giving up engineering.
Vietnam came along and, as the Navy paid for his education; he owed them 4 years of active duty or 8 in the reserves. He was in the reserves, flying for a small Midwestern airline when recalled to visit the pearl of the Orient and kill some little yellow men. Because he was a pilot and because one of the alphabet agencies needed pilots, he was seconded to this outfit and entered a dark and secret world although, at the time, I don't think he knew that.
Scott has spent by now some 50 years in the killing business. He remembers each and every personal kill with great clarity. To a degree, He's still in the game which has changed significantly as the trade craft tools have developed. The organization is faster, quieter, better prepared and better armed- they have tools and weapons today I couldn't have imagined.
I will tell you about John Scott's life as he told it to me- in the first person- and let's see if you think it's as glamorous and exciting as you and Ian Fleming imagined!
Robert J. Firth
CHAPTER 1
BOCA RATON FLORIDA, NOVEMBER, 2003
THE HUNTERS HOUSE
The dog was nervous- the house still, only the light rain and wind in the dark trees could be heard. Waking, I felt a primal fear, a not unfamiliar sense since my denunciation of Islam became public in my books. The silent vibrating alarm inserted into the mattress and, repeating on the black tactical wrist watch, dragged me from my troubled dreams at 04:30 this cold Wednesday morning.
Waking in the dark isn't a new experience. I slipped on the NVG's and, rolling to the floor beside the bed, pointed the silenced Swedish K toward the door. Guardie, my Sheppard, was staring intently, softly whining in anticipation of the kill. He had been highly trained to kill silently, no growling or barking, just a fast lunge to rip out the carotid artery.
The hidden battery powered monitors clearly showed three assassins lurking in the hall. I pushed the yellow button on the plywood panel under the bed... a silent gas flooded the hall. Almost instantly the intruders fell inert and noiselessly to the carpeted floor.
The alarm triggered the moment the infrared life forms were exposed. The exterior monitors showed another murderous Muslim beside the hedge in the back yard and one in the front drive next to a dark van. The hatch in the floor next to the bed opened into a tunnel that exited with a downward opening camouflaged hatch behind a small trailer in the west corner of the yard.
Sweedish K: Kulsprutepistol m/45 (Kpist m/45) also known as the Carl Gustav M/45 or the Swedish K SMG, is a 9 mm Swedish sub machine gun adopted in 1945 (hence the designation m/45) at the Carl Gustaf G-F facility in the city of Eskilstuna by Swedish weapons designer Gunnar Johnsson. The "Swedish K" was used by SOG teams early in the Vietnam War where Scott first used it. Because its origins were not in the US, so could be considered "sterile" for over the fence missions. The m/45 was the official sub machine gun of the Swedish Army after World War II. The m/45 was also used by U.S Special Forces in the Vietnam War, these weapons were devoid of markings. In U.S service it was known as "K-Rifle" or "Swedish-K".
The greenish NVG light clearly exposed the killers head standing not 20 feet away. The flash suppressor subdued the noiseless 9 mil mercury filled sub-sonic rounds exploding his head. He fell on the grass without a sound! Guardie was disappointed that he didn't get the kill. We crept around to the front yard killing the fifth jihadist. We waited for 20 minutes without moving- there were no more.
Reentering through the back yard tunnel, I activated the gas removal vent fan system and opened the hermetically sealed heavy steel reinforced bedroom door. Moving the three sleeping Jihadist goons from the interior hall onto an old shower curtain in the garage, I wrapped their heads in heavy towels and slit their throats! I put the two in the back and front yard in a wheelbarrow and moved them into the garage. Not a sound did this all this make. It was over in 20 minutes. This was the third time they had tried. It wouldn't be the last!
My wife had moved into an apartment rented under her maiden name but I stayed in the house solely to lure in and kill as many of the crazed Islamists as I could. My precautions and little surprises were expensive. The escape tunnel alone was over twenty thousand. The noiseless gas dispensers were located in every room and operated from a panel under the bed. The front door was purposely left as a weak entrance point. An easily defeated lock made it irresistible to anyone trying to gain entry. I wanted them inside!
Truly, the house was itself one large and ruthlessly efficient killing machine. The cameras and infrared sensing devices were carefully installed as to be absolutely invisible. The bedroom was, in fact, a SAFE ROOM which nothing short of 20 lbs of C4 could possibly force open. The electrical system was maintained by fool-proof alternate wiring powered by solar charged storage batteries that nothing could interrupt. The exposed outside wiring and phone connectors were dummies that the idiots never failed to cut.
In the early morning light my armored black ultra-quiet Suburban with the five dead Muslims wrapped in shower curtains rolled out of the dark garage on Wisconsin-Madison's Polymer "non-pneumatic tire" bullet proof tires. In thirty minutes I pulled up behind the American legion kitchen where a couple of our guys were waiting. We transferred the inert cargo- an hour later, wrapped in galvanized chains they were dumped in a deep water cavity in the everglades. They disappeared like the twenty or so who preceded them. Gator tid-bits!
Meanwhile, my book, The Battle of Tours, which had sold several million copies and was in its third printing, spread the ugly truth of the dark cancer of Islam across the non- Muslim world. I can't begin to count the number of fatwas the disenchanted mullahs had issued calling for my death. (A fatwa is a kind of legal finding by a half- baked so-called Islamic cleric)
It was my habit, and indeed a necessity, to keep a low profile never telegraphing my whereabouts. My business these days was the destruction of Islamic terror teams by killing as many of their insane adherents as possible. In the pursuit of this and other interesting and necessary business we had assembled over ninety reliable and highly experienced war fighters.
My job was to train them in the finer arts and techniques of silent and distant killing. We held endless classes in the clandestine methodology of killing and the study of all the areas of so-called 'wet work'! Most of these guys (no women, so far) were highly experienced themselves so our training sessions involved a lot of sharing and relearning. Most of our discussions and demonstrations were highly technical as we will show you in the coming chapters- really dry and repetitive, a lot of it intensely boring but- all very deadly if forgotten or ignored. In this business anything less than perfection often resulted in death-yours!
We knew that with over a worldwide population of over a billion plus Muslims, at least ten percent were wild-eyed murdering jihadists who would gladly slice your head off given the slightest chance. (They have done exactly that to quite a few westerners) That means, by the way, that there are then over one hundred million of these crazies roaming the world looking for infidels (that's us) to kill. Of course, they are, at present, somewhat disorganized and spread out across the world but- this is changing. With the emergence of ISIS, the Islamic State in Syria and Iraq, the true nature and goals of the beast are becoming clear to the world. They are coalescing and forming into a unified and organized killing machine. Here in America, in this year of 2014, we have some 4 to 7 million American Muslims, ( the figures are purposely fuzzy at the behest of the current administration) most of whom live peaceful lives not bothering anyone. However, the same ten percent or 400,000 to 700,000, depending on how may of these sickos actually live among us, are young, crazed zealot killers. (at a minimum, that's about 8,000 per state by the way) .
They
