“Yes, but my men, they are not used to water travel. We are at home on the land; our training has been for land assault.”
The colonel looked angry for a moment but then quickly calmed. “My orders were to get your men to the assault point and let you do what you were paid to do; you will inflate your boats past the rapids and enter the lagoon. I expect you will only have to face a third of the Americans, the rest will be inside the mine by now.”
“What about these fools on the boat? They pose a threat to my men, yes?”
The colonel looked through the darkness at the Rio Madonna. The men onboard were loud as they prepared to enter the river.
“They may make your assault all the more easy. I suspect they are at cross-purposes to our American friends. In any case, they must be eliminated also. No one leaves this valley alive; those are my orders and thus, your orders. Your employers will be very unforgiving if you fail in this.”
“We do as we are paid to do. I have worked many times for your general and have never failed him. We will kill every person in the lagoon and then seal the others in the mine. But the situation has changed, hasn’t it? We were told about the Americans, but your general never said anything about this second group. This will double the price, otherwise you can use your own military for these murders.”
The colonel looked about in exasperation. “Your price will be met. But I will be with you to ensure your contract is fulfilled.”
The mercenary nodded and ordered his men forward with the rubber boats. “Soon your general will have many dead Americans.”
Onboard the Rio Madonna, Farbeaux went to the fantail and started situating his equipment. He still had the strange feeling that they weren’t alone. The jungle opposite the boat was quiet but he still glanced up every few moments to examine the area as far as his limited sightlines permitted.
The rebreather he held was large and bulky but he would only have to carry it beyond the rapids. Then at that point, he and Mendez’s men would enter the lagoon unnoticed. As he placed his nine-millimeter and five extra clips into a plastic satchel, his hand brushed against the large cross in his pack. He took a breath and curled his fingers around it. He brought it up into the fantail’s weak deck light. It had been stolen by a contact who had known the item had been lifted by the U.S. government in the 1930s. How they had come into possession of it, Farbeaux had no idea. But it was his, and that included the unusual items inside the cross. The reason he was here. He rattled the large object and was satisfied when he heard the two samples inside slide up and down in the false bottom. It had been an ingenious design by none other than Father Corinth himself, the very same man who was responsible for one of the very first political cover-ups in the New World. As he held the cross and felt its internal warmth, he knew the priest of the Pizarro incursion had been beyond his years in wisdom. With what he held in his hand, Farbeaux knew beyond doubt that he could change the balance of world power forever. But it would be he who had that choice, not some banking blood-sucker that was far more evil than the men he once served.
PART SIX
PADILLA’S HELL
Abandon all hope ye who enter here.
—DANTE’SINFERNO
19
THE WHITE HOUSE
The president listened with difficulty to Niles as he gave the latest update on the Group’s incursion into the Amazon tributary. He was finding it harder and harder to concentrate on the words the director was saying. He had informed the First Lady about the predicament their daughter was in; he couldn’t keep it from her any longer, unable to lie about something that was clearly showing on his face every time he saw her.
“The latest coordinates have been passed onto Proteus so they will have a general idea where they will need to orbit.” Niles repeated the longitude and latitude.
“Anything else?”
“Not yet, Mr. President, Pete Golding and I have been assembling a time-line and historical record for everything we have on Padilla and the subsequent expeditions to that area. A most important bit of intelligence should be in our hands soon. A man in his nineties, Dr. Allan Freeman, a retired professor from the University of Chicago, will be able to finally tell us what it was he was doing down there in 1942.”
The president could hardly pay attention to these details. “When is Collins going into the mine?”
“They are starting now.”
The national security advisor sat with the president on one of the two couches arranged in front of his desk, waiting for the president to continue. But the man sat silently, the fingers of his right hand rubbing his right temple.
“Sir, you were saying?” prodded Nathan Ambrose.
The president looked up and seemed lost for a moment, not recognizing the face looking at him. Then he shook his head as if startled awake.
“I’m sorry, Nathan. Caught me there, didn’t you?”
“Is there something happening that you’re not telling me about?”
The president looked at him and said nothing.
Ambrose tossed his notebook onto the coffee table and leaned forward on the couch.
“Has the secretary of state made any headway with your request for assistance from Brazil?”
“No, for some reason Brazil is acting as though the Zachary expedition was a cover for something else. They’re stonewalling the secretary.”
“Have you spoken with the Brazilian president yourself?”
“No, Secretary Nussbaum informed me that the president will not speak to me directly, but only through the secretary’s official office. He’s even threatened to go to the UN Security Council.”
Ambrose had to admire the secretary; he did have the balls it took to run this country. Keeping the leaders of both countries at arm’s length could only cloud an already confusing state.
The door from the outer office opened and a Secret Service officer stepped in.
“Sir, the First Lady is on her way down for the reception.”
The president stood and walked to his desk as he pulled up the knot of his tie and buttoned his jacket.
