Henry wasn’t feeling up to explaining himself. “You don’t need to, General.”
As they waited for the refuelling operation to be completed, a call came in for the general and he was escorted inside a large black truck that bristled with several types of antennae.
A cool breeze blew from the direction of the distant mountains. Henry chose a grassy spot at the edge of the tarmac to sit and wait. Shep seemed happy to lie down beside him; the dog put his chin on Henry’s leg and seemed to fall asleep instantly. As Henry stroked Shep’s muscular shoulders he wondered if it had been thoughtlessly cruel to drag Shep along wherever he went. What good could having the dog with them serve? That was a question he couldn’t answer. All he knew was that he couldn’t allow himself to become separated from the malamute. Perhaps the reason was simply that he’d left loved ones in the past, only to lose them forever. But now he worried that he was getting Shep into a situation that might get the dog killed.
He gazed affectionately at the malamute. “Maybe I’m just bad luck all around.”
But Shep was perfectly content where he was: curled beside his master, blissful y snoozing; a portrait of pure, unconditional love.
Hayes remained in the communications truck for about fifteen minutes. By the time he emerged the Gadflies were ready for service again.
While Henry, Grimes and the SEALs had been waiting for the general, two more helicopters had touched down. One was a full y armed Apache, the other a larger troop transport full of flak-jacketed Marines. Over fifty people already occupied the depot. It was clear the place was a principal staging area for the entire force bound for Suarez’s Hacienda.
The general surveyed the scene for a moment as he hopped down from the tailgate. Then he shook his head and walked over to Henry. Grimes, eager for information, joined them at the edge of the tarmac.
Hayes signalled to the head of the Marines to join them as well.
The Marine saluted the group, looking from face to face. His eyes stopped when they reached Henry and Shep, but he made no comment. He turned to face Hayes, his arm still poised in a frozen salute.
“At ease, Lieutenant O’Boyle,” said the general. “I believe you know Commander Grimes of the SEALs?”
“Sir,” snapped O’Boyle. “By reputation, sir, but I haven’t had the pleasure,” he said, obviously not at ease. He looked back at Henry.
“These two are the only people who have actually seen Suarez — the terrorist — and his men in action. This is Henry Gibbs from McMurdo,” said the general.
“The Iceman,” said O’Boyle with a smile.
Grimes smirked. “You can call him ‘hero’.”
The general returned the Marine’s salute. “You can put your hand down now, Lieutenant. We aren’t going anywhere for at least an hour. Plenty of time for a cozy chat out in the pampas grass.”
“More waiting?” said the SEAL. “What the fuck is it this time?”
“We’ve been getting some rather disturbing intel from the CIA and Frei’s people,” said Hayes. “Seems that TransAm Optical makes military armour.”
“Great,” said Grimes. “Fucking great! How come they didn’t fucking come up with this before?”
The general gave Grimes a dirty look. “The bottom line is that TransAm Optical could be a fortress.”
“Why would that be?” asked Henry. “I thought you said Suarez was confident of his anonymity, that nobody would find out who he…”
“That’s true. Everybody thought that.” The general’s high smooth forehead wrinkled. “But there’s more bad news.”
Grimes stood sideways to the group, looking into the breeze. He squinted as a blast of dusty air hit his face.
“Great,” he said again.
“Not so great at all, Kai. intelligence assures us the place is also full of weapons and people who know how to use them. TransAm Optical apparently gives military training to its staff. Moreover, intel also tells us TransAm makes the world’s best armour-piercing light ordnance.”
Grimes stared at the general in disbelief. “You must be joking.”
“Sure, Kai. I’m making all this up. Pretty good, Huh?
April fool.”
Grimes blinked. “Sorry, sir. But it doesn’t matter to me, sir, what heavy shit this guy has. He’s meat.”
The Marine laughed. “True to your rep, Commander Grimes.”
“There are some recon pictures in the truck,” said the general. “Let’s go there. You might as well come too, Henry.”
The interior of the truck turned out to look more like an office than the inside of an RV. High-resolution screens lined the wall s, supported by a bewildering array of electronic gear.
There was room for only two to sit, and the general unapologetically chose one seat for himself; the other was used as a prop by Grimes as he leaned forward to examine images of the Hacienda on one of the high- definition screens. Astonishingly detailed telephoto pictures from cameras a mile away from TransAm Optical’s main building were displayed on one monitor, while another showed aerial images of the entire complex from Black-bird overflights by daylight and at night. Soon the electronics men were playing image maps of the two-storey complex done from thermal scans. They looked like X-ray images in full colour.
Grimes smiled. “Piece of cake. Can you hard copy these?”
“Working,” said a skinny corporal in shirtsleeves.
“Give me five minutes.”
Henry stood behind the general’s left shoulder. For once Shep remained on his own in the cold, tied to a fender of the truck.
“This is pretty cool stuff,” said Henry.
The corporal snorted derisively. “You think this garbage is new? This van ought to be in the damned Smithsonian.”
Grimes frowned. “But the stuff we get from the birds makes up for it, doesn’t it?”
A buzzer whined, and a continuous rol of paper started spewing picture after picture into Grimes’s hands. He handed one to the general. “Let’s copy this one for everyone.”
Minutes later the group was back on the field with a stack of colour copies to be handed out. An extemporaneous gathering of the various military parties on the field was preceded by a flurry of paper handling. Questions and answers began almost immediately, but to Henry they sounded like code.
He left the gathering and went back to his dog. Shep pulled nervously at his leash, uncomfortable with the large crowd that had suddenly gathered around him. Henry unhooked the leash and led him away. Out of the crowd, Shep relaxed immediately. The pair of them sat down to listen.
At the end of the flood of dialogue that followed, the general announced a new strategy and indicated they would be rolling within an hour.
Late afternoon was now judged by Hayes and Grimes to be the best time to attack the terrorists’ headquarters. The sun would then be shining through the huge Lexan window and into the eyes of any sentries looking west, the direction from which the Gadflies would approach the Hacienda.
For some unknown reason, Henry hadn’t been nervous until Hayes made that announcement. Seeing the general standing in front of a group in the field, dressed in full assault gear, added a new texture to his perception of the man. He realized the events he was witnessing would someday be the stuff of legend. Like Crockett or Travis at the Alamo, General Anthony Hayes was the herald of great historical events about to happen.
Henry shivered.
In his doomsday room, Suarez grew increasingly tense as the seconds ticked away. It was one in the afternoon, and still the primary account balance showing in the window of his laptop hadn’t budged.
“It’s coming up on two in the afternoon,” he said to Remo at last. “Dial the number at the UN again.”