Casualties of War

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Table of Contents

About Bruce Savage

Books by Bruce Savage

Disclaimer

Copyright

Quotes

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty Four

Chapter Thirty Five

Chapter Thirty Six

Chapter Thirty Seven

Chapter Thirty Eight

Chapter Thirty Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty One

Chapter Forty Two

Chapter Forty Three

Chapter Forty Four

Chapter Forty Five

Chapter Forty Six

Chapter Forty Seven

Chapter Forty Eight

Chapter Forty Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty One

Chapter Fifty Two

Chapter Fifty Three

Chapter Fifty Four

Chapter Fifty Five

Chapter Fifty Six

Chapter Fifty Seven

Chapter Fifty Eight

Chapter Fifty Nine

Chapter Sixty

Chapter Sixty One

Chapter Sixty Two

Chapter Sixty Three

Chapter Sixty Four

Chapter Sixty Five

Chapter Sixty Six

Wait!

From the Author

About Bruce Savage

Bruce Savage was born in Lewiston, Maine in 1967, the youngest son of 16 brother’s and sister’s to Winfield Strout and Blanche Strout. He published his first successful work when he was 10 years old in Boy’s Life magazine. The publication paid him $1 for a joke he wrote. So excited about his accomplishment and seeing his name published he pursued the art of writing for the next 40 years. In 1984 he enlisted in the United States Army and served his country in Germany. In 1999 he graduated from Columbia Southern University with a Bachelor’s in Computer Science and Information Systems. He held several positions with several fortune 500 companies until 2002 when he dove head first and full time into the world of writing and publishing. Since then he has produced 11 novels and counting. Casualties of War was his first novel followed by Psycho.

He is currently working on many other novels that will be available soon as well as the screenplay for Russian Games. He currently lives in Florida and the Philippines with his wife Julie and his daughter. He frequently enjoys making donations and contributions to ending poverty and supporting those less fortunate and he is an avid animal rights supporter.

Bruce Savage – Casualties of War

Books by Bruce Savage

The Novels:

GOD’S ASSASSIN

NO MERCY FOR THE DEAD

EUROPA'S CHILD

RUSSIAN GAMES

QUEST FOR THE TABLET

ORIGIN

SHORT SCARY STORIES

PSYCHO

CASUALTIES OF WAR

KNOW YOUR ENEMY

MORE SHORT SCARY STORIES

For previews and information about the author:

Visit www.brucesavage.com

Disclaimer

Casualties of War

By Bruce Savage

Copyright © 2015

Casualties of War eBook Edition

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems without the express permission in writing by the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

First Edition 1.0

Bruce Savage – Casualties of War

Copyright

Copyright © 2015 www.brucesavage.com

All rights reserved.

ISBN-10: 1517788935

ISBN-13: 978-1517788933

Bruce Savage – Casualties of WAR

Visit: www.brucesavage.com or your favorite book seller to order additional copies.

Casualties of WAR – BRUCE SAVAGE

Quotes

He should not kill a living being, nor cause it to be killed, nor should he incite another to kill. Do not injure any being, either strong or weak in the world. - Sutta Nipata II, 14

Conquer the angry man by love.

Conquer the ill-natured man by goodness.

Conquer the miser with generosity.

Conquer the liar with truth. - The Dhammapada

The fool thinks he has won a battle when he bullies with harsh speech, but knowing how to be forbearing alone makes one victorious. - Samyutta Nikaya I, 163

Chapter 1

IT WAS A DARK NIGHT even under a starlit sky. A hot desert wind swept down upon the ground, scooped up handfuls of sand, whipped them around until the exposed parts of your body felt like it was being sandblasted off.

Special Forces Sergeant First Class Allen White cautiously crawled up the sand dune on the outskirts of the small town of Al Basrah in Iraq, not giving thought to the discomfort of the sand that had found its way into his uniform or that was tearing at the exposed skin on his hands and face. He carefully positioned himself and searched the town with his night vision binoculars for the insurgents who his team was assigned to find. An informant reported that an Al Qaeda terrorist cell was hiding in the town. The mission was to take a team of Special Forces soldiers, clear the town of the terrorists, and acquire any useful intelligence that may help put an end to Al Qaeda. Iraq wasn’t going to fall back into chaos as it had come close to a few months before. Insurgence had almost brought the country to the brink of a civil war.

