Sending Messages

Chapter 15 Rescue

Slowly, Chapman’s men moved toward the big wooden gates at the opposite end of the compound. In the towers, the men seemed more interested in keeping an eye on what was going on inside than outside the walls. After President Parente had left, the gates had not been closed. With them open, a breeze seemed to better fill the courtyard and cool the buildings. With the end in sight, there seemed little reason to close them.

Chapman led the first group to the right of the structure while Ricks and Second Lieutenant Mason took the left. At the far end of the compound, Ricks sent Miller and another sniper to the opposite end of the road so they would have an unobstructed view of the two guard towers. They would also be far out of the light from the compound. Seeing a third guard sitting outside one of the doors, Chapman detailed another to keep an eye on him.

There were no guards around the gate end of the compound. The open door actually cut both ways. It allowed the men to see in, but also left them exposed to be seen from inside. It would have to be fast. The thunder was helping them by masking a lot of sound. Chapman and Ricks gathered the men on either corner of the compound ready to spring inward.

The sound of a truck approaching forced the men to retreat back around the side of the wall. The large open truck, its back covered with a tarp, barreled down the mountain and swerved in toward the compound. It came to a screeching halt half way through the open doors. The driver leisurely got out of the cab and walked into the barracks. The men heard some laughter inside.

Chapman spoke into the radio. “Okay, plan two. Snipers in. Take station under the deuce and a half. Ricks, take four men and get behind that truck. The rest take station on either side. Snipers, let me know when you have a shot. Mason, take your men and keep the rest in the barracks. Everyone use their silencers. If we open up, they will come in from all sides. When I say go, we pounce,” he ordered. The men silently made their way into position and got ready to strike. They were interrupted again by the sound of drums from high up the mountain.

Suddenly one of the doors swung open and the sergeant began calling his people into the courtyard. The men filed out of the barracks and lined up while two others walked across the yard and went into the door where the hostages were kept. In a moment, the hostages were filed out and lined up against the wall. The sergeant was cursing them the whole way. He drew his pistol. “Now you will all see who is right and who is wrong here. Line them up facing the wall!” he ordered.

The obviously tired and tormented mayors were placed against the wall. Only one refused to turn around. Sharon Roberts was from New York. She didn’t turn away from anyone.

“Turn and face the wall!” screamed the sergeant.

“Fuck you. If I’m gonna die, I’m gonna make you look me in the eye while it happens,” she said defiantly. One by one the others turned around as well.

The sergeant smiled an evil smile. “My pleasure,” he almost spat. He turned to his men. “Squad. Ready,” he ordered. The men came to attention and brought their rifles up. “Aim!”

Several of the men lowered their rifles.

“What in the hell do you think you are doing?” the sergeant screamed. He pointed his pistol at the men. “Do you want to join them? I will gladly shoot you myself,” he shouted. As the men threw their rifles to the ground, the sergeant pointed his pistol at them in a rage.

Thunder filled the air as the sergeant’s head suddenly exploded, peppering the men nearest him with blood and bits of his brains. The two sentries saw what happened and raised their rifles when they too were suddenly struck and fell to the ground. The remaining men turned to see soldiers pointing their rifles at them and threw down their weapons. As they raised their hands the soldiers quickly ran in and placed them on the ground. Others ran up to the mayors and made sure they were alright.

Roberts let out a long breath. “My god, I thought we were at an end,” she said, almost collapsing after the experience.

Making a quick count, Chapman turned to the others. We have all fourteen. Let’s get them out of here. Kay May stopped them short. “It’s only thirteen. This man is a former guard who tried to help us,” she said pointing to Donado.

“Who’s missing?” asked Chapman.

“Where’s Patricia?” asked Ricks, looking through the crowd of people.

“She was taken this morning,” said Roberts. “You’ve got to hurry. They took her up to be a sacrifice just like poor Mitchell,” she said pointing up the hill.

Chapman didn’t wait. “Mason, take five men and get these people in the back of that truck. Get them to the airfield as quick as you can. Ricks, get the rest of the men and pile into this vehicle here. We need to get up that hill.

Quickly subduing the soldiers in the compound, the men boarded the vehicles and took off. As thunder continued to sound in the night, Chapman only hoped he would be in time.