“Sorry, we’ll pick this up later.”
“Sir, I’m your national security advisor. You have to tell me what’s happening here.”
The president straightened his tie and then brushed at his lapels. “It’s being handled. But if things become more active, I’ll get you up to date.”
“Sir, you’re moving whole carrier groups around the Pacific. You shut down Panamanian airspace for three hours without any official explanation, and the secretary of state is trying hard to avert a conflict with a friendly neighbor where there wasn’t a conflict this morning.”
“Later, Nathan,” the president said, clenching his teeth. His jaw muscles worked visibly beneath his skin as he glared at his advisor, then he brushed passed him.
Ambrose watched his boss leave and then counted to three. He moved quickly to the president’s phone, then quickly looked up to make sure the doors were closed. He had decided to take a very dangerous but necessary chance three hours earlier while the president was with the First Lady. He had placed a small bug inside the cap of the receiver, a small gift from a friend across the river. He deftly unscrewed the cap, transferred the small device to his pocket, then replaced the cap. He then moved swiftly away from the desk. None too soon, as the outer door opened and a Secret Service agent stepped through.
“Mr. Ambrose, you know this area is off limits when the president isn’t in.” “Yes, I was just gathering my briefing materials; the president left rather abruptly.” The national security advisor made a show of reaching for his case as the agent reached out and held the door open for him, the move so sudden it made Ambrose nervous.
Once in his own office, Ambrose decided that the information on the miniature recorder couldn’t wait. He had to know what was going on. He removed the small round object from his pocket and placed it inside a small device that resembled an iPod. He quickly tapped the play button as he put on his
headphone. A voice he didn’t recognize explained to the president a plan Ambrose just couldn’t believe. As he listened, he jotted down the coordinates Niles Compton had given in his last phone conversation. This information had to be placed in the hands of the secretary as soon as possible. The national security advisor had to stop this mission at all costs. How had the military sneaked Proteus by him?
Ten minutes later, after he had used several sources in the military to confirm the existence of Proteus and its abilities, he placed a call to the U.S. embassy in Brazil. The private cell phone number was answered by the American secretary of state.
“I hope you’ve come through for us, Mr. Top Advisor.”
Ambrose didn’t like the tone the secretary was taking with him lately. They would have to discuss their roles in this melodrama at a later date.
“You believe the president already has people on the ground in Brazil. Well, I may have just confirmed it.”
“Imagine that, the national security advisor to the president of the United States has come up with something concerning the military he was supposed to be overseeing in the first place. I’m stunned. I’ll have you know, I also have people on the ground, thanks to our Brazilian Air Force friend.”
Ambrose closed his eyes and waited for the secretary’s sarcasm to run its course. Lying to both presidents must be taking its toll, and it was coming through in the cabinet member’s temper.
The advisor continued, “I can’t confirm the rescue attempt, but I believe I may have come across their security blanket against your mercenaries. And it’s right up the road you wanted to go. To protect the ground unit in the Amazon Basin, the president has ordered up a Proteus scenario.”
“That Star Wars crap the air force has? I thought that project had been shelved.”
“It was. But the air force flexed its muscle and got one prototype built before the cancellation.”
“So, what’s this to do with what I need?”
“Think, Mr. Secretary. In order for Proteus to be of any value, they have to be on station.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone and Ambrose couldn’t resist a smirk. Having the upper hand in talking with the secretary was a situation he liked very much.
The national security advisor decided to spell it out. “They’ll have to intrude on Brazilian airspace to accomplish their mission against the force you arrayed. However, I am now in possession of the coordinates where Proteus will be taking up station. I’m sure the president of Brazil would be none too happy over having their sovereign territory not only invaded but their airspace compromised. Down that plane and there will be no helping the ground team when they need it most. Let’s see the president talk his way out of that one. I think you may say that he has pulled the rug out from under your diplomatic efforts, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, I believe you have indeed earned your spot in my new cabinet, Mr. Ambrose. I will contact our friend in the Brazilian government and get his guarantee of action.”
“Not too hard to do with what you have hanging over his head already.”
“Remember, Mr. Advisor, we’re still talking about American men in that aircraft and the people on the ground. I just hope we haven’t gone too far.”
“By my estimation, Mr. Secretary, we’ve gone just far enough already. We have covered exactly thirteen steps up the gallow’s staircase. And with your official statements to both sides confusing the issue of a rescue, I would think its safe to say that the few remaining steps to the hangman’s rope are already in the bank. I see no other choice here.”
“Give me the coordinates.”
BLACK WATER TRIBUTARY
Jack had several operations going at once: Charles Ray Jackson was on the sonar in a constant watch for their underwater friend. Tom Stiles was atop the main mast finishing up the repairs to the satellite communications dish, and Mendenhall and Sanchez were working on Operation Spoiled Sport: In the darkness surrounding the lagoon, they were attaching small battery-operated heat cells to nylon line attached to semitransparent Mylar balloons, which would be raised with the help of the helium tank Sanchez had carried in a backpack as the men made their way nervously around the perimeter of the lagoon. The balloons would raise a package that emitted a high-temperature signature through the use of heating coils in the foot-long cylinder.
