Agent of Influence: A Thriller

A
gent of Influence

A Thriller

By

Russell Hamilton

Reviews for Agent of Influence

“
Hamilton delivers a taut political thriller that moves with speed and agility. A fast-paced thriller with an imaginative premise.” Kirkus Indie Reviews.

“Agent of Influence is an action-packed mystery/thriller that is certain to entertain.” City Book Reviews.

“This is one roller coaster ride readers won’t want to get off.” Foreword Clarion Reviews.

“Hamilton has written as tightly plotted an international spy story as you are going to find in this genre.” Bookreview.com

“Crackling with insights and rife with adventure.” Chuck Morse; talk radio host, former candidate for the US House of Representatives, and author of The Nazi Connection to Islamic Terrorism.

Agent of Influence

A Thriller

Copyright 2009 Russell Hamilton

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN 978162345589

A
gent of Influence – the simplest and most direct method of affecting a foreign government’s actions. An agent whose task is to influence directly government policy rather than to collect information. 

(From
Silent Warfare, Understanding The World Of Intelligence
by Abram N. Shulsky and Gary J. Schmitt Copyright 2002, Potomac Books Inc. Third Edition)

“That the Turks should be deprived of Constantinople is, in my opinion, inevitable and desirable as the crowning evidence of their defeat in war; and I believe that it will be accepted with whatever wrathful reluctance by the Eastern world. But when it is realized that the fugitives are to be kicked from pillar to post and that there is to be practically no Turkish Empire and probably no Caliphate at all, I believe that we shall be giving a most dangerous and most unnecessary stimulus to Moslem passions throughout the Eastern world and that sullen resentment may easily burst into savage frenzy.”

Lord George Curzon, Foreign Secretary of Great Britain, speaking to the Western powers at the peace conference in Paris in 1919.  (From
Paris, 1919
by Margaret Macmillan, Published by Random House)

“I am more and more convinced that man is a dangerous creature; and that power, whether vested in many or a few, is ever grasping, and, like the grave, cries, ‘Give, give.’”

Abigail Adams, wife of the second President, John Adams, in a 1775 letter to her husband.

Prologue

                                                                                 
Cairo, 1967

Streaks of white flames flashed across the night sky, followed immediately by thunderclaps of explosions that rattled the building every few minutes. A few of the windows were shattered due to the violent explosion of a missile that landed only a few blocks away.

Ayman al-Zawahiri stood at the threshold of one of the jagged holes where a window used to be and looked down at the dusty street below. The roads and alleyways were deserted except for the occasional military vehicle that tore down the street with a load of soldiers being rushed to the front. Anyone with common sense was huddled in their home, trying to hide from the ring of fire the Israeli Air Force was raining on the city.

The Jews have proven to be an effective and dangerous enemy
, Ayman grudgingly admitted to himself as he stroked his black beard in a thoughtful manner. He gazed out over the ancient city, and pondered once again what the tiny man waiting patiently behind him had said. It was an audacious plan, that he fully admitted, but could it actually work? Ayman’s brothers within his organization already told him to refuse the man. Apparently he was developing quite a reputation as a troublesome and annoying interloper. 

“My friends believe you to be crazy,” Ayman said as he adjusted his white robes. “They say if Sayyid lost faith in you, why should we be put our trust in you?”

“Sayyid spent many years in jail being tortured by Nasser’s animals before he was hanged. It was only a matter of time before he turned on us. A man can only sustain himself for so long. And what about you, Ayman? If my idea is so crazy then why did you agree to this meeting?” Aziz said softly as he walked up and stood beside Ayman at the open window. “You know my idea has merit, Ayman. You are a smart man. You have risen to your position because you are an intellectual, and can see through the obvious.”

The smell of cordite wafted into the window as they both stood with their hands clasped behind their backs. They watched the city several stories below them slowly begin to come back to life. The last bomb exploded a few minutes earl
ier, and it appeared the bombing raids were ceasing for the moment.

“Your plan is intriguing. I admit that. You have already gotten further than I thought possible. But you are years away from your plan bearing fruit. Possibly even decades,” Ayman retorted. “My brothers feel they cannot waste that amount of time when there are so many pressing problems here to deal with. Killing the apostate Nasser being the most prominent.”

