“Son, I’m spending a thousand a day to stay here, and if I want to talk to one of the staff, then I’m well within my rights.”
Vincente sat. “Now, Son, did you see how I wasn’t surprised you spoke English? That’s called ‘observational power.’ It’s also the same power that made me realize you’ve been my shadow since I got here. Now, am I under some kind of surveillance?”
Vincente quickly explained himself and a better story he could not have told. The only thing Andrew F. Simmons liked better than a South American under aged whore was someone stroking his ego. The gringo immediately took a shine to him and dropped some really helpful hints from the lips of a man who suckled off the teat of Government his whole life. One was, “If you say something enough times, it becomes a living thing, a kind of truth that you can eventually use against your opponents. If you are able to give it any credence, it becomes a legend and from there, you can sway the people in your direction.”
Next, “Always find a man with a lot of money to back you. It’s okay to make him some promises that must be kept, just keep in mind it’s for the better of all the people that someone of your caliber is there running things, even if you sometimes make concessions for the men that helped get you there. You will never get there on your own; understanding that is half the battle.” Before leaving the hotel, Andrew made him a promise, a promise that catapulted him into sitting where he was now. But it came with conditions.
Andrew told him with no misunderstandings that these were the rules and if he followed the rules, it would get him elected. Andrew was in his retirement year when he made good on that old guarantee many years later.
All Vincente had to do to keep this man on his side was to follow a few simple rules. “Stay in school through college and do not get arrested for anything or make any enemies; they’ll be plenty of time for that later on. Join a political party right away. From this day on, you will do volunteer work in your spare time; and you will call me when you graduate. Never speak or write when you’re angry and never write anything you will regret later. You can deny a sound bite, my party does it all the time, but you can’t undo your written word. Remember these things I say as the gospel and if you run into trouble call me. But don’t run into trouble!”
Based on what Vincente observed, the next few days convinced him that to follow the American’s advice was the fastest way to reach his objective. All the things the American warned him about were not an issue, as he was a good kid and he didn’t drink or party. He noticed that among his peers that had problems, almost all were alcohol related. So no, none of that was going to be an issue for him, but the fact he was gay surely would be if anyone ever found out, as Latin America was not the tolerant U.S.
As soon as he turned eighteen he joined “PAIS Alliance” which was basically the Democratic (albeit slightly Socialist) Political Party, the one with the most power in Ecuador. He stayed with it and eventually rose to power and was his Party’s Presidential nominee in the last election—but not without help from his secret American friend. The rest was history, as they say.
Ecuador surely had a troubled and war torn past, first fighting the Incas, then the Spanish, and finally the Peruvians. This last fifty years had been the quietest of the last four hundred. Now this. According to Andrew, there was a laser shot out of the Southern part of his country. There were also those other crazy allegations of Ecuador’s duplicity. No matter, the U.S. has no business flying missions over my country without my permission. I am going to make them regret their arrogance.
His office line buzzed, “It’s the President of the United States.”
“Put him through, por favor.”
Vincente smoothly addressed the U.S. Leader, “Mr. President, how are you?”
“Lawrence, please, El Presidente.”
“Well, if we’re going to be so informal, then I prefer Vincente.”
“Fine, Vincente, how are you?”
“Well, since you asked, I was fine until people started wars in my country without my knowledge. We were doing great until our communications satellites started being destroyed.”
“We lost a satellite, too,” President Caulfield interrupted.
“Really? And which satellite did you lose, Lawrence?”
After a small clearing of his throat, Lawrence uttered, “We lost a telecommunications satellite that relayed Spanish Broadcast TV back to the U.S.”
“Really? Well, we lost our Main Government Information Satellite that we used to get education materials to people that are in remote areas. A lot of our country is spread out and not easily accessible.”
“I heard about that and I’m deeply sorry. I’m sure there are things we can do to help out after this is settled.”
And there it is was, Vincente thought, the beginning of diplomacy.
Vincente understood that the source of his information must remain secret, as he had to protect Andrew’s anonymity. The game now was to pretend the information he was using came from other sources. It’s imperative he never lose that line of communication with Andrew. Andrew’s heart has not been good even though his last picture showed a much slimmer former Senator Simmons. God help me when that day comes.
Vincente’s disingenuous reply to President Caulfield was, “Your clumsy CIA people down here have leaked some information we are not happy with (he hoped his cover for Andrew worked). Mainly, we discovered you guys are looking for hostiles holed up in our country and you were questioning if my Government had knowledge? This information is very insulting to us on so many levels. Why were diplomatic channels not used to begin with? Are you not a member of the U.N.?”
Lawrence braced, here is the corner Stanley told me I would be painted into.
“El Presidente,” President Caulfield went formal, “I would be remiss if I didn’t offer you an apology. There was no malice in my decision-making and make no mistake, it was my decision. Like I said, there was no malice. I wish I could say I operate without mistakes. In this case, I made the grievous mistake of an inexperienced leader and I will have to live with the repercussions of that decision. But to you, I give my sincerest personal apology.”
