ANONYMOUS SEDITION


    
FBI Profiles/ Sample Chapter
Harold Chang:  Congressional reporter, Washington Post. Journalist who broke
open current “CadetGate” scandal.
*** Continue to monitor as potential target of Aqaban Brigade terrorists.

Captain Charles Whitter, USAF:  Active duty with AFI and working with D.C.
Bureau on apprehension of former wingman J. Sween. Avail leverage to operate.
*** Continue soft surveillance until further notice.

Cassie Carlisle:  Australian National. Freelance photographer currently employed
by
National Geographic.  Last known contact with J. Sween 10/7/08 in Mosul, Iraq.
Former/current lover of subject. Confirmed to be in Bali, Indonesia.
*** Soft contact for questioning at this time.

AQABAN BRIGADE:  Iranian Revolutionary Guard cells (Pasdaran) believed
activated in mainland USA. Mission and identities unknown. Nine murders
attributed to domestic cells under investigation. Seeking J. Sween/A. Kavalle for
export/interrogation. Armed/highly dangerous.
*** Capture for Interrogation by all means necessary. Termination acceptable.
Justin Sween:  Retired Captain, USAF. Current status
is Standby Reserve hardship for
below the knee
amputation. Employer is
National Geographic: field
guide. Last known whereabouts Amman, Jordan on
10/8/08. Considered armed/dangerous. Interactions
with hostile foreign entities undetermined at this time.
*** Capture for Interrogation by all means necessary.
Aferdita Kavalle:  Counter-terrorism Analyst, NSA
Middle East Bureau. Fluent in
Arabic, Farsi, French,
Albanian
. AWA—believed to be in company of J.
Sween. Last known whereabouts Milan, Italy on
10/9/08. Considered armed/dangerous. Interactions
with hostile foreign entities undetermined at this time.
*** Capture for Interrogation by all means necessary.
Excerpt
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read the entire Prologue
Prologue

17 September, 2007
northern Orientale Provence
Democratic Republic of Congo

It took extraordinary circumstances to make any healthy man break into a
cold sweat while standing along the Equator, yet
National Geographic field
researcher Justin Sween could feel such a forewarning of danger saturate his
sun-baked spine and arms. He did not dither if it was malaria or fear that had
summoned this reaction; the cause had just materialized out of the blurring
waves of heat that hovered the vast and open savannah spread before him.
He slowly lowered his binoculars, pushed back his felt breezer hat from the
thin bangs dangling his forehead, and retrieved the Weatherby Mark V safari
rifle slung across his back. Through the scope of his weapon he confirmed
that the hunting party was comprised of six horsemen crossing the arid plain
single file at a leisurely pace. The group intermittently vanished in the haze of
the horizon, with only the glint from their bandoleers, swords, or gun barrels
betraying their progression. A corner of Sween’s upper lip darted upward as
the crosshairs of his rifle locked onto the swathed head of one of the armed
posse, then lilted, as his more tempered side reminded him that it was against
company policy to shoot, let alone kill, even such a deserving target unless it a
defensive measure of last resort.

 “Perhaps, you bastards, some other day,” he softly jeered, as the sporadic
reflections of the relentless African sun finally rounded a distant hillside. He
lowered his rifle and took in a few deep breaths, pausing to look up to a Long-
tailed hawk gazing at him from atop the depleted branches of the areas lone
cluster of sausage trees.
 “What difference does it make?” he questioned the studious bird while
dousing his face and neck with water from his canteen. “They’ve already
slaughtered everything in Garamba worth saving.”
......
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