by SJ Hailey
‘It’s okay Jacob, we understand why. Now boys, down to business, five minutes to jump point.’
The three of them were going to perform a high altitude low opening, or HALO jump. This was to avoid detection from radar, or visually from the ground, as a normal parachute decent would. Katherine secured everything in the cockpit, and began to depressurise the cabin, all three of them now wearing oxygen masks and helmets. The plane had begun increasing altitude ten minutes ago, and was now at twenty five thousand feet. Katherine gave final instructions, ’Now Jacob, I know you have done this before, but not recently, your parachute will open automatically at a preset height. If you pass out the ground won’t kill you.’
‘Good to know Katherine, anything else?’
‘At this altitude you will reach the ground in about two minutes, just stay focussed, don’t enjoy the ride too much.’
‘Now you are spoiling my fun.’
‘At this speed if you hit the ground, you will bounce out of the hole that you will make.’
‘You know it sound dangerous when you put it like that.’
Katherine gave him a hug, ‘Take care both, see you on the ground.’
The aircraft had begun to depressurise, and then the escape hatch slid open in the bottom of the cabin, rarefied air rushed in as the Global Surveyor cruised five miles up. The temperature would freeze an unprotected person to death; if the lack of oxygen didn’t give them hypoxia first. Archer dropped out the aircraft, feet first his back towards the front of the plane, once he was clear, Jacob left about twenty seconds behind him. The wind slammed him in the chest like a paving slab, the small white H shaped plane disappeared at speed as he fell away.
Jacob regained his calm, and as his body slowed he levelled out turning from his back to face the ground. He controlled his speed and descent with his limbs, moving his arms back to his side and angling downwards flipping over and re-directing his natural fall. They were above the clouds and only the GPS display on his visor showed where his target was, now just three miles below. The protection afforded by his suit and helmet reduced the sensation of speed, his suit was ruffling as he reached terminal velocity. He could see Archer in front and below him, and caught him up, one hundred twenty miles an hour straight down helped. Archer had likened it to standing on top of a passenger train at full speed, then trying to jump off and stop.
Both men saw each other, the helmets giving excellent visibility, neither responding using the radio. They descended through the clouds at twelve thousand feet, and emerged into the rain falling from them. The rainstorm was intense, blowing in from the Pacific onto the coast, perfect. The rain combined with their high altitude low opening approach should give them access to all areas, without the need for an invite. Below their target came into view, both men adjusted their approach to land on the least inhabited section of the island. Jacob moved away from Archer, giving them both room to open their chutes, the altimeter on the visor display now flashing red as they passed two thousand feet.
The area they were aiming for was behind a small peak in the northern part of the island, a thousand foot lump of rock. There had been a fire from a lightning strike a few weeks ago, the back of the hill and forest below burnt, no trees for about quarter of a mile. Jacob saw the hill come into view, and as he passed the summit, his chute opened. The mechanism activating perfectly, his head thrown back as expected, he checked his chute and then steered towards the forest clearing Katherine had marked on the GPS. He pulled down on both cords; braking the chute and landing with knees bent, turning and rapidly pulling his chute into his body.
Archer was just fifty feet away on the far side, already stashing his chute and walking over to greet his Dad. Their kit landed just moments later, though not as gracefully, with a thud the self-guiding cargo chute landed in the centre of the clearing. Katherine had dropped it from the underbelly of the aircraft, it had fallen and guided itself to the target. The pod attached was only one foot wide and four feet long, so would not show up on the radar network the island used.
‘Okay Archer, let’s get the gear, Katherine said she will bailout on the return leg in thirty minutes.’
‘Dad, welcome to Isla Joya Verde. Let’s find The General.’
TWENTY EIGHT
New York City.
