Terror Murder Profit

TERROR MURDER PROFIT

BY DAVID KESTING

TEXT COPYRIGHT © 2018 DAVID KESTING

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

This Sid Ericson thriller, TERROR MURDER PROFIT was originally published under the title of Doom Bay.

Be sure to check out the bonus material located at the end of the novel.

Enjoy.

Best wishes,

David Kesting

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents, historical or otherwise are the result of the author’s imagination or are being used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 48

CHAPTER 49

CHAPTER 50

CHAPTER 51

CHAPTER 52

CHAPTER 53

CHAPTER 54

CHAPTER 55

BONUS SECTION

THE EVOLUTION OF A TERROR WEAPON

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 1

FUKUSHIMA PREFECTURE, JAPAN 

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Oba-chan Kayoko looked furtively out from under the tarp overlay. She’d placed pieces of trash, clumps of weeds, and sticks over the tarp to camouflage her burrow in the waste dump.

Oba-chan (Oh-baah-sahn) Kayoko pulled off her gloves. Bits of peeled off skin stuck up on the front and back of her tiny hands.

Oba-chan Kayoko’s entire body was covered with more dead skin and festering sores. She was resigned to the reality of the spreading horror enveloping her body, caused by the constant exposure to the radioactivity.

Oba-chan Kayoko’s village was one hundred miles north of the nuclear power plant destroyed years ago by the one-two punch of the hurricane and then the tsunami.

Her daughter Eiko had been living with her husband and two small children in a small fishing village nestled along the coast near the nuclear plant facility.  

Oba-chan Kayoko’s son-in-law had come from a generation of fishermen who lived in this village. Eiko had journeyed from their more urban hometown to live with her new mate and start a family.

Oba-chan Kayoko had rushed to her daughter’s village soon after the disaster struck. The roads had been blocked by the government.

That did not stop her or the other oba-chans. Oba-chan is a name given to an aged person in Japan. It is a respectful way of addressing a senior in Japan, almost always a woman. In fact, some translate the word as grandmother into English.

These surrogate grandmothers had made treks from all over the islands of Japan. Most of these old women did not have relatives or even friends in the area affected by the disaster.

It was all about the youngest of course, the ‘grandchildren’. They must be rescued. Both their bodies and their souls. No one was kidding themselves about any survivors, especially the young ones.

This particular village had produced many young angels. An inordinate amount. The fishermen were very fertile. It was almost legendary.

Many more oba-chans had rushed to the area from all over Japan. Their removal by the government became a news story in itself. They’d returned in smaller numbers, avoiding the local authorities.

Oba-chan Kayoko had chosen to live and hide in this dump site. The soldiers and the police were afraid to walk within the radiation infested perimeters where the dump was located.

After the daily patrols of the men in the hazmat suits went through Oba-chan Kayoko and the other grandmothers went about their daily routines.

First, a wash in the brackish puddles of water. The rain was filled with radiation.

Then eat a meal from the rotten food left over from the now dead or displaced villagers. Perhaps cook one of the many dead fish floating on the bay’s surface, filled with radioactive particles.

The goal of the oba-chans like Kayoko was to locate the remaining corpses in order to give the youngest victims a proper cremation ceremony before their bodies were forgotten in the rubble.

The authorities claimed that all bodies had been found. The missing children uncounted for were probably washed out to sea.

They had used the discovery of such bodies already floating on the sea, miles from the inlet of the cove as a verification of that theory.

The oba-chans disagreed. Many more bodies were left in the village and the surrounding area. The fraud was perpetrated by the authorities’ unwillingness to stay for an extended period inside the perimeter of high radiation poisoning that lingered within the cove, whose waters trapped the deadly particles.

The government stated that eventually the top soil would have to be removed and replaced by pure dirt. The expense would be enormous and take an entire generation to complete.

This small village was at the bottom of the recovery and rebuilding priorities after the disaster. What about the sea? Who will replenish the ocean water filled with the man-made poison?

The oba-chan women could not be concerned with such topics. Those who were willing to hide in the garbage dump knew that they would die faster here and in a more hideous way in order to complete their mission.

It was the trade off for giving the little angels a proper path to the afterworld. Why not make the sacrifice, figured the old women?

We are old. It is our fate.

CHAPTER 2

Oba-chan Kayoko scrambled along piles trash, and then onto the remnants of homes and businesses, monuments to the shattered lives of the village’s residents. The other oba-chan women began struggling out of their own burrows.