Of course, his Secretary of State was right, as that was the combination that unlocked the door. From that point on the conversation was one of unity. He reflected back to his SEC State prepping him, “You must take personal responsibility and you must make a personal apology, then you will have painted him in the corner. He’s expecting you to lie. So keep doing what you’ve been doing, Lawrence. Tell the truth; it’s been working for you.”
* * *
The complex was nestled at the base of the Imbabura Volcano; the backside was covered by the Andes with a front side that was very defendable. If one were to travel by road, one would take E35 out of Ibarra and take the turnoff to Mira. Once there, the turnoff for the Quarry was a private right turn, with not much room nor conditions for tanks; it had barely handled the constant dump trucks that went by endlessly during construction. The roads were not repaired post construction on purpose, in preparation for this day. It was going to be very hard to get any heavy machinery here unless it was airlifted and dropped. I doubt they will have many volunteers for that mission after they see my true firepower.
Pablo was at the computer console, currently controlling a spy drone he’d made. Although most of his drones were made for fighting, he also made some for observation, to be the eye in the battle for him. He made ten for the air and five for the ocean just for him, and it gave him the ability to be the Generalissimo. But in his inner dialog, it allowed him to be the queen on the chessboard. Although he understood that pawn-play was as important as any strategy on the board, he always favored the queen over all other pieces. When he was online, he would defeat other players using his queen and a few select pieces and just run amok.
As he surveyed the area just outside Ibarra he saw what he suspected he would see. The Ecuadorian military is making a move. All of Pablo’s drones were stealthed, but mo
re than that, he’d designed a special membrane modeled after the defenses of one of Mother Nature’s strongest living things. The skin of his drones move a coolant throughout the body of the drone in much the way redwood trees move moisture through their bark—moisture that allowed them to survive some harsh fires. That added feature was not one that James had taught him, but one he came up with on his own by simply watching a nature show on the Internet. The skin interfered with his enemy’s ability to use thermal imaging to see his drone while in action.
He could get much closer if he desired, but there was no need, they were advancing the way he knew they would. Unfortunately, Pablo had to destroy some of his own countrymen. Although they shouldn’t be in this mess, they entered willingly and now it was too late. No one from the other side even sees, they just moved into peril and their next step toward my compound will turn the game in my favor and leave them wondering, “What happened?”
* * *
Major Sandoval didn’t understand why the order was given to send in ground troops and the Hal Dhruv Choppers. Not that they couldn’t get the job done with both his anti-tank and anti-aircraft missiles, not to mention his 20 mm turret cannon; that wasn’t the issue. At issue was that it was not SOP (Standard Operating Procedure) in this situation to use ground troops first. They’d all been hearing the rumors about the Americans failing, so they were being sent in like pawns in a chess game. Well, he thought as he banked his Indian-made, whirling killer toward the target, I guess that’s why we make the big money.
* * *
“It’s under way,” Lawrence announced.
“How did he take it?” asked Osborne first.
Leaving his conversation with the Secretary of State out of it, the President replied, “He took it very well. Of course, he wanted to send his Air Force in there and I informed him what happened to our jets and missiles when we tried. El Presidente was in denial at first, but then he had to concede that he was as helpless as any of us. Couple that with the fact this happened inside his country without his knowledge and he had to capitulate.
“Once that was out of the way, he did what we knew he would do, and he asked that we step aside and let their military go in and assess the situation.”
General Hatten asked, “So they’re going in with the Dhruvs?”
“Yes, Steve, and a small division.”
Admiral Anders broke in, “And if they fail, Sir?”
“Then Vincente Herrera has agreed to allow the Bush Group to go into range and attack the target with non-nuclear Bunker Busters. We’re pushing him for nuclear tipped, but at this point he hasn’t caved. He actually is talking to a Volcanologist as we speak as he fears the potential of seismic repercussions from such an act.”
“What if they train the laser on the carrier?” Charley Sexton blurted in.
“If it got that serious,” Admiral Anders menacingly stated, “Then we would use our own EMP to eliminate that threat.” That got the room stoic.
Ander’s scolded, “It might be our only choice. Certainly you Gentlemen remember our Ruskie friends did the work on this for us. Explode a nuke at the right height and everything electrical stops working.” Even in a room of men who kill for a living, the aftermath of such an action was unfathomable.
President Caulfield didn’t seem to want to hear that option either, “Well, that would be a last resort Mark, but it’s a question that must be dealt with. How about we try to approximate the distance they can strike from, so we can keep the Bush out of range.”
Osborne noted, “Well, it’s obvious that the satellite our enemy employed to send their message was much more than a normal satellite.”
It was the CIA’s turn now and Eric spoke to the room. “I just talked with the guy left holding the bag over there in India. His name is Harpreet Singh and he runs the show at Tanjotti.” Eric could see some blank faces. “That’s the company that was hired to manage the cell phone accounts that were attached to this satellite. Harpreet only met his boss once, he claims, and he was the strangest man he has ever met, with tattoos covering his whole body, even his baldhead.