Arthur Jarrett’s private office was austere, the dark wood, imposing nineteenth century antique desk, leather chairs, more reminiscent of a gentleman’s smoking club than a twenty first century office. Amongst the mahogany and detailed woodwork were all the tools a modern public official required, laptop, PDA, secure phone, counter-surveillance hardware, bulletproof windows. As the Under Secretary for International Defence his position was privileged and tenuous, the many conflicts around the globe all of interest to the United States of America and all fraught with political mines. So wide was the nations influence and importance that his workload only allowed five hours of sleep a night, a weekend off was a rarity.
He kept a private office and apartment in New York, dealing with visitors to the United Nations and others, it was beneficial to not be in Washington sometimes. His wife’s family owned the building had done for decades; and although he did not have the penthouse, he was sufficiently elevated from the street to appreciate the view over Central Park. Arthur Jarrett’s bare feet paced the runner carpet, his wife placing it to ensure he did not destroy another section of her favourite weave. He thought better in bare feet, but his balding head was sweating, the swept back black hairs glistening. He stroked his V shaped beard, the pepper pot spikes rustling under his touch. To the casual observer he appeared the devil himself, but he was not as discreet and thorough as Satan.
He desisted his pacing and sat on his comfortable heated office chair. The elements and the leather combined to sooth a spine damaged by a helicopter crash in South America some years ago. The décor of the room, walls of regal red complemented by rich cream carpet. His wife considered the paint choice depressing but he liked the power it conveyed to his many visitors. He felt safe in this office, more than in the heavily reinforced Pentagon he occupied most weekdays. His visitor today promoted his feeling of political vulnerability, and he had invited this man, courted his favour, only to regret it rapidly. The gentleman was a representative of certain industrial interests in the Horn of Africa, and the assistance that Arthur Jarrett could provide, in return for healthy retirement fund contributions. He has no name, and Arthur knew better than to ask and be lied to again. He patted his brow with a cotton handkerchief, replaced it in his desk drawer, put his black ostrich skin shoes on and adjusted his seating position. His personal assistant showed the visitor in, sitting without being invited directly in front of the formidable desk. The visitor was not impressed or intimidated by his surroundings, or its occupant.
‘Mr Jarrett my associates are concerned that President Uncotto is not being co-operative in our plans to redevelop his country.’
‘Look, I am not always privy to these discussions. But I took it upon myself to discuss President Uncotto’s options with him face to face.’
‘I understand, but you have put a man in place to monitor Mr Uncotto’s actions, yes?’
‘Of course, but….’
‘We approached you to ensure that a US base for Africa Command would be constructed by The Consortium, and I thank you for that. However we need to ensure that other projects that will be supported by the location of this base are guaranteed.’
‘Military presence in this area of Africa is not a guarantee of stability; it can in fact focus terrorists in that area into attacking US assets.’
‘I am sure that no terrorist cell is going to attempt to attack a US military airbase in Mabalia, they would be dead before they got ten miles.’
‘I do not think that would be their main concern. I can understand President Uncotto’s misgivings about us pushing the issue.’
The gentleman sat back relaxed, folding his hands over his prominent stomach, inter-lacing his fingers, ‘There is an alternative to
President Uncotto, we approached him some time ago, and following his address to the United Nations we feel Uncotto is not best suited for his country’s interests.’
Jarrett had many sources, both official and unofficial in a variety of positions at home and abroad, they had taken years to establish and had proved reliable, but he knew nothing of this alternative. Concerned his lack of knowledge might increase his visitors mistrust he remained silent.
‘Would you like to know who it is?’
Jarrett knew this game well, your opponent pushing his advantage, reading your face, detecting a micro expression that would indicate victory. With no response verbally or visually, just a cold unnerving stare, the visitor capitulated remarkably swiftly, expelling his information. ‘It is Chui Enzi, the Head of Internal Security in Mabalia, we feel he will command respect and be more compliant to our needs.’
Jarrett played the advantage, relished the opportunity to push it, ‘Chui Enzi is currently in Panama, meeting with one of my contacts.’
