“Mr. Vice Chairman, how are you this evening?” he said when prompted.
“Mr. President, it is indeed good to hear your voice after such a dastardly plot against you,” the vice chairman said in very good English.
“Thank you, Mr. Vice Chairman.”
“You will excuse me if I make this call as brief as possible.”
“I understand,” the president said.
“As of this moment, the Politburo is split as to the question of the monumental action of the matter before us. Our generals are also split. As to our action, I am afraid the chairman has become overly suspicious of his closest advisors.”
The president knew without asking that the vice chairman was the youngest and most trusted of these advisors to the eighty-one-year-old chairman. If they didn’t act, the vice chairman would be caught and executed for treasonous acts against the People’s Republic. That would also include every one of the Chinese politicos and military men that had anything to do with going against the authority of the ruling body politic of that country.
“I sincerely hope-”
“Excuse me, Mr. President-as I said, I do not have much time. Our military leaders, while sympathetic to the decision of our best scientists, are still on the fence as far as action against the government is concerned. We will have to take a wait-and-see attitude for the next ten to twelve hours while they decide whether to assist us. Until that time, I am afraid the momentous choice of action or inaction is one that lay with our generals.”
“Are you all right, Mr. Vice Chairman?” the president asked.
“No, Mr. President, I am not. I will be arrested in a matter of moments. Thus at this time I wish us all luck. Please pass on to the French president our sincere condolences in regards to their spacecraft. It is always such a hard thing when men of bravery and honor die in the name of our future, is it not?”
“Indeed, sir, it is.”
“Mr. President, I hear my escort at this very moment coming to make sure I face my very backward superiors in the next hour. Good luck to us all.”
“Mr. Vice Chairman, I wish you-”
“The call is terminated, Mr. President,” said a voice over the line.
The president held the phone away from his ear for the longest time. Then he took a deep breath and placed the phone back to his ear.
“Get me an analysis of that conversation as soon as you can. I want background noises and levels of voice stress, ASAP.”
“Yes, sir,” came the same flat voice.
The president hung and stood to take a look out of the window. As he pulled the drapes back, he saw that the protesters on Pennsylvania Avenue had dwindled to only the most ardent religious fanatics. He shook his head as he watched a few men and women with their signs decrying the race to the Moon. Rain was falling in Washington and that fit his mood to a T as his eyes focused on the damp street outside beyond the steel gate. The mission to the Moon was still a priority and he could not change the parameters of that mission. He could not request that Altair change landing areas to assist the ESA crewmen if they were still alive and he was bothered by it. He only hoped any survivors could somehow make their way to the landing zone. For the French president to not even ask about rescue was to his credit. He understood the priorities as they were made clear by the Case Blue scenario.
As he allowed the curtain to fall back into place, blocking his view of the few protesters who braved the rains, he thought about Colonel Jack Collins and his team in Ecuador. He knew he had done all that he could on the political end of things, getting President DeSilva to stand down, but he also knew Jack had an uphill climb ahead of him in securing the mine shaft with the few international soldiers they could get at the last minute. The last call he received from the Event Group in Nevada was that the Ecuador team had company coming their way and there was nothing the national military of Ecuador could do about them other than defend them as a blocking force.
As these thoughts occurred to him, the president got angry. He turned and slammed his hand down on the intercom one more time.
“Get me General Caulfield,” he said without preamble into the intercom.
“The chairman of the Joint Chiefs in on the line, sir,” a female voice said less than a minute later.
The president picked up the phone and heard the voice of General Maxwell Caulfield, who spoke a small greeting that the president didn’t really hear at all.
“General, I want to know what you’ve come up with to get Colonel Collins and his team some help down in Ecuador.”
“Sir, as you know, both the 101st and 82nd Airborne are on their rotation to Afghanistan. The 10th Mountain has just recently returned and is in no shape to go back out. Thus far we have rounded up SEAL teams five and eight, and another unit that was just finishing NATO jump training at Fort Bragg.”
“Who are they?” the president asked, while rubbing his temple with his bandaged left hand.
As he heard the general explain, the president’s face grew concerned and his eyes closed.
“Is that all we have?”
“I’m afraid so, sir. We are spread out all over the world and this is the fastest group we could get together on such short notice. If we had another twenty-four hours we could get an entire division in there, as that would be the most expedient way to get Collins the help he needs. Believe me, sir, these boys can fight, and they’re ready to go.”
“Tell me I have a choice.”
“Jack will know what to do with them when they arrive, sir. Don’t worry about that.”
“Get them there as fast as you can, Max.”
“They’re already in the air with the SEAL teams, sir.”
“Okay, Max, I better make a phone call and explain to their president why I’m sending his boys to war without asking permission first. Goddamn it, what a mess.”
13
Jack and Carl ambled along the road toward the front gate as if they were just taking the night air. Collins forced himself to clasp his hands behind his back, like a man on a leisurely stroll.
“Well, I guess this is where I find out if the training we gave the Germans took hold,” Collins said, remembering Sebastian’s training and how he was easily one of the best he had ever taught.
As they neared the gate, one man, a large fellow in a gray uniform, stepped outside the small shack. Jack was relieved to see anyone there at all, as they obviously hadn’t been alerted that the Ecuadorian army had pulled up stakes only forty minutes before.
“ Alto, ” said the lone guard as he stepped in front of the gate. Jack could tell that the Spanish word for stop was laced with a thick German accent. It was one of the same guards from five days before.
“Oh, boy,” Everett whispered through the side of his face. “That’s one of the guys who escorted us into the mine. We’re had.”
Jack was tempted to raise his fingers in the gesture that would signal the designated sniper to take the guard out, but held off. He wanted the other guard from the shack visible before any action was taken. Jack stopped walking and waved a greeting.
“Hi,” he said, his face filling with the largest smile he could ever remember faking.
The large guard didn’t say anything as he clicked on a large flashlight and pointed it at Jack and Carl, who averted their eyes from the harsh light.
“Who is it? Those damn Ecuadorian army people again?” The voice came from the guard shack high above. Jack could see a light flash on and a lone figure come to the doorway. The guard was perfectly silhouetted against the light in the shack.
“I know you,” the guard said, and reached for his sidearm.
