“What if they got them on some plane?” asked the CNO.
“Then all bets are off, but we’ve been monitoring air traffic and nothing appeared out of the ordinary and from the radar images, nothing took off anywhere near the border,” said Hammond.
General Bradley chimed in. “Okay, say it is the President they are after. That will all go to pot when anyone finds out he did it. There would be an outpouring of sympathy for the United States and a cry for Parente’s head. I can’t see that helping him.”
Hammond took a deep breath. “Yes, sir, so that means he plans on cleaning up all the evidence. I don’t think he plans on ever letting those hostages out alive.”
“Makes sense,” said O’Bannon. “He can say the FARC killed them all. Who would be able to dispute it?”
“And despite it all, there would be ways for Parente to discreetly let the other leaders know he pulled it off,” said Hammond.
The mood in the room had suddenly turned somber. The prospects of losing the hostages had turned into a stark reality. It was silent in the room for a moment.
“At least that gives us our marching orders,” said Foote. “We’ve got to find them and go in and get them out before he has a chance to complete his plans. I take it we have a couple of satellites looking around?”
The President nodded. “And some people on the ground.”
The men in the room looked around and were nodding in agreement. The President broke the silence. “Okay, it looks like this is the best avenue to go on. Let’s follow Roger’s advice and concentrate within 250 miles of where this happened. First priority is to find where these folks are. Once we do, what can we do about it?”
“General Richardson has already selected one of our Special Forces units to be on standby,” said General Black. “She came up with an idea to get them there covertly, but getting them out still needs a little work. This will be classified way above top secret. No sharing the information. I have asked for a completed plan ready within the next 48 hours. Once we find out where this place is, we can hone in the fine details and shove off.”
“Good,” said the President. “Everyone coordinate and make this perfect. I don’t want to lose anyone. Let’s plan on daily briefs, but nothing over a phone line. Let’s keep it tight.” He turned in his seat. “Now what about Roger?”
Hammond put up his hands. “Put me in coach. I wanna play,” he said with a grin. There was another chuckle around the room.
“I figured that. Can he fit in?”
The CNO nodded. “I know we probably shouldn’t, but I want him on the team. Claire Richardson will be the one in charge, but this guy’s too smart to leave in the cold. Besides, now that the cat’s out of the bag, we need to use him where we can.”
Hammond got a puzzled look on his face. “The cat’s out of the bag?”
The President nodded. “The bad guys found out you weren’t at home. Interesting enough, they sent your tail to keep an eye on your ship.”
“The Iowa? Do they think I might go back there?” Hammond asked.
“Actually, we found out that someone’s keeping an eye on all the battleships south of Norfolk. I think they are afraid of what you might do,” said the CNO.
A twinkle came into Hammond’s eyes. “So you want me to lead them on a wild goose chase,” he asked.
“We have some plans,” said the CNO with a twinkle in his eye. “You’re gonna love it.”
The message arrived at 6 am, local time and was passed to the Lieutenant Commander in charge of the Iowa detachment. The Iowa reserve unit was being called up and would report within four days. Any Iowa vets wishing to take part are authorized to accompany the ship. The orders were to make all preparations for getting USS Iowa underway.
Chapter 7
Decisions
Father Emanuel Cardoza sat back in his perch and enjoyed the view. It had taken him a full day to reach his destination — one of the largest trees in the forest. Then it took another three hours, mostly in the dying light of the evening, to get his equipment up to the top of the tree, nearly 90 feet up. There, he unfolded his ‘nest’ — an aluminum framed, mesh platform which he attached to the tree. Using cables and pulleys, he then hoisted up the supplies and gear he needed to spend three days doing what he loved most — photographing birds.
Cardoza was determined to photograph the Harpy eagle in flight. An endangered species, the Harpy was a huge bird with a wingspan of twelve feet or more. It was said these birds could pluck monkeys out of trees without noticeable effort. Already Cardoza had made a name for himself with the National Geographic Society. Some of his photographs had been published in their magazine along with other notable publications across the globe. Yet despite this, Father Cardoza remained a dedicated and trusted priest.
Born in a remote hamlet in Arizona, he had determined early in his life that the priesthood was where he belonged. After high school he went to the University of Southern California at Berkley where he majored in religious studies. From there, he went to the Dominican School of Philosophy and Theology, where he received his masters in divinity. After six months as a deacon, he was ordained a priest. That had been 22 years before. Since then he had been assigned to three different churches, the latest being the Primary Cathedral in Bogotá.
Photography had become a hobby while in high school. Starting with disposable cameras from Kodak, he had made his way to more expensive cameras, and much better work. Now he had a Canon EOS-1D with a variety of lenses, including a 400mm sports lens mated to it. With it, he could capture birds on the wing at great distance, in twilight. True, the kit had cost him nearly everything he had made, but as a priest, he didn’t really need much, and the joy he had capturing stunning examples of God’s nature more than made up for it.
He sat back on his perch and savored the coffee he had made with a portable stove also attached to the tree. The aluminum platform served as his bed and a place to sit and take photos. A small stand had been attached to a limb to balance the camera and lens. Everything had a safety cord, including Cardoza. He had learned that lesson the hard way several years before when he lost a camera and half a backpack of food from a strong gust of wind.
Looking across the mountains he noticed what looked like an old village nestled in the top of the next mountain. Using his camera, he could see what appeared to be stone buildings and some sort of courtyard. Amazingly, there was some sort of obelisk at the head of the courtyard. It rose above the surrounding trees pointing skyward. Cardoza hadn’t known of any obelisks in the Venezuelan culture, but he was still learning about the country and its people. He also noticed that there didn’t appear to be anyone there except for one man dressed in what appeared to be not much more than a loin cloth, doing stretches and walking around the area.
Just then, something flew across his lens. Looking up from the camera, he saw a large bird slowly circling the mountaintop. Now came the fun part.
Pausing to look up from his walk in the royal courtyard, Wei watched an eagle soar overhead. Although born of peasants in a small mountain village, at his fourteenth birthday several men came into the village and took him from his parents, saying he was not really a member of that family, but someone very special. He was very tall, and unlike the others in his village, had blond hair and fair skin. His neighbors had often said he shined like the sun. Frightened at first, he met a very influential and wealthy man who told him he must change his name from the Carlos Osman to Wei. He was told he was the long lost descendent of Wei, the sun god of the native Pemon people. From that moment on, he learned a new language, began living as a god should, with plenty to eat, people to do his bidding, and among other things, eating a plant called ocumo.