The visitor was not as accomplished as he thought; the information that Jarrett fired was unwelcome and surprising. He poorly attempted to conceal his reaction, ‘Yes we were aware of that.’
Jarrett had him now, seeing the lie, the distinct eye movement, ‘He is seeking a solar powered device, to enable Mabalia to not rely on oil for energy in the future. But it could be interpreted by some as an attempt to gain a WMD’
The visitor was reeling against the ropes, his interlaced fingers leaving sweat stains on his blue cotton shirt. Jarrett forced another barb home, ‘I presume you were aware of this, and my actions to resolve the issue and diffuse the situation.’
The visitor of course had no idea, and was unable to bluff, ‘No we were not, why were we not informed?’
‘I felt it prudent to resolve this issue without directly involving you, or seeking your approval. That is what you consult me for?’
The visitor was riled, a small vein pumped rapidly at his temple, ‘And have you secured this item yet?’
‘Not yet, but within the next few days I will have control of the situation.’
‘And what of Mr Enzi?’
‘Well he is a liability. He has this arrangement with you, and yet still seeks something that will damage your development goals? Do you trust him?’
‘My trust is earned by those I offer it to. Mr Enzi has damaged his trust. Can you resolve this for us?’
‘Before you arrived, I had already agreed to dispose of Mr Enzi, once he had retrieved this device.’
‘How very shrewd of you. Do you think we can still use him?’
‘I do not think that is a possibility, your knowledge of this situation should afford you a healthy advantage from which to re-negotiate with him, but you have a very limited window of opportunity.’
‘Yes, quite. I think we can seek out other candidates. You have been most thorough and resolute Mr Jarrett.’
‘I am always so. Should I wait for your call before taking action against Enzi?’
‘That is not necessary. You look after Enzi for us?’
Jarrett stood, waiting for the apology. The visitor prompted and offered his wet hand to Jarrett, he looked at it, the visitor wiped it on his suit trouser and then re-offered it. Jarrett shook it once firmly and then showed the gentleman out; the private elevator would deliver him to the discreet underground car park entrance. The door closing firmly behind him, Jarrett returned to his desk, ‘Apology accepted.’
TWENTY NINE
Eighteen thousand feet above Isla Joya Verde.
Katherine bailed out of the escape hatch on the return leg of the Global Surveyor’s wayward journey. She dropped at one hundred twenty miles an hour, but was blown off course. She had done private free-fall jumps before, but only three HALO jumps, from this altitude it was something new and wonderful. Exhilarated by the descent she corrected her course landing on the opposite side of the mountain, in a small clearing, but she did not presume undetected. She stashed her chute in a rucksack, drew her weapons, a suppressed Colt M4, and her trusty sidearm, moving off towards the checkpoint.
She came across the expected guardhouse on the far side, two guards, one eating, spilling food down his shirt, the other attentive and smart. She removed her jump suit and stowed her weapons, guns were not the solution here. She was about to approach the guardhouse when she saw an officer coming over, he talked to one of the soldiers and then left with him. She ensured they were not going to return, and then moved onto her target.
The young man inside was eating a meatball sandwich; half of the sauce deposited down his uniform. He didn’t look up immediately, not much of a guard. Katherine spoke up in her broadest accent, ‘ es-cuse me sir, but I appear to be lost.’
The young man just sat there mid chew, not quite believing what he was seeing. The woman was tall, strappy top hanging on swimmers shoulders, shorts topping her strong toned legs and tanned all over. He stood up offering her a seat, putting his sandwich on the desk. ‘This is a private island, you really shouldn’t be here.’
‘I am so sorry, but I appear to have run aground in my little ol’ boat. I got all soaking wet.’
The young man focused on her semi-transparent clothing.
She bent her left leg back, rested her toes on the floor and tilted her head forward and to the side, while still looking at the young soldier, ‘Well what can I do, can I stay here a while?’
‘Yeah, would you like a drink?’
