A warm gust blew past, sending the general’s hat sailing. He grabbed at it and juggled it until he had a good grasp. “Very well, Dr. Harding. I am glad we had this meeting. I appreciate your sincerity.”
“And I appreciate yours, General.”
General Ashtah turned smartly and strode briskly to the military transport. Harding followed at his heels.
The group of men sprang to attention when Ashtah approached. He spoke sharply to them in an incomprehensible language. When he stopped, the men cheered. Ashtah turned and nodded to Harding before commandeering a jeep and driving away.
Harding walked toward the men. They formed a ragged semicircle in front of him.
One man, the man who appeared to be in charge, stepped forward. He took a deep drag on a cigarette and threw it to the ground. “I’m Macklin Renault, in charge of this unit. General Ashtah said that you’ll brief us about Alpha Base.”
Harding looked puzzled as he shook Renault’s hand. “Mr. Renault, I thought the Do’brainese militia would assist us.”
Renault smiled wearily. His blond hair contrasted with a deep tan, his eyes steady, unwavering, as they seemed to take in every detail. “Perhaps I should have introduced myself as Colonel Renault, Doctor. My men are commissioned in Do’brai’s army.”
“But you’re obviously not Do’brainese …”
Renault spoke softly. “Does it matter, Dr. Harding? The French have fought their wars for years like this. I hesitate to call us mercenaries — it’s such a strong word — but it’s fairly descriptive.”
Harding raised his brows. “I don’t think it matters where you’re from, Colonel. As long as I have your allegiance.”
“No problem with that. That’s what we’re getting paid for. My men swear their allegiance to me; they come from all nations and are bound to none. My orders are to obey your instructions. Now, I think you had better fill us in on Alpha Base.” He steered him away from the other men, toward the military transport.
“Just a minute.” Harding went back to the Cessna and grabbed a satchel. He lugged the brown bag to Renault. Clearing a place in the dirt underneath one of the military transport’s wings, Harding pulled out a handful of U.S. Park Service maps. Kneeling, they pored over them.
Renault pointed at one of the maps. “The crucial item is a staging area for the C-130, away from the public eye but close enough for a helicopter to fly in from Alpha Base.”
Harding turned red, remembering the fuss that Vikki had made. “We’re taking care of that. But what about your men? Who are the key players?”
Renault stood and nodded to his legion of mercenaries. “I’ve known these men for years. Some of them are like my own sons.” He searched the men’s faces for a moment, then pointed. “There, Frank Koch, the sandy-haired man sitting by the runway … and over there, Pablo Lesueur, the Jamaican by the mock-up bunker. Those are two of my best.”
Harding stood, wiping his hands on his pants. He squinted at the man called Koch; the man sat alone and chewed on a fingernail, silently looking out over the runway.
Renault said, “Koch was born too late for the second Iraq war. He joined the Army when he was seventeen and tried to get into Airborne. They refused him a chance for his third jump after he decked the Airborne chaplain, so he put in for helicopter training.
“The Army felt that it had to give people a second chance. So instead of a court-martial, he went to Fort Rucker, flying choppers. But at Rucker he decked his flight instructor after a shouting match on the tarmac, something about Koch sleeping with the instructor’s wife. That time they booted him out of the Army. Now he flies for me.”
Renault nodded next to the Jamaican. Tall and lanky, Pablo Lesueur kicked a small ball around with some men. Renault said, “Pablo joined me five years ago. I needed a guard to direct an arms shipment in at night. Pablo held ten flares in a row, keeping them until the flame burned down to his fingers, the last smoldering his flesh so he couldn’t open his hand. But the shipment got through, all because of him.”
Renault turned at Harding. “He’ll do anything, and won’t quit while he’s at it. The same goes for Koch.”
Harding stood and stretched his legs. He said, “Okay, sounds good. But what about the two hundred guards on Alpha Base? Can your men really take out the barracks?”
Renault narrowed his eyes. “We’ve got it down to a science, Dr. Harding. Watch.” He turned and snapped an order in Spanish. One of his men jumped up and dragged a mortar in front of Harding.
Renault pointed to a shack, hundreds of yards away.
Kneeling, the man took a sighting and adjusted the weapon. He looked up. At Renault’s nod, he dropped a round into the mortar. A blast erupted from the device. Seconds later the shack exploded in a ball of flames.
Harding’s eyes widened. “Impressive.”
Looking back at the map Renault said, “Dr. Harding, we’ve got a well thought out plan. My men will go over several variations until we’re comfortable, and they can execute it in their sleep. The key is to attack Alpha Base when they’re least expecting it. In the meantime, if you can iron out things on your end, I think one more meeting should do it.”
“Good.” Harding vigorously shook his hand. “We’ll have the landing strip and moving van ready this week.”
“My men can move out with a few hours notice.” Renault held out his hand. “But can you obtain the call signs and map? If we’re going to do this right under their noses, we have to have the proper clearance to land at Wendover.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. Vikki — the woman working with me — is obtaining a detailed map of Alpha Base as well as the correct call signs and protocols.” Harding shook Renault’s hand. “I’ll fly down later in the week and accompany you to the staging area. Vikki will be in position to give us a go when everything is ready.”
“Good. That leaves one final item. Can you get hold of an IFF?” At Harding’s puzzled look, Renault said, “Don’t worry about what it means. If Vikki can get one, it will make our job a hell of a lot easier. Otherwise, we’ll have to drive right up to Alpha Base.”
Harding nodded. “We’ll work on it.”
“Great. Good luck.”
As Harding left, Renault commandeered his men into a semicircle around him. Renault pointed to various points around the four fences and mock-up of Alpha Base.
The Cessna rocked slightly when Harding climbed inside. He slammed the door and shimmied into the right seat, next to the pilot. The plane’s engine sputtered as it caught, revving up to maximum power.
The plane bounced a few times as it sped down the dirt runway. The sensation was almost gut-wrenching as the small craft finally hopped into the air. They climbed in altitude as they banked away from the peninsula.
The plane suddenly dove low, reaching for the valleys in between the northern Mexican terrain as it attempted to elude American border patrols. Pressed into service for drug interdiction, the Navy’s E-2 radar planes could spot them if they flew too high. The craft bounced in the thermals. Harding’s stomach flipped with every bump. But it was nothing compared to what was to come.
The man grinned at Vikki, but it looked more like a leer. He spread his elbows out over the counter and picked at his teeth. “Now, let me get this straight. You want this moving van for two weeks?”
“That’s right.”
“And you’re going to deliver it back here?”
“What’s so unusual about that?” Vikki grew impatient.
The man straightened. The lot behind him overflowed with various-size trucks, everything from pickups to thirty-two-foot-long vans. Dirt piled up in a corner of the office. A board holding the vehicle keys was full. He pushed a set of papers across the counter.