B00H242ZGY EBOK

by Unknown

  The two men made a copy of the recording and carried it on a thumb drive to Hal Mossman’s office.

  Chapter 13

  Launch

  USS Iowa

  The Osprey lifted off the deck of the Iowa and sped into the night sky. Inside was the special operations team with their gear. Just two hours before, the men had received their final briefing, updating them on the latest intelligence and last minute instructions. Captain Chapman had received further instructions privately from both Hammond and General Richardson via secure comms.

  Chapman made his way back and took a seat beside Ricks. “Master Sergeant, it looks like we need to get there as fast as we can. Our bosses think things are starting to rattle Parente a little and he might just pull the plug and snuff these people. I have to rely on you to get us in there and get the job done. You know how best to evade and get to your destination. Just don’t take a couple of weeks to do it like you did in Korea,” he said leaning over to Ricks.

  Ricks nodded in understanding. “With all we’ve been through, I can understand it. We proved we can do it in South Carolina. Right now, we need to get on the ground and get going. As I mentioned before, I’m not sure how easy we will be able to get through that jungle growth. With eyes overhead, we should be fairly safe from ambush, but if we’re having to cut our way through, we’ll be dead tired before we get anywhere near that compound. Let’s hope our intel is right and we can make it on time.”

  Chapman leaned in again. “You got that right. If we don’t make it tomorrow night, our transport will leave without us. I really don’t want to carry these people all the way to Colombia. Did you get the gear checked out again? We’re beating it up pretty bad.”

  “I had the guys triple check it before we took off. At least we’re not jumping,” Ricks said.

  Chapman nodded. “How about those legs of yours, they up to the task?”

  “Another good reason not to jump, but I brought my spares. I’ll walk your asses into the ground,” Ricks said with a grin.

  Chapman laughed. “Nothing like carrying around a cripple,” he joked. “By the way, your buddy Hammond seems to be a great guy. I think I’d like to serve with him.”

  Ricks laughed. “You’ll have to stand in line. He takes care of his people. Most everybody I talked to think he’s a saint.”

  “Where did you meet him?”

  “Actually, it was aboard the Iowa. He got his MOH the same time I got mine. Later that afternoon we swapped stories and made friends. Since then he’s kept up with me and dropped by. His wife Patricia is his twin. They are a lot alike and she helped my wife, Su Lynn get a few things going. That’s how she got enrolled in the local college. In another few years, she will have her degree in horticulture. I just hope she doesn’t decide to leave an uneducated cretin like me,” Ricks joked.

  “I don’t know, some of us cretins can be useful,” said Chapman.

  The aircraft banked sharply and the men could feel it slowing. The crewman motioned for everyone to buckle up. In a few minutes, the aircraft seemed to hover for a minute or so, then the men felt a bump as the plane’s wheels hit a deck. After another minute, while to men could hear metal pieces hitting parts of the plane, the engines were shut down and the men unbuckled and exited the rear of the aircraft.

  In the dim light, they could barely see that they were on a small deck. It appeared that the blades of the Osprey hung out over the water. Someone with a helmet came up.

  “Gather your gear and follow me inside quickly. The ship will begin her high speed run in just five minutes. You need to be inside,” he said.

  Each of the men gathered their gear and followed the man into a door next to what appeared to be a hangar towards the bow of the ship. Once inside, the door was shut and the overhead lights were turned on. A Navy Commander came forward to greet them.

  “Gentlemen, welcome aboard USS Freedom. I’m Commander Hill, the Commanding Officer. I wish I could offer you some better accommodations, but for the next four hours you are going to be on one hell of a joyride. Store your equipment here and Petty Officer Macke will show you the messdecks. We’re going to get you a hot meal before you set off. Until then, make yourselves at home,” he said. The sound of turbines speeding up increased in the background and the men could feel the ship seem to surge ahead. After wishing the team good luck, Commander Hill left for the bridge and the men went down to the ship’s messdecks. The television was on and several crewmembers were watching a movie. Ricks noticed that the ship was starting to feel more like a motor boat than a large ship. It seemed to bounce more and on occasion it seemed to jerk around a bit. A set of numbers was prominent beside the television set. The numbers were passing 45. Little did they know that they were looking at the ship’s speed.

