Dragonflies

By Paul D. Richardson II

Harry Jones, an American Special Forces veteran, and Hakim al-Boulos, a Yemeni freedom fighter, are joined together to execute missions into Saudi Arabia to dissuade the Saudis from bombing civilian areas in Yemen. Harry must help Hakim manage his team as they are buffeted by fickle winds blowing in Washington DC. Winds that disrupt the original reason the NSA supported the interdiction mission utilizing Hakim’s group. The vast empty spaces in both Yemen and Saudi Arabia are the background for action, while the urban areas of Chicago, Houston and Washington DC, along with forested New England, represent the perceived superiority of America. The novel is based on US and Saudi Arabian involvement in Yemen’s civil war, which has killed thousands of people. The story isn’t ideological in presentation but is strongly character driven, as people are reacting to situations beyond their control.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Oct 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9781638296355

Paul D. Richardson II

Paul D. Richardson II was born in 1959 in Chicago, Illinois. He attended local schools in Northern Illinois and has worked as a laboratory technician for many years. Currently living in Los Alamos, New Mexico, and employed by Los Alamos National Laboratories, he began writing because it had always attracted him, even as a young child. The stability in his work and personal life eventually granted him time to develop as a writer.

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About the Author

Paul D. Richardson II was born in 1959 in Chicago, Illinois. He attended local schools in Northern Illinois and has worked as a laboratory technician for many years. Currently living in Los Alamos, New Mexico, and employed by Los Alamos National Laboratories, he began writing because it had always attracted him, even as a young child. The stability in his work and personal life eventually granted him time to develop as a writer.

Dedication

To my late wife: Roseann A. Richardson, who will live in my heart always.

Copyright Information ©

Paul D. Richardson II 2023

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, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Ordering Information

Quantity sales: Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Richardson II, Paul D.

Dragonflies

ISBN 9781638296348 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781638296355 (ePub e-book)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023916316

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street, 33rd Floor, Suite 3302

New York, NY 10005

USA

[e-mail]

[phone]

Acknowledgment

Thanks to Wikipedia for providing a venue for my research on the subjects of this novel.

Many thanks to Wilfrid R. Koponen for his editing and support.

Chapter 1

Harry glanced up from his veal scaloppini dinner at Carlo’s Restaurant and peered out the front window onto West 14th Place in Chicago and saw a gun pointed at his head. He dove toward the floor just before a bullet shattered the plate-glass window. Later, he swore that he heard the bullet whiz by his ear. The next thing that registered was that both he and his partner, Edwin, were on the floor, crawling as fast as they could toward the back door. Diners were screaming and cowering under tables while some took photos on their smart phones. Several new shots shattered more windows. Patrons tipped over more tables for protection, causing dishes to crash to the floor, adding to the cacophony.

Harry knew that if he and Edwin could get out through the back quickly enough, then witnesses wouldn’t identify them as the targets. Harry definitely didn’t want to get identified for the police to question. Next time, bad idea to sit next to a window! Harry concluded. Especially one fronting on the sidewalk.

When Harry and Edwin got to the back door, they paused to click off the safeties on their guns in case their assailants were dumb enough to be waiting behind the restaurant. Edwin said, I thought you said we were in the clear.

I thought we were, but I was wrong.

What the hell, Harry? We need to be more careful. Lucky you noticed that gun pointed at you.

Lucky my reaction time is still good.

Edwin reflected, If it weren’t, I’d have the problem of you not being around to tell me what to do. Did you see those civilians with the cell phones taking photos?

Yeah, said Harry. He and Edwin stepped out back into the parking area, ready to fire like Old West brawlers as the noise of all the panicked people inside followed them through the door. Harry and Edwin were on hair-trigger alert. The attackers probably wouldn’t hang around with police sirens getting close, but who knew? Sure enough, nothing awaited them except the stench of garbage and grease. They were about a block and a half away from Carlo’s when the first police and emergency vehicles arrived.

Harry’s mobile rang. It was Marvin. Marvin, said Harry, we’re in the middle of something.

