It took them just under two hours to reach the city’s downtown district and to find a small obscure hotel. Leaving their packs in the room, they promptly found a taxi and slid into the back seat.
The old driver peered at them both from the rearview mirror. “Good afternoon,” he said, with a hint of a British accent.
“Hello, Mr.…Brennan,” Caesare said, leaning forward and glancing at the driver’s credentials overhead.
From under a thick mane of white hair, the driver turned and looked back over his shoulder while Clay slammed the back door shut. “Where can I take you lads?”
The two looked at each other in the back seat. “We’re…new in town. Thought we’d take a tour of the city.”
“Splendid.” Those words were music to Brennan’s ears. He grinned and set the meter before glancing over his shoulder and turning out into the lane. “Are you two with CARICOM?”
CARICOM was short for “Caribbean Community” and was an agreement to improve economic relations and foreign policies for fifteen Caribbean member nations. Guyana, and more specifically Georgetown, had the distinction of housing the CARICOM headquarters since its inception.
Clay shook his head at the question. “Afraid not. We’re here for a business meeting and taking a couple of personal days first.”
The driver nodded and turned right onto Mandela Avenue, heading north. “Well, you couldn’t find a better city for a holiday if you like the ocean and warm water. My family moved to Georgetown when I was six, ‘course it looked a spot different back then. Been here ever since.”
Clay and Caesare sat quietly for the next several minutes while the driver rattled off interesting tidbits about the city, including a drive-by of both the Georgetown Lighthouse and their National Museum. It was only when they’d reached the water and the renowned Georgetown “Sea Wall” that Clay spoke up and asked the older man to turn left.
He obliged and took them along the wall, which eventually curved onto Main Street and headed south along the Demerara River.
Brennan had been driving a taxi for over thirty years and couldn’t remember the last time he had a couple of fares quite like these two in his cab. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something different about them. He watched his passengers from the mirror as he pointed out several of the city’s most notable landmarks. Curiously, the two men in the back looked at very few of them.
After turning south, the two suddenly paid significantly more interest to the surrounding area. It was the area with the oldest and most rundown buildings in all of Georgetown. But it was when they made their way toward the tall bridge that the men really perked up. Their eyes were locked on the gray Chinese warship as they passed.
After snapping a few pictures, they both turned forward again. “What kind of meeting are you chaps here for?” Brennan asked.
The edge of Caesare’s lips curled as he glanced at Clay. The driver’s question had a knowing tone. “It’s more of a convention actually,” Caesare answered.
“I see,” replied Brennan, still watching them. “What kind of convention, if you don’t mind my query?”
“Potato chips.”
Brennan raised his eyebrows. “Potato chips?”
“Yes. I believe you call them ‘crisps.’”
The driver sat upright and peered in the mirror at Caesare, who was now grinning widely.
Brennan suddenly laughed. “You’re funning with me.”
Clay reached forward and dropped a large bill onto the seat. “Mr. Brennan, perhaps you can find a quiet place to pull over.”
The driver’s expression changed from curiosity to nervousness. “Sure,” he said, glancing down at the protruding microphone attached to his two-way radio. At the next block, he turned left and circled back onto the busy four-lane road of Mandela Avenue. “Any place in particular?” he asked, scanning the road.
“Here is fine,” Clay answered, as he reached behind himself.
Brennan’s apprehension grew as he quickly pulled to the side and stopped the car. He didn’t know that the object Clay was reaching for was simply his wallet. Clay retrieved two bills and returned it to his back pocket.
“Mr. Brennan, you seem an intelligent man. It may not come as a big surprise that my friend and I would like to remain as ‘unmemorable’ to you as possible.”
“Okay.”
Clay smirked. “And please relax. We’re not going to hurt you.”
Brennan took a deep breath and calmly breathed out. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.” He was more relieved than they knew. Despite their tourist apparel, it was clear to Brennan that these two men had an edge about them. They were polite, but he suspected his two passengers could be as physical as they needed to be.
“Well,” Brennan said, with a humorous tone. “I presume you chaps aren’t looking for a store to buy chips.”
Both Clay and Caesare smiled. “Not exactly.” Clay handed the two bills to the driver. “We’re more interested in getting some information.”
The old man noted the money in Clay’s hand and took it calmly. It was his turn to smirk. “I suspect it has something to do with the Chinese ship then?”
“It does.”
Brennan finally shook his head and chuckled. “Bloody hell,” he said, running a hand through his white hair. “I thought for a minute you boys were going to off me.”
Caesare laughed. “Your tour wasn’t that bad.”
The driver laughed as well. “Well, I’m happy to know that’s settled.” He put the car into park and shifted his body sideways to get a better look at the two in the back. “So what about that ship are you keen to find out? The bloody thing has been sitting here for a long time and the lot of us has been wondering why.”
“So, you don’t know?”
“No one does. No one can get near it. What you saw was as close as anyone is allowed to get.” Brennan looked at them suspiciously. “And at night, no one is allowed on these streets at all.”
