by Kurt Winans
As he continued to study her while finishing a second cup of coffee, a voice on the intercom then announced, “We’re ten minutes out from El Paso Mr. Tillman.”
Samuel pushed a button on the arm of his chair and stated, “Understood, and thank you for the smooth flight gentlemen. The passenger cabin will be secured for landing.”
With that Domonique rose to clear Samuel’s coffee cup from the table in front of him, and with professionalism made sure that all within the small galley was properly stowed as the plane nosed down into final approach. A few minutes later after the jet came to a halt on the tarmac; she swung open the cabin door to unfold the stairs. As Samuel moved forward in order to exit the plane, the door to the cockpit opened. The pilot stood in the doorway so as not to block his employers exit path while the co-pilot remained seated, and Samuel shook the man’s hand as he moved past to descend.
In response the pilot said, “Enjoy your time in El Paso Mr. Tillman.”
Then Domonique asked, “When would you like the plane to be ready for departure Mr. Tillman?”
Looking back at both of them from the base of the stairs, he replied, “I should think it will be Friday evening at the earliest, but it could be Saturday afternoon. Arrangements have been made for all three of you at the usual hotel, and I will contact you Thursday night to let you know more about my departure plans. In the meantime, each of you should go have some fun.”
With a broad smile on her face, Domonique replied, “Thank you Mr. Tillman, we will.”
Then Samuel turned and strode toward the terminal where Mason and number thirty-one were waiting for him.
Within hours after Samuel arrived in El Paso, and had subsequently been driven to a secure location, number eleven was preparing for a private conversation over dinner in Washington D.C. The occasion of the dinner would be the second official meeting with the Secretary of State for Ambassador Pearson, and thanks to the efforts of number twenty-nine and Kristen Royce, he would be more prepared for that second hand of diplomatic high stakes poker than the Secretary would ever expect. The Ambassador had been briefed, and consequently was fully aware of all that had transpired during the past twenty-four hours with regard to the demand of Texas. His newfound knowledge included not only how the Senate had voted the previous afternoon in favor of the proposal, but as a result of how the entire situation had been handled, the feelings of mistrust which the Joint Chiefs now felt toward President Harwell.
Adding to his wisdom was the additional information which the Ambassador had received from Austin via number twenty-three. Her call on the burn phone to him conveyed that the Legislature had voted a few hours prior on an important resolution. They had decided that the Republic of Texas would establish a new form of currency as opposed to maintaining the use of the American dollar, and number three, thirteen, and five, as the top tier of government, felt that the information should be passed along to number eleven before his meeting with the Secretary of State.
Number twenty-three continued by stating that according to number five, the topic of national currency had been hotly debated for the entirety of Friday last, Monday, and the early morning hours of this day before the deliberations concluded and the motion was finally put to a vote. Apparently there were compelling arguments throughout the entirety of the debate which were presented on behalf of each potential path, and as a result, many were left undecided until the final push. In closing she also stressed to the Ambassador that none of the revealed information had become public knowledge as of yet. Even though there was a strong chance against maintaining such secrecy, number five had requested of the Legislature that they please keep quiet about the resolution until after the Ambassadors upcoming meeting with the Secretary of State had been concluded.
The Ambassador mulled over the implications of such a decision, and could understand why some had maintained a desire to stay with the American dollar. He felt confident because of knowing some of those elected representatives, that the precedent of the British Virgin Islands was probably sighted. That nation in the Caribbean was one of several around the globe within the Commonwealth, and like Australia, Canada, or New Zealand who were also members; they could have developed their own form of currency as opposed to the British pound. However, factors such as land area, population base, the need for tourism to stimulate their economy, and close proximity to the United States had been taken into consideration. As a result, the British Virgin Islands had selected the American dollar for their national currency as opposed to anything else.
From the opposite perspective, Ambassador Pearson also understood that many would feel a complete separation from the United States could not be attained by the Republic of Texas unless she showed the ability to have its own system of banking and financial security. In the end that was probably the viewpoint which had swayed the majority of the Legislature to vote accordingly. Now that it had been so ratified, the Republic of Texas would need to move forward with expedience in the development and printing of a separate version of the dollar.
Armed with levels of information on various topics that the Secretary of State both did and did not possess, The Ambassador made his way toward the State Department for his scheduled dinner meeting. Once there he would remain amiable toward his host and staff, while also maintaining his best poker face. He would of course express a subdued level of thanks toward the Secretary and the United States for their understanding and cooperation when informed that the military bases within Texas would be relinquished, but he would offer no concessions for them. If pressed on the matter of providing something in return, Ambassador Pearson would state that the Republic of Texas was just beginning to find her way. Therefore it was in no position at this time to offer anything other than assurances that certain military installations would be used to bolster security along the border with Mexico. By showing that the prevention of illegal entry was their primary concern as opposed to other issues, the Ambassador believed that the United States would be relieved. In accordance they would hopefully relax their posture toward wanting something from the republic, which could give Texas the time she needed to further strengthen her position on the global stage.