  Chapter 14

  Consequences

  Washington, DC

  Presidential candidate Gregory Foster had been startled when his Secret Service detail had suddenly asked him to get in a car for a special trip. He had just arrived back in Washington when it happened and he hadn’t even the time to go home. The black suburban with its escort, whisked him through the streets of Washington without a pause. His surprise deepened when he found himself at the gates of the White House. Instead of taking him to the portico like most VIPs, he was instead taken to the underground garage. The vehicle swerved around several cars and turns until it stopped in front of a set of elevator doors. The door beside him opened and an agent asked him to follow him. It took practically no time before the doors opened on the main floor of the White House. Following the agents, he could tell he was being led toward the Oval Office. Several of the staff smiled at him as he passed. A door was opened and Foster found himself in the Oval Office.

  President O’Bannon rose from his desk and greeted him. “Greg, it’s good to see you,” he said. Foster took the President’s hand, but O’Bannon could tell he was unsure about the situation. He ushered Foster to the couch and sat beside him.

  “I trust this is your concession,” Foster joked.

  The President smiled, “Not quite,” he said. “Greg, something is beginning to happen tonight and you are going to remain with me until it ends, one way or another,” he said.

  “What does this have to do with me? I have a lot on my plate,” said Foster.

  “I know, but it is essential that you remain with me for the next day and a half,” O’Bannon said.

  Foster chuckled. “I’m afraid that’s out of the question. I have a campaign to run,” he said.

  “Not anymore. This takes precedence. Unless you are ready to be charged with violation of Title 18 of the U. S. Code,” said O’Bannon.

  It was like he had struck Foster with a giant hammer. He seemed to sink into the couch and his face took on a pale and frightened look. After a few seconds he murmured, “Title 18?”

  O’Bannon sat back in his seat and looked at the man. In all the years he had served as a prosecutor, he knew the look of someone who had been caught. This was it. “Greg, I never thought I would ever be faced saying this to one of my colleagues and especially someone I have an admiration for. I need to know, what Williamson has on you to make you be a part of this,” he said.

  “What?” Foster weakly stuttered.

  O’Bannon reached to the side table and retrieved a small recorder. He played the first recording. It clearly had his voice talking to Jonas about the hostages. Then he played another where Williamson mentioned he had something on Foster that made him go along. At the end of the second recording, the President shut off the machine. “Greg, how in the hell did you get mixed up in something like this?” he asked.

  By now, Foster’s head was tilted downward. He stared at his lap vacantly. “I didn’t know until it was too late. Williamson had the operation on motion and it was either go along or be exposed. I was stuck with an incident long ago that would ruin me. With the operation already underway it was further complicated. By then if it was found out, I would become a traitor to the country I
wanted desperately to lead.” He looked up at the President. “I was damned if I did, and damned if I didn’t. The only thing I had left was to go along and hope no one would ever know,” Foster said.

  O’Bannon took a deep breath. “I figured as much. When I heard your comments on the tape, it seemed almost more like a plea than someone plotting. Will you tell me what it was so long ago that would get you in trouble?”

  The pain in Foster’s eyes was growing. But in a way, it seemed as if he had to get it out in the open. “In college, during my junior year, I was hanging out with this girl. It was one of those frat parties and everyone was drunk. I know, it’s no excuse, but that’s the way it was. One minute we were dancing and the next I had pulled her up to my room. She didn’t want to, but my brothers in the frat wouldn’t understand me letting go that easy. The more she fought, the more excited I got. When it was over, I just passed out. Some of the brothers got her back to her dorm. Two months later I saw her in the quad on campus. She was pregnant. We didn’t want the baby and she didn’t want her parents to know, so I contacted my uncle, who ran one of those clinics. But something went wrong. During the procedure, she started hemorrhaging and they couldn’t stop it. She died on the table. My uncle told me not to worry, that no one would know who did it. I saw her parents later on. She was their only child,” he said talking more to the floor than to O’Bannon.