Didn’t you get my text?

You know, I can’t be bothered to check texts every two minutes.

It was to warn you that those goddamned Wah Ching assassins had your location.

It must’ve been them just now. A lame attempt—shooting through a restaurant window.

Come on, Harry! What the hell are you doing in a restaurant sitting by a window?

We have to eat, Harry explained.

Yeah, but why not put a flag up that says ‘Here we are’?

Maybe next time. I thought it might be them. They can be reckless. But I thought you paid them off.

Maybe someone thought it wasn’t enough, Marvin speculated. You know how that goes.

Hey, Harry, let him know I was there too, said Edwin.

Marvin said, Thanks for letting me know. Seriously, Harry: Use more discretion. We can’t afford to lose you two. Put me on speaker so Edwin hears what’s going on.

Thank you, Mr. Baines, Edwin said.

Harry added, You’re right, Marvin. Who else would be able to deal with the security threat of these Chinese Emperors?

Marvin said sharply, I’ve warned you about naming names and talking strategy over mobile networks!

But you just called out the assassins.

Hey, Harry, Marvin said. I make the rules around here.

Yes, Sir.

I’m calling a meeting at the safe house closest to you as soon as you guys can get there.

Yes, Sir. See you there, Harry said before clicking off his phone.

Harry was of eastern European descent from Chicago Il, with a muscular build, six feet tall with short military cut brown hair, and bright grayish eyes. He’d maintained his military workout schedule allowing him to maintain his build but never obsessed about it. Edwin on the other hand was at least thirty pounds heavier than Harry, and proud of his tight-end physique. He was a little short for a modern tight-end and not nearly fast enough but he enjoyed looking like one. Edwin was of German heritage with dark black hair and it would be strange not to see him in desert camo personalized with the formal touch of a camo dust scarf.

Edwin said, He wants a meeting? What for?

Who knows? Harry shrugged. He’s so damn annoying! I wish I would’ve gotten that text; that could’ve been a real disaster.

Trying to lighten Harry’s mood, Edwin quipped, I hope I don’t fall asleep at the meeting. I don’t want to get called out again.

You never did like meetings, Harry said. Even in Iraq.

An hour later, at a well-used warehouse, Harry and Edwin greeted Marvin and a guy they hadn’t met before. The two of them were an odd couple, Marvin; Desert Storm ex-military, on the short side, and over two hundred pounds contrasted with his companion Don; six foot three, with a runner’s build. Harry immediately thought, Oh, no. Another new guy.

Marvin said, Harry, Edwin. This is Don Carson. I’m bringing him in to replace Tony and help you two with our Chinese Emperors operations.

Hey, Don, said Harry.

Edwin grunted.

Marvin continued, We have another lead on the Emperors’ operations. He looked straight at Harry and said, You’ll be working with Don as he tries to get into their network.

Harry wasn’t buying it. He told Marvin, You know what happened the last time we brought in a new guy.

Marvin replied, Let’s not talk about that. We need new people.

Harry didn’t back down. The last new guy almost got us killed.

Marvin noted, That could’ve been a case of poor leadership from you, Harry.

Harry and Marvin were like sibling’s who loved one another but, were always at each other, pushing the buttons they remembered so well.

Bullshit, Marvin, Harry responded. We’re only lucky that Tony wasn’t put in charge after that debacle.

Marvin sighed. Tony isn’t here anymore. He paused. You know his story was that you guys were the ones who almost got him killed.

Sure, huffed Harry.

Don was taken aback. What am I getting into? The guy in charge lets these guys air gripes in front of new people. Not a good sign about discipline.

Marvin said to Harry, Past is past. He shrugged and tried to smile. Just let it go.

Don, Marvin knew, came from the NSA, where he had helped develop and implement Stuxnet against the Iranians. Marvin wondered, How did Don get thrown into this Chinese Emperors crap? Maybe contracting with the NSA wasn’t such a hot idea. This crap must be more important than I thought if the NSA wants to expose Stuxnet-level talent to the Chinese Emperors gang. Those guys would just as soon kill you as look at you. They were willing to order an attack on my people with loads of other people around. Were they being bold or just careless? Why did I ever get into this black-op situation?

