Broken Justice

Chapter 1

I gazed down at the scene as the chopper came in to land. The refugee camp was well-planned, consisting mostly of large army-style tents with a few semi-permanent structures on the northern side of the camp. Not bad, considering that two months ago there was nothing to be seen here but sand and the occasional small bush.

The Peterson Foundation had come to the aid of the Syrian refugees that threatened to overwhelm the already crowded Shatila refugee camp just south of Beirut in Lebanon. Since the numerous ISIS bombings in Europe, the flow of refugees into Europe had slowed to a trickle, resulting in serious overcrowding at most of the refugee camps.

It was the middle of January, and although the camp had only been open for a couple of weeks, it was filling up rapidly as more refugees learned of its existence. The large camp could comfortably accommodate about fifteen thousand people and was split into two distinct sections.

To gain admittance to the camp, refugees had to provide some form of identification and submit to being fingerprinted and photographed. The prints and photos were run through several databases, including F.B.I., C.I.A., Mossad, M.I.5, SVR, and Interpol.

These applicants remained in one section of the camp until it was determined that they had no known affiliation with ISIS or any other terrorist organizations. Upon being successfully vetted, the applicants were moved to a more secure section of the camp where they remained until they could be relocated to Europe.

I glanced across at Danni as the helicopter gently touched down near the administration buildings. “So, what do you think?” I asked.

“I can’t believe that they managed to build this whole thing so quickly, Brad,” she replied, giving me one of her winning smiles.

My stunningly beautiful girlfriend had accompanied me a few months earlier when we’d picked out the spot where the camp was to be built. We’d met about eight months ago in Uganda in Central Africa and had shared many adventures, including being kidnapped by a ruthless African Warlord.

“I guess that if you spend enough money, anything is possible,” I answered. I had created the Peterson Foundation the previous year after inheriting a multi-billion-dollar fortune from a long-lost uncle, who just happened to be a Canadian oil tycoon. As a result, both the foundation and I had more money than we could possibly spend.

After the rotors wound down and the dust settled, Danni and I exited the helicopter. We were met by my brother Mark, Captain Cameron Smith, and Master Sergeant Bill Wright. I was a former Army Ranger Major, while Mark was a former captain in the 101st Airborne. We’d put together a small army of ex-special force operatives from around the world to assist the foundation in its efforts around the globe. For chain-of-command purposes, I was using the rank of Colonel while Mark was accorded the rank of Major.

“How’s it going, brother?” he asked as he strode forward and shook my hand before kissing Danni on the cheek.

“Not too bad,” I replied. “You seem to have things under control here.”

“Mainly thanks to Captain Smith and Sergeant Wright.” He indicated to the two men coming forward to greet us.

Captain Smith shook my hand. “Don’t believe a word of that. Your brother worked his ass off to get this place ready in time. Bill and I may have provided the security, but your brother’s been putting in twelve to fourteen-hour days with the construction crews.”

“Great, now I feel really bad.” Danni and I had just completed an awesome two-week vacation in Hawaii.

Mark grinned. “No need to, you guys deserved some time off. Anyhow, since the camp is now finished, my days are much easier. That is, if you call mundane administration work easier.”

Danni hugged him. “We really appreciate all you’ve accomplished in our absence.”

Mark appeared a little embarrassed. “You’re more than welcome. Sergeant, please arrange for their bags to be taken to their quarters.” He turned to us. “Follow Captain Smith and myself and we’ll give you a quick tour of the camp and its facilities.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Danni and I followed Mark to where a large golf cart was parked.