B00H242ZGY EBOK

by Unknown

  “A simple target of opportunity? I mean, people have been kidnapped like this in the past,” said General Foote.

  “In the Middle East about ten years ago maybe, but we are at peace down there. Have been for a long time. So now let’s ask, what do they want,” said Hammond. “This thing last night about political prisoners, from what I have heard, Colombia doesn’t have any, except for the ones they are rounding up now. Then the demand to throw the US out of Bogotá. Everyone knows that’s meaningless. Remember, we’ve been at peace with Colombia for as long as I can remember. Then the claim that it’s the FARC. Since it has gone legit, the FARC is a lot better off than it ever was and gaining in political power. None of it makes sense. So let’s figure out what is really being done here. Someone has kidnapped fourteen mayors, something guaranteed to get attention around the world. Why Americans? But more importantly, why now? Remember, this has happened one time before.”

  O’Bannon’s eyes shot wide. “They want me out of office. Just a month before an election, they know that if they play their cards right, the hostages won’t be rescued in time. There will be a new American administration.”

  Hammond sat back. His point was made. “Now who down there would benefit most?”

  “Parente!” General Black almost shouted. “Not only does he hate America, but he sided with North Korea in the last big one. He’s been known to brag about what a big man he is in South American politics. What if he could silently demonstrate that he could really dictate what would be happening in the United States? He would be king of the hill down there,” Black said.

  “The last nail has to do with distance,” said Hammond. “Remember, they said the majors were drugged. Moving them around would be a nightmare. The truck fitting the description crossed into Venezuela. Someone can check me on this, but the roads are not that good down there. On a long trip, these guys would be banged around a lot. But if you look at the video, they don’t really look that bad, so they can’t have gone that far. The video was back to us within 24 hours and it was shot in daylight. That means we need to look somewhere within about 200 miles from the border.”

  “What if they got them on some plane?” asked the CNO.

  “Then all bets are off, but we’ve been monitoring air traffic and nothing appeared out of the ordinary and from the radar images, nothing took off anywhere near the border,” said Hammond.

  General Bradley chimed in. “Okay, say it is the President they are after. That will all go to pot when anyone finds out he did it. There would be an outpouring of sympathy for the United States and a cry for Parente’s head. I can’t see that helping him.”

  Hammond took a deep breath. “Yes, sir, so that means he plans on cleaning up all the evidence. I don’t think he plans on ever letting those hostages out alive.”

  “Makes sense,” said O’Bannon. “He can say the FARC killed them all. Who would be able to dispute it?”

  “And despite it all, there would be ways for Parente to discreetly let the other leaders know he pulled it off,” said Hammond.

  The mood in the room had suddenly turned somber. The prospects of losing the hostages had turned into a stark reality. It was silent in the room for a moment.

  “At least that gives us our marching orders,” said Foote. “We’ve got to find them and go in and get them out before he has a chance to complete his plans. I take it we have a couple of satellites looking around?”

  The President nodded. “And some people on the ground.”

  The men in the room looked around and were nodding in agreement. The President broke the silence. “Okay, it looks like this is the best avenue to go on. Let’s follow Roger’s advice and concentrate within 250 miles of where this happened. First priority is to find where these folks are. Once we do, what can we do about it?”

  “General Richardson has already selected one of our Special Forces units to be on standby,” said General Black. “She came up with an idea to get them there covertly, but getting them out still needs a little work. This will be classified way above top secret. No sharing the information. I have asked for a completed plan ready within the next 48 hours. Once we find out where this place is, we can hone in the fine details and shove off.”

  “Good,” said the President. “Everyone coordinate and make this perfect. I don’t want to lose anyone. Let’s plan on daily briefs, but nothing over a phone line. Let’s keep it tight.” He turned in his seat. “Now what about Roger?”

  Hammond put up his hands. “Put me in coach. I wanna play,” he said with a grin. There was another chuckle around the room.

  “I figured that. Can he fit in?”

  The CNO nodded. “I know we probably shouldn’t, but I want him on the team. Claire Richardson will be the one in charge, but this guy’s too smart to leave in the cold. Besides, now that the cat’s out of the bag, we need to use him where we can.”

  Hammond got a puzzled look on his face. “The cat’s out of the bag?”

  The President nodded. “The bad guys found out you weren’t at home. Interesting enough, they sent your tail to keep an eye on your ship.”

  “The Iowa? Do they think I might go back there?” Hammond asked.

  “Actually, we found out that someone’s keeping an eye on all the battleships south of Norfolk. I think they are afraid of what you might do,” said the CNO.

  A twinkle came into Hammond’s eyes. “So you want me to lead them on a wild goose chase,” he asked.

  “We have some plans,” said the CNO with a twinkle in his eye. “You’re gonna love it.”

  USS Iowa

  The message arrived at 6 am, local time and was passed to the Lieutenant Commander in charge of the Iowa detachment. The Iowa reserve unit was being called up and would report within four days. Any Iowa vets wishing to take part are authorized to accompany the ship. The orders were to make all preparations for getting USS Iowa underway.