Marvin said, We’re changing gears on this project, Harry. His tone was sober, conveying the idea: It’s your time to play follow the leader, and I’m the leader. The NSA has elevated its priority.

Why? Harry snapped. With these guys pulling amateur street attacks on us? How could they have hacker smarts when they risk everything to attack us in a public place?

Marvin softened. I know, Harry. Apparently, the NSA knows something we don’t. Now Edwin and you are going to be protecting Mr. Carson as he hacks into the Emperors’ network.

Harry turned to Don and said, Sorry. I thought you were just another expendable like us. He smiled, however belatedly, and added, By the way, nice to meet you.

Don said, Nice to meet you too, Harry, Edwin. I don’t think I’ll be a burden for you. Don actually thought just the opposite: that these two cocky amateurs would be too big of a burden for him. I don’t want to be babysitting you while you distract me from all the tedious and intricate vital details of the task ahead.

I’m sure you won’t be, Harry said blandly. Our group culture is one of bickering and blame.

Don took that statement at face value: I can see that, he said.

Marvin scowled. Great! Harry, when did you become an expert on group dynamics?

Harry breezed along blithely, as if enjoying his own sense of humor. I’m a man of mystery. There’s a lot you don’t know about me.

Well, said Marvin. Enough of that. Let’s let Don tell us his requirements. He was done with Harry’s insubordination, at least for now.

Harry picked up on Marvin’s peevish tone. Sure, Marvin, said Harry. Just so you know, though: I can avoid bickering, but maybe I don’t want to; it lightens things up a bit when we’re talking about life-or-death situations. That was the most straightforward thing Harry had said since the meeting had started.

Bullshit, Marvin concluded. He turned to Don and said, I hope you’ll get used to this guy.

Don said, I am going to have my own equipment. I may ask for some help with it. Other than that, I’ll need you guys to handle pretty much everything else in the safe house or wherever else I set up shop. It’s important that I can maintain my focus without too much interruption.

Thank you, Don, Harry said. You’re a man who knows what he wants and tells us straight up. We’ll get along fine.

Don felt relieved that Harry had reverted to a more professional tone. Something must have gone wrong before this meeting today.

When Don had finished his run earlier that morning, it had still been dark. He loved running in the early morning because he could think without interruption about the day ahead. As he did his stretching routine, he looked up into the sky and noticed the streak of the Milky Way.

He would have liked to see more of it, but around Chicago, it was obscured by light pollution.

Do I have to see myself as insignificant this early in the morning? Last night, Deanna had said, You’ll miss me when I’m gone. He’d kept his mouth shut, letting her get the last word in the latest round of their ongoing argument about the salary he was bringing down. Why does she have to throw that in my face every damn time we argue? He had never suspected that five years of marriage would be so hard, and then the divorce he didn’t want. All of her complaints about my work before the divorce, and now it’s worse, how does she think this is better? If she could only see the Milky Way, she’d know that our argument is not that important. Reality came back to him and he was concerned about having to meet these security guys and talk about his true mission.

Don thought back to his discussions with his superiors at the NSA about why he needed a security team. This team could get him killed. Ryan Holmes, the S Directorate deputy director had told him, Don, we can’t risk this project’s success by your working onsite because we don’t want anyone tracing it back to S32.

Don had replied, This project is innocuous for me. Seeing that this argument hadn’t won Holmes over, Don added, I’ve done so many of them.

There are things you don’t know about, Ryan said somewhat pompously. Before you ask what they are, they are on a need-to-know basis.

Don snapped, I don’t have a need to know? I’m the only person on the project.

I’m sorry, Don. You’ll be given information as we go.

Don reverted to his matter-of-fact tone. All I know is to infiltrate a secure network and monitor activity on it.