In the early morning hours of Friday January fifteenth, long before the sun would shine upon her current position or that of her home port in Virginia thousands of miles to the west, the supercarrier USS George H.W. Bush and the surrounding fourth fleet task force approached the Strait of Gibraltar. After having been on station deep within the eastern Mediterranean Sea while performing her given task, she had now made her way westward through the entire reach of the Mediterranean toward the awaiting Atlantic Ocean. Her mission specifications and that of the task force had been completed with a tremendous level of success, while all those aboard had performed to the level of excellence which had been expected by her commanding admiral.
Beginning with the attacks on the morning of January first, and those many more which followed during the ensuing days and nights, the four missile cruisers had relentlessly bombarded various targets within Syria for more than ten days while other support vessels joined in. Working in conjunction with the air force who had flown in bombers and fighter escorts from bases in neighboring Turkey, and army ground units of rangers which had been deployed via squadrons of helicopters from both the carrier and Turkey, it was now believed that Syria would be unable to retaliate. Although the complete destruction of any terrorist faction or cells couldn’t be confirmed with absolute certainty, what had existed of the Syrian military forces and their bases now stood in complete and total ruins.
As Rear Admiral Anthony Rutherford unexpectedly strode onto the darkened bridge of the carrier, a startled junior officer who had nearly bumped into him while going about his duties froze in his tracks. Then he snapped to a rigid stance and said loudly, “Attention on deck, admiral on the bridge!”
Those personnel assigned to the early morning watch, including the ranking officer, were surprised by such a proclamation at that hour
. Nevertheless, they each instinctively snapped to attention near their various glowing instrument panels before the admiral could reply with, “As you were gentlemen.”
With those around him following the directive, the ranking officer of the watch then moved toward the admiral and asked, “Is there anything that we can do for you sir?”
“No commander, I just couldn’t sleep. Return to your duties, and I will be on my way in a few minutes.”
“Yes sir admiral.”
“On second thought, I do have something.”
“Yes sir.”
“Please inform the officer who relieves you at the change of watch that I will be on the bridge at zero seven hundred hours with new orders for the task force.”
“Yes sir, I’ll see to it sir.”
“Very well, that is all.”
“Yes sir.”
Then while gazing upon the moonlit waves that lay beyond the carrier’s flight deck, Tony Rutherford contemplated the magnitude of what those under his immediate command and other branches of the service had most recently accomplished. For decades America had prided herself as being the largest and mightiest military force on the planet, yet had rarely truly flexed that self-proclaimed muscle. Although it was true that the United States was often viewed as the global police force, and on more than one occasion had been called upon to prove the validity of that label, her military forces were bitterly hated for that moniker by large portions of the global population. Consequently, the United States foreign policy throughout those decades had always been to maintain a balance of tenuous peace by using its military force in little more than a measured retaliatory fashion. There had been numerous occasions when the United States had done just enough to restore what they deemed as order in the region, only to pull out of a situation without going the distance to ensure that similar wrongdoings would never take place again. That posture could have been a result of lingering guilt over being the only nation to use atomic bombs for anything other than testing purposes, as had been the case when two such devices where dropped upon Japan during August of 1945 to finally put an end to World War II. Or perhaps it was simply that the United States and its representative diplomats didn’t want to be perceived as a bullying entity much like some fascist or communist regimes which had risen during the past century. Whatever the case may have been, the United States military, and the strength that it could bring to bear, had been underestimated with good cause. America had proven time and again that it could be pushed around a little bit by other nations of the world, and then negotiated with afterwards in the hope of receiving lenient reprisals.
Now as Admiral Rutherford altered his gaze from a shimmering line across the endless waves toward the silhouette of two vessels within the task force, he knew that stance had all just drastically changed. Following the direct orders of his most current Commander and Chief to maintain the pressure on Syria until otherwise notified, he had done just that while showing little mercy in the process. The world, and all of the terrorist factions that lay upon it, had therefore been put on notice with a message which was perfectly clear. Anyone who may have perceived the United States military forces as soft in the past had just learned that America was ready to play ultimate hard ball like it hadn’t done since the days of World War II. What was left of Syria after pounding the cities and military installations for eleven days had been the most tangible proof, and may God help those citizens of any nation, rogue or otherwise, that would attack the United States.
Turning back from the window toward the officer of the watch before retiring to his cabin, Admiral Rutherford offered a simple yet sincere, “Goodnight commander.”
With a salute the officer replied, “Goodnight admiral. Sleep well sir.”
Five hours later, after his usual hearty breakfast, Tony Rutherford strode onto the bridge to the familiar, “Attention on deck, admiral on the bridge.”
