The Perfect Plan

By Frank Hibbs

Two pre teen New England girls, twins, accidentally stumble onto a plot by a suicidal mid eastern terrorist group to assemble a fission bomb in New York Harbor and blow up the port of New York. They involve their news reporter uncle when their FBI father does not believe them when they try to report it to the authorities. A long investigation by the uncle and father involves many government agencies in their attempt to save New York City from a perfect terrorist plot.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 17, 2006
• ISBN: 9781462830237

Frank Hibbs

Frank Hibbs was born and raised in Sevier County in southwestern Arkansas, the son of a lumberjack. Drafted in 1944 he served with the Army in WWII as an infantryman with 3rd Army in the ETO. Reenlisting he became a B-29 Flight Engineer in the Air Force and few 21 combat missions in the Korean War. He ended his 21-year service in the military with the Strategic Air Command flying b-36's and C-124's. Married with two children he worked thirty years as an electronic technician in industry and retired in 1992. After retirement he began painting and writing all types of fiction.

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Copyright © 2006 by Frank Hibbs.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

George Chancellor, out of work reporter, biographer for hire and opportunist in general lay his tired body in bed hoping for sleep to come this night without a struggle. His hope to induce sleep by perusing the evening newspaper failed miserably because he finished scanning the tabloid without gaining his goal of blissful sleep. Before he began reading the paper, he had caught himself staring blankly at the wall going over in his mind his past failures and a few great successes.

He was fifty-five years old and to please his mother and his doctor he was making all the motions of retiring because of a bad heart. Retirement was an action his younger brother Daniel, a forty-year-old picture of health, had also urged on him through out the last year. Daniel had pointed out that the trust funds their father had set up for both of them and investments George had made himself would let him live very, very comfortably without doing a lick of work. George’s response had been, Phooey, why should I want to sit in the living room in a rocking chair and slowly die with mother watching disapprovingly?

The paper told him his stock was holding up, the damn mess in the Mid East was in full bloom, and no end in sight. The War in Iraq was something he had tried to embrace as a correspondent but could not get in on the dangerous job of reporting from Iraq. His younger brother Dan had argued, along with all the other idiots that stood in his way, that he was physically unable to lead the active life of a foreign correspondent. They all pointed out that his knees were gone, his heart gone, also to hear them tell it, his liver and lights likewise gone. Hell! I could hack it if they would just back me up and give me a chance, he had mused silently at the blank wall before he picked up the paper.

He currently lived with his seventy years old mother, Mrs. Ellen Hughes Chancellor. George had arrived on earth when his mother was only seventeen-years-old. The other occupants of the huge house owned by Mrs. Ellen Chancellor were two twin grandchildren now twelve years old, the only children of his younger brother, Dan Chancellor. Currently, Dan’s twin daughters Tanya and Tina were the only bright spot in George’s life while living here in Redstone with his mother. They never fussed at him to take it easy, actually they dreamed up things for him to do with them. Since his heart attack, his mother Ellen fussed if he even simply went sailing with the two girls on the bay that fronted the estate.

His brother Dan split his time between his FBI career, a New York apartment with fancy lawyer wife Zelda and occasional visits (without Zelda) to their mother’s residence here in Redstone Massachusetts. To Zelda the town of Redstone was a place of smelly fish and lobsters and she was not fond of her mother in law at all. George respected Zelda as a very smart lady lawyer and once told her if he ever planned to murder anyone, he would hire her as a lawyer first. She had patted his cheek fondly and promised, I’ll get you off, George, if the murder occurs in New York City.

Dan’s young twist tail ex first wife, Lydia, the twin’s mother, had found other interest after the twins were born. Lydia gave up the twins to their grandma Chancellor after the divorce so she could pursue her career as an actress. George and Dan’s mother, Ellen Hughes Chancellor, published fine books covering the entire spectrum of the publishing business. Her publishing company was located in Boston but Ellen conducted most of her business from an office here in the large mansion on the family estate in Redstone.

George dropped the paper beside the bed, turned off the bedside lamp, fluffed the pillow, and pulled the heavy comforter bedcovering up to his chin because the room was cold. His mother had the air conditioning set too low again and it was useless to argue with her about the chill thus created. His mother loved the wintertime and hated summer, directly opposite George.

He had just dozed off when the noise of the bedroom door opening then closing shortly thereafter caused him to raise up and ask the darkened room in general, Whose there? Receiving no response, he had about decided it was his mother that had opened and shut the door checking on him when the covers on each side of the bed lifted and the twins slid in beside him. He instantly reached for the lamp switch and turned it on to reveal two faces, alike as two peas in a pod, staring at him.

You two imps know what your grandma said, no sleeping with me anymore, you are too old for that. George grated out as tough sounding as he could.

Aw Unc, we gotta talk something over with you, the imp on his right said.

Tina, I spent a whole evening in the living room available for talk and you two were nowhere around, George responded.

I’m Tanya, that’s Tina over there, the right hand imp informed him.

No matter, what’s so important that it has to be discussed right now? How about tomorrow morning at the breakfast table for a discussion instead? he asked.

