So follow me here…we have the Benghazi protests heating up, the United Nations moving quick to go after Gaddafi, the European Union is doing the same thing, but the American government seems to staying pretty quiet about all of it. Why is that? Simple, we have to give the protests the appearance of being genuine and not manufactured by us, right? At the same time though, we’re already arming the protesters, who are actually tribal militants. We are arming them and working directly with United Nations operatives to make that happen. Not working with the United Nations though Mac, but taking our orders from them. Get it? The United States is taking direction from people affiliated with the United Nations to topple a government. We’ve taken out governments before – but since when do we do it on the orders of the United Nations?”
Mac sat silent, not certain of how much of what Jack believed to be true, actually was. Mac didn’t doubt Jack’s sincerity in what he was saying, but the fact he just spent a night making love to a woman who described to him the need for a “New United Nations”, an organization that was to have the power to enforce its demands upon the world, certainly left Mac with an increasingly uneasy feeling. Maybe Jack was right. Maybe this assignment they were now involved in was part of something much bigger, and much more influential than any of them could fully comprehend.
Jack wasn’t quite done, as he now leaned forward in his seat, his blue eyes narrowing as he focused on convincing Mac what he was telling him about Libya was true.
“We were sending drones by the dozens every day over to Libya Mac, bombing the hell out any group with even the slightest inclination to defend Gaddafi. So while our president was saying publicly there were no troops in Libya, the fact is, we sent all those drones over there and took over the skies, which allowed the militants who we had armed, to win the ground. It was a test run for drone power Mac, and the United Nations was very interested in how it worked out.
That’s just the surface though Mac. The real deal here is why all of this went down. Who was to gain from Gaddafi being taken out? Why did this plan happen at all? The media reports didn’t say anything about Gaddafi’s ties to world leaders. Not much anyways. He was tight with Britain, France, Russia, and more recently, the United States. And he was getting rich off of it. Billions of dollars in oil sales. Enough to shift the market if he wanted. And some of those billions went to the same governments I just listed off. And more governments than just those – a lot more. The United Nations could give a shit about human rights. That’s just a term used to allow programs to be put in place to shift money, and control people. It’s all a scam Mac. A huge, global scam.
So if all these other governments were ok with Gaddafi, and could care less about what was happening to the Libyan people, why all of a sudden a rush to take him out? Who has that kind of pull? Who has that kind of power and influence that the leaders of Britain and France would jump so quickly onto the anti-Gaddafi bandwagon? So you know who Gaddafi was in almost constant communication with right before he was killed Mac? Have you had that information told to you? Did Tilley bother to mention it?”
Mac shook his head.
“Gaddafi was talking directly with Assad. They pulled the satellite links, Mac. Let that sink in. Assad. Syria. What do we have going on there right now? It’s the same damn thing as Libya – at least that’s what’s being attempted. But Gaddafi gave him the heads up, warned him how the operation worked, and Assad has been able to hold it off. That public image of Gaddafi’s – it was a put on. The man was no fool. You don’t survive for forty years in a place like Libya by being a fool. So Assad, he learned from Gaddafi’s mistakes. Plus, Syria isn’t as important oil-wise as Libya. Close, but not quite.”
Finally Mac interrupted, his mind reeling from Jack’s onslaught of information.
“Wait – you haven’t said who was really behind Gaddafi’s removal. And why?”
Jack nodded, his eyes looking over to both Minnick and Benny, who were both listening intently as well.
“Who is the biggest oil producer in the world Mac?”
Mac answered without hesitation.
“Saudi Arabia.”
Jack shook his head.
“Wrong. Not anymore. It’s Russia. Saudi Arabia is number two. Studies are showing though that the United States, with all of the new shale explorations, the oil found in the Dakotas, that the United States will be jumping to number one. Now pay attention here Mac – I need you to really let this part sink in.
The Saudis are losing their choke hold on oil production in the world, and that could mean losses of trillions of dollars over the next decade alone. If they can’t manipulate the markets like they’ve been used to doing, they lose money and they lose influence, and most importantly for them - they lose power. Now who was Libya selling its oil to? Russia. That had the Saudis pissed – real pissed. Who is Syria selling its oil to? Russia. And like I said, same thing happening there as went down in Libya. Take it back further. Who was Iraq selling its oil to? Russia. Saudis didn’t like it, Saddam told them too fucking bad, and he’s taken out - just like Gaddafi. Egypt, same thing. Algeria, same thing too. They were all pissing off the Saudis and the United Arab Emirates, places like Dubai, who are like the Saudis’ little cousins. The two are connected at the hip, the royal families all intermarry with one another.”
As Jack continued with his explanation, Mac inhaled sharply at his mentioning of Dubai, the very city Dasha had indicated she preferred to spend most of her time when not in New York or London.
