by Bob Mayer
Hobbes had climbed into the cargo compartment in the back and was perusing flight charts. "Any idea where we're going, sir?"
"Nope."
Hobbes scratched her head. "This is the strangest thing I've ever heard. What did the colonel tell you, sir?"
"Be here. Load up on fuel. Wait for a C-130 at 1700. Take whoever gets off wherever they want to go." Davidson wasn't going to make any effort to be friendly.
"The Old Man told me to be ready to fly a thousand klicks." Hobbes shook her head. "We've got the fuel but it's going to be a long ride if we have to go that far. Over five hours in the air."
Davidson decided to ignore her. If she thought she was such hot shit as a Blackhawk PIC, he'd let her worry about things.
"Sir, are you all right?" Hobbes was looking at him strangely.
Davidson couldn't believe she had asked that. The bitch probably thought he was still drunk. He turned in his seat. "Listen. You let me worry about me, OK?" He realized he'd pushed her too far as she slowly put down the maps.
"Sir, with all due respect, I'm in charge of this aircraft and responsible for it and everyone who will be in it. That includes you. If you are under the time limit for alcohol, you need to let me know and I'll ask the colonel to get another pilot out here. It's nothing to be embarrassed about."
Davidson wanted to scream at her and put her in her place. Unfortunately, he knew she was within her rights as PIC to ground him if she thought that was best.
"I'm fine. I'm outside the twelve-hour window. There's nothing we can do until that 130 gets here, so I'm just relaxing. Is that all right with you?" Are you happy, bitch? he thought.
Hobbes nodded. "All right, sir. I'll take your word on it."
Davidson rolled his eyes. Oh, thank you so much.
5:00 P.M.
Riley felt the wheels touch down. The plane did a short bounce and then rolled to the end of the runway. The pilot turned the plane as the loadmaster began to open the ramp. Looking out, Riley could see a Blackhawk sitting on the tarmac about a hundred meters away. The plane jerked to a halt and the ramp went down all the way. Powers stood up. "Let's go. Rucks first, then the boat."
Each member of Eyes Three grabbed his rucksack and jogged off the ramp toward the helicopter. Riley could see two pilots waiting by the aircraft. He threw his ruck in front of the nose of the helicopter and went up to the two figures in flight suits. He looked them over quickly. A captain and a female warrant. They were looking at him strangely. He knew his appearance wasn't exactly what they were used to. Each member of the team wore a black wet suit with a combat vest over it. There was nothing to identify who they were, which Riley hoped wouldn't cause any trouble with the pilots.
He stuck out his hand to the captain and then the warrant. "Dave Riley. You all ready to go?"
"Captain Davidson." The captain seemed pissed off about something, but Riley didn't have time to worry about it.
The tiny woman draped in a flight suit took his hand briefly. "Chief Hobbes. We're topped off. Once you all get loaded, and tell us where we're going, we'll be ready."
"What the fuck is that?"
Riley looked over his shoulder at the object of the captain's remark. The other five members of the team were carrying the Zodiac off the ramp. They had already inflated the ten-man craft at Belvoir to save time down here. The black boat measured fifteen feet five inches long and over six feet wide and weighed 265 pounds. Adding the outboard motor and fuel bladders, which were tied down inside, boosted the weight to over 400 pounds. The men were glad to drop it on the ground in front of the bird.
"That's a Zodiac, a rubber boat."
"I can see that," the captain replied snippishly. "What I want to know is where you think you're going to put it. It won't fit into the aircraft. And we're not going to fly a thousand miles with it sling-loaded. We'll lose too much speed and fuel."
"We're going to put it under your aircraft."
The female pilot seemed interested. "How're you going to do that?"
Riley pointed as Powers began directing the movement of the boat between the two front wheels of the Blackhawk. "We've got something called a Boltz rig."
"Never heard of it," the captain snapped.