We decided we didn’t want to worry all night about what we heard today when we took the sloop into town to be serviced and fueled like dad asked us to, Tina informed him.

Why me, your dear old sleepy uncle who is now retired? Why not your grandma who you must obey in all things? he acidly asked.

Because Unc, you are the only adult around here with enough imagination to believe us any more. Grandma doesn’t want to listen to us after we snowed her about the big fish and of course dad isn’t here and he refused to listen when we phoned him, Tanya, informed George with a bitter tone in her voice.

Ok, get the extra blankets from the closets and huddle under them on top of the bed; mom has the air conditioner set too low again. I don’t want her to think you are sleeping with me if she starts looking for you and pops in here to find you two snuggled under the covers with me, George directed.

All right Unc but why is she so touchy about us sleeping with you any more after we became twelve years old? We wouldn’t do any thing kinky with you, Tina averred as Tanya secured blankets from the closet.

Its how it looks to her in this day and age, weird people seem to be causing kinky sexual trouble all over the place, George pointed out.

Baloney, we wouldn’t do any thing kinky like in some TV shows, that idea is gross, Tanya averred.

I know but mom feels very responsible for you guys and you should be glad she is that way, George pointed out.

Aw, we are glad. Are you ready to listen?

Sure, turn it loose and see how it runs.

Both twins tried to talk at once causing George to raise both hands in protest and request only one narrator. Tanya gained the floor by simply glaring at Tina until she fell silent and glared back. George grinned and allowed he had to get some sleep causing Tina to hit him with a pillow. Tanya seized the moment and began.

Yesterday morning we sailed the sloop to Ridley’s service dock in town for service and refueling like daddy had asked us to before he left for New York Sunday evening. Grandma phoned an order to Minelli’s market for the market people to deliver to the sloop when we were ready to return. Therefore, we had grandmas ok for the journey with the stipulation that we would call her on our cell phone when we got there and when we left. Oh yes, Tina picked up our mini tape recorder and player just in case we ran across something to tape.

Did you have a little blackmail in mind for some of your schoolmates? That’s the recorder in your hands isn’t it? Is that thing off? If it isn’t turn it off right now, George ordered.

Come on Unc, it’s off. Beside we would not tape a good buddy like you. To continue, we crossed our fingers that the auxiliary engine has enough fuel in the tank to get there and cast off about nine thirty. Everything went fine crossing the inlet to the service dock other than Don Stacey making an obscene gesture when he and his father passed us headed out to check their lobster traps. I don’t care if he is next years hope for the football season, I will get even with that smart ass for the finger he threw at us today some way.

Aw, don’t be so touchy, he was just trying to be nice, George grinned.

Baaaloney! Anyhow, at Ridley’s Dock, we got some gobbley gook about dad phoning them and wanting the oil filter, or something changed and a new injector on the diesel something or the other and it would take a couple of hours. We headed for Minelli’s market to get the stuff grandma wanted delivered and to buy a soda at the drugstore along the way. We arranged for the stuff grandma ordered to be delivered to the sloop and placed on board then we had a milk shake at the drugstore. After that, we decided to wander around and window shop for awhile.

For Pete’s sake, isn’t there more to this story than a wandering shopping trip, George complained.

Oh sure, Unc, that part is coming up. As I was saying, we were window-shopping when we came to Dannelles Fashions and decided to try on some new white jeans she had displayed in the window. You know, it has all these cool new fashions for teens and its right next door to that restaurant called, ‘The Kettle.’ We called grandma on the cell phone, were chewed out for not calling quicker and got permission to buy some of the new white jeans. There wasn’t many people in the store and the saleslady, Mrs. Keaton, told us to take our time trying on the clothes. We gathered up several pairs of jeans and some blouses and entered the dressing room.

Will you get to the so called guts of this story, I need my sleep, George complained again.

Sure Unc, I am coming to the exciting part now. We were about to begin trying on the jeans when Tina bumped the wall of the dressing room and a round piece of the wall board fell off and hit the floor. It was almost the size of a quarter and glued to a round wooden stick that still stuck out of the hole. Tina reached in and tugged on the stick, it was a section of a round slim wooden stick, and it came all the way out and left a hole through a brick wall into the restaurant next door. I peeped through the hole and saw the kitchen of the kettle restaurant or at least one corner of it that looked like a storage area. Somebody had drilled a hole through a brick wall so they could spy on women using the dressing room. When they weren’t peeking, they plugged the hole with the thing on the end of the wooden stick to hide the hole.

Isn’t that an awfully small spy hole? George asked.

Hey unc, in the spy movies on TV that is about the right size for a spy TVG camera, Tina replied.

That’s right unc, nobody using the dressing room would have noticed a tiny camera lens, it would have looked like a plastic sticker or something on the wall, Tanya seconded.

Ok, tomorrow I will go into town and show the hole to Mrs. Keaton and get the cook in the restaurant in big trouble. Now beat it out of here so I can get some sleep, George ordered.