  The President could see it in his face; the hurt, the years of blaming himself, the sorrow for what had happened. The man was being honest. Despite the fact he had tried to pursue a ‘clean’ campaign and that he had sincerely wanted to get good things done, the same old back door politics had brought him down. O’Bannon wondered how it could have gotten this low. Sitting before him was a good man, but he had been corrupted far worse than anything he had ever seen. He reached out and placed his hand on Foster’s shoulder. “How did Williamson get this?”

  Foster took a deep breath. “About ten years ago his committee was investigating the abortion clinics and the records of my uncle’s clinic came under scrutiny. My uncle had left some notes in the file and had forgotten to purge it.” He looked up at O’Bannon. “That’s one of the big reasons he came on as my Chief of Staff. He showed me the records and said he wanted the job, otherwise he would make sure they got out,” he said. Foster chuckled slightly, “Even some of my staff could tell something was wrong. I was hoping I would get elected and then make him go away, but lately it looked like that was a dream as well,” he said.

  O’Bannon got up and poured Foster a drink. Foster grabbed the glass with a shaky hand and downed the scotch with one gulp.

  O’Bannon sat back down. “Greg, I wish you had put a stop to this much earlier. But now we’re going to play out this mess until either everyone is dead or there’s a ton of glory.”

  Foster looked up at the man. “What do you mean?”

  “Damn it, because of what Williamson has cooked up, I am now sending men into harm’s way! One person has already died and many more might follow because somebody forgot that we serve the people instead of the other way around. The rescue team is in the air, so now you’re going to get an early taste of what it’s like to be a President. You are going to sit right here with me until it’s over, one way or the other,” O’Bannon said pointing his finger at Foster. He sat back in his chair. “I’m also keeping you here so that you can’t get any deeper into this. Williamson’s head is going to roll. I might be able to keep one head chopping quiet, but not two. You will remain here until it’s over, then you will continue your campaign. Can you imagine what the American public would feel if they found out what your campaign did. They are already deeply suspicious of their elected officials. According to the polls, we are just one step away from the entire nation calling for a constitutional convention. We might find our entire form of government rewritten, just because of what has happened. So I am now going to protect you. Your secrets will be buried deep. You will continue your campaign, but with the resignation of your Chief of Staff, things will understandably fall apart. The nation will never know just how bad this system got. Greg, you will be allowed to bow down with dignity and move aside. But not before we both get this system fixed. It’s going to be you and me. In my next four years, we have to fix things in our parties so that this bickering and this type of backstage win-or-be-damned attitude ends. We are going to turn things around so that the word statesmanship is returned to political vocabulary. Our nation has suffered enough,” he said, finally calming some from the rage he felt.

  O’Bannon got up and poured another drink. “I’m not going to be like Williamson. None of what we have said will ever come out. I’m not out to control you, Greg, but I have a real job to do. I’m inviting you to do this with me. Are you in?”

  Foster looked up at the man. O’Bannon could see a change in his face. The fear was gone, but more, there was a look of determination. “You would work with a guy some would call a traitor?”

  “Greg, you’re no more a traitor than I am. I don’t like what happened, but as far as I can tell, you weren’t the one who planned this. The FBI has dug into everything and we have it all. Members of your staff even noticed when the change occurred in you and in the office. It didn’t happen until the plans for this were well underway. When this eventually comes out, Williamson will hang, not you. But I wasn’t kidding when I said I needed your help. It’s going to take the leadership to make things change. Right now, we’re at the top. So I ask again, are you in?”