“Why’s that?” Caesare asked.
Brennan looked around outside the car and lowered his voice. “Because of the trucks.”
“What trucks?”
The driver grinned at that. “Come now, boys. I reckon you wouldn’t be here unless you knew a bit about the trucks yourself.”
Clay acquiesced. “We know a bit, but not much. Do you know where the trucks are going?”
“No. That entire part of the jungle is now off-limits according to the government. It has been ever since that ship arrived.” Brennan watched his two passengers exchange looks. “Do you know what they’re carrying on those trucks?” asked the taller of the two.
“Nah, no one does. Except our government, of course.”
“So, they’re involved?”
“Oh yes,” Brennan said, almost sarcastically. “Something changed when that Chinese boat arrived. Many of us have noticed that our dear, old government officials are driving a lot of spanking new automobiles around now. And their families are too. But that’s not all. There’s a lot of new money floating around lately, which is helping just about everyone. Hospitals, schools, the ferry, large stores, even small shop owners see it. The government has even been talking about paying down our debt and reducing taxes. And I can tell you lads this, that’s something I haven’t heard before in my lifetime.”
25
“I think we’re ready.” Juan stood up with the vest, unplugging both cables. He crossed the small cabin and stood next to DeeAnn, who looked up eagerly. From inside her cage, Dulce also gazed up from her half-eaten clump of celery.
“Really?”
“Yep.”
DeeAnn was immediately up off her seat. Juan held out the vest while she slipped her arms through one at a time. He then clipped both sides together and cinched the large nylon strap.
“How does it feel?”
She wiggled back and forth. “Good. But heavy.”
“It’s only a few pounds heavier but probably feels like a lot more.” Juan turned
her around and reached under the vest’s edges to make sure nothing was caught. With his fingertips, he felt for the wires under the thick material and made sure they traced cleanly back to the batteries. He turned her back around. “All right.”
They both looked down at Dulce, who was still watching.
“Here’s the on-off switch,” he said, pointing to the front left side. “Pretty close to where the old one was. The microphone is here, as far from the speaker as we could get it. And the video camera is right here in the middle.” He stepped back and pointed his arm straight at her torso. “Try to face Dulce straight on when you talk to her. Otherwise the camera may not pick it up.”
“Okay.” DeeAnn placed her finger lightly on the power switch. “Now?”
Juan nodded. “Now.”
The switch clicked easily and a soft blue LED light illuminated the plastic switch. To minimize power consumption, it was the only indicator light on the vest.
Behind them, near the front, Alves rose from his seat and shuffled closer to watch.
With one more nod from Juan, DeeAnn cleared her throat and spoke loudly. “Hello, Dulce.”
Her grin faded quickly when nothing came back out of the speaker. She started to say something else when Juan cut her off, motioning to her to stay quiet. Finally, almost thirty seconds later, the speaker broadcast the familiar pattern.
Dulce quickly rose to her feet with a giant grin. She gripped the steel bars and rocked back and forth while replying. The delay was as long as DeeAnn’s.
Me love Mommy.
DeeAnn exhaled with obvious relief. “How are you?” she said, waiting.
Me happy now.
DeeAnn smiled and turned to Juan, who winked back at her. “Not bad for a couple of yahoos.”
They both laughed. It was a favorite phrase of Lee’s. Next to both of them, Alves was also grinning widely.
“Well done, Mr. Diaz. Well done.”
“Thank you. I’m not done, but this will do until we get to your place. I’ll see if I can tweak it a little more, but the slowness is mostly due to the system’s limited processing power.”
“Understandable,” Alves nodded, as if he understood what Juan had just said. “But still impressive.”
Both men watched as DeeAnn sat back down onto her seat somewhat awkwardly. She twisted her body to accommodate the stiff vest and leaned in close to the bars of the cage. She reached in and grabbed Dulce’s hand. “Are you okay?”
Yes. She looked excited. We fly like bird.
“Yes, we are flying like the birds.”
After a short silence, Dulce seemed to look around curiously. Me need potty.
DeeAnn nodded and stood back up. She twisted the small metal knob and swung the door outward. Dulce was gently led out by DeeAnn’s hand before heading toward the restroom. “Gentlemen,” she announced. “We’ll be right back.”
Juan watched them make their way forward to a large door, which DeeAnn held open for Dulce.
He was worried. One of the strange translation errors had already shown up on the new vest during testing.
He hoped their trip would be short. And that they could make a difference helping to find DeeAnn’s friend Luke. Because the errors were increasing. And if he and Lee couldn’t fix them soon, it had the potential to quickly undo all the translation progress DeeAnn and Dulce had made together. In other words, IMIS would have to be reprogrammed from scratch.
26
While Clay peered through a pair of 8x30mm military binoculars, Caesare silently unwrapped an energy bar and slipped the foil wrapper deep into his pack. After making it back to the hotel room and grabbing their gear, they headed west to the edge of town where they waited patiently out of sight.
