The Cygnus Agenda

by Richard Martin

  Carlucci paused a moment then leaned closer to the desk. “Because I now know that this particular scientific lab is owned by American interests and they have some heavy political protection.”

  “But why is the lab located in Honduras of all places, why not here in the U.S.?”

  “To escape federal regulatory oversight, it`s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “I can buy that,” agreed Thorne, “but where does our military fit into this? I know it`s only a small base but you seem to think it`s involved. How come?”

  “The official version is that it`s there for the protection of U.S. strategic interests but that`s bullshit. We have only five corporations down there, all small and in office buildings. This science lab has our soldiers protecting it so how in the hell does that happen? Like I said, that lab has some political heft behind it, but why?”

  Thorne took a long pause. “Okay, so how does the payment to one of the dead Marines figure in this?”

  “That, I reckon, is the key to the whole thing. And our Honduran witness will get us Federal backing to go after this secret corporation and find out why the hell those Marines were on their payroll.”

  “You reckon all three were linked to this Corporation?”

  “Yes I do.”

  Well, if you luck out with this, John, then my name gets put on it and with that comes a ton of votes. Your career takes off, gets fast tracked to bigger things and your investigators get one blockbuster of a story, that about right?”

  “That`s the idea. Get me that girl through Laredo immigration, Angela, and I`ll nail the rest of it.”

  “Ambitious objective. Okay, I`ll do that for you, John, but let me be right up front about this. I`m a survivor not a hero, so if this thing goes south on us then I`ll bale on you. We clear on that?”

  “We are. All I ask is that you don`t leave me hanging out there with no warning. At least give me the heads up.”

  Thorne smiled at him. “You know I`ve always had a thing for you, John, but not enough to compromise my career, and you already know what a ruthless bitch I can be. But one thing I`m not is treacherous, and unless I`m one lousy judge of character, neither are you.”

  Heading back to his office, Carlucci met with his aide and they crossed the marble floored atrium together. As she caught sight of someone whose eyes were on them, the aide nudged Carlucci. “Here comes that silk suited, corrupt bastard, Courtland.”

  Lowell Courtland, chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee was someone Carlucci had crossed swords with before and had no intention of doing so again. He knew that if the higher echelons of government were now involved in this then Courtland would be a player. Though it didn`t feel like it, he thought Courtland`s presence was surely a coincidence, because he couldn`t have known about his meeting with Senator Thorne and no way what the subject matter was. Regardless of the reasoning, Carlucci felt a shiver of apprehension, a reminder that strategies in the political arena had a habit of blowing up in people`s faces. And at this level the consequences would be brutal.

  He tried to shrug it off, annoyed with himself for letting his imagination stretch to such speculation. Yet he knew it was a salutary reminder of the shark-pool he inhabited, and though Angela Thorne being on board was a boost, he knew she could also turn into a liability if he made a wrong move. Could Courtland have seen them he wondered. Unlikely, but if he had then those intelligence committee powers could tear him apart. The stakes had been raised, the prize now potentially much bigger, but the danger even more so.

  Though flamboyant in his approach, Lowell Courtland always seemed to instil nervousness in people, and Carlucci was no exception. “Always good to see you Lowell,” Carlucci lied, as his aide turned her head away.

  “John,” Courtland acknowledged. “I`ve been hearing whispers about your investigation, anything my committee should know?”

  “I`m sure the committee is better informed than me, in every regard, what with the resources at your disposal.”

  “Yes, but what we don`t know is every bit as important. You will inform us of any relevant discoveries, John, won`t you?”

  “Of course.”

  Courtland shifted his calculating eyes to Carlucci`s aide who had taken a couple of steps to the side as if distancing herself from the conversation. After a short stare he returned his look to Carlucci, the moment now a little tense. “We do understand each other on this issue, don`t we, John?”

  “Sure we do,” said Carlucci.

  “Good. Then can I count on you to share your findings before letting that Hahn woman tell the nation?”

  Now Carlucci knew he was in trouble, the insinuation a grave one, a threat. But at this stage of the investigation he knew that any sign of weakness would come back to bite him, and anyway, he had no idea of what he actually had hold of or where it was leading. But with Courtland sniffing around he knew that the stakes were much higher than when he had started out. His response was brazen. “I control Hahn, and I know how all this works, where my duties lie, Courtland. You can trust in that.”

  “See that it turns out that way, John. You know how supportive I can be when it is most needed.”

  “Good to know, Courtland. Anything the committee should know will be brought to you first.”

  Before the last word was issued, Courtland had turned on his heels and departed in strides that were more a march than a stroll.

  “Creeps me out that sonofabitch,” said Carlucci`s aide, unable to keep a sneer from her face.

  “Creeps everyone out, but we must be careful, he carries a lot of clout. And we don`t know what he knows.”

  By the time he got back to his office, Carlucci recognised that his playing of both sides had been the percentage bet, at least in the beginning. But it only worked if you timed everything correctly. And right now, if Courtland`s presence was no coincidence, he was in a three way dilemma and that was one too many. It was decision time, which way to swing, and importantly, when to do so.

