Jenks was in section seven, assisting the science team with the expandable observation module, which would be lowered to allow them a view of their new underwater domain.
The center of the section was taken up by a large boxlike structure made mostly of glass and aluminum framing. There were seats inside this eight-foot-long vessel for six crewmen, and it was fully equipped with small cameras, for both still photos and video. Jenks assisted Danielle, Dr. Nathan, Sarah, Mendenhall, Heidi Rodriguez, and Professor Ellenshaw into the observation module and checked to make sure the hydraulic pressure was up. Then he removed his cigar from his mouth.
"Okay, I suspect you're going to feel a little queasiness when you're lowered. The section is telescopic so you won't actually be out of the boat, just under her some. Ready?"
The six passengers nodded as they turned toward the sides and the glass that for right now showed nothing other than the outer composite hull.
Jenks pressed a button on the intercom. "Toad, you're going to feel some drag as we lower the section into the water, Teacher's computer should compensate after about thirty seconds, so don't worry about it, got it?"
"You got it, Chief; right now we have about thirty-two feet under the keel. We'll give you plenty of notice if we run shallower than twenty-five," Carl said from the cockpit.
"Okay, boys and girls, hold onto your asses," Jenks said as he raised the switch cover and pressed.
The hum of hydraulics sounded from motors embedded in the sides of Teacher as the section started to telescope. The passengers grabbed the armrests of the seats and looked up as they were lowered. The faces of Jenks and the rest of the sciences team became obscured as the rush of passing water was heard. They turned toward the glass again when the small boat-shaped platform broke into the river. Mendenhall was sitting in the frontmost seat and so was nearest the bow-shaped and aerodynamic front. A mere six inches of acrylic separated him from the rush of greenish water being split by the platform. First they were lowered by five feet into the river; next, another section started sliding from the hull of Teacher and the platform was telescoped another five feet into the river. Then floodlights blazed to life and the underwater world was illuminated around them in stark detail.
"My god, this is great," Sarah said.
Above them, a section of soundproof decking slid over the top of the submerged platform, sealing out light and noise from Teacher and the crew above.
All about them, fish of every freshwater species darted about, some curious as to the strange creatures staring at them, enough so that they returned the favor.
"Damn, look at this — it's got to be the largest damn catfish I have ever seen. Look at its color," Mendenhall said.
Outside the glass of the pointed bow, an albino catfish, with a wide mouth that was at least large enough to take a man whole, swam by curiously but sped away when it came into the center of one of the floodlights.
"We're invading its home," Danielle remarked as she watched the black walls of the cave slide by her.
"Look at that," Ellenshaw said. "Supay, the god of the Inca underworld."
Outside the acrylic windows, they could see a statue, at least forty feet in length. It lay on its back. Teacher easily cleared it and, as she passed over, they could see the slanted, snakelike eyes as it watched the strange craft ease by above it.
"Professor, look!" Danielle said loudly.
"Oh my god! Someone start filming this, please!" Ellenshaw cried as he found himself face to face with a freshwater coelacanth, a fish that was supposed to be extinct more than 60 million years before. More than one saltwater species had been caught off the coast of Africa, but this was the first live specimen Ellenshaw had ever seen, outside of some rare footage of one that was filmed four years before. It was just inches from his face.
"Cameras are running, Professor," Jenks called through the intercom from above.
"This is amazing," he said as he raised his hands to the glass. The huge fish swam easily, its strong finlike appendages able to maneuver it like a swimmer with hands.
"This is not the saltwater species found in the seas, look at her! She must be two hundred pounds, and in freshwater, remarkable!" Ellenshaw exclaimed. "Professor Keating, are you seeing this?" he asked with the aid of the intercom.
"Indeed, I am. This is truly remarkable."