Heck we could have done that Unc so shush and listen to what happened next. When the stick came out, we heard voices and got close to the hole to listen. It was two men talking and after we listened at the hole a sec, we decided to tape them on our portable mini recorder. Tina had it on a cord looped around her neck, and put the mike close to the hole. What we heard went like this… Tanya turned the mini recorder to play, the tape began to run, and the tiny speaker began out putting dialogue that George could hear clearly, after Tanya turned up the volume.

If you insist we will speak English, a voice agreed.

I want to maintain my habit of always speaking English while in this country.

Very well go on with your instructions, The tape made scratching sounds and Tanya explained that Tina had moved the microphone.

 . . . you have got to be at the precise spot I marked on the map; it is one of the seldom used areas you recommended. Ideal, because it’s a seldom used beach that the road dead ends on backed by a few sand dunes. Remember when you scouted this spot out you said it is only used by lovers at night and there is no one living within three miles of the place. You can get your truck almost to the waters edge without getting stuck in the sand, the four-wheel drive should get you out even if the sand is too soft. You must be precisely on time and remember the code that the boat will flash to you with a light and your counter sign.

Why didn’t you just bring the device in on the other ship we plan to take over? Why go to all this trouble sneaking it ashore like this to be transferred overland to New York City? How dangerous is that fission stuff? I know we practically lived with that stuff in Pakistan after we took it from the Russians but I have read if that stuff is radioactive it can kill a man before he knows he is sick.

The harbor inspectors would detect it before the target ship even entered port and docked and the homeland security people would be all over us not to mention the NYPD, the FBI and other assorted agencies. This way the target ship passes inspection, docks, begins to unload cargo. We wait until the cargo is unloaded, seize the ship, and then quietly build our device without detection. The only time the Americans will know of the danger is when the whole port of New York explodes. Of course there will be our four men that know how to handle the stuff come ashore with it from the ship carrying the bomb under Bahr’s supervision and stay with you.

I don’t like this, how can you be sure the beach will be deserted?

Good point; we cannot have some lovers seeking a place to park arriving after the boat approaches the beach. What do you suggest?

No one would try to park if a police car was in the area or even a coast guard patrol. That’s it; we can easily steal a coast guard truck from their motor pool and have it blocking the access road to the beach.

Sounds good, I’ll get Jin on it. We have not much time; the bomb delivery vessel is almost up to the coast and our target ship is even now out of port by only a month and a half. We have to accept delivery soon or things will look suspicious. If we mess this up the Americans will not make mytars out of us, Al-jarad will.

Yes I realize that. You will have the three extra men from the Mosque here on time to help with the transport and unloading?

All set up, they will contact you today.

Then this is your last visit?

Yes, don’t fail in the task I have assigned you. Allah is great; I will meet you again at the designated time and place. Static noise from the tape recorder followed.

Tanya turned off the recorder, pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders, and continued her story. George was tempted to rewind the tape and listen to it again but knowing Tanya would protest if he butted into her narration again he remained silent.

 . . . I peeked through the hole and saw the face of a small mid eastern man, mebby an Arab, folding a map that looked like the map of a shoreline and the back of another man’s head, a big man. They walked out of the view from the peephole and never said another word. The only sounds now were the rattle of pots and pans and the murmur of voices too low to understand. We decided to replace the wooden stick and cover the hole then discuss this thing with you.

Can I rewind and listen to that thing again, George requested.

Sure unc, rewind and play it again Tina, Tanya ordered.

Tina wordlessly rewound the tape and played it again. George listened carefully and a tinge of excitement began to course through his mind as the import of what the men said began to seep into his brain. Could the Imps have faked it, he asked himself, and decided instantly that they had not. However, he decided he better question the twins further to be on the safe side.

This happened today? Remember I’ve been gone two days to see that damn specialist in Boston.

Yes, today, and I know you didn’t get back until late afternoon, so what.

Now look me in the eye and swear that this is no bull, this really happened? Tell me again this is not a fairy tale.

It really happened, Unc, no bull. We are not pulling your leg.

Why didn’t you go to the city police or the Sheriff?

The sheriff is mad at grandma according to her for campaigning for the guy that opposed him in the last election and the city police hate us for a Halloween trick we were in on

Aw, come onnnn, Sheriff Jim Bickford is a friend of mine; he would have listened to you, especially if you played the tape for him. The city cops would have listened too.

Then you tell them if you are in real tight with the fuzz that we know hates us. Actually that is the reason we waited to tell you, ex newspaper reporter. You got more pull with the cops than we do.

Why didn’t you tell your father? Remember he is a FBI big shot.

I told you unc, remember? On the phone, he laughed at us and said we could discuss it when he comes up on the weekend. As for the tape he reminded us we had faked tapes before as a hobby. He still doesn’t trust us since the fish story.

You two imps sure got things in an uproar with that one.

Then you, dear uncle, will do something?

Tomorrow, sweet imps, tomorrow I will go talk to Jim Bickford. I warn you if we don’t find a hole in that dressing room wall all bets are off. Now get out of here before mom catches you in here and accuse me of being a pedophile among other things. Wait; give me that tape recorder I will need that to play for the sheriff. Can you make a copy of this tape?

"Sure Unc, we can load it