Ryan replied, For now, that’s all you need to know. I’ll be in touch with you using Moscow Rules. I’ll give you a group of drops. You’ll have to memorize them.

Ryan, you’re really Old School. I never thought Moscow Rules were real.

Maybe they’ve never been written down, but they are real enough. We can’t have any leakage over where your instructions originate.

Christ, Ryan, Don admitted. You’re making me nervous.

Just focus on the work, Ryan advised Don.

Now these guys want to know about the project, but I’ve got nothing, Don thought. As he started to speak, he mustered a confident tone. As Marvin said, my assignment is to monitor the Emperors’ secure network.

Don had given Marvin—and now his security team—part of his cover story. However, the network that he was actually monitoring was the network of the Kendrick Corporation. The Kendrick Corporation was a family-held corporation that had used many methods, including some illegal ones, to become one the highest-capitalized small oil corporations in the world.

Routine monitoring of chatter out of Yemen had turned up references to Jeremy Kendrick, the CEO of the Texas oil firm. This raised suspicions because it was out of character in light of the publicly known dealings of the corporation. Don had been tasked with hacking into Kendrick Corporation’s servers along with Jeremy Kendrick’s personal Internet and mobile accounts.

Find out what you can, Don had been ordered.

Don continued, For me to avoid detection, I’ll be anonymous online. As additional security, we’ll operate out of the safe house that the NSA has set up for this investigation. I’ll also be performing various computer security operations. Those won’t really be of any concern for you.

Harry thought, Nice try. This is about something other than these damn Emperors. Yeah, they are murderous gangsters, but they’re not worthy of NSA attention. Don’s story is obviously a cover, but for what? Why go to this extent with safe houses and security for an NSA cyberhacker to investigate a small-time gang? His story doesn’t pass the smell test. What are we being thrown into? For once, though, Harry told himself, keep your mouth shut. We’ll find out the details when we find out.

Harry looked at Edwin. Edwin was inscrutable. Harry knew that Edwin preferred to go with the flow. Physical and personal security is more difficult than what we’ve been doing lately. It can be difficult. Harry couldn’t stop gnawing at the bone. Don has to be going after some group, one with almost unlimited resources behind it, which means that now we’re becoming part of a much bigger operation. The people we’re going up against—whoever they are—could have the resources to overwhelm Edwin and me. We don’t have access to real firepower. Not an appealing thought. I wonder whether old Don realizes that. I think I’ll at least mention my thoughts about all this to Edwin.

Several hours later, Harry, Edwin, and Don were in the safe house. The house was equipped with cameras that could survey not only the exterior of the duplex, but also each interior room, the garages, and the attic spaces of both units.

Harry was impressed. Hey, Edwin. Look at this stuff! We’ve never had it so good. He smirked. Maybe we should apply to the NSA.

Edwin replied, playing along with Harry, Does it pay more?

Probably not. It’s the government. Harry shrugged and added, But maybe the Emperors won’t be sending those Wah Ching Assassins to ambush us at restaurants anymore.

Edwin said, Less cash but more security. It might work. He paused and then admitted, But this setup sounds sketchy. All this to get something on the Emperors?

I was thinking the same thing, Harry admitted.

Don came in from the garage. Well, guys, he said, What do you think?

Harry said, Nice safe house, but isn’t it overkill against a crew like the Emperors? If the NSA can throw money around like that, can you get us in at the NSA?

Don mugged, I don’t know about that, but you’re going to get your expenses covered because Marvin is a subcontractor.

Harry said, I guess that’s something.

Don thought of Deanna again. She was angry when I told her about this job’s open-ended duration.

This is getting old, Don, she had said. The kids and I don’t have enough money to do anything extra and they don’t know you at all. You haven’t had them for a weekend in I don’t remember how long. Is this ever going to change?

Don had said, I’ve been trying to get a transfer to a job without this clandestine work, but it seems like once they get you into this, you’re stuck.

Why can’t you just get out of there and get a normal job?

