Yes. She looked excited. We fly like bird.
“Yes, we are flying like the birds.”
After a short silence, Dulce seemed to look around curiously. Me need potty.
DeeAnn nodded and stood back up. She twisted the small metal knob and swung the door outward. Dulce was gently led out by DeeAnn’s hand before heading toward the restroom. “Gentlemen,” she announced. “We’ll be right back.”
Juan watched them make their way forward to a large door, which DeeAnn held open for Dulce.
He was worried. One of the strange translation errors had already shown up on the new vest during testing.
He hoped their trip would be short. And that they could make a difference helping to find DeeAnn’s friend Luke. Because the errors were increasing. And if he and Lee couldn’t fix them soon, it had the potential to quickly undo all the translation progress DeeAnn and Dulce had made together. In other words, IMIS would have to be reprogrammed from scratch.
26
While Clay peered through a pair of 8x30mm military binoculars, Caesare silently unwrapped an energy bar and slipped the foil wrapper deep into his pack. After making it back to the hotel room and grabbing their gear, they headed west to the edge of town where they waited patiently out of sight.
After the sun went down, the two spotted a building set far enough back for them to be discreet. They watched a few patrols drive by before quickly passing through the shadows and climbing up the back ladder of the two-story structure. From the top of the roof, they had a clear, if perhaps distant, view of the Chinese ship, which remained motionless at the water’s edge.
“Anything?” Caesare took another bite and looked around at the other rooftops, scanning for movement.
“Nope,” Clay said, adjusting the binoculars. “There isn’t the slightest movement on or inside that ship. Fascinating.”
Caesare checked the faint red glow of his watch. “We still have a little while yet.” After taking another bite of his bar, he looked behind them once more before settling down again below the rim of the roof. “You know, this reminds me of that time in Haiti.”
Clay smiled from behind the glasses. “Without the gunfire.”
Caesare lay down and propped a broad arm behind his head. He then examined the area around him. “This roof is cleaner too. It’s like the Ritz.”
Caesare looked up at a large patch of cloud passing overhead. As it passed by, the stars behind it blinked back into existence one by one. “I have to admit, John, there are a few things I still miss from the old days.”
“Yeah, same here.”
Neither of them had to say anything. They still remembered their first few years together very clearly. Although the mission in Haiti was the turning point for both of them, as well as a few fellow SEAL members.
The real “Operation Uphold Democracy” was very different from how it was explained to the media. Even though originally designed as a combat mission, it was billed as little more than a peacekeeping operation. The mission, as understood by the public, was to remove the regime that staged a coup in Haiti a few years earlier and overthrew the country’s president. What was not known was that the new regime knew something the public didn’t, and as the situation continued to erode, the United States decided it had to neutralize a risk, urgently.
The secret was that the bloody coup had been quietly instigated by the U.S., the very country who was now trying to get rid of a regime that was quickly losing support from its own citizens. Of course, both the media and the history books would report that the deployment of over twenty thousand peacekeeping troops eventually helped persuade the regime to step down. However, the truth was far less diplomatic. The primary driver, known only to a select few, was two Navy SEAL teams who silently found the head of the regime one night and eliminated him. Yet, while the public was none the wiser, it was the last straw for several of the SEAL team members. They’d had enough of cleaning up messes, particularly those created by idiotic politicians and an incompetent CIA.
Less than an hour later, Clay and Caesare heard what they were looking for, long before they saw them. And they were right on schedule. The rumbling of the trucks trudging down the hill in low gear was unmistakable. It took another several minutes to see the first flashes of headlights through the canopy of trees. Almost a mile out, the trucks emerged from the forest and reaching the bottom of the hill. Their engines roared louder as they picked up speed. Both Clay and Caesare watched intently, their eyes just over the lip of the roof.
There were six again, just as they’d seen on the satellite footage. All in a tight single file line. The lead truck veered toward the water, as did the others, and then followed along the river toward the ship. As they passed the old buildings, Clay and Caesare studied them carefully.
“Three axle and armor plated. Looks like Ural Typhoons.”
“These guys don’t mess around,” Caesare responded.
“That means protected armor and glass. And bulletproof tires. Not what I was hoping for.”
“Yeah, I was hoping for something more like… Chinese quality.”
Clay followed each truck. “Unfortunately, I don’t think any of these are going to fall apart on us anytime soon.”
Both men fell silent and watched the short line of trucks continue along the river, just as the bright lights came on aboard the corvette ship. They both remained motionless, with their heads and binoculars barely above the roofline. They watched the first truck eventually slow, and then turn around. It backed up into place, stopping at the bottom of the wide gangway.
“No back-up beepers,” mused Caesare. “Isn’t that illegal?”
As the first truck shifted into park, the rest remained in their single file line, idling with headlights still on. Moments later, a small group of silhouettes emerged from the dark shroud around the ship to assist with the mysterious crates.
After each truck was unloaded, it was driven to a dark building not far from Clay and Caesare. A tall metal door opened and the rear end of a much larger tanker truck became visible. One by one, each Ural Typhoon stopped in front of the door for refueling. What neither Clay nor Caesare had spotted on Borger’s monitor previously was that while each truck’s tank was being refilled, more empty crates emerged from the darkened building and were quickly loaded into the back of each Typhoon.
“They’re efficient, I’ll give them that.”
“Agreed.” Clay turned his binoculars back to the ship where the last truck was being unloaded. They had noticed something earlier that Clay was trying to get a better look at now through the glare of the corvette’s bright lights. The silhouettes of the sailors moved methodically back and forth, but standing on a higher part of the ship was a single individual who wasn’t moving at all. Instead, he appeared to be watching the others, or maybe supervising them.
It was something else they had not noticed in the ARGUS footage. The person, who appeared slightly taller than the rest, was watching the transfer of crates very carefully. However, with one of the bright lights directly behind him, his face remained unseen.
Several minutes later, after the last Typhoon truck had reached the abandoned building for more fuel, the lights on and around the corvette instantly blinked out. The only light remaining was from the headlights of the trucks themselves, five of which had already headed back up the hill.
When the last truck had departed, the metal door was lowered, and the area plunged back into darkness and silence.