  CHAPTER 16

  Major Greenmire was as robust as ever but Arnie detected a difference, a change in his demeanor, more cautious. After the rescue, his trust in the Major had been absolute, mutual respect still evident in their contact today, yet something seemed to be missing. Whether it had to do with Jackson Shawcross being present he couldn`t be sure, and with Greenmire under instruction not to intervene in the operation, Arnie was having trouble identifying a reason.

  “You boys have everything you need, now it`s down to you,” said Greenmire. “They won`t know you`re coming, so whoever these bad guys are you should have the drop on them. Cartagena is a drug-land fortress, nothing moves without being spotted. And remember you have no communication ability with the base and even if you did there`s nothing I can do to help. So I hope the one thing you`ve got nailed down is an exit plan. Any questions or are you good to go?”

  Jackson Shawcross hadn`t said a word, leaving Arnie to wonder if it was to do with his honorable discharge. Everyone knew it should have been a dishonorable one, but for the bravery he had shown in the field and the respect he commanded from his platoon buddies. Still, striking an officer, no matter the justification, was an absolute no-no. But with strong support from his commanding officer in Iraq and consideration of the stress level endured by under-cover Special Ops guys, the final verdict had swung his way.

  “Just like to know, Major, was it the girl who contacted you or her father?” Arnie asked.

  “The girl first, via Tano Carbosa. Then a follow up plea by her father. Both calls sounded to me like they came from people who were in a genuine state of fear.”

  Arnie nodded. “And what sort of evidence has she promised?”

  “Claims to have worked at the science lab, the one you now know we actively protect. Says she has documentary evidence that connects Jeb Hoag to the lab. Guess we only have her word
on that and what it all means is anyone`s guess.”

  “Well we`ve found a big payment put into a Panama account in Hoag`s name. If we can connect that with who owns the lab then Carlucci reckons that with Carmen`s testimony we`ll have enough to get the Feds onto this.”

  “You know as well as I do Arnie, that if my base has been put here primarily to protect this outfit then there`s political muscle behind it. Now in my experience, the little guy never wins against these sort of odds, so watch who you trust.”

  “Sounds like a warning from someone that knows what they`re talking about,” Arnie said.

  “Been around these kind of people for quite a while, son. Trust me, when thing`s begin to look like they`re not what they seem, you can bet your bottom dollar they`re not. So watch your back and don`t trust any of those sons of bitches in D.C.”

  Arnie gave another nod. “I hear you, Major, and that`s one thing we have in common, a healthy disrespect for anything political.”

  “Then you boys better get on your way, and I`m not going to wish you good luck because that will having nothing to do with getting back here in one piece. I`ve a pretty good idea that you both know that.”

  As they stood, Arnie watched Jackson Shawcross salute the Major even though he was no longer obliged to do so. It was a nice gesture to a nervous meeting and one that looked to invok a glimmer of respect in Greenmire`s eyes. But it also promoted a question. “Just for my own interest, Mr.Shawcross; you`re discharge sheet indicated that you ended up out of control in Iraq. Were you?”

  “That`s the way they saw it, sir.”

  “And how did you see it?”

  “Some people fight their way to the brink then don`t know what to do when they get there. Not me. I was just getting things done, Major, one way or the other. Kinda how it was over there.”

  The Major took a moment, his eyes fully focussed on Shawcross. “Good to know, son. Reminds me of someone else I knew, who was just like that.”

  They had planned to arrive at the outskirts of Cartagena before it got light, Arnie having steered the hired S.U.V. round an endless series of pot-holes on the dirt-track back roads, a route that brought them in on the right side of town. But several over-laden trucks in front of them, mostly carrying livestock, had slowed their progress to the point where they arrived over an hour late. Entering the darkened town, both men began to tense, knowing that being that far behind schedule could mean Maria`s father had pulled the operation in fear it was compromised. It was an added dose of uncertainty that their nerves could have done without as Arnie cut the engine and let the vehicle free-wheel to a stop.

  Leaving the S.U.V. positioned for a fast getaway, they took off on foot, Jackson Shawcross leading. It should have taken ten minutes to reach the rendezvous point and they did it in eight.

  Meeting at the father`s house had been ruled out, knowing that it was always watched by the local foot soldiers of the cartel. And if he was right with his suspicions about Carmen being a possible target then getting her out unseen would take not just nerve but a well thought out strategy. The father knew he couldn`t rely on any of his officers, not even the most loyal, so his wife would have to take the strain as a decoy, and if that went wrong then all three could perish.

  The rendezvous point, a two storey taverna that had been closed for several years, was on the right side of town for a quick escape. Another advantage was that there were only two houses opposite and as expected, not a sound or speck of light came from the building that hid Carmen and her father. And as nothing else stirred, all seemed to be good to go.

  Now stealth was needed, senses on full alert. Halfway down the dirt-track street, Arnie and Shawcross took up position in a doorway and surveyed the scene. Two hundred yards to go, no sign of movement, the one house opposite known to be occupied and with residents unlikely to have reason for being awake. About to move forward, Arnie suddenly froze. A shifting shadow behind one of the house windows had caught his eye. He signalled to Shawcross and pointed at the window. “Thought I saw something,” he whispered.