It’s not that easy, Don replied. I’d be starting at the bottom. We need the benefits and decent income I have here for the kids. You’d have even less money if I had to catch on somewhere new after leaving the NSA.

Deanna said petulantly, Yeah. You’ve said that before.

Tit for tat, Don replied, Well, I’ve heard you complain about my job before. What a great life I lead.

Shaking himself out of his trip down Memory Lane, Don went into the room where his monitoring equipment was, followed by Harry and Edwin. Guys, said Don, I’m going to be monitoring the target network for about two hours. I’ll do this three, or four times a day. I’ll let you know when I’m going to be starting and stopping so that you can be somewhere else at those times. The less you know about this, the better—for your own safety.

Got it, Don, said Harry. Thanks for telling us straight. He turned to Edwin and said, Let’s go monitor the security cameras.

After Harry and Edwin left the room, Don was able to view the restricted areas of the Kendrick Corporation’s network.

After watching the monitors with feed from all the cameras without even spotting so much as a raccoon, Edwin said to Harry, Don’t you think they might be interested in what we know about the Emperors?

If they want something from us, they’ll ask. Staring straight at Edwin, Harry added, But we both know that this has nothing to do with the Emperors. As you said, Don’s story is sketchy.

You’re right, it is, said Edwin, but maybe it’ll be better than what we’ve been doing for Marvin.

Several days of monitoring passed. Don had been unable to find anything of interest even when viewing restricted areas of the Kendrick network. Why didn’t management give me more of an idea about what they thought I could find? The network security was pretty good, but nothing impossible to penetrate. Don had to be challenged to stay interested. This is no challenge, so I’m probably missing things. After a week passed, he knew that he would have to trick himself into being challenged to stay motivated so that he wouldn’t curse the NSA hand that fed him. He knew that if he went into a negative mindset, he wouldn’t be able to accomplish anything.

Sooner or later, no matter how much he didn’t want to, Don knew that he would have to ask Ryan for more direction.

Meanwhile, Harry was getting anxious with the lack of action, while Edwin couldn’t care less. Edwin was getting paid for doing nothing, which was fine by him. Harry couldn’t go back to Marvin to say, I want out of this because that would mean that they would lose the NSA contract. Both Harry and Edwin had worked with Marvin long enough to know that they wouldn’t get anywhere by complaining to Marvin about how bored they were not getting shot at.

Chapter 2

The CEO of the Kendrick Corporation, Jeremy Kendrick, was in the Chicago area, staring into the distance between golfers at one of the courses owned by his Houston based conglomerate. He’d been mulling over a tentative decision he’d come to that it was about time to use his anti-Saudi Yemeni freedom militia again. He needed oil prices to go up, and an attack on an oil refinery should do the trick. While he didn’t take this decision lightly, his major concern was what it would cost, not that he could be considered a terrorist. The cost would be several million dollars, so the decision depended on whether the attack would raise oil prices enough to cover that cost. He called his special assistant Randle Cox, who happened to be with him in Chicago and had always coordinated his array of connections to accomplish unsavory tasks.

Mr. Cox, I have another job for you.

Similar to the previous? Randle asked.

Yes. Could we meet at the fountain to discuss it?

What time?

Say 3:15.

I’ll be there.

The fountain meant the lakefront trail near Chicago’s Du Sable Harbor. Kendrick and Cox walked the trail like tourists, but their business not to adore Chicago’s lakefront.

Kendrick noted, Randle, I had mentioned that this job was similar to the last one. It is, but more complex.

Randle, who was originally from Houston, had learned his trade in military intelligence and had been an oddity in that world; a black man, mused with his soft Texas drawl, So, you need to arrange an attack on a major pipeline or—

I’m thinking oil refinery.

It’s going to be pretty expensive, Sir.

How bad do you think?

I’m thinking about 3.5 million, but I can’t be sure until I do some research.

How soon can you get you get a plan with expenses together? Kendrick asked. I’d like something to approve in about a week.

Sir, I mean no disrespect, but don’t you think it’s too soon after the last operation?