Riley decided to ignore him. "The rig is a series of straps that go around the entire boat, both directions. We run the straps through the cargo bay and crank down on them. The rubber boat kind of melds along the bottom of the aircraft."
Hobbes walked over closer to watch what they were doing to her aircraft. "How do we release it if we have to, or when we get wherever it is you're going?"
Riley pointed. "Single point release inside the aircraft. Just like a sling load but the boat will almost seem like part of the airframe and won't slow you down or eat fuel. You can fly with the cargo doors closed. The engine will be inside the boat."
Davidson was shaking his head. "I've never heard of this here Boltz rig"
"It was invented by, and named after, a team sergeant in 5th Special Forces Group." Riley decided he'd better reassure the pilots. "It's already been evaluated and tested by the aviation board. It's been approved by them for use. The 5th Group pilots have flown quite a bit like this."
Hobbes looked at Riley. "I'll have to take your word on that. Can you tell me where we're going?"
"You got a chart of the Caribbean?" She nodded and pulled one out of her map case. Riley pointed. "Right there."
The captain exploded upon seeing the location. "Bullshit! What the hell is this? You guys come waltzing off this plane like you own the goddamn place. No uniforms. You introduce yourself without any rank. You're carrying weapons and equipment I've never seen before. You start rigging up our aircraft with some piece of shit I've never heard of. And now you want us to fly you to just off the coast of Colombia? No way. I'm not going to fly with that thing under the bird. Something will go wrong with it and it'll kill us all. I'm going to call the colonel and tell him what's going on."
Powers had wandered over during the exchange, leaving Partusi in charge of the rigging. Riley looked at the team sergeant, who shook his head slightly. Riley stepped in front of the captain. "I'm sorry. For security reasons we can't let you talk to anyone now. I believe your orders were to do what I said. I understand that this is very unusual, but all you have to do is fly us to that point and drop us off."
Riley sighed when he saw that reason wasn't going to work with this officer. That was all he needed right now—some asshole to get stupid. The captain grabbed his hat from out of the aircraft and turned for the base ops building, only to find Powers standing in front of him.
"You ain't going nowhere."
Hobbes quickly tried to defuse the situation. "Everyone calm down." She looked at Powers. "It takes two of us to fly and if you hurt him we aren't going anywhere."
Powers shrugged. "I didn't say anything about hurting him. I just said he wasn't going anywhere—and he isn't."
She turned to Davidson. "Sir, the colonel told us to do what these men say. As PIC I'm willing to give it a shot, flying with the boat." She turned to Riley. "Would it be all right if we tried lifting here, so we can check out how the aircraft feels and reacts with that thing under it?"
Riley was willing to be reasonable. "Sure. You're the pilot."
Hobbes went over to the captain and Riley smiled when he overheard what she whispered to him. At least she had some common sense. "Sir, in case you haven't noticed, these guys have magazines in their weapons and they don't have any blank adapters. Those are live grenades on their harnesses. This is the real thing and I for one don't want to stand here arguing with them."
Davidson gave in. "Fine. Fine. Let's get the show on the road."
Hobbes came back over to Riley. "There will be no trouble."
Riley gestured at the captain. "What's his problem?"
Hobbes leaned closer so Davidson wouldn't overhear. "His dick gets shorter when he has to fly with a woman. He loses an inch or so of his manliness. Makes him irritable."
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BOGOTA
6:00 P.M.
Maria was in the shower getting ready to leave for work and Rich Stevens was relaxing, lying on his bed, when the noise of someone knocking on the door disturbed his reverie. Stevens was irritated. Who the hell could that be? Tonight was his night off. He had told everyone on the staff that he didn't want to be disturbed today because he needed to rest after all the night work he'd been doing.
Stevens glanced toward the partly open bathroom door. The knocking came again, more insistent. He jumped up and closed the bathroom door all the way. He grimaced as he realized the noise of the shower still came through. He threw on a robe and went over to his door and opened it a crack. "Yeah?"
