Deep in engineering, an alarm sounded and crewmen rushed to see what it was. Number three fire and flushing pump had suddenly stopped with a loud bang. Pumping thousands of gallons per minute, it made sure all the salt water systems on the ship had plenty of water available. Several crewmen tried to get it started again, but it was no use. The electric motor was operational, but something had been sucked into the pump itself. After an hour of trying to free it, they gave up. The number three fire and flushing pump was tagged out. Another was brought online. They would have to fix that problem when they returned home.
Just a few minutes later, the anchor windless began hoisting the giant stockless anchor out of the sandy, plant laden bottom. Few knew that the North Carolina was leaving. Across the harbor the crew of the yacht watched in horror as two tugs came out to help push the great ship’s bow around so she could head to sea. Almost silently, the battleship made her way through the harbor entrance. As soon as possible, the people on the yacht began to search for Romero. They almost hoped the battleship would explode before their eyes giving their leader a huge victory. But it was not to be. Plying back and forth, they found nothing. By morning, they had extended their search toward the shore, but there was no sign of him. Working back to the harbor entrance, they were surprised that the great ship was nowhere to be seen.
Just before the sun came up, as the early morning light began to light the sky, the lookout near Puerto La Cruze was horrified to see a huge ship operating near the shore. It had a flat top. Grabbing a stronger set of binoculars, he studied the ship more closely. There appeared to be aircraft on her decks and looking behind the ship, he saw what looked like landing craft going into the stern. Frantically reaching for the phone, he reported his sightings. Within ten minutes, aircraft came streaking over the lookout’s position and heading toward the ship.
“Zero two, base. We have a large American carrier approximately 14 miles out. There are aircraft on her decks, over,” said the pilot of one of the two F-16 fighter planes sent to respond to the incursion.
“Roger, ascertain type of ship, over” came the reply.
The pilot and his wingman were being careful not to fly too near the ship. No one in his right mind would try to take on an American carrier on their own. But this was not one of the huge Nimitz Class carriers he had seen. Instead it was smaller, almost rectangular in shape with a very large island. As he flew towards the stern of the ship, he saw it was hollow from the stern. “I make this one of their large landing ships. There are two landing craft lined up and entering the stern of the ship, and there is a guided missile cruiser coming out of the haze two miles out to sea, over.”
“We have company,” said his wingman over the radio circuit.
Looking behind him, two F-35 Lightnings had already joined up and were tagging along behind and to one side. There were white missiles on the wings. The F-16 could easily take on the Lightning, but at this range, he didn’t want to chance it.
“Aircraft on my starboard side, this is Marine Corps Lightning two-zero-one. We request you proceed no closer to our ship. We are in international waters and exercising our rights of free passage. Do you understand, over,” said one of the Lightning pilots.
The other pilot thumbed his transmit button. “This is Venezuelan Air Force plane Zero-two. Your ship is operating very close to our territorial waters. We do not intend any harm, just observing, over,” he said in response. His superior had already told them how to handle that situation.
“Roger, we welcome your observation, but we will escort you while in the area, over.”
“I understand,” said the pilot. He motioned for his wingman to follow and the two jets banked to give the LHD and her escorts a wide berth. They got the chance to see the cruiser a little better. It was one of those new ones. There would be no missiles on a rail like some of the older ones. These would suddenly pop out of one of the cells and be on you faster than he would like. The Venezuelan jets continued to circle the formation for about an hour before turning towards the shore and home base. Once they had moved five miles away, the Lightnings returned to a position near the LHD to be ready for another flight if it came.
Chapter 12
Playing the game
Former Senator Dan Williamson sat back in his office behind closed doors and sipped a single malt scotch. He liked it when the candidate was on the road and he had the office to himself. Williamson found Foster to be a wet nose. He doubted the man had the backbone to really run a country, but after losing his senate seat just two years before, Williamson was doing anything he could to get back into his party’s good graces. Fortunately, he had something that was pretty damning on Foster and he used it to bully his way into the Chief of Staff position during the campaign. He intended to keep that position when he got Foster into the White House.
Williamson hated President O’Bannon with a passion. He blamed him for the mess he got himself into during the war with Korea. The party had decided that someone else needed to occupy his senate seat and the newcomer moved in after the last election. A lot of the older party hacks didn’t want him, but he had too much experience as a campaigner and seniority as a political figure to be turned down. Besides, he also knew where the money was and could wield a broad axe when it came to soliciting campaign contributions. That alone had been worth bringing him back. But now, he had other ambitions. He missed the power he once had and there was only one place to feed it — the White House. Foster was so weak he could easily dictate policy from the Chief of Staff position. After that, who knew where it might lead.
But now his main goal was to overcome the 20 point difference between Foster and O’Bannon. That would happen just as long as the American hostages remained in Venezuelan hands. He sat back and smiled remembering how easy it had been. He had been the one to get Jonas his position in Caracas. It had only taken a few phone calls to set up the deal. Parente was like him. He craved power and this was a good way for him to get some. Williamson couldn’t care less if someone got hurt. His plans for Parente were simply to use him and spit him out. Nothing mattered but to get Fowler elected. Who knows, he thought, I might just string Parente out for a few years. Eventually Parente would do something stupid and either be shot or go into exile. Besides, no one would believe a dictator against an upstanding American President.
The phone rang on his desk. It was the private line. “Williamson,” he answered.
“The President wants to know what’s going on. He says a battleship is parked just seventeen miles from his shores and his military just saw some sort of carrier operating near his eastern shore,” said Jonas from Venezuela. “He says they are also using landing craft. He’s really starting to get paranoid.”