Wolves in Jews Clothing.docx

Chapter 3 - A Meeting and a Shooting

At 7:30 a.m. with breakfast a thing of the past, the plank table was clean and ready for the meeting. There weren’t any notepads, minutes would not be read and notes would not be taken.

Tom picked up his rifle and left to do some hunting. He fidgeted with his lapel.

I’ll be back by noon to prepare lunch.

He shouted over his shoulder, the door closed behind him.

Theim watched him go, when he was fifty yards or so away, he turned to the group and said, He’s gone.

The first session began.

This illegal meeting of unelected power mongers was about to decide the future of the world with terrible consequences for those who opposed them.

Trott was a weasel of a man. He wore a thin mustache that sat on thin lips on a thin face. He was tall and thin. Everything about him was thin from the inside out except his wealth and power. He looked spiteful and his looks were only a hint of his nastiness. Instinctively Tom did not like him. In fact no one liked him.

Trott stood briefly to announce that the meeting was now in progress.

Sitting down he continued in an almost formal fashion, We are here, Gentlemen, to ensure the continued profitability of our respective companies and to ensure the economic future of our country. Our goal is as simple as that. How we achieve that goal will be, of course, more problematic. He really didn’t have a sense of patriotism but it sounded good.

His voice broke the still cabin air. In fact in seemed like the air had been shattered, the threat to peace that was lying under his tones was most viable.

Without wishing to state the obvious, each of our companies is dependent equally on the others. We all need oil, we all need a method to consume it, we all want the profits from it.

The problem was that fundamentalists in the Arab Islamic world were not too concerned about these men's profits, just their own. Their primary concerns had more to do with maintaining the status quo in their respective countries.

Their religion and way of life was much more important than cars, television and all the other trappings of the consumer society that was the United States of America. They didn’t want their little girls playing with Barbie dolls, white or brown.

There was a significant threat by the newly formed 'Alliance of Islamic States' to severely limit the supply of oil to Western countries.

The threat was considered to be very real.

Top level US Government officials had been illegally leaking information to the six for several months.

Grant, the only one of them who was overweight, in fact he was sort of pudgy with a mean look, said,

What does the Administration have planned? I m not aware of any initiatives and I'm worried that we might see our economic future go down the crapper if they don t do something soon.

Now, Trott stood up; his manner was fearsome. Full of bluster and show, he snapped at Grant, whilst looked at everybody.

If you truly believe we are going to allow that moron and his cronies to let our positions slide into some black hole, I want you, and anybody that supports you at this table to leave now. We’re here to plan our survival not to talk about failure. If they don't take action we will!

Even the cabin seemed to tremble a little.

If anyone wanted to go they didn’t show it. Grant, was of course, merely outlining his concerns. He was just as ruthless as Trott. Trott’s outburst was not needed but it served to enforce his leadership.

Theim said nothing. Clark thought of trying to explain what Grant meant but sat silently. He was the mental recorder of events and decisions. He forgot nothing. He wrote down nothing. He memorized everything.

Rosenberg, his big nose and flared nostrils which needed the constant attention of Kleenex tissues took the floor and began,

We are all here with the same agenda, let's use this time to make our plans. He paused, waited a few seconds for dissension which he knew wouldn’t come and continued, We cannot just go in and take the oil, the worldwide repercussions would be too great. We must have a reason to invade and take control of any country's resources. It's time for another terrorist attack on the USA. We can then decide who our enemies are, attack them and take their oil while we construct their country at our taxpayers expense.

Six big greedy grins filled the room. This had been done before and worked, why it shouldn’t work again. By the time everyone realized it was only oil rich countries that were attacked, the oil would be theirs and the ongoing sacrifices of US soldiers would keep it so.

The President needed a boost for his re-election and this would help.

Dawson stood; he was a big man at 6 feet 3 inches and 245 lbs. he commanded respect and attention by his physical appearance alone.

Well, it didn’t take us long to decide what was needed, let s move on and decide on our target and how to put this all into action.

Two loud, but different rifle shots crackled through the outside air shaking the cabin windows slightly, the Six instinctively took cover. They were bowed at the waist, knees bent, hands covering their heads, remembering their school drills to protect them from nuclear explosions, funny.