  Foster stood and offered his hand. “Mister President, I will do whatever I can to make sure things change. You have my word,” he said.

  O’Bannon nodded and smiled. “Good. Now let’s get through this mess together. Maybe we can let everyone know it was a true bipartisan effort. Follow me to the war room,” he said leading Foster out the door and down the hall. It was going to be a long and very stressful operation.

  The Presidential Palace

  “So he called me a monkey? The American bastard thinks I am beneath him, does he? It appears we need to send him a message on who has the upper hand here,” said Parente angrily.

  “That is all we got from this conversation, Señor Presidente. We are still monitoring his calls,” said the communications technician in his personal guard.

  Parente nodded stiffly. It was blatantly apparent that he was still angry, but containing his anger at present. “No. You have done your jobs well. Keep monitoring the line and let me know everything that is said. Thank you for your assistance,” he said dismissing the man. When he left the office, Parente picked up the phone and pressed the button dialing Jonas’ office.

  “You can call off your search for the traitor,” said Parente. “I have decided it is time to end this situation,” he said immediately after Jonas picked up his phone.

  “What is wrong, Mister President?” asked Jonas.

  “It is none of your concern. It appears my own pilot is talking to one of your agents. I feel I can trust no one on your end as well as mine. So I will take things in my own hand,” Parente said abruptly.

  Jonas was immediately frightened. Something had happened and Parente was going to kill everyone, maybe even him. He had to act quickly. “Mister President, I don’t know what has happened, but please allow me to work on this. Either someone has provided the wrong information or you are being deceived.”

  “Deceived? You may be right. I need the name of every operative in Venezuela within 24 hours or I start killing your people. I am going to make sure no one will move against me again,” Parente shouted into the phone before hanging up.

  Jonas was seeing his life passing before his eyes. Everything was coming unraveled. He immediately dialed Williamson’s number. “We have a big problem,” he told him.

  Williamson let out a cry of anguish. “What do I have to do to get people to do their jobs? We are within an inch of this paying off and this son of a bitch is getting cold feet?”

  “It’s more than that. He says his pilot has been
passing information to one of our agents. If that’s the case, the word is out. We need to do something fast,” Jonas said.

  “Damn it, I have been talking to Rutter up at the Agency. If anyone would know of information coming in to us, it would be him. You need to tell your friend that he needs to calm down.”

  “You tell him that. The man’s insane with anger right now. He says if he doesn’t get the name of every agent in Venezuela within 24 hours, he will kill the hostages,” cried Jonas. “And what if your man doesn’t know? What if it’s all being kept to a limited few? They may be coming down on us right now,” Jonas almost pleaded.

  Williamson thought a moment, and then sat back. “Well, then let him do it. After 24 hours and he has no word, he can just have his little flight of power. And Jonas….”

  “Yes.”

  “You better start packing your bags, because he’ll be coming after you too.” The line went dead.

  Jonas stared at the now dead receiver. Only now did he realize the situation he was in. No one would be looking out for him. No one would say much. Parente would one day snuff his life out as if it were a candle. He started looking around the room, but there was no place to go and he was quite alone. He grabbed the phone he had hidden in his desk and ripped it out. Then he opened a hidden panel in the credenza and began pulling out papers and throwing them in a trash can. He didn’t hear the door open.

  “Ambassador Jonas, I am here to place you under arrest for violation of Title 18, U. S. Code. You have the right to remain silent…” said Wilson as he went behind the desk, lifted Jonas up and placed hand cuffs on his wrists. As he finished Mirandizing the man, Jonas slumped down like a rag doll. He began to whimper. As Wilson and Lozier took him from the room, he even wet himself.

  In Washington, Deshawn Jackson was the last one in the campaign office, making himself available if the Chief of Staff needed him. He was surprised when he saw Agent Kelly and several others enter the office. Kelly came up to his desk.