Some never came out of their makeshift nests. The surviving oba-chans merely covered up the sleeping den containing a recently deceased old woman.

To cremate a fully grown person, even a sickly, emancipated dead oba-chan was unthinkable. The smoke would quickly climb high into the sky.

Even the movement of such a large corpse by a group of weakened still living oba-chans would attract the attention of the government observers in the towers built to watch the area.

Towers and CCTV cameras pointed at the interior as well as along the perimeter of the restricted zone meant to keep out the press and relatives of the dead and missing.

The cremations of the young, though rare, still occurred. The ceremonies always attracted the authorities and sometimes the press. The old women did not want the aid of the media. What the oba-chans were doing was a private matter.

The aircraft appeared that same day at mid-morning, flying low in the sky. It was a commercial passenger jet. It rose in the air at the southern border of the cove. The jet disappeared as it climbed upwards into the cloudy sky.

The explosion occurred many miles south of the village, yet it still made the ground thud. All the service personnel, from the police to the first responders, rushed out the perimeter of the radiation zone towards the crash area. The village was free of the government watchdogs.

Soon afterwards, the snow flakes began falling. First, as very large, barrel shaped objects floating slowing down from high in the sky.

Then explosions occurred, causing the barrels to burst apart. Large shiny flakes now blocked out sections of the sky.

They flashed in her eyes as the low sun hit the flakes, blinding Oba-chan Kayoko and the other women.

An early snow fall this year, she thought. It was unexpected since there were no portable radios or cell phones in the area. The signals would be picked up by the authorities and give out a precise location. That would cause a narrow sweep with lots of rough soldiers and angry dogs.

She grunted and continued trudging along. Must be global warming. As the first flakes fell directly onto the old woman, she realized that this wasn’t snow after all. The entire area was being covered by metal strips, thin and about three inches in length.

The black birds appeared silently a half an hour later. Huge black ravens. They approached from the east, skimming the sea.

The black birds suddenly rose up, high in sky in an arching motion.

The old women were the only ones who were still around to witness this incredible ballet of the silent birds.

The oba-chans thought that they were angels at first. Black angels. Their arrival was meant to free the last of the dead children from their unmarked graves.

The old women rose as one with their arms up to the sky filled with angels. Angels of death arriving to claim their victims, streaked across their sight line.

The women were too old and too tired to scream in joy or in some kind of religious elation. It was enough to be part of this miracle.

Suddenly the dark angels started to dive into the seawater of the cove. Hundreds of the black birds dropped into the water.

Those angels hovering over the land quickly changed direction. Apparently, all the angels need to at first fall only into the sea. 

The dead children were buried beneath the mounds of rubble and trash. Why were the angels all dropping into the waters of the cove?

A mist rose up from the waters. It grew quickly, enveloping the entire coastline as far as Oba-chan Kayoko could see. The mist, like a fuzzy dome, started coming to the shoreline and then inland.

Minutes later the first of the oba-chans dropped to the ground. Was the will to live and give the children a final peace now irrelevant with the arrival of the dark angels?

More oba-chans fell into the rough heaps of trash or the remains of buildings. Finally, Oba-chan Kayoko dropped to the now bitter earth. Her breathing became constrained and then impossible. Her nostrils burned. Next, her eyeballs felt as if they were on fire.

Before the brain of the old woman finally shut down, she realized that these black birds dropping from the sky were, in fact, the devil’s angels.

CHAPTER 3

ABU DHABI, UNITED ARAB EMIRATES

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We were impressed by your demonstration of a few weeks ago, Comrade Major Choi. Please tell us more about your magic kites.

Major Choi Kyong-min of the State Security Department (SSD) of North Korea turned to face the representative of the IRGC, the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps and a second man, who was fronting for Hezbollah.

There is nothing magical about the kites, answered Major Choi. "In fact, they are quite flimsy. A mere basic design of balsa wood, light fabrics and heavy string.

It is only after the balsa wood is lacquered with the I-53 poison, combined with the extreme maneuverability of the kites that a deadly weapon is produced.

Along with the lacquered on magnetic properties.

Yes.

Does it take much skill to fly your I-53 kites?

To reach a specific target, some skill is required, of course.

What about just flying the kites in the air.

A child could do it, shrugged Major Choi Kyong-min.

That was part of the original Japanese plan, was it not?

Yes, replied Major Choi. First the children with the smallest of the kite designs would appear as a feint. Then the larger and more deadly ones would rise up into the coastal sky soon afterwards.