  Chapter 7

  Decisions

  The Mountains of Venezuela

  Father Emanuel Cardoza sat back in his perch and enjoyed the view. It had taken him a full day to reach his destination – one of the largest trees in the forest. Then it took another three hours, mostly in the dying light of the evening, to get his equipment up to the top of the tree, nearly 90 feet up. There, he unfolded his ‘nest’ - an aluminum framed, mesh platform which he attached to the tree. Using cables and pulleys, he then hoisted up the supplies and gear he needed to spend three days doing what he loved most – photographing birds.

  Cardoza was determined to photograph the Harpy eagle in flight. An endangered species, the Harpy was a huge bird with a wingspan of twelve feet or more. It was said these birds could pluck monkeys out of trees without noticeable effort. Already Cardoza had made a name for himself with the National Geographic Society. Some of his photographs had been published in their magazine along with other notable publications across the globe. Yet despite this, Father Cardoza remained a dedicated and trusted priest.

  Born in a remote hamlet in Arizona, he had determined early in his life that the priesthood was where he belonged. After high school he went to the University of Southern California at Berkley where he majored in religious studies. From there, he went to the Dominican School of Philosophy and Theology, where he received his masters in divinity. After six months as a deacon, he was ordained a priest. That had been 22 years before. Since then he had been assigned to three different churches, the latest being the Primary Cathedral in Bogotá.

  Photography had become a hobby while in high school. Starting with disposable cameras from Kodak, he had made his way to more expensive cameras, and much better work. Now he had a Canon EOS-1D with a variety of lenses, including a 400mm sports lens mated to it. With it, he could capture birds on the wing at great distance, in twilight. True, the kit had cost him nearly everything he had made, but as a priest, he didn’t really need much, and the joy he had capturing stunning examples of God’s nature more than made up for it.

  He sat back o
n his perch and savored the coffee he had made with a portable stove also attached to the tree. The aluminum platform served as his bed and a place to sit and take photos. A small stand had been attached to a limb to balance the camera and lens. Everything had a safety cord, including Cardoza. He had learned that lesson the hard way several years before when he lost a camera and half a backpack of food from a strong gust of wind.

  Looking across the mountains he noticed what looked like an old village nestled in the top of the next mountain. Using his camera, he could see what appeared to be stone buildings and some sort of courtyard. Amazingly, there was some sort of obelisk at the head of the courtyard. It rose above the surrounding trees pointing skyward. Cardoza hadn’t known of any obelisks in the Venezuelan culture, but he was still learning about the country and its people. He also noticed that there didn’t appear to be anyone there except for one man dressed in what appeared to be not much more than a loin cloth, doing stretches and walking around the area.

  Just then, something flew across his lens. Looking up from the camera, he saw a large bird slowly circling the mountaintop. Now came the fun part.

  The Ceremonial Village

  Pausing to look up from his walk in the royal courtyard, Wei watched an eagle soar overhead. Although born of peasants in a small mountain village, at his fourteenth birthday several men came into the village and took him from his parents, saying he was not really a member of that family, but someone very special. He was very tall, and unlike the others in his village, had blond hair and fair skin. His neighbors had often said he shined like the sun. Frightened at first, he met a very influential and wealthy man who told him he must change his name from the Carlos Osman to Wei. He was told he was the long lost descendent of Wei, the sun god of the native Pemon people. From that moment on, he learned a new language, began living as a god should, with plenty to eat, people to do his bidding, and among other things, eating a plant called ocumo.

  Following ancient legends, each day he worked in his conuco, or jungle garden, instructing his servants where and what to plant, what to harvest and how his meals should be prepared. Each morning, he walked alone to ‘the bathing place,’ a pool fed by a modest waterfall. There, a young maiden would suddenly appear, naked, in the water and beckon him in. Each time, she asked, “I am from Tuenkaron, have you cleared the cunoco yet?”

  Each day he replied, “I have just started, let us prepare for our work.” Whereupon, she came up out of the water and took his hand. Leading him through the water, she stood him on a flat rock under the falls and gently washed him from his head to his feet. Once done, they worked together for the day. It wasn’t really manual labor, but more symbolic, although over time, his body became sculpted and very masculine.

  At the end of the day, they shared chichi, a native fermented drink, and she lay with him overnight. By morning the girl was gone and another would appear at the pond. Wei was told that she was a daily gift from the other gods to their supreme deity. Over the years, he had grown accustomed to being very much more than human. In the past few years, his people would come together to worship him and make a sacrifice. He would look down on them from his place in the obelisk and watch as his people worshiped. His high priest, Lord Parente, visited often and made sure all his needs were met. At one time, he was even given a ride in what Parente had called an ‘aircraft’ to begin getting him used to flight, since as he aged, that would be another godly power which he would attain. He loved soaring in the clouds and would enjoy it even more when lowly servants didn’t have to go with him.

  After his morning stroll, he made his way to the bathing pond. This morning, a particularly beautiful young girl came from the water. After the ceremonial exchange, she led him to the falls where she bathed him in a way very stimulating. They caressed under the crashing water for a long time. After all, he was a god. People would wait for him. Later on, he was told there would be another ceremony tomorrow night. He always felt good after these ceremonies. With this girl as beautiful as she was, he looked forward to an evening of fun to prepare himself.

