“Horse shit. I haven’t heard anything,” said Williamson.
“His military confirms it. They are saying it’s just two incidences, but you know what he’s thinking,” said Jonas.
“Let him think. Tell him I don’t know of anything happening, but I’ll check. Give me about an hour and I’ll get back to you,” said Williamson as he hung up the phone. Damned ignorant savage. Scared of every little thing, he thought. He picked up the phone and dialed another number. After two rings a tired voice answered the phone.
“Captain Ferrell, sorry to bother you, but I need to know what’s going on down south,” said Williamson.
At the other end of the line, Ferrell sat in a room flanked by two FBI agents who had headphones listening in. One motioned for Ferrell to be careful.
“I don’t have anything coming from this end,” said Ferrell. “I heard about some exercises with Brazil and Colombia, but that’s been laid on for a while,” he lied.
“Nothing having to do with our interests?”
“No, sir. Not from my end.”
“Very good. Let me know if you hear something,” Williamson said.
“Yes sir,” said Ferrell as he heard Williamson hang up.
“Very good, Captain,” said Kelly sliding back from the table. “You keep helping us out and you might just get through this,” he said.
Ferrell looked as if the life had been drained from him. Everything he had lived for up to now was gone and his prospects were hinging on what these agents reported to a judge. If he were very lucky, he might get to wear an ankle bracelet for a few years. But as of now, an Air Force career and any hopes of political aspirations were flushed down a toilet. He contemplated working for the rest of his life in a car wash.
Williamson hung up and dialed another number he knew.
“Navy News Desk, Lieutenant Boynton,”
“This is Bill Richards from the Washington Times. Can you give me some information about an exercise with Brazil?” Williamson asked.
At the News Desk, Boynton looked at his handset with incredulity. “Sir, that information was passed out to your guy here a couple of hours ago,” he said. “It’s all over CNN right now.”
“Yea, I know. I just wanted to check on some battleship visiting another country as a part of it,” Williamson said.
“Yes, sir, that was the North Carolina. She had a port visit in Aruba yesterday. She is a part of the exercise,” said Boynton.
“Can you tell me what other battleships are a part of this thing?”
“Only the two that were announced. The North Carolina and the Iowa are taking part as a part of their Reserve training underway period. That’s as far as we are going to give out information as of now. You can call back later on and see if there is anything else to release.”
“Somehow I heard there was a carrier.”
“The Brazilian carrier São Paulo will be taking part, but the only ship carrying aircraft will be USS Wasp, an LHD. As we stated in the brief, we are going to exercise fleet and Marine units to conduct amphibious warfare,” said Boynton. “Their carrier will be the center of that exercise.”
“Ahh, that answers the questions we had. Just got a little confused when someone down there gave us different information. Thanks for the help,” said Williamson.
“You’re very welcome, sir,” said Boynton.
Williamson hung up the phone. All you have to do is ask, he thought to himself as he turned on the news. Sure enough, a CNN reporter was talking about how this would be the first time the United States would take a secondary role in the exercises. Images of the São Paulo were filling the screen. Video of aging A-4 Skyhawks were shown catapulting from her deck.
Williamson chuckled to himself. All this worry for nothing, he thought. He picked up the phone and dialed the Ambassador. “Call off the dogs. It’s a planned joint exercise. They will be operating in the waters off Guiana for a while,” Williamson speculated.
“You’re sure?” asked Jonas.
“Goddamnit, do I have to paint a picture?” barked Williamson.
“But why was Venezuela not invited?”
Williamson almost cursed. After a breath he said, “Because our man never wants to play. Besides, can you blame the guys in the White House? Parente hates their guts.”
“I don’t know. He’s getting very antsy.”
“Let him. The big boys are playing in the pond. If he wants in, he better want to play nice,” Williamson nearly shouted. “I’ll let you know when something happens,” he said as he hung up the phone. Williamson hated dealing with people who had no backbone. He picked up his glass and downed the remainder of its contents. The fire in his throat calmed him some. He’d see that Jonas was replaced as soon as he could.
Claire Richardson was almost gleeful as she made the call on the secure satellite link to the Iowa. “He got your message and you’ve got him worried,” she said.
On the other end Hammond smiled. “Good. I want to make him scared to death. I bet he nearly wet himself when they saw the Wasp this morning. I made sure they saw empty LCACs returning to the ship. If he worries we might have made a landing, it’s just too bad.”
“Just make sure you don’t scare him into doing something drastic. If he moves those people, we might never find them again,” said Richardson.
“I agree, Claire. Right now, I just want to keep his attention focused on this group. The team is on a C-1 right now heading for the carrier. Once there, I will ferry them aboard Iowa and give them their final brief. I figure the quicker we get them in, the better,” he said.
“I wish I could go with you Roger. It’s fun being in the game again,” she said.
“That’s all I’m good for, getting you your jollies?” he joked.
“Sitting in this glorified five sided brothel? I’ll take what I get.” She heard Hammond laugh on the other end. “You be careful, Roger. I’ll keep sending down the intel and will let you know if anything breaks loose from the FBI,” she said in a concerned voice.
“Thanks Marine. I’ll bring back pictures.”
Richardson grunted. “Just as long as they will hold up in court,” she said. “Take care.”
Hammond set down the received and turned to his Chief of Staff, Captain Moyseowicz. “When should the team get to the carrier?”
Moyseowicz looked at his watch. “About thirty minutes. I have a CH-53 standing by to bring them here. Rhodes has their quarters set up and a place for their gear. We’ll brief them in tomorrow and they’ll take off tomorrow night. They’ll head out after dark,” he said.
Hammond nodded. “Yep, I want them underway by about 2030. About an hour to the ship, a five hour run, and another two hours to the drop zone should have them getting there just before dawn. Where will the Osprey land?”
“They’ll make a dash to Colombia to a small military field there. Once refueled, they will head back out to the ship. It’s a long night, but we can’t really wait,” Moyseowicz said.
Hammond nodded. “Thad, it looks like we won’t be getting much sleep after tomorrow.”
Moyseowicz grinned. “That’s why they pay us the big bucks,” he said.
Ricks was not a happy man. The C-1 Trader bounced around the sky like a drunken prostitute. He thoroughly expected to blow his lights out all over his fellow passengers. The rest of the men didn’t look much better. In the back of the enclosed cabin, the Brazilian crewmember was eating on some sort of sausage and grinning at his passengers. Sgt. Miller sat beside Ricks. He was a pale green in color. Sitting backwards in the plane didn’t help.
Just two hours ago, his men had been crammed into three of the C-1s and took off toward the carrier. It was the first time Ricks had been in a piston engine aircraft. He thought the vibrations would shake them to death. He would have to check all the gear to make sure it hadn’t been damaged after this pounding.