“If you kill him he will simply be replaced by another; and the other may be worse. My friends in the government have told me some of the people under him would come down on you even harder. They believe he has been too soft.”

“We welcome the fight,” Ayman said tersely.

“For to win one hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the acme of skill. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill,” Aziz quietly recited from memory.

“Sun Tzu, the ancient Chinese warrior. I was warned you would eventually quote him,” Ayman said with resignation. He wanted to help Aziz, but knew it was not possible. “I am sorry, my friend. The council’s decision is final.”

“So be it,” Aziz said with seething anger. “You choose to follow the path of fools. I can’t help you; but I no longer consider you a friend. When my plan comes to fruition you will bow before me with humility, and regret the decision you make today.” Aziz turned away from the window and quickly made his exit just as more explosions rocked the city. He had preparations to make.

Louisville
, KY 

May 5, 1973

Eddie Lauren’s body revolted, refusing to accept the 3:15 a.m. time that was being thrust upon it. With a steaming cup of coffee in his right hand, his ever-present note pad in his left, and a pencil behind his ear he made his way down the long line of stables along the backside of Churchill Downs. Fresh out of college, Eddie was working his first
Derby for the local paper.  A local kid, he grew up sneaking into the track to catch glimpses of the three-year-old thoroughbreds that made the one-and-a-quarter mile Kentucky Derby their launching pad to stardom. The owners, trainers, and stable hands would not be up and about for another forty-five minutes and he wanted to be the first one on the scene. He had a story to tell, one he was convinced would put him on the map. It was a story he thought was being lost in the shuffle as the discussion of whether Secretariat could live up to the hype continued to be the only thing the experts wanted to discuss. Earlier in the year, thirty-two investors had forked over a whopping $6,080,000 to syndicate Secretariat. Two weeks ago his amazing string of ten consecutive wins came to an end in the Wood Memorial. There were now a lot of nervous men in town for the race wondering if their sure fire investment of $190,000 was about to become worthless overnight.

While he found the story intriguing, Eddie was onto something that he thought could have a tremendous impact on horse racing over the next twenty years.  The entry of Desert Sheik, owned by Aman Kazim, a Middle-Eastern playboy who owned several casinos in
Las Vegas, appeared to be the first Arab trained horse that posed a threat to win the Derby. Once the horse was entered in the Derby, Eddie began investigating the horse’s pedigree and how it competed in Europe. It was impressive, and he felt certain the media was ignoring the horse because it was not coming to the Derby through the usual channels. The local paper would be hitting the city’s front porches in a few hours, and Eddie had picked the horse to win the Derby in an upset.  He talked to Aman yesterday during a small media event at the stables and told him of his impending prediction. He also requested a one-on-one interview and a chance to see the horse put through its morning routine. Eddie was convinced it would make for a great story if the horse pulled the upset.

“Yes, yes I would be honored, Mr. Lauren.” Eddie replayed the eager man’s response in his mind. Aman had jumped at the proposal. He had been desperately trying for the last ten years to make it big in thoroughbred racing in the States, and while he had won some smaller races, this was his first chance at winning a major race. Aman had agreed to meet him at the stable at 3:30 a.m. to give Eddie the one-on-one interview.  Eddie sipped his coffee, continuing to try to adjust to the abnormal hour as he strode by the locked stables. Even the horses were not awake yet. His feet shuffled along, stepping on scattered pieces of hay, as he made his way to the barn at the end of the row. Desert Sheik’s stable was separated from the others by another one hundred feet. This provided the extra privacy its owner preferred.  Eddie squinted his eyes as he looked up, noticing a small glow coming from the stable.
Aman must be an early riser.

“Damn it,” he muttered to himself. His drowsy mind suddenly remembered some additional questions to ask, and he furiously scribbled some last-second notes onto his legal pad.
His adrenaline began to overcome the chilly morning air as he realized this could be the beginning of big things if his upset pick could somehow pull it off. As he approached the stable, a groan in an unknown language emanated from the open stall. Eddie froze, surprised by the noise.  It sounded like a grunt of frustration. He crept forward, using the barn to shield his approach
. 
The cold, hard ground crunched under his feet, and he stopped fifteen feet away from the half-open stable door.