“That’s why there’s this war on energy production in America right now Mac. This administration has been put in place to do just that, bought and paid for by oil money outside of the United States. That rig that blew up in the gulf – that was no accident. The slow response to clean it up, this administration wanted that bad press. They wanted it to create more momentum for the anti-oil movement in this country. It’s an all out war on coal, and oil and natural gas – these people are selling out any hope we have for energy independence because that’s what the Saudis need to happen if they are to regain control over the international oil markets. They need control over the Libyan oil, and the Algerian oil, and the Egyptian oil, and any other governments they can topple and replace with people willing to do their bidding. That oil that is now back up and running and going to Great Britain and France and other European nations? Those profits are being directed back to the Saudis Mac – I guarantee it man. When Gaddafi was taken out, it was the Saudis telling the Russians to back the fuck off, and the United States, our government, was right there to help it happen, because it was the Saudis who put this administration into power.
That’s why I’m so uneasy about what we are doing going into Libya now. I’m afraid Mac. I’m afraid our job will be to make sure it keeps happening. I’m afraid we aint’ working for America on this one. Do you get what I’m saying Mac? Minnick said to us yesterday that it didn’t matter where the money we were being paid came from, as long as we were working for the good guys. Well, what if we aren’t working for the good guys on this Mac? What if…what if we’re the bad guys?”
The drone of the jet’s engines gently vibrated the cabin interior as Mac sat silent, looking from Jack, to Minnick, and then to Benny. The others were as quiet regarding Jack’s information as Mac was.
Mac found himself wondering if some or even most of what Jack believed could actually be true. If so, how much danger were he and his men actually in while they hunkered down in Libya for the next twenty one days? Jack must have sensed Mac’s thoughts, as he leaned forward in his seat again, his face grim.
“This assignment ain’t right Mac. I’m telling you, we are being used for something far beyond anything we’ve been involved with before. I don’t know exactly what it is, but I can feel it in my gut man. This is my last assignment Mac. I can’t look the other way anymore. I don’t trust the people giving us this work. We get out of this one alive…that’s it for me. I’m out. I’m done.”
Mac looked
out his own window, his mind repeating the words Dasha had spoken to him the day before.
My position with the United Nations involves a new approach Mr. Walker. For too long that institution has been viewed as something of a joke among the world’s political class. There are those who feel it must…evolve. We must move beyond countless meetings and agendas, and idiotic statements that have no basis in reality, and are ultimately, non-binding. We have been pleased to see this view received rather warmly by the current American administration. Call it a more…pro-active approach. We wish to give the United Nations real teeth, so that the world will come to realize if provoked, it can and more importantly will, bite back.
Think of it as a new beginning for the organization. A…New United Nations, if you will.
VII.
The descent onto the San Vito runway was without incident, Captain Bob expertly handling the Gulfstream’s approach and bringing the aircraft to a stop near a long, light red metallic building where a large, silver SUV was parked. Mac was surprised to see the Gulfstream was only one of several aircraft that were coming into and out of the former American military air station, even during the nighttime hours. Several light blue United Nations vans were also busily moving about at the facility.
Captain Bob emerged from the cockpit and opened the exit door for Mac’s team. The captain shook each of their hands again, wishing the men luck. He told Mac as soon as the jet was re-fueled, he was returning to D.C. for several weeks of needed downtime.
“Too old for this shit anymore Mac. Got a few more runs left in me and then I’ll be hanging it up.”
Mac gripped the captain’s hand firmly.
“Hope to see you be the one to fly us back out of here in a few weeks Captain.”
Mac quickly moved down the Gulfstream’s exit steps, spotting who he assumed was the San Vito contact making his way toward them where he had been waiting in the parked SUV which Mac noted had the same United Nations identification markings as the light blue vans did.
“Hello gentleman! My name is Angelo Moretti – I am your facilitator contact here at San Vito. I have been in communication with your Mr. Tilley and understand you are to be given direct transport to Benghazi, Libya immediately.”
As soon as he heard Moretti mention Benghazi, Mac found himself glancing over at Jack, who in turn stood silently as he watched the comings and goings of the many United Nations vans as they drove back and forth across the airport.
Angelo was several inches shy of six foot, with a friendly, rounded face and neatly trimmed black mustache. What remained of his hair was carefully combed over his scalp in a failing attempt to hide his balding. As he spoke in a heavy Italian accent, his eyes would flare open while his hands would help to enunciate each of his words.
“Please gentlemen – if you would follow me this way.”
As he followed Angelo to the SUV, Mac’s hand went instinctively to his sidearm that was holstered on his right hip. Jack, Minnick, and Benny also carried their own handguns.
The temperature inside the SUV was considerably cooler, its AC blasting cold air from the dash vents. Mac sat in the passenger seat opposite Angelo, while the other three were seated behind them.