Minutes later Tom knocked at the cabin door, and stood to the side of the jamb with the latch. This would present the smallest target if those on the other side of the door were ready to attack him.

O.K. for me to come in? he shouted, adding,

Everything’s cool, don’t worry.

Trott slowly lifted the wooden latch cracking the door open about 3-4 inches, Tom, wearing only his boots, blue jeans and Tee shirt looked at him, returning the cold stare.

What the hell was that shooting about? Trott demanded.

Somebody tracked me as I crossed the stream.He pointed off towards the slow moving stream. I hid in a small cleft in the bank and saw some guy coming up behind me. He was carrying a Schlammer 300 sniper rifle so I guessed he was not looking for deer or jack rabbits. I didn’t know for sure if he was one of your security backups, or a bad guy wanting to hurt you, so I took off my shirt and hat and made like a scarecrow over a bush, he came over the rise saw my decoy and fired without hesitation. I guess he was out to kill somebody. I returned fire and shot him. If he’d used his scope and taken his time he’d have realized he was shooting a shirt. Ambushing is a serious business!

I’m here to protect you guys and I thought maybe one of you were his real target.

Tom s summary was short and efficient. Trott looked at him coolly asking,

Did he have any identification on him?

Nope, he was clean, too clean.

The bushwhacker had left his wallet in his 4 wheel drive pickup about a mile and a half away. It would not be found for years.

Trott let out an almost silent sigh of relief. No one but Tom noticed. Trott’s sniper was not supposed to start hunting yet. Now it was too late. Someone else would have to do Trott’s dirty work.

What happens now? asked Theim.

I guess I’ll go and bury him unless you guys want to take a look.

Without waiting for a response Tom went to the shed at the back of the cabin looked for and found a toolbox. He picked out a shovel and went to play undertaker.

Trott’s eyes narrowed to the width of his moustache. We must be very careful. He thought out loud.

One part of their plans had gone wrong, other parts would too. The sniper was supposed to turn up much later. He was supposed to be the killer. They tried to start their meeting but a break was needed to give them an opportunity to clear their minds. Trott’s was already clear.

Chapter 4 Tom came back.

Who’s hungry? no-one responded. He walked to the stove to prepare lunch. I’m never sure whether you should wash your hands before or after burying a body." Tom said with a smile. No response, but they all looked at his hands as he put bread into the oven to warm.

He now suspected them all and wanted them to think about the food he would prepare. A nervous opponent was easier to deal with. Tom thought he was one step ahead. He suspected them and hoped they didn’t know it.

Lunch was hastily but partially eaten, there was a lot leftover. Tom dutifully cleared everything away and made the table ready for their meeting to start again.

He left; his rifle slung over his shoulder.

Grant took the floor.

I have picked out several target nations, each one has reserves that would keep the U.S. going for 10-15 years possibly longer as they all are believed to have untapped oceans of oil. He went on,

The first is the Emirate of Mehla. It has all the oil we need, but, also has very strong fortifications and a very militant Islamic population that would delay any successful oil production.

He paused for the information to sink in. The pause wasn’t necessary. These guys got the picture the first time.

The Kingdom of Haliq has great reserves plus untapped offshore possibilities, it has a small non militarized population and its inhabitants number about 60,000. Islamic, but not fundamentalist. Again he used an unnecessary pause for effect.

The only other worthwhile possibility is the Island of Jahar 300 miles east of mainland Indonesia. Not developed production yet but very large reserves. Really no population but allied closely to Indonesia. The tribal leader has a longstanding friendship with China. Perhaps too many difficulties to control.

After pointing out the approximate geographical locations of each potential source of revenue he sat down.

Theim chirped up forcefully once more Haliq it is then. He only spoke when he was certain of the response. He was rarely wrong. He never said much but his mind had been calculating every possible sequence of events and, when he was certain of the outcome he spoke up.

Rosenberg stood up I’ll contact Ben Schulman. He sat back down.

Nobody asked who Ben Schulman was, they already knew.

Nothing more needed to be said.

Rosenberg was pleased, this would not only ensure their economic welfare but it would give Israel s number one ally another foothold in the troubled Middle East. They stood and like a teenaged boys club smiled at each other as if they had just stolen something from the candy shop.