At the small airfield, a young sub lieutenant sat back in the small office waiting for the presidential jet from Cuba to arrive. One of the men shouted that a set of lights could be seen in the air, coming toward the small field. He immediately ordered the fires lit along the runway. There were no electric lights, but the men had dug a trench along the sides of the runway and had filled them with oil. On his order, two men lit torches and made their way to the edges of the runways and lit the oil.

The flames spread down the entire length of the runway to help the pilot guide the aircraft in. The men watched as the lights grew closer and the sound of the engines grew louder. Suddenly lights came on the aircraft illuminating the sides and tail. They proclaimed the aircraft belonged to Cubana Airlines, the airline of Cuba. It settled toward the ground and as it came over the end of the runway, the fires in the trenches illuminated the lower parts of the aircraft. Wheels touched the ground and the engines were quickly reversed so that the plane would stop before the runway ended.

Despite its size, the aircraft came to a halt in front of the small office. The end of the runway was much larger so that aircraft could turn around and it contained extra space for a helicopter landing pad. The pilot used his wheels and engines to turn the giant plane and remain on the paved surface. Once around, the lights were extinguished and the engines shut down.

The sub lieutenant lined his people up and brought them to attention to pay proper respect to the President of Cuba. From the other side of the aircraft a squad of United States Marines quickly ran around the tail and surprised the waiting soldiers. Once the area was secure, the giant rear ramp was lowered and made ready. With luck, the hostages would arrive soon.

The truck arrived just outside the ceremonial village. Chapman was surprised that no one was guarding the entrance. Using hand signals, he had the remaining team quickly exit the trucks and fan out. The drums were loud and the voices of several hundred men and women were heard singing and chanting as the ceremony was taking place. Chapman ordered one squad around the buildings on the low side and Ricks took the other to the high side.

The top of the hill was made up of a number of adobe style buildings forming a “U” shape around the central courtyard. Other smaller huts were sprinkled farther in the trees. Making their way between the buildings, they came up on a soldier leaning against the side of a building. Catching a glimpse of the intruders, he turned and aimed his weapon. Ricks pulled the trigger of his silenced pistol twice and the man went down. There was a ladder going up to the roof of one of the buildings. Ricks sent Miller up top to get a perch. Two buildings down, he sent up another sniper. Reporting them in place, he and the rest of his squad found themselves at the far end of the courtyard. There before them was a spectacle Ricks had only expected to see in a place like Disney World. All across the front of the court were people dancing and chanting as the fires burned and the drums beat out their rhythm. In the center of the stage was a huge obelisk. Just like the photos, there was a post in front of it. All along the walls were men dressed in colorful ceremonial gear. They were obviously watching the crowd and urging their participation. Like Aztec cheerleaders, they jumped and shouted with the beat, calling out some and encouraging even more. The Team found itself behind the crowd and was so far unmolested. Two men were seen on top of the far buildings carrying rifles. With Chapman’s order, both men dropped from sight.

No one knew if the ceremony was winding up or getting started until out of a far door, Parente appeared, dressed in his ceremonial gear and covered in gold. The occasional thunder helped him by making the crowd believe something far more powerful was happening tonight. He slowly walked to the front of the crowd, lifting his arms towards heaven and calling out to the crowd. The people stopped dancing and listened as he began chanting in some ancient tongue. With a mighty swish of sound and a clap of thunder, the drums began again as smoke exited the corners of the obelisk and rose skyward, temporarily obscuring the top. Lights got brighter as the smoke rose. Suddenly, from the ground, it seemed the obelisk had opened up and Wei stood, shimmering in the bright light at the top. From the ground, the people could not see the giant ark lamps illuminating the god, but the light was reflected back down to them so intensely, it almost hurt to look at.

Wei lifted his staff and waved it over the crowd. The crowd responded with even louder cheers as their god showered his blessings on them. Suddenly from a door on the opposite side, two men dragged Patricia Crowell Hammond bodily across the court to the post in front of the obelisk. Despite her struggling, they bound her to the post with gold rope.

As she struggled against her bindings the dancing and the chanting resumed as the cheerleaders by the buildings began again in earnest. As Wei looked on, Parente began his swirling dance before the crowd. The men of the team knew it would be soon.

Ricks suddenly turned to one of his men and called for the cloak. He quickly donned the canvas-like garment and attached the battery pack. In a minute, the computer kicked in and the cloak began to match the surrounding area.