“Ok, just a short drive to the other end of the runway. You will be taking a humanitarian transport flight into Benina International Airport, which is just ten minutes drive from downtown Benghazi. This aircraft has already made multiple flights into and out of Benina, so it should not illicit any undo notice from the local authorities. The flight crew has been told you are part of a food provisions mission and your identifications, which you will find in the glove box there, fully supports that scenario. You location on the plane will be at the very back, so you should not even be required to speak to the flight crew at all if you so choose. Once we arrive in Benina, I shall drive you personally to Benghazi and your safe house, where further instructions and materials will be made available to you.”
Before passing them out to each of his men, Mac scanned the four identification packets that were located in the glove box. They appeared to be of high quality. Over the years, Mac had certainly had to work with much worse.
Angelo parked the SUV next to an older turboprop Antonov An-24 transport craft. Mac was familiar with the Antonov and its relatively slow flying speeds, and estimated the flight to Benghazi would take a little over two and a half hours.
Angelo opened his door and jumped out onto the tarmac.
“Come on then – the flight is scheduled to leave soon.”
Mac’s voice called out from inside the SUV.
“Angelo! You forgetting something?”
Angelo glanced back at Mac, a frown showing his confusion over the question.
“No…everything is ready.”
Mac opened the passenger door and made his way around the SUV as Jack, Benny and Minnick followed close behind him. They already knew what Mac was referring to.
“Tilley said there would be forty thousand waiting for us here. He said you were to be the one to get it to us.”
Angelo’s wide eyes grew wider as his hands flew to the sides of his round face.
“Oh, of course! Yes! I have it right here!”
The Italian reached into an inner pocket of his light brown blazer and removed a simple white envelope.
“Here you go – forty thousand dollars per my instructions from Mr. Tilley.”
Mac’s lips tightened as he took the envelope from Angelo and passed it to Minnick.
“Make sure it’s all there.”
Minnick quickly counted the currency, which was in Euros, and then confirmed to Mac it came to forty thousand.
Angelo smiled back at the four men, his head nodding repeatedly at Minnick’s confirmation of the amount.
“See – no problems! Now, everyone, please follow me. They are preparing for takeoff already. We need to go.”
Less than three hours later, sitting in the back of the An-24, Mac and the others landed at the Benina airport just outside of Benghazi. Mac’s watch indicated it was nearly three in the morning, Benghazi time.
The devil’s hour…
VIII.
Mac had the team wait until all of the food supplies had already been unloaded from the plane before leading his men to the tarmac outside. Angelo already had another United Nations’ vehicle waiting for them – this one was a simple white minivan.
“Ok gentleman, now I’ll take you to the safe house. It’s about ten minutes drive from here, so remember that. If you need to get out of Benghazi fast, get to this airport and demand to speak to a man by the name of Louis Danton. He is the ranking U.N. humanitarian official here at Benina. He has my direct contact, so if there’s trouble, he can get to me quick and help will be on its way for you. If anyone attempts to prevent you from seeing Mr. Danton, a hundred Euros or so should easily remove that interference.
Do any of you have any questions so far?”
Mac and the others remained silent for a moment until Jack spoke up.
“This Danton, is he French?”
Angelo nodded.
“Yes, though he speaks very good English as well as Arabic.”
Jack followed up with another question.
“And do you trust him?”
Again Angelo nodded.
“Of course.”
Jack didn’t looked convinced, but by then was already stepping into the van.
The streets of Benghazi were oddly quiet. Even at this early hour, Mac thought a Mediterranean port city with well over a half million occupants would have much more activity. He glanced at the passenger seat’s rear view mirror and saw the faint outline of headlights some hundred yards behind them. They were being followed. Besides their van and the vehicle behind them, no other cars were on the road.
“Does this van have any weapons Angelo?”
Angelo appeared startled at the question as he shook his head no.
“There are weapons and ammunition at the safe house, as I said earlier.�
��
The vehicle behind them had sped up slightly. Mac turned to look at his men seated behind him.
“Be ready.”
Jack, Minnick, and Benny knew that when Mac spoke those two words, he meant it. Each of them quietly removed their handguns from their holsters, their adrenalin already beginning to heighten in preparation of potential trouble.
Mac looked over at Angelo, who continued to appear oblivious to the other vehicle tailing them.
“Angelo, I need you to turn onto a side street please, preferably to make a hard right and then speed up before pulling off to the side of the road. I want you to do it at the next available street…I see one coming up to us now.”
Mac’s voice was calm, but his team sensed he too was readying himself for battle.
Angelo, looking confused, pointed a finger at the windshield.
“We are not to the safe house yet. Five more minutes.”
Mac’s hand snapped across the space between he and Angelo and grabbed the steering wheel, sending the van veering onto a narrow side road.
“Give this thing some fucking gas Angelo – NOW!”
Angelo’s eyes widened again as he pushed down on the van’s accelerator, moving the vehicle quickly past rows of single level residential homes.
MAC WALKER'S BENGHAZI: The Complete Collection Page 4
