“My GPS system has tested very well on a small singleengine plane,” Townsend said emphatically. “It’s simple and basic, like a large radio-controlled model plane except much more sophisticated. It uses a simple digital autopilot system with altitude and vertical speed presets, hooked into a Global Positioning System navigation set. I can launch, the plane by remote control, tie in the autopilot and the satellite navigator, and it’ll fly right to the coordinates I punch in. With the GPS controlling the plane’s altitude, I can have it dive-bomb right on top of whatever coordinates you like.”
“The GPS satellite system’s accuracy can be degraded by the Department of Defense,” Cazaux said. “Our attacks call for precise guidance and accurate delivery.”
“With those fuel-air explosives, Henri, you can miss the target by almost a half-mile and still blow the shit out of it,” Townsend added.
Cazaux thought about that idea for a moment, then nodded his agreement. “Very well, we will use the GPS-controlled planes as well, but only with the smaller planes — I want human pilots controlling the larger aircraft. Where are your GPS-controlled planes, Gregory?”
“I just flew the first one into Boone County Airport for testing,” Townsend replied. “I can pick up the fuel-air explosives canisters and fly it anywhere you want.”
“Very well.” Cazaux gave him a destination airport, then said, “Tomas is correct — there seems to be no shortage of pilots who will fly these missions foi* the proper sum of money. You are authorized to offer any amount necessary to get a crew to fly our planes. But understand this: any crew we contract with will either deliver the weapons on target as specified, or they will die the same fate as Monsieur Lechamps. Is that clear?” There was an immediate chorus of “Yes, sir” all round the table and its grisly centerpiece.
“The key to a successful strike now is to destroy the ground-based air defense sites nearest the designated target,” Cazaux said. “We shall stage commando raids on the nearest Patriot, Hawk, and Avenger batteries to the designated target, and on the master command and control van on the ground. Our scouts can locate each of these assets and plan coordinated attacks at every point.”
“That leaves the fighters and the radar systems that control them,” Townsend said. “We can attack the terminal radar antennas to knock out the ground-based radars; we know their locations precisely. But the airborne radar planes and the fighters will still be in operation. If they’re on the ground, we can hit them. We know the radar planes’ main operating base is in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, and our scouts can locate any other aerodromes they may use to deploy their radar planes. The fighters are widely deployed — we’ve seen them at the most unlikely aerodromes, parked beside fabric-winged planes and tiny line service plywood shacks trying to top up on jet fuel — and they fly more aerial patrols instead of returning to ground alert after a run. That means they’ll be harder to target. But we’ve got the manpower and the hardware to raid a dozen locations simultaneously, Henri. Just give us a target and a time. A few days after we get the planes, we can—”
“I’ve got a better suggestion,” Harold Lake interjected. “Why don’t we quit while we’re ahead here?”
The entire room turned as quiet as a tomb. The other staff officers looked at Lake in astonishment, wondering how he or any man who knew Henri Cazaux could dare to suggest such a thing as stopping an operation that Cazaux was actively directing. Lake noticed the sudden, deathly silence, took another deep swig of Scotch, and went on. “Look at you bums, looking at me like I just developed four fucking heads. Henri, I’m serious about this.” Lake turned to Cazaux. He knew the terrorist respected strength and military protocol, and so he straightened his shoulders and said in a clear, steady voice, “Permission to speak, Henri.”
“Of course, Harold,” Cazaux said, nodding his approval. “You have earned the right. I have been remiss in not acknowledging your contribution to this campaign. I was distrustful and wary of your idea concerning using the stock and options markets to raise money for our operations, but you have far exceeded all expectations. I congratulate you, and I admit that my hesitation about your plan was because of my ignorance. Speak.”
“Thank you, Henri. I’ll preface my suggestion with the quartermaster’s report, gentlemen: we have almost ninety million dollars in cash or liquid securities in our hands right now. The options that will expire in the next three to five days will net us another ten to twelve million—”
“You’re shitting me!” Ysidro cried enthusiastically. “I don’t believe it, Drip — you really made that stock option shit work!”
“This is by far the largest war chest we’ve ever had,” Lake went on. “The only payables we have right now is the refurbishment and reregistration of the Shorts Sherpa following Henri’s Memphis mission. We’re not just repainting it, of course, but we’ve got to create new airworthiness certificates and registration documents, and all that takes time and money — and of course the prepurchase of the new aircraft, weapons, and hardware for the next mission.
“But each securities transaction I accomplish now is getting more and more attention, and it’s only a matter of time before someone starts a Securities and Exchange Commission investigation. I’m not worried about that — the source of the money is very well covered, and besides, everything I’m doing is completely legal — but it will create a little attention, and we can always do without that. But when we purchased the Airtech transport we used on the Dallas raid, I’m sure our paperwork was scrutinized by the FBI or the Marshals Service. Any plane that even slightly appears as if it might be used in a Henri Cazaux-style raid will be subject to a more intensive search. In short, Henri, the heat’s being turned up everywhere — not just over the target, but in the brokerage houses, banks, and the airplane dealers.”
“So what’s the point, Drip?”
“The point is, this might be a good time to take the cash, fold up our tents, and get out of the country,” Lake went on. “Our operating expenses from our normal smuggling and tactical operations were about six million dollars a year. That’s half of what we’ll make on interest on our war chest alone, without ever touching the principal. In addi-, tion, I’ve established several iron-clad legitimate business entities in seven countries just in the past two weeks, all completely untraceable to any of us. I’ve got entrees into * the defense and aviation ministries, from countries like the Czech Republic, Indonesia, and mainland China, which — means they will sell us weapons and aircraft with a phone call and a wire from a bank that we own.
“Henri, this is no shit, I swear it — I’ve got us tapped into resources, government officials, bank accounts, letters of credit, and industry pipelines to over ten billion dollars’ worth of airplanes, weapons, real estate, anything you want,” Lake went on excitedly. “We’re players now, ' Henri — global, international, zero-frontier players. With all due respect, Henri, we’re almost as big now as we were as just Henri Cazaux’s smuggling gang, and far more legitimate-looking. We can pull the strings from anywhere on the planet that has a phone — not even a phone, man, as long as we could see the sky to aim at a satellite — and we could get away from the FBI and the regulators forever. And if we turned our backs on it all, flew the Shorts down to South America, bought a plantation outside Caracas or Rio or Cartagena, we could live like kings and have enough dough to set our grandchildren up in business fifty years from now.”