Only after the introduction of the magnetic fields into the water?

Seawater, corrected Major Choi Kyong-min. The I-53 poison reacts with only seawater.

Of course, answered the Hezbollah man. Still, the key is that the magnetic fields must already be established in the seawater.

Yes, a magnet attracting type of metal must first be introduced onto the seawater.

Flakes of this metal?

Yes, if there is a large enough volume of the metal floating on top of the seawater.

A carpet of flakes?

A thick carpet of such a metal would be sufficient.

You can produce a large number of these I-53 kites? asked the representative of Revolutionary Guard Corps.

CHAPTER 4

Before we talk about delivery, my government insists on knowing what you plan to do with a thousand of our I-53 kites, replied Major Choi.

The number is too few to act as a doomsday weapon, he continued without waiting for an answer. It is just enough for a reasonably sized terror event along a seawater based shoreline. That would certainly narrow down the location quite a bit.

We are planning a terror attack. We will admit that, Comrade Major Choi, answered the IRGC man.

Israel has a rather lengthy seawater shoreline, does it not? countered the North Korean. That would be too risky. Retaliation against the usual suspects would be quick. There is the rest of the Mediterranean shoreline, Western Europe. Scandinavia, and of course the Western Hemisphere.

Major Choi Kyong-min looked at the two men like a poker player trying to draw out a bluff.

We will assure you that the event will take place far away from North Korea, assured the Hezbollah agent.

"Our Supreme Leader Kim Jong-un is more concerned with the economic consequences of your attack. There is always money to be made from such an event.

And a request for one thousand of our I-53 kites would mean a significance outcome with far reaching economic consequences.

We are planning a terror attack on San Diego Bay, answered the Hezbollah representative.

This attack will immobilize the southwestern United States for months, added the man from the Revolutionary Guards, known by the initials, the IRGC.

The clouds created by the I-53 poison only last for a few hours before the sea air dissipates it, cautioned Major Choi Kyong-min.

Nonetheless, the Americans will quarantine a large area of southwest California for the rest of the year to analyze the effects of the attack, even after the cloud disappears, answered the IRGC agent.

Besides, the psychological effect on the area will last a generation. The true benefit of a well planned terror attack. Fear that it will happen again. Vulnerability causes sleepless nights. And economic and political uncertainty in the morning.

CHAPTER 5

We know San Diego Bay very well. It is a waterway crowded with military installations, said Major Choi Kyong-min.

"No unauthorized objects, even toy kites in such great numbers, would be allowed even at the edges of the security zones within the bay.

There would be a quick response from the air assets available on nearby military airstrips. No need to upgrade in the event of an attack. They practice such things, as we do, near our most secure and vital facilities.

Would not a mostly civilian locale be a better target, offered Major Choi. What about striking somewhere else along the west coast of the United States?

Not Seattle, answered the IRGC official. We need their technology.

San Francisco? offered the North Korean.

It is the port of choice for the Asian drug cartels. We do much commerce with that group, piped in the Hezbollah man.

Ah! nodded Major Choi.

Weather is the most important factor. Too much rain such as in Northern California and Seattle could delay or even cancel the event.

There aren’t that many Jews living in San Diego as opposed to Los Angeles or San Francisco, noted the North Korean.

True, but San Diego does have one of the largest Iraqi populations in America.

There were nods of assent at the mention of the arch enemy of Iran.

So you are set on San Diego as the target, said Major Choi. How will you orchestrate this terror event?

We will first stage a more traditional terror operation of major proportions within the heartland of the continental United States. We must stay away from the Eastern Seaboard, which is too heavily guarded, said the IRGC representative.

"This terror attack will anger the Americans and unite them as happened after the planes hit the towers in New York and the Pentagon seventeen years ago.

The outrage will fuel a patriotic fervor across the country. Our embedded agents will finance a patriot rally along San Diego Bay, boasted the IRGC man.

"The need for patriotic rallies will be the foundation for the main terror event. Kites will rise to the sky, up and down San Diego Bay.

These kites will be in the form of the American Eagle on a shield of red white and blue from their flag. The ‘Stars and Stripes’, said the Hezbollah agent in a sarcastic tone.

The sons and daughters of military personnel and civilian defense contractors will be flying the deadly kites, continued the IRGC agent. "As their parents video them on their smartphones.

"The children are the key. Little girls and boys in patriotic uniforms will be the instruments of the terror attack. It will be a multicultural group of children.

"For all their precautions, in all of their scenarios and