circumstances.

That sure was one very tall dude, but he looked nothing like what I would have expected from all the pictures I’ve seen. I guess it is good that Bin Laden is dead, but I’m not sure if I should be proud of my part in this. And should I stay in a state of grieving? According to the Quran, what should I be feeling and doing? he asked to no one in particular.

Ahmed was the first to answer his doubts. I don’t think anyone in death ever fully resembles their pictures or our memories of them before they passed away. None of us has ever experienced this kind of situation before, so according to our beliefs, we must offer up prayers for the dead, but we are not required to like or agree with the lifestyle of the dead person. Be proud that you performed your duties well with the right amount of proper respect and know it wasn’t easy on any of us.

Malcolm broke in. I think we were all going through the motions without our heart being in it. Don’t let it trouble you, little brother, just do the best you can and let Allah continue to be our judge in every—

He was interrupted by a loud reverberating

boom

as of an intense explosion. It was followed immediately by hot liquid and bits of food and metal being spewed about their area as the eruption took place in their close immediate proximity. There were several cries of anguish as these grown men were subjected to the most brutal scathing horror. The conversation and prayers all came to an abrupt end, and only the groans of pain by those who had just been injured was left to mark what had started out as a solemn peaceful occasion but ended in calamity.

* * * * *

Early the very next morning, there was a polite knock on the bulkhead door to which Captain James Polanski responded, Come. Captain Polanski was not accustomed to being