I thought about it. No. Hakim has been protecting us.

I’ll see what I can do, Sir, Randle indicated. It should be possible.

Thank you, Randle. I’ll probably be back in Texas when we meet again. Give me a call when you have something.

Will do, Mr. Kendrick, said Randle just before they split up.

Kendrick went back to his Chicago office, which had an amazing view of Lake Michigan. A few moments of gazing at the water intake structures rejuvenated him. His reflection in the window revealed a distinguished looking man with coiffured blond hair offset by a carefully trimmed circle beard. Three and a half million is a lot of money, he thought. By far the most he’d paid for one of these attacks, but each of the smaller attacks improved stock value by a half of a percent, helping to increase the profit margin. He wondered, Can I pull this off? It would be worth it to raise our stock value by more than one percent. That would dwarf the cost of the attack. Not being an indecisive person, he’d mulled it over long enough. He decided to go ahead with it despite the risks.

A couple of days later, Randle called Kendrick, who was back in Houston. Kendrick took the call and asked, What’s up, Mr. Cox?

I’ve got some information for you, Mr. Kendrick. Where do you want to meet?

One of Kendrick’s favorite parts of setting up attacks was engaging in the spy craft he’d glimpsed in movies. Kendrick enjoyed meeting with Randle to discuss the attacks at Rollover Pass. Kendrick liked to think about old-time smugglers rolling their barrels of goods over to the bayside in order to avoid the tariff’s.

On the peninsula, today at four o’clock, Kendrick replied.

The problem for Randle meeting there was he hated using that damned Port Bolivar—Galveston ferry to get there from Texas city. He’d rather be on a night raid in Iraq than on any ship, just waiting in line for it made his heart rate jump. Here he was, sitting in his car during the crossing with the door open, wearing a life preserver, ready for anything. Feeling much better driving off the ferry, he almost enjoyed the drive to Rollover Pass. As soon as he got there, he spotted Kendrick’s car in the small parking area.

After greeting Randle, Kendrick said, Well, Randle, what’s the damage?

I think we can keep it down to 3.1 million, boss.

That’s better than 3.5. When can I expect the deed to be done?

Randle hedged for a little more time, About three weeks after the arrangements are made, Sir.

And you’ll make all the arrangements yourself?

As always, Sir.

Which refinery did you select for the attack, Randle?

Since you didn’t state a preference, Sir, I chose the Port Harcourt Refinery in Nigeria.

Why?

It has a large capacity. If it’s forced to shut down for a few months, that would have a bigger impact on the world oil market. Plus, the corrupt Nigerian government makes it easy to pay off anyone we need to bribe to get access. Nigeria is outside the focus of Middle East-generated terrorism, so the attack might be seen as local.

There’s no government in Africa that isn’t corrupt, Kendrick commented.

I agree, Sir.

You will be in Nigeria before this goes down to handle any issues personally?

Yes, Sir.

Thank you, Randle. Keep me informed. As always, you have complete control of the budget.

Very good, Sir. I think we should lie low for a while after this mission, maybe not attempt another attack. Our lucky streak can’t last forever.

What makes you say that? Kendrick asked.

I know how the NSA and the CIA work, Sir. I have a bad feeling about continuing.

Do you think this mission is at risk?

No, Randle answered. But if they are suspicious, they will watch and wait before moving. They’ll destroy Hakim and his group, then come after you and me.

How will they find us? Kendrick asked. You’ve been so careful.

There’s no way to be careful enough, Sir. For all we know, they already have their eyes on us.

I’ll think about it.

Randle walked to his car and waited for Kendrick to leave. Kendrick gave him a wave as he drove quickly away. Randle thought, Damn, another project that could get me killed. I really need a different job. He got on his way to Bush airport and caught his flight to Nigeria, where he would have plenty of work. Keeping Hakim and his crew on task and on schedule with preparations would be his biggest problem. When he wasn’t thinking about a new job or about abandoning this one, the trip made him numb. Eighteen hours later, he was approaching Port Harcourt