Ricks touched his communicator. “Captain, I’m going in. Keep these guys off me,” he said as he attached the Velcro fasteners and stepped into the open and moved toward the crowd.

Parente stopped his dance and moved to a small table. He picked up an obsidian knife and raised it into the air. The crowd began to scream in approval, drowning out another loud clap of thunder. He took the knife in his hands and slowly moved toward Patricia, still struggling to get free. As he came face to face with her, he murmured, “This will end you and your husband’s torment.” An evil smile crossed his face as he slowly raised the knife in both hands.

Patricia watched in horror as the weapon of her death was raised, ready to plunge into her chest. Her eyes followed the knife as he slowly raised it above her head.

“I have a shot,” said Miller into his headset.

“Take it,” ordered Chapman.

The rifle was silenced. No shot rang in the air.

Parente suddenly saw the obsidian knife fall, in pieces, and shatter on the stones at his feet. He felt something run down his arms. Looking up, he saw the blood rushing down from his shattered hands. The realization brought the pain and he collapsed to the ground at Patricia’s feet. The cries from the crowd changed when they saw their chief priest bleeding on the ground.

There was a scream at the back of the crowd and the people turned to see what appeared to be an apparition float across the courtyard toward the front of the stage. It appeared to be something invisible, but the delay in the computer made the image seem totally unearthly. The frightened spectators began moving out of the way as it passed through them. A soldier appeared with his rifle in hand. Without a sound he suddenly dropped dead to the ground along with a second who came out of one of the buildings. Now the spectators began to scream.

Fleeing the specter, the people left a clear path for Ricks to get to Patricia. She opened her eyes and stared in wonder as the ‘spirit’ came directly in front of her.

“The cavalry has arrived,” said Ricks under the garment.

A puzzled look came over her face. “Dale?” she asked faintly.

She heard a chuckled in front of her. “Roger sent me,” he said.

Ricks turned off the suit and pulled it from around him. The sudden appearance of a man where there was none sent even more of the people scampering.

Wei watched in disgust as his ceremony was decimated. Angered, he switched on his microphone and called out to the people below. Everyone stopped and looked up to him as he began chanting in another tongue. It was obvious he was angry and he raised his staff above his head. He stood there chanting and watched as the people below began to kneel. Several bowed to the ground. Above them, Wei could feel his godly powers grow. The hair on his body began to rise and he knew that finally, his becoming a god had come to be. His skin tingled as he seemed to feel his new powers surge through him. As he raised his staff ever higher he made a loud call to bring his people together.

In a brilliant flash, the lightning bolt struck the metal staff and traveled through Wei to the metal floor of the obelisk. In an instant, his bones were fused together as the god of the sun burned almost as bright. The clap of thunder joined to cause nearly everyone to fall to the ground. Half the lights in the area went out. The remaining illuminated Wei. His headdress was on fire. He stood, frozen in place. His staff was still raised high into the air. The people below watched in fascination as the wind from the oncoming storm fanned the flames of his headdress. Everything stood still for a moment as the crowd below stared at the figure. Then, after another gust, his feet peeled away from the metal stand and his still stiff body fell to the ground like some marble statue, coming to a dull thud on the stone floor of the courtyard.

There was a scream from one of the buildings as a naked young blond girl ran to Wei’s remains and tried to scoop him into her arms.

With her screams, the spectators panicked and fled. Within a minute the village was empty. Chapman gathered his men to assess the situation. Ricks, with Patricia still in his arms, walked up.

“She’s in shock, Boss. I tried to put her down and she wouldn’t let go,” said Ricks.

Chapmen looked into her eyes. They were held in a vacant stare. The ordeal had nearly broken her, but she had attached to her rescuer and wouldn’t let go. Chapman touched her arm and she looked at him for a second. “Let’s get you home,” he said.

Sergeant Miller hopped down a set of stairs leading from the roof where he had taken his shot. He walked calmly over to a figure trying to crawl into a doorway. There was a trail of blood from where his shot struck home to the crumpled figure. Parente was desperately trying to crawl to safety, but his hands would not support any weight to allow him to stand. His headdress had fallen off and his cloak was dragging the ground behind him. Miller approached the gold encrusted figure.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

Parente looked up at the man in disgust. The hatred in his eyes seemed to fill his sweaty face. “Do not touch me, you dog. You should be bowing before me,” he exclaimed.

