“On schedule,” Lin confirmed.
“Good. Now I turn the floor to our friend from Angola,” Sung said.
“Hello, my name is Jay P. Kahtouma. I am a member of the National Union for Total Independence of Angola. While our oppressors have been primarily the Portuguese, the imperial policies of the United States have kept our people in a continual state of poverty. We have many points of contact in the southeastern United States that will execute the appropriate actions when the word is given.”
“Thank you, Jay P. We appreciate your contributions to our effort,” Sung said.
He then turned to Igor Krachev, a hard-line Russian who had spent many years in Afghanistan fighting that most horrible war. Many of the Russian commanders, such as Krachev, became worn down by the conflict. Toward the latter half of the war, they struck deals with the local Afghans to trade protection of their troops for the assurance that their occupying forces would not attack villages. He had spent most of his career in the Russian paratroops and had migrated away from the democratic reforms when he saw black market corruption take control of his country. Krachev held out a diminishing flicker of hope that this current course of action would help restore Russia to its rightful, preeminent place in world geopolitics.
“Commander Krachev,” said Sung.
“Thank you, Comrade Sung. We have necessarily kept a low profile, but are ready to execute our portion of the plan. Everything is in place and we will perform with precision.” Krachev sat back in his chair, his large shoulders slumping over.
Eduardo Sanchez stood as the final speaker. The Cuban nationalist was a tall, light-skinned man sporting a pencil mustache just above his thin upper lip.
“Everyone understands Cuba’s role in this operation,” Sanchez said. “We have been preparing for this for many years. Our country has been suffering the economic and political sanctions of the United States for nearly fifty years now. They have driven my countrymen into economic despair and we stand ready to unite with all of our brothers and sisters across the globe to destroy them. On order, we will begin operations to initiate the remainder of Phase Two operations and support Ballantine’s actions as well.”
Sung stood and spread his arms wide. “I thank you all for your commentary and for your support in this operation. I intend to speak with General Ballantine soon.” He paused for effect and translation. “Our thoughts and best wishes go out to all of our men and women who are about to begin the remainder of Phase Two operations. We will await the code word from Ballantine, indicating that conditions are set, before launching our attacks.”
Everyone nodded. They had been over this portion of the plan before. They all had agreed that Ballantine’s final attack must be successful before they would sacrifice their soldiers. Destruction of the United States’ command and control architecture would facilitate their attacks greatly.
“Together we conquer the enemy!” Sung shouted, holding his fists in the air.
“Together!” they responded, each in their own language, raising their arms and pumping their fists.
Sung lightly touched Sue Kim’s arm as he guided her outside into the muggy Panamanian early morning darkness. The monkeys howled in the background, as if to signal the joy that was to come.
Sung, Aswan, Sanchez, Cartagena, Radovic, Kahtouma, and Lin had all waited a long time to strike utter fear into the heart of the United States. In retrospect, they viewed the events of September 11 as unfulfilling. Fear had not reached any level of resonance to which their citizens were accustomed. The American people had simply moved ahead with their lives while their volunteer military fought on their behalf. “Go shopping,” their president had said.
With Sue Kim lightly grasping his arm, Sung proudly walked to his cabin.
As the group dispersed one man remained in the corner, sitting with his chair propped up against the wall, an AK-47 across his lap like a sleeping pet.
CHAPTER 34
“Meredith, get in here now!” Hellerman shouted down the hall of the operations center.
She rounded the corner, holding her cell phone and needing to hear the words over and over again.
“I saw Zachary, Meredith. He was alive when I saw him!” Matt’s voice was hoarse from his lack of sleep, but his words were laced with adrenaline.
“What happened, Matt? Is he okay?” she asked, stopping before entering Hellerman’s office.
“He’s been shot, and Ballantine took him.”
“What! Are you okay?”
“I don’t know. Who cares? Are you guys trying to track down Ballantine? He’s got Zachary, and I want in on anything going after him. He can’t be too far. A Sherpa can only fly so far on a tank of gas. Do you guys have the airports and air-fueling sites covered?”
“Matt, slow down. We’re working it. I know how important this is. Trust me.”
“Okay. I’m at Walter Reed now. They flew me here early this morning. The Pave Low came in with a rescue team and got me, Hobart, Van Dreeves, and Rampert. All three are wounded. I got lucky. You seen Peyton? She was hurt, too.”
“She briefed Hellerman this morning, but she’s resting now. She’s a bit shook up. The Pave Low landed her back at Andrews. They took her to Walter Reed, too. Treated and released. She was grazed by a bullet somewhere along the way.”
Matt’s mind was racing ahead, his words following suit. “Okay, tell her I’m okay and that I need to talk to her as soon as possible.”
Meredith hesitated, feeling a twinge of jealousy. “I’ll do that.” She figured it was no time to let petty issues get in the way. “I’m glad you’re okay, Matt. And I’m glad you saw Zachary. We’ll find him.”
“Meredith?”
“Yes, Matt?”
Matt hesitated, considering his words, then chose a conservative statement.
“Thanks. I might have never gotten on that plane if it hadn’t been for you.”
Meredith’s rushed response was the antithesis of Matt’s. Her self-imposed emotional blockade since breaking off their engagement suddenly dissolved. “Matt, I love you.”
He paused and whispered into the phone, “I love you too, Meredith. Very much.”
“Meredith, get in here now!” Hellerman shouted.
Meredith dropped her head, shaking it, wondering why she couldn’t grab thirty seconds of intimacy with this man Matt Garrett.
“Matt, I’ve got to go. Please be safe.”
“Bye.”
She pushed through the doors into Hellerman’s office.
“We’ve got serious—” Hellerman said.
“Did you hear that Zachary Garrett—”
“—problems.”
“—is alive?” Meredith finished. She instantly quieted when she noticed the dour look on Hellerman’s face.
“Ballantine is on the loose, and we can’t seem to stop these attacks. Thousands are dead, and the number is only going to grow. The press is all over our ass, and the president has a press conference in two hours. Our allies are concerned and are taking precautions within their own countries. Yet there have been no attacks anywhere but here, as far as I’ve heard. We have a video teleconference with the National Security Council in fifteen minutes. Now what ideas do you have?”
Meredith had rarely, if ever, seen the vice president so flustered. Even during the Philippines situation last year, he was the one who had kept his cool and steered the neophyte president through the crisis.
“Mr. Vice President, I think we need to find Ballantine’s airplane. We’re already mobilizing the National Guard across the country and calling up the Reserves. What few active-duty forces we’ve got stateside are preparing to move out and protect key sites, such as nuclear reactors and power plants. We probably need to review Posse Comitatus as well.”