“Most of our population will never have experienced anything like this storm,” Belewa said with a shake of his head. “Our primary concern must be the coastal villages. Anything close to sea level is going to be inundated. We’ve got to get our people inland and to higher ground.”
“Radio Monrovia and Radio Freetown are broadcasting continuous storm warnings and instructions to evacuate,” Brigadier Atiba replied. “All village chiefs are also receiving telephone notification from the provincial councils.”
“And what of the villages that do not have working radios or telephones? It’s not enough, Sako. We must do more, and quickly.”
Belewa’s personal command center was jammed to overflowing, not only with a doubled duty watch but also with a steady stream of couriers and functionaries from the other government agencies within the building. Some were there to deliver urgently needed reports and information. The majority, however, had come to receive even more urgently needed orders and instructions. Belewa and Atiba had been on their feet since before first light, moving from desk to desk, issuing commands and motivation in equal amounts.
“I want full mobilization on all militia and labor companies. All Police and Special Police reserves as well. All cities and townships will go under full martial law at sundown tonight, and the Special Courts are authorized to conduct field trials for looters and shirkers. There will be no looting, and order will be maintained.”
“Yes, sir. What about the regular army and navy?”
“Stand down from combat operations. Divert all elements to emergency services. Everything except for the Guinea border garrisons and patrols.”
“As you order, General,” Atiba replied, “but we should consider the fact that this storm will likely be as disruptive to the United Nations blockade as it will be to us. We may have an opportunity here to take some action.”
“That is something to consider, Sako, and as soon as we have a free minute to do so, we shall. For the moment, we have a more dangerous enemy to fight.”
Beyond the command suite’s windows, the cloud cover could be seen building to the southward. Belewa paced slowly before those windows, his eyes half closed and his words following the flow of his thoughts. Atiba’s pencil swept across the pages of his daybook, racing to keep up.
“I want foot and motorized army patrols to sweep the coastal zones. All coastal villages, or at least as many as we can reach, are to be ordered to evacuate inland immediately. Army Transport Command and the Civil Travel Commission are to dedicate all available assets to the task. Authorize the immediate dispersal of an extra week’s fuel ration—”
At that moment, a signals officer entered the central room, a stunned expression on his face. Crossing swiftly to Atiba, he spoke a few quiet, urgent sentences. It was the Chief of Staff’s turn then to wear the stunned expression.
“Obe… General Belewa, there is… an unusual development.”
Belewa paused in his pacing. “What is it, Sako?”
“It’s the satellite phone, the international diplomatic link. A woman is on it who claims that she is the commander of the American interdiction squadron. She asks to speak with you directly, Obe.”
Belewa froze in place, his eyes widening as he shared in the disbelief. Then he broke the mental lock and shot a glance out of the window in the direction of both the American Off shore Base and the looming storm front.
“Tell her that I will be there presently. Brigadier Atiba, you are with me. The rest of you, carry on.”
They crossed the hall to the communications center in the opposing hotel suite. The plate-size satellite dish had been set up on the balcony, and Belewa snapped his fingers, pointing to both the tape recorder and the remote speaker unit before accepting the handset. With Atiba and the commo officer listening in, he lifted the phone to his ear.
“This is Premier General Obe Belewa of the West African Union. To whom am I speaking?”
“This is Captain Amanda Lee Garrett of the United States Navy, currently commanding the U.S. elements attached to the United Nations African Interdiction Force. Thank you for accepting my call, General.”
It was a good woman’s voice, a strong and level alto, yet with a purring huskiness to it. The words it spoke were crisp and businesslike. Still, Belewa caught himself wondering just for a moment how that voice might sound whispering a love poem. Angrily, he shook the thought away.
“What is it you wish to speak to me about, Captain Garrett?” Somehow it never occurred to him to doubt his caller’s identity.
“Matters that I suppose should be dealt with through proper diplomatic channels,” the woman replied. “However, neither one of us really has the time for that at the moment. I’m sure that you are already aware of the developing weather situation?”
“The hurricane? Yes, Captain. We know of it.”
“We here within the UNAFIN task force are aware of the danger this storm represents to your civilian population along the coast. We also know of the difficulties you will face in getting adequate warning to them. We wish to offer our assistance.”
Belewa looked up and met the startled gaze of his officers. “Assistance?”
“That’s correct, General,” she replied evenly. “I have already instructed the signals stations in my net to commence broadcasting weather warnings on the civil AM radio bands, supplementing your own coverage. Also, while we know you have the standard Internet weather accesses available to you, we can feed you direct downloads from both our National Hurricane Center and from Atlantic Fleet Command’s Meteorology Division. Can you provide us with a datalink?”
Damnation! What was he supposed to say to that! He could only nod and gesture affirmatively to the communications officer. Yes, for the love of God, set it up!
“We are arranging for the datalink, Captain,” Belewa replied, his mind racing. What was she planning? What kind of trap could this be? “I… thank you for your consideration. This is most unexpected.”
“Why should it be, General?” the level alto continued. “We are both professional military officers, involved in a confrontation between our nations. However, I believe we are both wise enough to know that there is a time and a place for such confrontation. This is not one of them. The United States and the United Nations have no conflict with the civil population of the West African Union, and they are the ones most at risk at this moment.
“Accordingly, I propose a truce, a cease-fire, beginning now and extending for a period of forty-eight hours beyond the termination of the coming hurricane, permitting us both to focus our assets on disaster relief and rescue. From what I judge, the most critical problem confronting us is the evacuation of your low-lying coastal regions prior to the storm coming ashore, and disaster assessment afterward. We are prepared to assist in both of these areas.”
“In what way?” Belewa inquired cautiously.
“You are aware of our reconnaissance drones and our intelligence assessment capacity, General. I am prepared to put them at your disposal in the same way we are aiding the government of Guinea. Many of your isolated coastal communities are without radio or telephone communications. We can spot the communities that appear to be evacuating and those that are not, allowing your emergency services to concentrate their efforts on the villages that have not received a warning yet. Following the hurricane, we can pinpoint those areas along your coast that have been hardest hit, again allowing you to concentrate your efforts. If we work together on this, General, we can hold down the loss of life your nation is facing.”
God, but she was right. What reason had he to refuse such an offer? Beyond personal pride or suspicion, at least.