A smile appeared on Miller’s face. He calmly reached down and grabbed the back of the collar on the cloak, flipping Parente over backwards. There was a yelp of pain as Parente tried to use his hands break his fall. Miller placed his boot on Parente’s chest and pointed his pistol between his eyes.

“I already put one hole in you. Want to try for two?” he asked.

Parente’s face changed slightly as the realization that this man would happily end his life. He didn’t say a word.

Captain Chapman walked over. “Any trouble?”

Miller chuckled. “Just the trouble I’m having to keep from pulling this trigger. Where do you want him?” he asked.

Motioning over towards the back of the compound, Chapman said, “Put him in his limousine. We’ll give him one last ride.”

The team quickly gathered their equipment and policed their shells. One of the men tried to get the young girl to come with them, but she refused. She was still cradling Wei in her arms as they drove away from the compound.

Messina was having a tough time dodging lightning flashes while skirting the mountains. Yet it wasn’t long before he saw the familiar lighted shack. There was a large aircraft on the runway. He skirted the area and settled on the circular pad at the end. Shutting down the engines, he found the aircraft surrounded by armed men. In desperation, he looked at Rojas. “I tried my best,” he said.

The cabin door opened and one of the soldiers pulled them out of the aircraft. “Who are you,” one asked in the darkness.

Messina straightened up. “I am Colonel Curt Messina and this is Colonel Juan Rojas. Who are you?”

Amazingly, the men around the helicopter lowered their weapons. “We’ve been expecting you, Colonel. Is this your family?”

“Yes,” he said almost dumbstruck.

The soldiers helped his family from the aircraft and ushered all of them to the back of the aircraft as a large truck pulled up and around the road and onto the airstrip property. A man leaned out of the passenger side and called out, “We need some help here!”

One by one, from the back of the truck the hostages were helped down to the ground. In the light from the small office, the Marines escorted them into the back of the aircraft. Lieutenant Mason was stopped by someone in the dark. “Where are the rest?” the man asked.

“One was taken to another compound up the hill. They went to get her,” he said.

Two vehicles rapidly made their way down the hill and along the road leading to the airstrip. The lead car was the Presidential limousine followed by a small van. As they neared the bottom of the hill a small patrol blocked the way, but seeing the presidential limo, they stood back and saluted. Inside, Ricks sat between Patricia and Parente. The man’s hands had been wrapped by one of the team members using part of Wei’s garment. The blood still oozed from the bandages.

Ricks looked over at the man. “Still hurt?” he asked.

Parente glared at him. “You wouldn’t dare kidnap the leader of a nation,” he said angrily.

“Just watch,” said Chapman from the front seat. He turned to the driver. “We going to make it?”

“Not by 2130. We passed that time long ago,” he said as he swerved the car around the curve in the road.

Chapman looked back at Ricks. “We may have lost our ride,” he said.

Ricks grinned. “Have a little faith, Captain,” he said.

Ten minutes later, the two vehicles turned up the road leading to the airstrip. They could see a light from a small building. Swerving around the last turn, the men felt a relief to see the shadow of a huge plane waiting for them in the runway. They pulled the car all the way to the ramp on the back of the plane. Flinging the doors open on the vehicles, the passengers quickly ran up the ramp as the engines began to start. Before the ramp could get a foot off the ground, Rojas darted out of the plane and to the limousine. After only a second, he ran back with something in his hand.

The ramp slowly began to rise and the rear of the plane finally closed. Inside the plane the lights came on. Ricks was still helping Patricia to her seat when she saw someone dressed in white standing in front of her. She began to cry.

Vice Admiral Roger Hammond swept his wife into his arms and held her closely. The strain of the past two weeks seemed to melt away as he held her. “You knew I’d come for you,” he said.

She kissed him hard on the lips and exclaimed, “Never a doubt.” Then the stress caught up with her and she nearly collapsed to the ground. “Doc!” Hammond called out.

Doc Dickerson led them to the small medical bay in the aircraft where he started his examination. “Leave her with me, Admiral. I’ll get her right,” he said with a smile.

“Doc, she’s carrying our child,” Hammond told him.

Dickerson winked and shut the door.

A crewman came aft and addressed the Admiral. “Sir, there’s a helicopter blocking our way.”