It was Allen’s third tour in Iraq with two weeks to go before this last and final tour was over. Soon he would be home again, for good this time. It was time to leave the wars and battles to younger men. There was no wife and children waiting for him back home in Florida. He had a father and a younger sister who he hadn’t seen in more years than he could remember.

The last time he’d seen them was when he had left home and joined the Army. His father resisted his joining the Army, wanting more for his son than the life that lay ahead. He was young and stubborn and refused to take the advice of his father, who knew exactly what he was getting into. After all, his father was the head of Army Intelligence. He knew what his son’s life was going to be like. He only wanted more for his son, perhaps a future that included them working together someday. A future that as far as Allen was concerned would never be. He resented his father and blamed him for their parent’s divorce. Allen was just too young to understand what caused the divorce.

The Army had been his adopted family for most of his life now and that was the way he wanted it. The life, as he called it, was too hard on marriages and families. His own father and mother were a testament to that. Nevertheless, in two weeks it would be time to start his new life as a civilian and start settling down. Possibly buy a fishing boat and rent it out to tourist and maybe try to make things right with his father and sister. However, tonight he had to put aside his thoughts of his return home. Tonight it was business as usual, the Special Forces way.

Allen focused his binoculars on a small dimly lit house and watched several of the occupants come out and stand on the sidewalk, each armed with Russian AK-47’s.

You getting this Rickster? Allen quietly whispered over his microphone to Sergeant Rick Donnor his next in command.

Yeah, I’m getting it. Looks like we found the Roach Motel. What are they pointing at? Sergeant Donner replied as he kept recording the terrorist standing outside the house with the video camera.

They’re pointing at something coming up the road. Three o’clock, you see the headlights? I wonder who else is coming to the party?

Looks like three Mercedes coming up the road. Intel didn’t say anything about this. What do you want to do about it? Rick asked.

Upload the video. We’ll let the brass make the next call. That’s what they’re good at. We just find the snake and cut the head off. They decide what to do with it. Allen replied. Rick quickly plugged a cable into the back of the video camera, connected it to a laptop and with the punching of a few keys secured a satellite connection.

Uploading now. Smokey, put me through to HQ. Rick called over to another team member that handed him a satellite phone.

Whiskey November, this is Alpha Squad. We have an upload in progress. What’s your advice? Rick said over the satellite phone.

Alpha Squad, we have the upload. Reviewing the video now. Wait for orders. Came the response, then a long pause filled with static.

Alpha Squad, can you zoom in on the second Mercedes? a man’s voice crackled over the satellite phone.

Roger that. Zooming in. They’re pulling up to the target house. Rick replies. The caravan of cars stops and several people step out of the Mercedes, stand for a moment looking around, then enter the building.

Is that who I think it is HQ? Allen interrupts.

Command, are you seeing who I’m seeing? What the hell is he doing here in Iraq? There is a moment of silence, then a voice responds over the satellite phone.

Alpha squad, you have new orders. Scrub the mission. Keep surveillance on the occupants, especially the man who got out of the Mercedes. It’s Juan Martinez. Don’t lose track of him. Put GPS tags on the cars, over.

Roger that, HQ. That shouldn’t be a problem, out. Rick replies, then hands the satellite phone back to Smokey.

Looks like we’re babysitting now, guys. Who’s this guy supposed to be, Allen? Rick asks.

Juan Martinez, multi-millionaire business man from Colombia. He’s got a lot of shady connections with the international underworld, mostly with the Perez Cartel in Bogota. His primary moneymakers are his medical waste management businesses, strictly legit as far as we’ve been able to prove so far. But the DEA believes he’s helping the Perez family make and ship their cocaine somehow. I had him in my sights while doing surveillance in the late eighties during Reagan’s war on drugs, but he somehow slipped through my fingers. Whatever he’s doing here, I can guarantee it’s not selling Avon. Allen replies.

Well, looks like we got ourselves a genuine celebrity, boys. Let’s make sure Mr. Colombian drug smuggler stays on the radar. Rick says.

Rick, Jell-O, Smokey, get down there and put GPS tags on the cars, then get back here. Allen orders his men.

Roger that, be back in no time, boss. Rick replies and heads off down the sand dune toward the house with his men. Little did they know that they have uncovered an essential player in a plot that will take the world hostage. A plot set in motion by Al Qaeda to cripple America and plant the seed of fear in the rest of the world’s leaders.

