False Flag by Bobby Akart Page B

“Some are remote, and others may not have sufficient assets to warrant our efforts. I believe that Mr. Pearson and I can work together to identify the two dozen most lucrative targets and hit them one by one. We’ll divide the men into two-man teams and assign an armory to each. Mr. Pearson and I will make the rounds opening the facilities, and while they clean out the weapons, we’ll travel to the next location.”
    “I like it, Governor,” said Pearson. “We can do this quickly and efficiently.”
    “When?” asked O’Brien.
    “Here’s what I suggest, Governor,” replied Gibson. “Vehicular and pedestrian traffic drops considerably after dark, sir. Also, we don’t want to throw our activities in the face of local politicians trying to hold onto some semblance of authority. If I may be frank, sir? The political struggles for power between your office and the obsolete local officials need to be fought another day. Our singular focus should be on confiscating these weapons and equipping our teams.”
    “I’m glad you’re on board, Captain Gibson,” said O’Brien. “I’ve always had a knack for picking damn fine personnel.” He took another draw off his cigar.
     

Chapter 15
    Monday, September 12, 2016
    8:00 p.m.
    Citizen Corps Region I, Office of the Governor
    99 High Street Rooftop
    Boston, Massachusetts
     
    Once again, O’Brien found himself alone atop the 99 High Street offices assigned to him by the Citizen Corps. He hated the FEMA offices he’d inherited within the building. They were too simple—typical government bureaucrat cubicles and cheap furniture filled every room. He was the governor of Region I, and his offices should reflect that status.
    This evening would set the tone for the next few weeks in his quest to subdue Boston and create long-lasting alliances. Once that was accomplished, he could spread his influence throughout New England. His new man, Captain Gibson, was a great addition to his team. He was very impressed with the first day of training, although it was focused too much on military protocol. He told Gibson afterwards he needed the training sped up, and he wanted the men to learn interrogation tactics as well.
    O’Brien turned as the stairwell door opened and his first guest appeared, escorted by Marion La Rue. O’Brien sized up his new potential ally , Joaquin Guzman.
    La Mara Salvatrucha, or MS-13, was an international criminal enterprise that originated in Los Angeles. The majority of the gang was comprised of Central Americans, primarily from El Salvador. Known locally for their drug operations, they gained particular notoriety for their illegal immigration and human-smuggling operations.
    In 2005, MS-13 began meeting with al-Qaeda in El Salvador for the purposes of assisting them with entry into the United States. Boston, in particular, became a port of entry for Islamic terrorists. One of the al-Qaeda operatives who trained the suicide bombers for the attack on the USS Cole was an Eastie, the nickname for those who live in East Boston.
    Guzman had over a thousand hard-core gang members under his control. For decades, the Italian Mafia ran drugs in East Boston, until MS-13 arrived on the scene. Guzman had been deported four times by Immigrations and Customs Enforcement—I.C.E., only to return via their underground smuggling network. His feats were legendary, and the loyalty of his MS-13 soldiers was undeniable.
    As he approached O’Brien, Guzman observed Boston Harbor. He looked nervously around the rooftop, then turned his attention to his host. O’Brien spoke first.
    “My name is Governor O’Brien. I trust that Marion explained to you the purpose of this meeting?”
    “Yeah,” replied Guzman. “Am I the only one here?”
    “For now, but we’re waiting on one more.”
    As the stairwell door opened, Guzman abruptly swung around and felt the back of his waistband for his gun.
    “Here’s our other guest,” said O’Brien. Captain Gibson led a man across