Well they had or at least were about to. The candy was oil and the shop was the Kingdom of Haliq.

They had travelled a long way to meet in secret for such a short time but with such rewards they could not take any risks of being seen together. They took cigars from Tom s box and puffed away in sublime satisfaction that nothing could go wrong.

That evening, Tom cooked a dinner of Texan steak. Salad and fresh fruit made the celebration banquet complete and more of Tom s cigars went up in smoke. He hoped they would not empty the box. He fiddled with his lapel. The after dinner conversation was similar to last night s. Then they all went to their bunks.

Chapter 5 Breakfast. Three in the Back and a Helicopter Ride.

Breakfast was not required by anyone except Tom. He dry fried some bacon in a large cast iron pan, dropped an egg into the hot fat, flipped it over, ate the leftover bread and scoffed down a filling breakfast. He would need that nourishment. He just didn’t know how much. The six went for a short stroll around the cabin.

Tom caught them up and said they should be prepared for the arrival of the first helicopter.

Theim looked at him and said That will be for me. Hey Tom are you putting on weight eating all this fine grub? Tom’s reply was a smile. He had bulked up but it wasn’t food that had made him look a little heavier.

They re-entered the cabin sitting quietly away from the small windows. The sound of Theim s helicopter clattered through the warm, still, Texas air. Theim strolled casually, bag in hand, to the chopper without looking back at the cabin, as far as the pilot was concerned there was no one to say goodbye to.

The scene was repeated with Tom watching from a side window, all the time fidgeting with his lapel. Then it was just Trott and Tom left. Tom knew his chopper would be the last to arrive. Trott had made the arrangements so Tom could have time to clean up the place. No chopper would come for Tom. He began cleaning up; Trott unzipped his shoulder bag.

The sniper was dead. Trott was a little concerned about his next move because it hadn t been planned with the meticulous detail that was his hallmark.

Tom was bent on one knee stooping to put the washed and dried plates into the cupboard when a feeling of unease swept over him. He had left himself exposed to danger. His back was toward Trott. He knew he should not have left himself as vulnerable as this.

Trott pulled a .38 from his overnight bag and aimed at Tom s stooped head. He fired twice with shaking hand. He was off target and the slugs hit Tom in the back at a lucky 45 degree angle, he slumped forward onto his face, his head and shoulders, now occupied the shelf that should have held plates.

Trott fired once more at Tom s back and thought what a neat group of holes he d made.

The noise of the chopper startled him back into a high level of awareness and he reached for his bag.

He adjusted the timer on the wooden box to detonate the infusiary device in 30 minutes time. More than enough for his chopper to be over the horizon. The fire would destroy the cabin, all fingerprints, any forgotten evidence and Tom Holmen s body would be seen by no one.

Trott boarded the chopper. He was the only one to look back. He saw nothing but the lonely cabin.

Are you feeling refreshed Sir? the pilot asked. Oh yes, thank you, I feel much better now.

Chapter 6 Mike Spatz.

Thick framed tortoiseshell glasses with plain, non-magnifying lenses were a great disguise thought Mike Spatz as he looked into a patch he d made on his dewey bathroom mirror. He d just stepped out of the shower after 5 minutes of hot liquid sunshine on his back. He felt good.

He looked geeky but not all stupid. He d bought the glasses to help conceal his identity on a recent undercover assignment but now he used them whenever he was not on official business. He would sit at home wearing his glasses, reading a book through the plain fake lenses, pressing a shirt or just tidying up his already well kept home. It made sense, but only to Mike.

His cheeks were sunk in hollows that made him look ill, his chest shamelessly displayed each rib bone and knobbly sternum, it seemed his bones were covered only by very thin, delicate, slightly freckled skin, with little blue veins flowing like streams beneath it; a few wimpy hairs curled around his nipples; spindly, gangly legs seemingly almost devoid of muscle supported his apparently fragile body.

Despite his malnourished physical appearance, he had a well justified supreme confidence in his body s toughness and athletic abilities. The glasses concealed what went on behind them in his very determined mind. This tall, skeletal shape left him prone to teasing and bullying by jerks who soon wished they had not met him.

He had a keen analytical mind, second to none of his peers. He was obviously not a jock but he could do all the things jocks did. He regularly outran the college runners but would not run with them.

He would not