The second helicopter scheduled to pick up Parente had appeared and was hovering in front of the aircraft. The engines were operating and the pilot was ready to take off, but it was in the way.

Hammond looked at the helicopter through the cockpit windows. He turned to the pilot. “Turn on all our lights,” he said.

The outside of the aircraft was suddenly brightly illuminated. The blue letters spelling out ‘Cubana,’ clearly made the aircraft one of Cuban registry. The other pilot, expecting the aircraft to be there, quickly moved out of the way.

“Kick it,” said Hammond as the pilot shoved the throttles all the way forward.

The large aircraft began moving rapidly down the runway. About midway, the engineer flipped a switch and six JATO rockets ignited pushing the aircraft quickly into the air. Banking to the north, it only took twenty minutes to cross into Colombian airspace.

In the back of the aircraft, Parente sat flanked by two guards. Rojas walked up to him. Parente’s face broke into a smile. “Ah, My Colonel. I see you have been captured as well. And you have my briefcase! I’ll be happy to take it back now.”

Rojas looked down at the man with disgust. “Actually, I am the one who made sure you were caught. Your story that I am responsible will not work. As for the briefcase, the American FBI will be happy to get their hands on it, after I remove the information on all your bank accounts. After all, Colonel Messina and I will need to have some income in exile,” he said as he turned and headed toward where the Messina family was seated.

One of the Iowa corpsman came up to better bandage Parente’s hands. They had been totally shattered and would eventually require major surgery. Pieces of the obsidian knife had been forced into one by the bullet which struck him. The medic was finishing up his bandaging when a man walked up to them. He smiled down at Parente.

President Parente, I am Gerald Donaldson of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I wanted to inform you of your rights.”

Parente looked up at the man. “You cannot detain me. I am the President of Venezuela. Your laws do not extend here.”

Donaldson shrugged his shoulders. “Actually, neither do yours. We are now in Columbian airspace and you are being taken to the United States where you will be placed on trial for kidnapping and murder, among other things. And we are going to give you’re the privilege of having the same rights as an American citizen. So you now have the right to remain silent…” Donaldson began.

A few seats away, Ricks sat beside Chapman. “Thanks for keeping those guys off me.”

Chapman glanced over at him. “Never mind me, what made you think to put on that suit and scare everybody half to death? I had to keep them off just because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing,” he said.

Ricks gave a weak smile. “You should know I am prone to do some strange things under stress. But it was the quickest way I knew to get the civilians out of the way.”

“I’ll give you that. But ask next time. You nearly scared me to death,” Chapman said getting up and punching him in the shoulder. He walked to the front of the aircraft shaking his head.

Ricks gave a chuckle and turned to see that the FBI man had finished his job and was now sitting, next to Parente, now in shackles. Ricks walked back and stood in front of him. Parente looked at him with a sour face.

Ricks leaned down and looked him directly in the eyes. “Do you know who I am?”

Parente gave a disgusted look. “Why should I care who you are,” he said.

Ricks grinned and gave him a look that chilled him to the bone. He leaned in until Parente could smell the sweat on him. “Oh, you should care. You see, I am the friend of Admiral Hammond and his wife, Patricia. You somehow got the idea that you could hurt my friends, and you know, I take that very seriously,” he said pulling the knife out of his boot. In doing so, the metallic glimmer of Rick’s artificial leg could be seen underneath. He waved the knife in front of Parente’s face, causing the FBI man to get a little nervous until he saw one of the men standing to one side indicate it would be okay.

“A few years ago, I was in a war where you took the other side, I believe. I killed countless of the North Koreans because they simply pissed me off. None of them saw me coming, and some didn’t know what I had done until they were already dead. And you know what? A couple of weeks ago, you pissed me off too,” Ricks continued as he pointed the edge of his knife at Parente’s face. “Now I just heard that my dear friend’s wife was carrying a baby when you took her. So I wanted to give you a warning. If I find out that child has been harmed in any way, even if it is born with some defect, I will hold you responsible. If that happens, no matter where you are, or what you are doing — if you are in prison, or even if you are dead, I will hunt you down and dismember you like a dear in my back yard. I swear, that even in death, I will make you will feel every cut and every slice. I’ll fix it so that you won’t even be able to scream. Just watch out, because you won’t see me coming,” he said as he finally stood, turned to the FBI agent and said, “Just sending a message,” and walked away.

Even the FBI man swallowed hard.