As Sarah joined them at the window, the prehistoric fish suddenly moved with the speed of a snake striking a victim. It smashed itself into the window, making all inside fall back, either into chairs or onto the deck. It swam away and then attacked the glass again. It repeated the aggressive action three more times as it gathered more speed with every turn. Then the five-foot-long fish apparently finally decided enough was enough and swam off into the murky water.
"Well, that was fucking exciting; not exactly something you would put in your tank at home, is it?" Sarah said as she was helped up by Mendenhall.
"Do we have film of this?" Ellenshaw asked.
The speaker came alive and Jenks answered, "Got it all, damn near thought he was going to punch a hole in that acrylic."
"It was indeed splendidly aggressive, wasn't it," the wild-haired Ellenshaw said excitedly.
"Yeah," Mendenhall said, looking at the professor as if he had lost his mind.
"Okay, folks, that's enough for now, too dangerous while we're under way. Bringing her up," Jenks warned.
The ceiling above them slid back as they resumed their seats. The bottom section telescoped into the first, and that into the main hull. All six crewmembers exited with a feeling they had just returned from another world.
"I hope we can get a specimen while we are here; that would be marvelous," Ellenshaw said as he slapped Mendenhall on the shoulder.
The sergeant just gave him an uneasy smile, then turned to Sarah and rolled his eyes.
* * *
Later, while Jenks was at the helm in the cockpit, Teacher suddenly broke free of the cave and into the star-filled night sky. It was so sudden he didn't even realize it until the moon lit up the cockpit. He reached out and slapped Lance Corporal Walter Lebowitz, who had been sleeping and was supposed to be assisting him.
"Wake up, jarhead!" Jenks called out loudly and then lit his cigar.
The lance corporal didn't know where he was for a moment, and the brightness of the moon clearly confused him after the hours inside the pitch black of the cave. He looked around at the jungle and forest that crowded the riverbank in every direction.
"Go wake Lieutenant Commander Everett and Major Collins. Tell 'em we're clear of the cave and have to stop to blow out our ballast tanks and check the boat out. We'll get under way again in—" Jenks looked at the digital chronometer on the command console, " — two hours; got it, Corporal?"
"Yes, Chief."
"Then why aren't you moving, boy?" Jenks growled.
The pilot watched him go and then shut down the exterior lights, throwing the outside world back into darkness with the exception of the lowering moon. The cockpit lights were switched off, and only the green-blue glow of the instrument panels illuminated Jenks. He reached out and throttled back on both engines. He shut them down and then put the auto pilot in hover. The electrically operated jets would keep Teacher in the center of the tributary with small adjustments on her thrusters. Only the forward jets would be working full-time to keep the boat from drifting back with the slow current. He then turned the knob that read ballast purge, and throughout the boat a loud hiss of escaping air woke most everyone. Large bubbles of exploding air and water surrounded Teacher as the tanks emptied and the boat's hull rose high into the air after her being half-sunk for the need of having a low profile.
As Jenks relaxed and looked ahead, all he could make out was more darkness as the tributary went under the never-ending canopy of trees once again. He suspected this would be the last location for a while where the major could make contact with anyone back home.
"Hello, may I join you?" a female voice asked.
&
nbsp; Jenks turned in his seat to see that scientist-type woman with the great legs, as she moved in and sat down in the copilot's seat.
"Dr. Pollock, isn't it?" Jenks asked as he slid his side window open and tossed the remains of his cigar into the river.
Virginia was in Levi's and a black mock turtleneck shirt. "Yes, how are you, Chief?"
"Me, I'm fine, what can I help you with?" he asked, his eyes roaming over her chest and then quickly back to her eyes. "You come a-slummin', or what?"
"Well, I was up in the galley, waiting for coffee, and I thought I would come up front and see the ogre himself. Judge for myself and see if you're the gruff bastard everyone says you are," she said, raising her left eyebrow as she removed her glasses.
"Well, am I?" he asked.
"I don't know yet. I did hear you yelling at that poor marine from all the way in the galley. You seem to think you're mean and tough, but I don't know; I haven't formed an opinion just yet."