Chapter 2

OSAMA BIN LADEN’S NUMBER TWO man in Iraq was an understatement for ambition, as well as ruthlessness. He started his career in Al Qaeda as a foot soldier in the nineties after the Gulf War carrying out drop and run missions where he would leave packages of explosives in restaurants, shopping malls, and buses throughout the Middle East and Europe, then disappear as if into thin air. His reason for joining the terrorist organization was simple, to kill all Americans and Westerners and those who support them. However, this wasn’t always so. He wasn’t always a ruthless killer. There was a time in his life when he was a peaceful family man. A time that was long gone. All that was left now was the pain.

It was a smart bomb during the Gulf War that made the transformation for him from an electronics engineer to one of the FBI’s most wanted terrorists in the world. A smart bomb which was capable of not only transforming him, but also killing his wife and children as they slept in their beds. From that moment on he had only one thing to live for, revenge against the Americans and anyone who supported or associated with them. It was his personal Jihad. Al Qaeda conveniently provided the conduit for venting his rage.

Over the years he had built up quite a bloody resume that included a number of bus bombings in Israel, to the training of the terrorists who destroyed the World Trade Centers in New York. He was one of Osama Bin Laden’s top confidants and soldiers. He had earned the right to be his second in command in Iraq, as well as one of the world’s most wanted terrorist’s. It was his Medal of Honor.

His name was Abdul Adl Issar before the smart bomb changed him into the terrorist the FBI, Interpol, and Israeli intelligence came to know as the Ghost. This was what he called himself because this is all that the smart bomb had left. His whereabouts had never been known, as well as his true identity.

Only a handful ever did know outside of Al Qaeda. And they didn’t live long after finding out. Over the years, he has been able to effortlessly walk through all types of security, evade capture, and disappear as if by magic. This was what he was good at. This is what he had become. Not even so much as a picture of him was believed to exist. He was virtually a Ghost.

Tonight the Ghost was in Al Basrah beginning the steps for launching his most diabolical attack on the Americans and the west. It was a plan that will strike at the heart of every world leader and plant the seed of fear in the hearts of everyone who defies Al Qaeda or supports the Americans. It will be the greatest terrorist attack ever conceived or committed in world history, even unthinkably eviler and greater than 9/11. The number of lives lost will be staggering if he succeeds.

The Ghost men escorted Juan Martinez into the small house on the outskirts of Al Basrah and into a room where the Ghost had been waiting patiently for him. The smell of roasted goat and foreign spices lingered in the air as he entered the dimly lit house. It was an unusual meeting, to say the least, a Colombian businessman and suspected drug smuggler and a top terrorist of Al Qaeda. Nevertheless, Juan had something that the Ghost wanted and would pay dearly for, something essential to his plan of destroying his enemies and planting the seed of fear in them, and at ten million dollars it was well worth the price.

Good evening, Mr. Martinez. Welcome to my country. I’m very happy to see you’ve made it. I trust your travel here was uneventful. The Ghost said, raising himself from a floor covered with beautifully crafted rugs and pillows.

My travel was fine. Let us get down to business. I have little desire to stay in this country, as you call it, longer than I have to. The stench of this country is unbearable. How do you people put up with it? It’s uncivilized. Do you have the money we agreed on? Martinez says insultingly, forgetting just whom he is doing business with. The Ghost graciously smiles at him and puts aside Martinez’s insult for the moment.

Of course, Mr. Martinez. Let us get right down to business. I like that, a man who has priorities. The Ghost says and motions for him to find a place on the floor. The men sit across from each other while their bodyguards remain standing ever diligent and untrusting. The Ghost then leans over, opens a laptop, and punches a few keys.

As soon as I have the item, the money will be transferred to your account in Bogota. I believe we agreed on ten million dollars. I trust that you’ve brought the item? The Ghost says.

I have it right here. I have no problem telling you that I’m relieved to finally get rid of it. For one to know just what this is… is to know death itself. Martinez replies, then reaches inside the breast pocket of his jacket and takes out what looks like a small stainless steel canister and tosses it to the Ghost. The Ghost catches it and examines it closely.

And this is truly worth ten million dollars? It will do as I requested it to do? The Ghost asks with a smile.

"The contents will do what you want it to do. Completely undetectable by any security measures. Just inject it at least fifteen minutes before you wish to use it. It’ll take that long for symptoms to manifest. Once symptoms manifest, anyone in the immediate area will become infected. It’ll spread like a wild fire. You have no idea just how difficult it was for me to make that. The Americans have been everywhere, it seems, since the start of this infernal war. It was excessively expensive to get viable samples from Indonesia. Now transfer the money