After the sun went down, the two spotted a building set far enough back for them to be discreet. They watched a few patrols drive by before quickly passing through the shadows and climbing up the back ladder of the two-story structure. From the top of the roof, they had a clear, if perhaps distant, view of the Chinese ship, which remained motionless at the water’s edge.
“Anything?” Caesare took another bite and looked around at the other rooftops, scanning for movement.
“Nope,” Clay said, adjusting the binoculars. “There isn’t the slightest movement on or inside that ship. Fascinating.”
Caesare checked the faint red glow of his watch. “We still have a little while yet.” After taking another bite of his bar, he looked behind them once more before settling down again below the rim of the roof. “You know, this reminds me of that time in Haiti.”
Clay smiled from behind the glasses. “Without the gunfire.”
Caesare lay down and propped a broad arm behind his head. He then examined the area around him. “This roof is cleaner too. It’s like the Ritz.”
Caesare looked up at a large patch of cloud passing overhead. As it passed by, the stars behind it blinked back into existence one by one. “I have to admit, John, there are a few things I still miss from the old days.”
“Yeah, same here.”
Neither of them had to say anything. They still remembered their first few years together very clearly. Although the mission in Haiti was the turning point for both of them, as well as a few fellow SEAL members.
The real “Operation Uphold Democracy” was very different from how it was explained to the media. Even though originally designed as a combat mission, it was billed as little more than a peacekeeping operation. The mission, as understood by the public, was to remove the regime that staged a coup in Haiti a few years earlier and overthrew the country’s president. What was not known was that the new regime knew something the public didn’t, and as the situation continued to erode, the United States decided it had to neutralize a risk, urgently.
The secret was that the bloody coup had been quietly instigated by the U.S., the very country who was now trying to get rid of a regime that was quickly losing support from its own citizens. Of course, both the media and the history books would report that the deployment of over twenty thousand peacekeeping troops eventually helped persuade the regime to step down. However, the truth was far less diplomatic. The primary driver, known only to a select few, was two Navy SEAL teams who silently found the head of the regime one night and eliminated him. Yet, while the public was none the wiser, it was the last straw for several of the SEAL team members. They’d had enough of cleaning up messes, particularly those created by idiotic politicians and an incompetent CIA.
Less than an hour later, Clay and Caesare heard what they were looking for, long before they saw them. And they were right on schedule. The rumbling of the trucks trudging down the hill in low gear was unmistakable. It took another several minutes to see the first flashes of headlights through the canopy of trees. Almost a mile out, the trucks emerged from the forest and reaching the bottom of the hill. Their engines roared louder as they picked up speed. Both Clay and Caesare watched intently, their eyes just over the lip of the roof.
There were six again, just as they’d seen on the satellite footage. All in a tight single file line. The lead truck veered toward the water, as did the others, and then followed along the river toward the ship. As they passed the old buildings, Clay and Caesare studied them carefully.
“Three axle and armor plated. Looks like Ural Typhoons.”
“These guys don’t mess around,” Caesare responded.
“That means protected armor and glass. And bulletproof tires. Not what I was hoping for.”
“Yeah, I was hoping for something more like…Chinese quality.”
Clay followed each truck. “Unfortunately, I don’t think any of these are going to fall apart on us anytime soon.”
Both men fell silent and watched the short line of trucks continue along the river, just as the bright lights came on aboard the corvette ship. They both remained motionless, with their heads and binoculars barely above the roofline. They watched the first truck eventually slow, and then turn around. It backed up into place, stopping at
the bottom of the wide gangway.
“No back-up beepers,” mused Caesare. “Isn’t that illegal?”
As the first truck shifted into park, the rest remained in their single file line, idling with headlights still on. Moments later, a small group of silhouettes emerged from the dark shroud around the ship to assist with the mysterious crates.
After each truck was unloaded, it was driven to a dark building not far from Clay and Caesare. A tall metal door opened and the rear end of a much larger tanker truck became visible. One by one, each Ural Typhoon stopped in front of the door for refueling. What neither Clay nor Caesare had spotted on Borger’s monitor previously was that while each truck’s tank was being refilled, more empty crates emerged from the darkened building and were quickly loaded into the back of each Typhoon.
“They’re efficient, I’ll give them that.”
“Agreed.” Clay turned his binoculars back to the ship where the last truck was being unloaded. They had noticed something earlier that Clay was trying to get a better look at now through the glare of the corvette’s bright lights. The silhouettes of the sailors moved methodically back and forth, but standing on a higher part of the ship was a single individual who wasn’t moving at all. Instead, he appeared to be watching the others, or maybe supervising them.
It was something else they had not noticed in the ARGUS footage. The person, who appeared slightly taller than the rest, was watching the transfer of crates very carefully. However, with one of the bright lights directly behind him, his face remained unseen.
Several minutes later, after the last Typhoon truck had reached the abandoned building for more fuel, the lights on and around the corvette instantly blinked out. The only light remaining was from the headlights of the trucks themselves, five of which had already headed back up the hill.
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