He looked the tall woman over even more closely than before, or for what etiquette called for. One eye twitched as he tried to figure out what she was about.
"Would it make a difference if I kicked your ass?" he suddenly blurted.
"Perhaps it would," she answered, "but how about taking a break and buying me a cup of coffee instead. Then we can discuss the side of you no one sees." She stood up and left the cockpit.
Jenks followed her with his eyes and then leaned over to look as she went through the glass hatch and into the navigation compartment. He started to reach for a fresh cigar, then thought better of it and stood and followed. He stopped long enough to look at himself in the large window next to the navigation table as he entered section two, and decided a trip into the head wouldn't be a bad idea. His eyes were bloodshot and his breath smelled as if he had just come off leave in Shanghai. He didn't know it, but Virginia Pollock had a thing for lost causes, and the master chief was definitely one of those.
* * *
At the break of dawn, with the antenna array up and operating, and the radar dish turning to Jenks's satisfaction, Jack attempted to check in with the Event Group Complex. They had an opening in the tree canopy of only sixty feet or so, and thus he hoped Boris and Natasha had made the move that had been planned. Pete Golding responded as clearly as if he were talking from the riverbank. Jack reported that they had penetrated the falls and had found the tributary just as the map had indicated. Then Pete handed the conversation off to Niles.
"Jack, we should have visual of you in the next hour or so, via Boris and Natasha. When you find yourselves in thick canopy country, we'll use space-based radar to keep track of Teacher, using her heat signature," Niles said.
"Okay. We're just now getting under way; nothing earthshaking to report as of yet."
"Jack, we have two problems. One, the president will not, I repeat, will not permit Ryan and the Delta on the ground in Brazil; it's political and he just won't make that call."
"Well, hopefully we can handle anything Farbeaux can throw our way."
"That's problem number two; you have company headed your way besides the Frenchman."
"The boat and barge, we know about those. They're probably him," Jack countered.
"No, Jack. Boris and Natasha has picked up an armed group of about fifty men on foot, just entering the area of the falls. And I've more good news — your trailing boat and barge are nowhere to be found; I suspect they may have followed you into the tributary."
"Have you alerted Ryan to our backup? Operation Spoiled Sport will replace Conquistador?" Jack asked.
"Done, he's on full alert for plan two. The Delta team will act as security while Proteus is on the ground in Panama, but that's not a sure thing, Jack; they're having trouble getting the system online. Remember, the whole program is experimental and the whole damned platform could possibly explode over half of South America, so you be careful. Any rough stuff, get your team out of there, into the jungle if you have to. Are your orders clear enough, Major?"
"Got it; go get some sleep, Niles," Jack said and clicked off the satellite communication link. He patted Tommy Stiles on the back. "Thanks, it was clear as a bell."
"Is everything all right?" Sarah asked.
He winked. "Yeah, just cautionary. Inform everyone that from here on out we'll be going to fifty percent alert status, half on, half off."
* * *
Carl, Sarah, and Danielle gathered close to study the computer-generated version of the Padilla map on the navigation table. Carl slid his finger along the shoreline of the tributary. Then he punched in the current coordinates on a small keypad, and the small blip that indicated Teacher's position showed itself in red, underneath the deep tree canopy.
"According to the map, Padilla's Sincaro village was only about three klicks up the river. That would place the lagoon and valley not that far away."
"We can't even report our location since the sky disappeared," Sarah said.
"Yeah, I've never seen trees like these. How can they grow so much that they block out the entire sky?"
"Water, constant rain. They fight each other for the right to sunlight, making it a battle for supremacy," Danielle stated, "each one vying for the sun by reaching out over its neighbor, thus creating a giant umbrella effect that will allow nothing through."