One of the staffers from the embassy communications room stood there. "You got a call from the States."
"So what? I left word not to be disturbed. I've been busting my ass working all these nights and you wake me up to tell me I got a phone call? Couldn't you have just taken a message?"
The man was trying to see past him and was obviously confused by the sound of the shower in the background. Stevens had tried to be as careful as possible about having Maria in his room, although the fact that he had to sign her in and out of the embassy compound precluded him from being totally discreet. He didn't need someone prying into his personal life. He knew Washington would take a dim view of a married agent sleeping around, although Stevens found that superior attitude ridiculously hypocritical based on his observations of the marital merry-go-round in Washington.
The office clerk rolled his eyes. "Hey, don't get on my case. No, I couldn't just take a message. Not on a Flash priority call over the STU-III. The caller is still on hold, waiting for you, so you'd better get your ass in gear." The man turned and walked away.
Stevens shut the door and quickly put his pants on, his mind working as he tried to figure out why he'd be getting a Flash call today on the secure phone. It had to be about the hit the next night. He hadn't even told Maria that he would have to work the next evening. He had been waiting until she got ready to go to work this evening. As he finished dressing, she came out of the bathroom, drying herself. As always the sight of her naked took his breath away. He couldn't believe his luck in finding her.
"What is it?"
Stevens strode over to the door. "I've got to take a priority call from the States. I'll be right back." He opened the door and left.
Five minutes later he was back and in an even worse mood. Maria was dressed and ready to leave. She nuzzled up to him as he came in. "I must go to work now but I will be back early, say at eleven tonight?"
Stevens shook his head. "I'm sorry. Something just came up. I won't be able to see you tonight."
Maria looked surprised. "Why not?"
"I have to work again. Just like last night."
Maria seemed confused. "But I thought you were done with that."
Stevens glanced up in surprise. Why would she say a thing like that? "Why did you think I was done working at night?"
Maria seemed flustered. "Well, I, well, you did not tell me that you work at night again, so I thought you not work anymore at night." She looked concerned. "You not going to do anything dangerous are you? Not like on "Miami Vice" show. What do you call it—undercover?"
Stevens laughed. "No. I'm not going undercover. All I do is sit right here in the embassy and listen to radios. Just like I've done the last two nights I worked."
Stevens appreciated Maria's concern. He was edgy about having the schedule moved up one night and being notified at the last minute. They must have known about the change all day, yet they had held off on calling him until now. He was trying to sort out the reasons for that as he said goodbye to Maria.
Once she was gone, Stevens went back into the main embassy building to the communications room. The NSA communications specialist acting as duty officer spoke up as Stevens came in. "Don't tell me you're going to be here all night again."
Stevens nodded glumly. "Yep." He handed the comm man a list. "Could you punch me up that frequency and azimuth and direction on the SATCOM? Hook it into booth one. I'll work out of there again."
The man twirled the dials on one of the many machines set up in the room. He looked up. "You got the KAK?"
Stevens pulled out of his pocket the small metal plug holding the encryption and decryption codes that he had just retrieved from the embassy vault and handed it to the man. The comm specialist took it and checked to see that it was labeled for the proper time period. Then he plugged it into a small black scrambler. He pushed a button and the machine hummed. He pulled the KAK back out and handed it to Stevens. "All right. You're all set to go. Freq'd on the radio and coded on the scrambler. Have fun."
Stevens went into booth one and turned on the terminal. He put on his headset and keyed the mike. "Hammer Base, this is Lantern. Over." He waited a few seconds and then the answer came.
"This is Hammer Base. Over." Stevens recognized Westland's voice. Damn bitch was probably the one who cut me out, he thought. Goddamn Clowns In Action and their paranoia.
"I'm ready down at this end. Could you fill me in on what the hell is going on? Why the move up?" Stevens released the send button and waited. When no answer was forthcoming he remembered that he had forgotten to give the obligatory "over." Goddamn military and their radio games. He keyed the mike again. "Over."
