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    Killing Osama Bin Laden: A Novel
    Killing Osama Bin Laden: A Novel
    Killing Osama Bin Laden: A Novel
    Ebook133 pages1 hour

    Killing Osama Bin Laden: A Novel

    By Dan Weatherington

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    About this ebook

    A decade later, a million members of the United States armed forces have been unable to locate the man responsible for three thousand innocent lives. Two of those lives were the beloved children of a Mafia Don who will do whatever is necessary to kill the one who took the lives of his children.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDan Weatherington
    Release dateJun 15, 2011
    ISBN9781458020925
    Killing Osama Bin Laden: A Novel
    Author

    Dan Weatherington

    Dan Weatherington was born in Raleigh, North Carolina, the only son of Harry Rodman and Mary Weatherington. Much of his childhood was spent at his aunt's home on the Pamlico River, the influence of which is obvious in his novel Brandywine Bay. And, influences of which are shown in the novel The Seventh Gift of God. Dan attended grammar school in Raleigh and high school at Carlisle Military School in Bamberg, South Carolina. His college years were spread between The Citadel in Charleston, South Carolina, the University of South Carolina and North Carolina State University in Raleigh. He and Judy married in August 1969 and remain married today. She worked to allow him to complete school and together they have two children, Wendy and Leslie. At age 31, Dan was elected to join the Masons. By the time he was forty, he had found a niche in Masonic research and writing. Most of his work has been of a Masonic nature and has been published in Masonic publications throughout the United States and Canada. He is Dean Emeritus of Wilkerson College, North Carolina's College of Freemasonry, has been the Chair of the Committee on Masonic Education of the Grand Lodge of North Carolina for several years and writes quarterly columns for the Philalethes, a publication of an international Masonic research society. In addition, he publishes the Lodge Night Program, a quarterly educational booklet distributed to almost four hundred Masonic lodges across North Carolina. The novel Recognizing Prince Hall will hopefully be a tribute to the gallant men who have done much to erase racism in North Carolina Masonry and their efforts to accomplish this task. His novel Blemished Harvest documents his career in the Mortgage Banking industry and how he was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis in 1986. While many would have given up after such a diagnosis, Dan and Judy still continue to be active in their community and own and operate businesses in their hometown.

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      Book preview

      Killing Osama Bin Laden - Dan Weatherington

      KILLING OSAMA BIN LADEN

      A NOVEL

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright © 2011

      Dan Weatherington

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

      Smashwords Edition License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

      A Personal Message from the Author:

      I love to write books and I love to hear from my readers. If you enjoy this book or any of my other books, it would mean so much to me if you would click on http://www.danweatherington.com

      to send me a short email, introduce yourself and say hello. I will always respond to you and value your thoughts.

      KILLING OSAMA BIN LADEN

      A NOVEL

      Chapter 1

      Alexi Gilarmo sat on the front porch of his cabin in a secluded area of upstate Vermont. He was waiting for someone, someone who was now twenty minutes late. It was cold. Gilarmo pulled his blanket tight around his legs. Ice had already formed around the edge of the lake beside the cabin. Soon the snow would cover everything in sight.

      A small light at the base of the steps began to flash. A car had entered the path from the highway. Gilarmo had seen the time when the flashing light was the signal for three or four of his men to move outside with their guns in hand. But, those days were gone. Still, Gilarmo watched Benito look out the window and move out onto the porch. For some, old habits die hard.

      The visitor pulled into the front yard, a Chevrolet Caprice. Gilarmo shook his head. To read about Farris in the newspapers, Gilarmo would have expected a Rolls Royce or at least a Bentley, but no, it was a Chevrolet Caprice.

      The man got out of the car. As soon as he saw Gilarmo his face lit up. He moved toward the steps with his hand outstretched. Godfather, the man shouted.

      He called me Godfather, thought Gilarmo. Maybe he hasn’t forgotten everything. I would have expected him to call me ‘Alexi’. Maybe he still knows something about respect.

      Allen, it is good to see you. It doesn’t happen often.

      Gilarmo shook the man’s hand and motioned him to the door of the cabin. Come inside where it is warm.

      The two went into the cabin. Benito moved over to where Gilarmo had been sitting. He knew instinctively that he didn’t want to hear what would be said inside.

      Inside the cabin, a fire roared filling the huge stone fireplace that covered an entire wall. This has always been a beautiful place, Godfather. I always loved it here.

      Yes it is beautiful. I bought it so you and Mitchell and Angelica could have a place to enjoy the outside in safety, something you could not do in New York.