“I hope those monkeys don’t try and mess with these. The major seemed pretty adamant about having them in place and operating on time,” Mendenhall said as he nervously eyed the trees around them.
Sanchez pressed the release valve on the hose and the large balloon filled with helium. Then the heat transponder was attached, and he slowly allowed the nylon line to play out through his fingers. They were on their thirteenth one; each one had to be placed as close to the tree canopy as they could get it. By the time they were finished they would have fifty balloons raised to a height of two hundred feet above the highest of the trees. Once that was done, the team would use the Zodiac to travel to the shore and tie every balloon to the roots of trees. Thus the entire lagoon would be lined with the heat-emitting elements.
Inside the engineering section, Jenks was preparing Snoopy 3 for her journey into the mine. The probe was five and a half feet long and had a pop-up floodlight and camera on each of four points. But the problem with using that much power for the illumination and cameras was that Snoopy 3 had a battery lifespan of less than an hour.
He reached for the intercom. “Okay, you in there?”
“This is Everett in sonar. Anytime you want, Chief.”
“Go ahead, Toad, blast the hell out of the water and get me some readings to feed into Snoopy—and give it full amplitude.”
Outside in the water, a sound wave was created by the loud sonar ping. The signal bounced off the rock walls and bounced around until it found its way back to Teacher, where the size of and distance to all underwater obstructions were recorded. Again the ping sounded, and again. Fifteen times at ten-second intervals, the sound bounced around the lagoon and even into the mine itself.
BLACK WATER TRIBUTARY
Robby watched the animal from within an enclosure in the cave as it moved around the darkened central cavern. He could see the amphibian turn and stare at him. Robby knew the beast was aware of its being observed. It had seemed agitated when it had returned only minutes before to herd several more members of the expedition team into the cave: two students who were carrying a third between them. In the semidarkness he couldn’t make out who they were. He’d heard a lot of screaming by the animal but it had finally got its point across, and the three women had gone inside another of the dug-out slave enclosures. Then Robby had heard cries of relief from the people already inside, at the sudden reunion.
But now the beast traversed the floor of the cave. Every now and then it would raise its face toward the ceiling and then cock its head to one side. It seemed to be listening for something. Afterward, it would lower its head and look directly at Robby, stabbing him with its eyes across a hundred feet of cave. It would growl and shake its head and half swipe in his direction, as if it was he who was causing whatever distress it was obviously feeling.
“Did you see who they brought in?” Kelly whispered from behind him.
Robby didn’t move his eyes from the animal. “No, they were pushed into the enclosure too fast. Look, it’s acting strange. Something must be going on.”
Kelly studied the beast as it just stood there. It tilted its head again and again, from one side to the other, and raised its right hand into the air as if trying to grasp something that wasn’t there.
“My god, it’s hearing something and is confused by it. Either that or the sound is making it uncomfortable. See how it’s snapping its hand? Sound waves.”
The creature suddenly placed both enormous hands over the sides of its head. It emitted a roar that echoed off the walls of the cave. It looked straight at Robby and Kelly, roared again, and took a menacing step toward them. Then abruptly it turned and awkwa
rdly walked toward the grotto and fell in. There was a quick splash and the animal vanished under the clear water.
Rob walked around in the cave but could hear nothing. Kelly, on her hands and knees, began to crawl out of the enclosure, after the animal. “Robby, do you feel that?”
Robby stood stock still, but still didn’t feel or hear anything.
Kelly crawled all the way out and stood. She ran as fast as the darkness would permit to the edge of the grotto, then went down on her hands and knees once again. Her palms were spread out on the floor of the cave.
“What are—”
“Shhh—”
“Come on, what’s—”
“Come down here and feel,” Kelly said as she felt around closer to the water. Then she suddenly placed her right ear to the wet stone. Robby finally joined her and pressed his ear to the ground.
“Don’t you hear that?” she asked. Robby couldn’t figure out what she was listening to.
Kelly, smiling, sat back up.
“What are you smiling about?” he asked.
“I think we have company in the lagoon, maybe our rescuers.”
He looked from Kelly back to the floor of the cave. Whatever she had felt or heard had eluded him. There was a steady sound but he didn’t know what it was.
“Active sonar. Someone out there is pinging the lagoon!”
Now Robby understood. The feeling through his fingertips, and the steady beat of sound that he had felt, was the sound of sonar as it pulsed through the lagoon outside and was acoustically transferred to the grotto through the best conducting material there was: water.
“What’s wrong?” Kelly asked when she saw his face.
“That animal didn’t look too happy when it left here. It was feeling the sonar pulses, too.”
Legend: An Event Group Thriller Page 35