  The Pentagon

  Roger Hammond walked into the briefing room with General Claire Richardson. The select team had been brought up from Camp Lejeune to begin briefing in on the current situation and making their plans. As he entered the room he was amazed to see Master Sergeant Ricks standing at the end of the table.

  “Ricks! I had no idea you were going to be here,” he said with some enthusiasm as he shook Ricks’ hand.

  “Always go with a cripple,” said Ricks. Both men were happy to see each other again.

  “I heard what your team did down in South Carolina. I guess I should have guessed you had a hand in it,” said Hammond. “When did you join up with Special Forces?” he asked.

  “About eight months ago. It seems they found out about me and Paul in Korea. It was that or they found out just how sneaky I really am,” Ricks joked.

  Hammond laughed. “Well, I’m personally glad you’re here to help out,” he said.

  Hammond motioned for everyone to take their seats. After some introductions, everyone got down to business.

  “You have all gotten the situational brief, so you know as much as we do. Right now we don’t have enough to kick off, but we have enough to get ready,” said Hammond. He pointed to a PowerPoint slide projected on the screen at the front of the room. “Right now, we are concentrating on this area right here. This is all mountainous terrain between four and seven thousand feet. Most of it is rain forest. There are few clear areas and the villages are few and far between. The idea is to use a C-130 to fly the team near the area of the hostages and make a drop where the canopy is sparse or in some open area. We are already talking to some of our allies to see about using them to stage from. We will go in at night to hopefully look like some training flight from the host country simply overflying the area. Unfortunately, once you’re dropped, there is not much chance we can come in and pull you out in an emergency. It depends on where you’re dropped and where you will be going. So just be prepared to walk back to Colombia,” he said.

  The men in the room chuckled.

  “There is a plan to get you out, but I’m still working on it. A lot will depend on where these people are. My hope is to fly you out in some way,” Hammond said. He gave a slight sigh. “In the mean time, we need you to think of everything you may need to get the job done and assemble it back at base. You know what you will need and what you can carry. As we get more information, we can make changes, but get the basics in hand. We may not have time to get everything perfect. We just don’t know yet. But start the process going,” he said. “Any questions?”

  Captain Chapman raised his hand. “How long do you expect we will be escorting the hostages once we get them? That will make a difference in the supplies we carry. Also, do you expect they will be able to walk very far? The video we saw showed some older people who didn’t look in the best of shape.”

  Richardson stepped up. “Plan for the worst. Maybe a week on short rations with a walk most of the way. As Admiral Hammond said, we hope to provide some air transport. But you can use your imagination on how you get these people where you need to go. Let’s face it, guys, a lot of this is up to your imagination. The goal is to get these people out and home. I really don’t care how you do it,” she said.

  Ricks held up his hand. “Any restrictions on casualties for the opposition?”

  Richardson shook her head. “Gentlemen, whoever did this has committed an internationally condemned crime against the United States. Your goal is to get our hostages back alive. Quite frankly, I don’t care what bad guys you kill to get the job done. Obviously, innocents are off limits, but from what we’re guessing, the opposition will be military types. We’re just not totally buying what the video says. If you get concerned in the field, call in and ask. We are providing you with some communications gear where you can securely get in touch if absolutely necessary. It’s being assembled and will be provided before you g
et started.”

  “What about prisoners?” asked another man in the room.

  Richardson chuckled. “Do you really think you will have time for that? But I will say this, if you think you have the person responsible for this, feel free to bring him home to Mama,” she said pointing her thumb to her chest.

  The man laughed again at the thought. They could only imagine what “Mama” might do.

  Chapman raised his hand again. “Admiral, where do you fit in all this? I know your wife is one of the hostages, but I need to know who I’m taking orders from and what their motivation might be. No offence, sir.”

  Now it was Hammond’s turn to laugh. “What? You SEALS suddenly having qualms about your roots?” he asked in jest.

  Again the men in the room laughed. They were beginning to like the leadership and were getting to look forward to this mission.

  “Actually, you’re quite right. I am involved, but will be staying out of your way. We have found out that the bad guys seem to be a little bit afraid of what I might do, so I’m going to make them even more afraid. You might hear about me, but you won’t really see me until the end. One thing I am going to do is make sure you guys get home. As we said, I’m working on that. Between the two of us, we’re going to make someone wish they were never born,” said Hammond with a sly look in his eyes.

  That was the kind of thing these men looked forward to. They had all known about Hammond’s reputation in the last war. Between him and Richardson, they had done more than all the rest of the flag types combined. Add Master Sergeant Ricks into the stew and someone was getting ready to have a very bad day.

  The Presidential Palace in Venezuela

  For the third day, the media ripped Press Secretary John Nichols apart. Ever since the video of the hostages came out, they all wanted to know what was going on to rescue them. He knew nothing he said would matter unless he told them troops would be on their way. Now they were reporting from deep inside Colombia, where people were being interviewed much like people had before the Un-American Activities Committee in the 1950s. Polls were taken daily and public opinion, largely because of the negative press, was turning on the President.