After verbally putting the men at ease, he moved toward the large window in order to survey the immediate surroundings. The rising winter sun in the northern hemisphere was aft and slightly to port of the current course set by the task force, and the admiral hoped that the clear sky and calm seas which lay before him in the early morning light were signs of things to come.
Turning toward the current officer of the watch, Admiral Rutherford asked, “What is our position and status of the task force commander?”
“Admiral, our navigation officer reports that we have now entered the eastern Atlantic. The last of the task force cleared the strait at zero four hundred hours, and has reformed from the elongated formation for passage through the strait to the standard protective formation.”
“Very well commander. Maintain the current standing order of the past two weeks for full defensive flight operations until otherwise notified by myself or Captain Wilkes.”
“Yes sir admiral. I will make sure that the order is known by every officer of the watch.”
“Thank you commander, and inform the task force to set speed at twenty knots.”
“Very well admiral. Twenty knots sir, and our course?”
“Make for Norfolk commander. We are going home.”
Roughly an hour before dusk on Saturday January sixteenth, the Tillman Gulfstream G280 touched down at the Houston County Airport near Crockett. The return flight from El Paso had been as pleasant as the westward leg of four days prior, but on this portion of the journey, both Samuel and his son Mason sat quietly in contemplative thought as opposed to engaging in any conversation with Domonique. In fact, Samuel’s only words to her when boarding the plane had been, “Before you ask, I won’t need anything to eat or drink on this flight. I have a bit of a headache, and just want to be left alone. Please take care of any requests from Mason and those on the flight deck before we take off, and then remain as quiet as possible for the duration of our trip home.”
Knowing that her employer had made similar requests of silence upon occasion in the past, Domonique thought nothing of his altered personality from that of the previous Tuesday. With a slight smile she simply replied, “I understand Mr. Tillman. Not a sound but the hum of the engines.”
The excuse of a headache by Samuel had been a fabrication, but it was one of those little lies that didn’t cause harm to anyone. After all, millions of souls throughout time had used such an excuse for one reason or another, and it was generally accepted at face value by those receiving it. Accordingly, Domonique had done so as well. With a faint smile and gentle nod of the head, Samuel said, “Thanks, I appreciate that.”
Throughout the flight Samuel thought about how impressed he had been with the level of preparation exhibited by number thirty-one and Mason, while also flashing back to the events of previous days and nights. He was pleased that the latter of the two men had taken to the seriousness of the endeavor, but as for the former, it was no surprise. That man was a professional at what he did and had never let Samuel down. Now as it turned out number thirty-one provided additional stability to that trustworthiness, as he had become quite the mentor for the sometimes less than focused Mason. In the event that Samuel ever harbored any feelings of doubt in the action to which he had taken, recent events would have squashed them. The decision to place both men in western Texas had been a sound choice, in spite of the fact that it had kept Mason away from his wife and daughter Jennifer for much of the previous year.
When number seven had arrived on Wednesday morning, the four men sat down in the secure warehouse of number thirty-one to begin lengthy discussions and rehearsals with regard to their respective responsibilities. Throughout the course of the next few days, each played out the chess moves of a theoretical timeline as to how events would unfold. There was a complete understanding from those meetings, and corresponding reconnaissance drives about the city, that nothing would be accomplished without help from others. As a result of that realization, the four men had reached an agreement by Friday afternoon. Based on all the gathered intelligence and attention to detail, additional op
eratives would be brought in to assist when the appropriate time for action drew near. Other than that rather easily managed aspect, the El Paso operation was ready to proceed.
As a reward for their combined efforts of preparation, number thirty-one then put forth a suggestion that they all partake in a little downtime before Samuel returned to Crockett. Samuel remembered thinking that was a good idea at the time, so later that night the four of them did exactly that by heading toward Juarez Mexico. After being dropped off by a cab on the Texas side of the river, they had crossed the bridge over the Rio Grande on foot before strolling into a cantina which was owned by a friend of number thirty-one. While enjoying the pleasant fog which ensued as a result of a few strong drinks, a fine meal, and the various festivities afforded by the establishment, one of Samuel’s three companions inadvertently revealed a tell. It was a subtle slip that had apparently gone unnoticed by the other men at the table, and even Samuel wondered if his interpretation of what had transpired was factual. Quickly deciding to leave it alone for the time being, Samuel never let on to any of his companions that what had previously been addressed as a suspicion in his mind was now more solidified as reality. While continuing to have a pleasant evening, the four of them walked toward a separate cantina for a change of scenery and spent an hour there. Then they eventually made their way back across the border for a cab ride to the hotel.
Upon returning to his room, Samuel had placed a late night call. Just as with the previous night, Domonique answered the line and asked, “Yes Mr. Tillman, how can I help you?”
He remembered replying simply, “Please inform the pilot that I expect the plane to be ready for departure at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning, and I will see you then.”