  “You sure? Why would anyone be awake at this hour?”

  Arnie shrugged. “Don`t know, but let`s wait a minute.”

  Two minutes, then three and Shawcross nudged Arnie. “Nothing. Let`s go.”

  There was a doorway fifty yards from the taverna entrance, their last chance to assess the possibility of a trap. Both men knew that was likely, treachery in such a town bought for a pittance, loyalty to friendships a luxury no one could afford. Only a father`s obligation stood a chance, but even then it had proved insufficient in a number of circumstances. This was drug territory and now the dice were in the air.

  Everything looked good, still no sign of threats, so one final step, the way it had been planned. Until now!

  A panicked voice broke the silence, shouting, almost hysterical. It was coming from the taverna and recognisable as a young woman`s.

  With the silence broken, Shawcross spun around to look at Arnie and indicated a dash across the street. Halfway to the taverna there was a yell, a man shouting to someone from inside one of the houses opposite. Reaching the taverna`s outside door, Shawcross booted it in, bringing a scream as the door hit whoever was behind it. Standing over the person that had been floored by the impact, Shawcross aimed his gun and was a heartbeat from firing when he saw that it was a woman.

  “Carmen?”

  The shaking body stared up at him and nodded. Without waiting for a reply, he pulled her off the floor and swung her behind him just as a man stepped from the shadows. Only the fear in his eyes saved him from a bullet as Shawcross eased his finger from the trigger.

  “Don`t shoot, I`m Carmen`s father,” the man pleaded.

  “What the hell happened?” Shawcross snapped at him.

  “She panicked, thought you weren`t coming.”

  Arnie pushed his way forward and grabbed hold of Carmen before heading back out the door and shouting to Shawcross. “All lights are on in the house opposite.”

  Shawcross acted in a split second, telling the father to take off and try to get home without being detected. “Now goddammit, go!”

  Running flat out and only halfway back to the S.U.V., Arnie and Shawcross suddenly stopped as they heard the unmistakable noise of a truck skidding to a halt at the taverna, the shouting of orders destroying the quiet of the night. Plan A was gone, and there was no plan B. Their only option was a full speed drive along the back roads in the hope they would beat any road blocks. It was a two hour journey back to the base, enough time for the Honduran authorities to organise. Shawcross knew they had no chance.

  Still gunning the S.U.V. to its maximum and now twenty minutes from town, Arnie turned to Shawcross. “We`re really in it now, Jackson, just a matter of time before we hit a roadblock. Any ideas?”

  Shawcross responded calmly. “Is what it is, Arnie, being chased down is the worst of all situations, hunted like wounded prey. We can try to shoot our way through but I don`t like our chances. Would depend on how the roadblock`s set up.”

  Arnie couldn`t believe the cool of the man while his own response to the situation was close to panic. “Okay, we take it one step at a time, see how far we get then ram the roadblock if it looks like we have a chance, you good with that?”

  “What I live for, Arnie, and what`s to lose. They`ll kill us anyway.”

  “What I figured. They`ll be expecting us to take the highway and that`ll give us an advantage. And even if they don`t kill us there`s no way I`m spending the rest of my life in a rat-hole Honduran prison.”

  “With you on that one,” said Shawcross.

  Now they could hear Carmen begin to sob as she lay across the back seat and shivered in fear. Reflecting on Jessica`s experience in the dungeon and the thought of torture, Arnie gripped the wheel tight, looked at Shawcross and whispered. “Fuck it, I know we`ll never make it
, but let`s go for it anyway.”

  Shawcross didn`t reply, just nodded, and then grinned.

  About an hour from Cartagena, with the pink glow of dawn peeking above some distant mountains they stopped at the brow of a hill as Arnie pulled the S.U.V. over in a cloud of dust. This part of the countryside had changed from lush greenery to barren, desert scrub, nearby small hills dotted with clumps of what looked like stunted pine trees. Ahead was a long, straight stretch of road with a badly pitted surface, patches of weed here and there, the road`s undulations hiding occasional trucks whose engines growled as they struggled up inclines.

  Arnie peered through the windshield, his vision hazy in the dawn`s early light. “Check out those shapes in the distance, Jackson, could be a welcoming party.”

  Shawcross unbuckled his miniature, night vision binoculars, focused them and swore. “Fuck, it`s them alright, two trucks across the road, but I thought they`d be more. Guess they were expecting us to have hit the highway. I count eight guys, all with rifles, which give us an outside chance.”

  Nerves: they were the problem, controlling them. Not just because Arnie understood the danger but because he knew the inevitable was coming. Turning his head he tried to sound as if he was up for it. “Guess this is it, Jackson.”

  Shawcross shrugged. “Then let`s go out in a blaze of glory, hope that a hundred to one chance breaks our way and somehow we get through.”

  “So we just ram them?”

  Shawcross lifted his binoculars again. “Straight out ramming is no good, but it looks like they`ve left some space between the trucks, enough for them to walk through. Trouble is, we`d have to hit that truck on the right at the perfect angle, and even then we`d have to survive a hail of bullets that could hardly miss.”

  “What`s that on the back of the bigger truck, on the left?”