Thorpe's Candle

THE PLAN

Gates gazed down at the horizontal LED display monitor. It showed a three-dimensional, computer-generated representation of Lake Guatavita and the surrounding mountains thirty kilometers north of Bogotá. The image was complete with texture mapping of the lake’s rugged shoreline along with the dense jungle that covered the land leading up to the Andes foothills. A small village and a few farms dotted the rolling hills bordering the lake. There was enough detail for Gates to count cattle in a pasture. He used the joystick console control to rotate the image so he could examine it from every angle. An electronic grid displayed elevations, distances and water depth at various points across the lake.

“What are those buildings?” Gates asked. He pointed to a group of two-story structures nestled a few hundred meters up a long, steep valley about a kilometer from the north end of the lake.

“An exclusive mountain resort,” said Colonel Argentine. “It’s a retreat for Escandoza’s top management. They periodically hold business conferences, entertain politicians, government officials, and others on the drug lord’s payroll. It’s also the entrance to the Keep, his underground private residence.”

“And that’s where the lab is? Underground?” Gates asked.

“We think so,” said Lieutenant Elaine Coffee, a slim brunette from the computer analysis division of the Air Force Special Anti-terrorism Unit. She leaned over the display and gestured to a steep rock wall overhanging a portion of the resort. “If you look closely you can see a number of small structures along the upper edge of the cliff. Those are ventilation and exhaust ducts.”

“He’s picked a perfect location,” Gates said. “There’s only one way in — only one direction to defend.”

“Exactly,” Argentine said. “Up the valley from the lake.”

“Approaching from the higher elevations would be next to impossible even for an expert climbing team,” said Coffee. “The mountains get more rugged the higher you go. The valley walls are equally out of the question as an approach route.”

“Our operatives in the region tell us the place is protected with the latest infrared imaging along with motion and heat sensors,” Argentine said. “We believe there’s also a significant amount of munitions and antipersonnel devices hidden within the surrounding jungle.” He turned as the door opened to the dimly-lit intelligence-gathering control room.

Gates looked up to see the entrance fill with the massive silhouette of a man who could easily be a member of the NFL. As he stepped into the room, Gates guessed his weight at over 250lbs and height at an inch below the door frame. Even with the enormous size, Gates noticed that he walked more with the agility of a quarterback than a lineman.

“Come in, Captain,” Argentine said. “I’d like you to meet Mr. Mickey Gates, Projects Director for OceanQuest and our primary adviser on this mission.” Argentine turned to Gates. “This is Captain Gordon Rees, commander of the Army Rangers Rapid Response Team.”

As a former U.S. Olympic wrestling champion, Gates rarely found a person’s handshake impressive or his equal for that matter. But he hid a slight grimace as Rees’ viselike grip encased the marine explorer’s hand. “Nice to meet you,” Gates said with a dry smile.

The black officer nodded as Argentine motioned them all to a conference table.

When they were seated, Gates said, “What about the ventilation shafts? Can you use them to gain access?”

“We don’t have enough information,” Coffee said.

“So do you have a plan?” Gates asked Argentine.

“Captain Rees and his Rangers have been rehearsing the assault for the last two weeks.”

“Our first priority is to locate and disable the electrical systems,” said Rees.

“Does Escandoza have generators?” Gates asked.

“There’s power running to the Keep from a substation near the lake,” Coffee said. “We have to assume he has backup generators. We just haven’t confirmed it yet.”

“Why not go in with the heavy stuff?” Gates said. “Forget the ground assault. Slip a few laser-guided party favors through the front door.”

“Won’t work,” Argentine said. “The Colombian Air Force is small but highly trained and well equipped. Because they are sympathetic to and partially funded by Escandoza, their resistance presents too big a risk.”

“It has to be a small assault team,” Rees said. “One that can get in quickly and destroy the lab.”

“So what do you need from me?” Gates asked.

“You know the area around the lake well, correct?” Rees said.

“The Colombian Department of Antiquities contracted us to dive for artifacts in the lake about ten years ago. I spent three months in the area. But back then, there was no resort, no fortress.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Argentine said. “If you can assist Captain Rees in analyzing the best entrance and exit routes, it would save us a lot of guesswork, possibly even lives.”

“How about I go with you?” Gates said.

“Out of the question,” Rees said. “My men are trained professionals — experts at assault and insertion. You’re a marine salvager, a good one no doubt, but a civilian. And this is no place for a civilian.”

Gates stiffened. “Suit yourself, Captain. But my best friend is somewhere out in the middle of the Atlantic on an enemy submarine heading right into the middle of this mess. I intend to move those mountains if necessary to get him out. And if you don’t want me to join your little shindig, then I’ll just form one of my own and take care of the problem myself. While you’re fumbling around in the jungle, I’ll be closing up shop for Mr. Escandoza and bringing Matt Skyler home.”

Rees glared at Gates, his eyelids narrowing.

“So what’ll it be?” Gates said. “All of me or none at all?”

After an uneasy pause, Argentine said, “Gentlemen, I think some compromise can be reached here.” He looked at Rees. “Captain, how about if Mr. Gates goes in as far as the lake, gets you within striking distance, and then lays back while your men finish their job?”

Before Rees could answer, Gates said, “I’ll be glad to hold the Captain’s hand until he’s standing on old Pablo’s doorstep.”

Rees never took his eyes off Gates. “The second I think you’re jeopardizing my men, your all-expense-paid vacation to South America will be terminated. I don’t care if you’re former Navy and some big international hero. In my world you’re just another JQ Public.”

“That’s Mr. JQ to you,” Gates said with a grin.