The young soldier fiddled with the coffee machine, attempting to appear sophisticated and failing. Katherine moved behind him, ‘do you have cream and sugar?’
He looked in the cupboard above and then Katherine grabbed him around the neck, pulled in backwards off balance so he was leaning against her, his feet still forward. He could not move he would fall and tighten her grip; she applied enough pressure to render him unconscious in a few seconds. She lowered him to the ground, checked his pulse, taped his mouth, secured plastic ties on his hands and legs. With a push he tucked neatly under the desk, the knock causing his hideous sandwich to leak more fluid down onto his uniform from above.
She checked the monitors for the CCTV and saw plenty of activity down by the docks. She could see the loading of a seaplane. The two men she had seen at the guardhouse had arrived the taller one leaving and heading away, while the younger loaded his gear. She disabled all the monitors, duct-taped a cup over the alarm button, should her unconscious soldier attempt to trigger it with a lucky kick. The locker in the corner contained an old uniform, clean, but too large for her. Some safety pins allowed her to make it fit her smaller frame. She placed a baseball cap to hide her long hair, picked up her rucksack and headed for the main hangers.
It was only a few hundred metres, she looked ahead, avoiding eye contact not wanting to draw attention. The two hangers were built up against a rock face, unusual even on the small island. There was a C130 transport plane and two Bell 212 helicopters, standard for a research facility. As she entered the hanger and her eyes adjusted to the light, she realised the reason for the location of the hangers, which extended back into the rock face itself. The thick rock hid their military aircraft from any curious passing satellite.
She checked on a site map and saw that there were two sub levels below where she was now, in the centre was a cannibalised aircraft carrier lift to move the smaller aircraft up. This hanger only appeared to have large planes and one Chinook twin rotor transport helicopter. She just needed an aircraft, fast, short take off, then she saw exactly what she wanted, all she had to do now was steal it and fly it out of a heavily protected base.
As she turned towards the flight office, a tall blonde man stopped in front of her, his lapels showing the rank of Colonel, his nametag with Briggs emblazoned on it.
‘Are you new here soldier?’
Katherine stopped dead, turning to face the officer.
Jacob and Archer moved from their landing site, the jungle not heavily overgrown, an old footpath easing th
eir transit around the small mountain that had shielded their approach. The humidity was not as oppressive as Ecuador, the sea breeze and location of the island kept it fresher. They made good time, even with carrying the gear.
They found an old jeep half buried in the hill, a relic of the fifties the jungle slowly consuming it, but no other signs of occupation. They emerged from the heavy undergrowth above The General’s private hanger. The compound below sealed and fenced off, no life in sight. His private helicopter was being wheeled out and prepared for take-off, the storm passing over to the East. The ground crew retreated back in the hanger a few minutes later, leaving in a jeep. The fence opened up a discreet gate allowing them to return to the main base.
‘If that’s his helicopter Archer, he’s going to leave, we need to move quickly.’
Archer agreed and the two men moved covertly through the thin cover of the hillside, reaching the compound floor undetected a few minutes later. The open hanger doors and reappearing sunshine disguised the contents, the darkness halting Archer’s threat assessment. Jacob joined him near the entrance, no security cameras appeared present, he moved inside, handgun and eyes scanning for any targets.
Archer followed finding the shadows of the large steel uprights could provide sufficient cover for now. Archer checked the map he had downloaded from Khan’s information, the private lift clearly indicated across from their current position. Jacob began to circle around the back of the deserted hanger, while Archer moved across to the only occupant, a solitary guard. Of course the guard was by the lift door, attempting to start a cigarette, his cheap plastic lighter failing miserably. Archer casually strolled across, nodding to the guard and checking his pockets for a light. The guard ignoring any potential threat, never saw Jacob who hit the back of his neck hard enough to knock him out, but not kill him. With a final check of the area, they used the guard’s key card to gain access to the lift.