“Singh furthered that he has tattoos in every place except the one patch on the back of his head where his ponytail grows. Our manager at Tanjotti thought the man looked more like a killer than a businessman. He wore no suit, but he had all the answers, including the bank account with the zeros, and that was all one needs in India; everything else is negotiable. Maybe this is our guy, our Jesuit Sheep?”
The President offered, “That’s interesting information, Eric. What else do you have?”
“The best for last, of course. It turns out that this Harpreet Singh has a brother who is an engineer and has a friend who worked for the private Russian company, Stratosphere. According to his brother, this satellite was double the size it needed to be.
“Apparently they put a lot of safety enhancements on it that made it so bulky that it was confusingly big. According to Singh, that really bothered his brother who had worked on other similar projects where everything was about streamlining and cost-cutting.” Eric let the true ramifications of that sink in, and then continued.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter what their cover story was. The Russians just adjusted the price and put the thing up. We now know that it has at least a laser targeting mirror and some EMP capability yet unseen in the non-nuclear category. What we don’t know is, ‘Was that a one-time-burst?’ The other burning question is, ‘did it bring up the weapon that made that burst or was it launched from the ground?’”
Hatten jumped in, “Launching from the ground is impossible. Unless the missile is stealthed and higher in the air than the Hornet before it launched, it never would have caught the missile.” All agreed and General Hatten confirmed, “Gentlemen, this weapon was shot from Space!”
Eric thought about that. “Another thought is, ‘Do they have any more of those?’ One thing for sure, whoever they are, one way or another, they got control of James Haberman and the information that was in his safe. That is what we’re up against.” Everyone in the room inwardly admitted the sobering reality, yet it was still hard for people to believe it, even two years after the uncovering.
“What if the satellite is the source of the EMP blast?” In the entire time in the War Room, it was the first time Homeland Security Director, Stan LaRue, had spoken.
President Caulfield asked for clarification, “Come again, Stan?”
“Well, Sir, we know that the accelerant they used for the attack drones was a battery and not any kind we know of, based on the acid that we found. What if the contents of that safe had the plans for a ‘super battery’ and they have it in this overly sized satellite? That’s why we saw no launch of a weapon, the weapon is the satellite!”
“Gentlemen,” Eric said this with a massive air of authority, “If they can repeat that EMP burst over and over, unless they’re stopped, they could completely wipe out global communications!”
The President could see the mood in the room had turned edgy, “That’s a pretty sobering assessment, Stan. I hope to God you’re wrong. Truly. For all we know, it’s free-floating dead up there.”
General Steve Hatten drove the final stake in their worst fear, “Five Rivers just confirmed the satellite is not free floating, it just changed its heading, so apparently it’s maneuverable.”
* * *
The fifteen Dhruvs roared over their ground support and went in for the initial leg of the attack, the plan being a flyover to ascertain if there were any hostiles present, then drop Special Forces into the compound prior to the ground troops arrival. The terrain below was farmland that grew crops wherever the land allowed, mostly by contour farming, nurtured by the indigenous people as it had for thousands of years.
The view ahead displayed numerous green foothills with the Andes in the background. Flying low and under any possible radar they made their way through the passes between the hills, always staying low. The Dhruvs were in attack formations of five; the target was
four clicks away and Major Sandoval was leading the way. He made his way around the hill in front of the troops and was going through the tiny valley to the next opening ahead when it happened. Although no radar warned them, in the wink-of-an-eye there was a launch of some kind and a projectile was airborne right in front of them, but it looked to be going straight up? Then it exploded into a ball of lightning.
* * *
Pedro was not happy. That stupid cow, why does she do this? It sees the other cows stay put, so why must this one always seek out the one hole I have in this fence and escape all the time? He’d tried everything to block it, but this time she even moved an old refrigerator he had put there. He brought the rope and got her secured. Maybe she’s looking for a boyfriend?
He was up on a small slope pulling at her to come when the noise became deafening. He placed his hands over his ears, dropped the rope and the cow was gone, running scared in the wrong direction. Shit! He had never seen or heard anything like it; the sound was coming from everywhere. There were three groups, flying very close together and very fast across the valley floor. Suddenly an object shot out of the ground with a boom and whoosh. It went up about one hundred feet or so, and looked like a flying trashcan to Pedro. Actually, there were three of them and the ensuing explosions followed by bright blue flashes reminded him of a giant camera he’d once observed at the rodeo. The effect was immediate, as all sound was instantly gone and all the helicopters fell at once, like birds that all died of sudden fright.
In a scene that he would be telling for the rest of his life (at least once a day), the entire squadron was dropped without a retaliatory munition being shot or launched. Now the ruined men and machines burned on the ground with an intense heat that was causing a mirage across the valley and a volcano’s worth of black smoke. Pedro decided he’d seen enough. The cow would have to be recovered later as right now he just wanted to get back home quickly.
He came out of the valley, in between the two hills, his trail contouring the base of the eastern slope. That’s when he saw the military vehicles west of him. He kept on the trail toward his house with them to his right. As he was walking he saw a soldier climb a hill and was taking pictures of the massive smoke plume with his camera. Everyone there looked to be running around in confusion.
And the Meek Shall Inherit (Harbinger of Change Book 2) Page 7
