Disaster Beckons: Christians, Muslims, and Jews Prevent the Bombing of a Sunni Mosque

By Gene Balliett

The novel Disaster Beckons is about the planned bombing of a Sunni mosque in Miami, Florida, by a terrorist Shi'a cell and how their plan is blocked by opposing Shia Muslims, their Christian friends, and Muslim agents from the Miami FBI office. Their motivation: if the mosque is destroyed, the 1,400-year war between Sunni and Shi'a tribes will likely be avenged and moved from the Middle East to the United States if not to all of North America.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9781640035607

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Disaster Beckons

Christians, Muslims, and Jews Prevent the Bombing of a Sunni Mosque

Gene Balliett

A Retired Editor at the Cincinnati Enquirer and Newsday and the magazines Medical Economics and Physicians Management

ISBN 978-1-64003-559-1 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64003-560-7 (Digital)

Copyright © 2018 Gene Balliett

All rights reserved

First Edition

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. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books, Inc.

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

Table of Contents

1

My Best Friend Doggy Bullied Bullies

2

Tommy and Sonny Tell Us about the Big Game

3

Ohio State Friends of Mine, Tommy and Betty

4

Tommy: Editor, Lecturer, Investor

5

Bruce, a Heroic Firefighter’s Son

6

Neil, a Star from Infancy

7

Alan, Whose Dad Succeeded at Everything

8

Jack’s Friend Jessie, a Tank Commander

9

Paul’s Grandfather Couldn’t Catch a Break

10

Ned, Who Commandeered a Tank in Iraq

11

Arthur, Our Hero at the Twin Towers

12

Homer, Lake Piqua’s Legendary Mayor

13

Our Favorite President Was Assassinated

14

George Suspected Lyndon Johnson

15

Roger, Fired for Wasting Ten Minutes

16

Bryan and Amanda, Race Car Drivers

17

Jerry Taught School on an Apache Reservation

18

Doug’s Dad Died When a Bridge Collapsed

19

Adam and Maya Move into Lake Piqua

20

Adam Explains Sunni and Shi’a

21

Maya and Adam Check into the Conference Hotel

22

Maya Is Ambushed

23

Tommy Heads Up a Rescue Team

24

Shots Fired

25

SWAT Takes Over

26

Adam and Sonny Are Threatened

27

The Showdown

28

Adam Introduces Haris to the Imam

Thanks to Dee Balliett, my editor,

and to Robert Peck, my coach.

1

My Best Friend Doggy Bullied Bullies

One year after graduating from Miamisburg High School in southwestern Ohio, I joined the United States Air Force.

When my enlistment ended four years later, I moved to Lake Piqua in South Florida. I had been stationed in Central, Alaska, for three of the four years I was in the service. Now I wanted to live somewhere warm in the winters rather than chilly or freezing-ass cold back in Ohio.

My bride, Linda, and I joined the Lake Piqua tennis club. A couple of months later, five tennis players and I were seated at my reserved table for lunch in the club’s big bar and dining room.

When it was my turn to tell a story, I was seated with five others at my table for six. I told of my best childhood friend, Doggy—how he rid the schoolyard of bullies, honored his dying wife’s wishes, was murdered by his psychotic son, who later made the fatal mistake of going after a police officer, Sonny.

Little did I know back then that Sonny and I would end up decades later in South Florida, helping the FBI prevent a disastrous event that might have moved the centuries-old Sunni-Shi’a war from the Middle East to North America.

Here’s how my story began that early afternoon in the Lake Piqua Tennis Club in South Florida:

Seems a middle-aged man was driving the road home at the edge of Miamisburg. Halfway home on the rural section of Eleventh Street, he noticed a raggedy little boy of four or so years of age, sitting among the weeds alongside a large cardboard box, which may have once been used for the delivery of a kitchen appliance. The man stopped his car, got out, and squatted down alongside the boy, who was desperately in need of a bath. He had a face that was surprisingly doglike.

The man asked the little boy how old he was and what was his name, where he lived, and where was his mother, but the child didn’t know any of that. Then, the man asked if the child was hungry. He was, so the man took him home to his wife, who fed the two of them.

After supper, the husband called the sheriff’s office and reported what appeared to be a lost or abandoned child. Despite the efforts of the sheriff and his staff, the boy was never identified. The couple, childless, hired a lawyer, adopted the boy, and named him Richard Anderson, Jr. The child’s real parents never surfaced.

Despite the Andersons’ love and care, young Richard was as poor a student as a child could be. He did improve a tad while repeating the first and second grades and somewhat more while repeating the fourth and fifth, despite being called Dogface and bullied in other ways as well.

In third grade, and beyond, he was most often called Doggy—at first an example of derision. Eventually, Doggy’s nickname became an indication of respect and admiration for the young man he had become.

I first met Dogface in the second grade while we were playing dodge ball at recess. His foster parents fortified their efforts, and the pace of his progress in school improved slowly but steadily all the way through high school graduation and beyond. Also, he grew larger and stronger.

While still in his preteens, he rid his schoolyard of bullies by conversing nose to nose with each. He never found the need to hit one. That pleased me no end. I was an underweight scrawny child who wore glasses. I knew all about bullying from experience.

As he grew older, Doggy became increasingly athletic. The Andersons let him play backyard football with the boys in their neighborhood and later as a member of the high school’s eighth-grade football team. Its role was to scrimmage against the first team—nearly all seniors. That was graders of age fourteen or fifteen against the first-string varsity, all aged seventeen or eighteen. Despite his age, Doggy was easily the best player on the field. In part, that may have been because he was held back in each of five years. When I was fourteen, he turned nineteen.

The nickname Doggy continued, but with rapidly decreasing offense as he grew older. As a high-school junior, he weighed 190 pounds, stood six feet two inches was the swiftest player on the varsity. He always led his teammates when the coach had them run laps on the track that circled the playing field.

I often finished in second place behind Doggy even when the coach told all of us to run four or more laps. Doggy always led all of us around the track. Sometimes, he’d take an extra lap just for fun and run it like a track-team sprinter. I barely kept up with him, but I was faster and more durable than the others. Since third grade and through high school, I had been among the three fastest runners in our class. Neither of the other two played football.

In our sophomore year, Doggy became the star left end on defense and fullback on offense. Way back then, the players on the field played both offense and defense in high school and in college as well.

Also, he became the team’s avenger. In our senior year of high school, our halfback was deliberately injured by a vicious lineman. He punched our halfback, breaking his nose. No official was looking in their direction.

Doggy had a few words with the guy, who smarted off at him—and seconds later was carried off the field on a stretcher. Doggy was thrown out of the game. Somehow, we won that game without further participation by either the halfback or Doggy.

In his junior year, Doggy actually became a B and C student. In his senior year, he was an A and B student and elected class president.

Even I was amazed. Four