      Yes, I remember that first weekend. . .

      Sit down and shut up, interrupted Gilarmo. We need to talk.

      Wait just a goddamn minute, old man. Do you know who the hell you are talking to? I am a United States Sen. . .

      Before Farris could finish his statement, Gilarmo had backhanded him and sent him spinning into a chair knocking over a lamp. As soon as it happened Benito was standing in the front door. Gilarmo motioned to him that everything was okay.

      Don’t ask me if I know who I am talking to. I believe it is you who needs to ask yourself that question. What I suggest you do is sit down and shut up.

      Farris felt a trickle of blood from his mouth.

      Don’t tell me what you are. I know what you are. I know you’re a fuckin’ United States Senator. I believe it is you who have forgotten exactly how you got there. I bought you that seat. You were nothing but a half-assed representative from a half-assed state that nobody gave a damn about. I paid the money. I pulled favors in from my friends. The man you defeated was a damn good man. Who do you think put that whore in his bed and arranged for him to get caught? Who do you think set up those offshore accounts he couldn’t explain? I pulled the strings to get you that damn seat and all I asked, all I asked, was one thing, and you haven’t done shit.

      Farris realized what he had done. For a moment he had forgotten that this old man once ruled one of the most powerful crime families in America. And, even if he no longer officially ruled the family, he would never give up control.

      I apologize, Godfather. You are right and my outburst was uncalled for. I am sorry and it will not happen again.

      Gilarmo pulled a tissue from a box and handed it to Farris. Wipe off your mouth. Like I said, we need to talk.

      Farris touched the tissue to his mouth and nodded. Gilarmo poured him a drink.

      It was simple, Allen, you were to go to Washington and make sure that bastard who killed Mitchell and Alexandra was himself killed. That’s all you had to do. I didn’t care how many parties you went to or how many junkets you went on or how much fun you had. I asked for one thing, and I haven’t got it. I read about the parties and all the fun in the newspapers, but you know what I don’t read? I don’t read that fuckin’ Osama bin Laden is dead. Why is that Allen?

      Alexi Gilarmo had been obsessed with the death of Osama bin Laden since bin Laden and Al-quaeda had taken credit for the attack on the World Trade Center. The morning of the attack Gilarmo’s son and daughter, Mitchell and Alexandra, had gone to the World Trade Center to look at office space when the hijacked American Airlines Flight 11 crashed into the North Tower. Gilarmo’s children never returned.

      The following week, Mitchell was to announce his candidacy for the United States Senate and the World Trade Center office was to be his headquarters. Gilarmo had visions of his son one day becoming president and in one morning, all his dreams and his two children died.

      Alexi Gilarmo, was both loved and feared. He was loved by those who he loved and feared by those he hated. The news called him the Godfather of the Vendezi Crime Family. A name he richly deserved. He was used to getting what he wanted at any cost and what he had wanted since the death of his children was the death of Osama bin Laden.

      It’s not all that easy, Godfather. I was like you. I thought I could pull a few strings here and there and that would be it. It didn’t work that way.

      Allen, Allen, you confuse me. A month after 9-11 President Bush sent troops after bin Laden. . .

      Godfather, no disrespect, but all that was bullshit. Bush had one goal, he wanted to invade Iraq. He wanted the oil. All Afghanistan did was set the mentality in motion so he could attack Iraq. It was his gift to his oil buddies.

      You’re talking about the President.

      I know I’m talking about the President, but before he was a president he was an oil man. Need proof? On 9-11 gas was selling for a buck sixty a gallon. I filled up on the way up here and that same gallon of gas now cost over four dollars.

      Okay, but Bush is gone, bin Laden is not. Why?

      Like I said, Don Gilarmo, it is not as simple as we thought. There are people in Washington. . .

      . . . who don’t want to see Obama dead. I heard that before. I heard it when you were up for reelection. Isn’t that what you told me then? You came to me with your hand out and said you wanted to run for reelection. You needed money and you needed friends. I gave you both. You told me you weren’t powerful enough, you needed senate committee appointments. I made phone calls and got you appointments. You say that what Bush did was bullshit. . . if that was bullshit then what are you doing? Mitchell was your best friend. He loved you like a brother. We talked about you marrying Angelica. Now they are gone and it appears you have forgotten them. I have not forgotten them. You disgrace their memory.

      No, Godfather, I do not. . .

      "Allen, you have two more years before it is time for reelection. In that two years I want Osama bin Laden’s head on a goddamn platter or you can kiss Washington goodbye. Not only will I not support you,

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