The answer came back. "It's for security reasons. We've been concerned about a leak so we thought it best to keep it in tight and move things forward. Over."
Figures, Stevens thought. Goddamn paranoia. He keyed the mike again. "Is the target still the same or am I not authorized to know that either? Over."
"Target's the same and hit time is the same, just twenty-four hours earlier. Just relax. We've got a long night ahead. Out."
Just great, Stevens muttered to himself.
HOWARD AIR FORCE BASE, PANAMA
6:23 P.M.
The trial run with the boat attached had gone well. Hobbes and Davidson had topped off the tanks again and then planned their flight route. Since the majority of the route would be over water, they would use the Doppler internal navigational device to direct them, in combination with following an azimuth and monitoring their speed. Hobbes had been frank with Riley about her lack of faith in the Doppler's accuracy, especially over water.
Riley had told her that all she had to do was get them within thirty kilometers of the indicated drop-off point, which was sixty kilometers due east of Barranquilla. She said she could do that. The whine of the turbine engines increased. Hobbes pulled in collective and the aircraft shuddered as it picked up.
The six members of Eyes Three sat on the floor inside the cargo bay and watched the ground fall away below them as the Blackhawk lifted and turned east, flitting over the Panamanian jungle toward the Caribbean. They were on their way.
OUTSKIRTS OF BOGOTA
6:40 P.M.
Ring Man looked up from the pool table, where he had just been ready to make a shot. "What line?"
His chief aide and bodyguard, Ponte, indicated the phone near the door. "Line two."
Ring Man went over and picked up the phone. Ponte noted that the Ring Man's body became rigid as he talked into the phone. Not a good sign. He listened to his boss's end of the conversation.
"Talk."
"Just like the other two?"
"Tonight?"
"How long ago?"
"Do you know when?"
"Stay there. I'll get back to you."
Ring Man hung up the phone. He looked across at Ponte. His eyes seemed clouded over. Ponte waited patiently. He'd seen that look before. It meant his boss was thinking. Finally he seemed to come down to earth.
Ring Man looked at his watch and then at Ponte. "There's a job you have to do. It must be done quickly. Time is of the essence. Here is what I want done. Get a hold of. . ."
BOGOTA
7:57 P.M.
Stevens was a quarter of the way through the book he had brought with h
im to help the night pass, when he was interrupted by the duty officer rapping on the door of the booth he was in. He cracked the door open. "Yeah, what's up?"
"You got a local phone call."
Stevens frowned. Who would be calling him? He got up, left the booth, and went to the phone on the wall.
"Stevens here."
"Rich, this is Maria."
Shit, she wasn't ever supposed to call him at work. Stevens glanced around nervously. The duty man was playing games on his desk computer. Stevens hissed into the phone. "I can't talk now. I'm busy."
"Don't hang up, Rich. I'm in trouble. I need your help right away."
Christ! Stevens thought. Women. "I'm on duty. I'll see you tomorrow."
"It cannot wait until tomorrow. Only for five minutes. That's all I need you for."
She sounded like she really was in trouble. Like she had just been crying. "What's the matter? What do you need me for?"
"I cannot tell you on the phone. Just come to my uncle's bar. Around back. I will be waiting for you there. It will only take five minutes. I need your help very much."
Stevens calculated. The team hadn't even infiltrated yet. Hell, no one would miss him. On the last two missions no one had even talked to him until it was over. At that time it had only been Westland calling to verify that he had copied the team's final report on target destruction so he could relay it to Alegre. He could have had a heart attack and no one would have noticed. He pictured Maria without clothes on. "All right. I'll be there in a couple of minutes. But I can't stay longer than five minutes, then I have to get back."
"Oh, thank you, Rich. Thank you."
Stevens hung up the phone and went over to the duty officer. "I need you to cover for me for a little while. I have to go take care of something."
The duty officer winked knowingly. "Yeah, sure. You want me to monitor your net?"