The engines of Teacher were like the sad drone of a constant lullaby. Most of the team had sacked out as they entered the darkness of the rain forest, knowing sleep could be hard to come by in a few hours. Jenks was at the helm with Virginia. She was actually getting a kick out of his permitting her to use the toggle controls of the cockpit, as she had been amazed at how responsive the big boat was. As she copiloted the vessel, she laughed at almost everything Jenks had to say. The master chief had never smiled so much as during the time he was spending with Virginia.
Carl was still leaning over the navigation table with Sarah and Danielle when he heard the master chief and scientist erupt with laughter; he never knew Virginia had such a deep and reactive laugh. He stood up and looked at the two women at the table.
"Does anyone else find that disturbing?" he asked.
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Ambrose had received his marching orders. He didn't like it and knew the secretary was escalating the situation before he knew for a fact that there was even a need to. He picked up the phone and punched in the numbers he had memorized.
"Yes."
"General, how are you, my friend?"
The man in Brazil sat up straighter in his chair. He swallowed as he tried to find his voice.
"I am…I am well, senor."
"Good. Are you prepared on your end to do what is necessary?"
"Yes. Yes, I am."
"Good. You may send your ground element onto the river to follow my countrymen now. If the area in question is found, you may set them loose. There will be no foreign element allowed out of your country, General, is that clear?"
"Si…uh… yes, I understand."
"Are ten boats enough, General?"
"They are the best assault force in the private sector, senor. They will do their jobs."
"Good, good. Your reward will be handsome as we promised, both monetarily and politically. Your air force is ready in case?"
"This is an element I would rather not use—"
"It will only be used if something unforeseen arises; don't worry, my friend."
The connection was cut and the general was left holding the phone, aghast that he had gotten himself into this very dangerous game of treason.
BLACK WATER TRIBUTARY TEN MILES ASTERN OF TEACHER
Mendez had bided his time. He was a patient man when it came to killing. That was where his former partners in the drug trade had failed on a monumental scale. Targets and places of assassination were to be chosen with expert precision and never, ever was the decision to be made hastily. Mendez and his operatives knew when the iron was hot enough to strike. Why place the blame of murder upon yourself, when you can make people believe the
illusion of someone else's doing the dirty work?
In the darkness he could see the Frenchman in the wheelhouse talking with that fool of a captain. Santos was an annoyance that he would soon tire of, along with Farbeaux. He lit a cigar. The flare of the match momentarily illuminated his features as he caught Rosolo's eye. Mendez nodded and then turned away toward the stern of the boat.
Captain Rosolo made sure Farbeaux was still occupied by Santos, then he followed his boss to the gunwale at the far end of the boat. Once there, he removed a small cylinder from his coat pocket and found the trigger. He held the device up and out away from the Rio Madonna and aimed it through a small break in the overhead canopy where stars could be seen. To the rear, they could clearly make out the trailing barge as it silently cut the river into two white slices. Rosolo turned and gestured to one of his men just below the wheel-house. The man held up a portable radio and switched it to the Madonna's frequency. Then he pushed the squelch button, with the volume turned all the way up. Inside the wheelhouse, they heard the radio come to life with the most godawful squeal imaginable. At the same time, Rosolo pulled the string at the end of the tube and the bright flash of a flare shot out and through the small opening in the tree canopy. The light breeze quickly pulled the telltale smoke away from the boat and into the surrounding jungle, just as Farbeaux made an appearance on the bridge wing to admonish the man below for making so much noise with his radio. Rosolo smiled as the Frenchman didn't even look their way. He stepped back into the now silent bridge.
"Well done, my friend." Mendez puffed on his overly large cigar as the pop of the flare sounded three hundred feet above the canopy.
* * *
Five hundred feet above the trees and thick jungle, the lead pilot of a flight of two Aerospatiale Gazelle attack helicopters, once owned by the French army, circled. The bright flash of the red flare arched out of the forest below and the two pilots knew they had a mission. They were mercenaries hired by Mendez, and their specialty was airborne murder.
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