B00H242ZGY EBOK

by Unknown

  The Iowa had gone to general quarters at 0730, and her crew stood by their stations waiting, just in case. On the starboard bridge wing, Hammond and Rhodes stood and admired the formations of aircraft making their way through the sky. It was rare when you saw former Soviet Flanker aircraft flying alongside American F-16s. More interesting still was a formation of Karakorum-8 aircraft, normally used as trainers, but now loaded with several small bombs apiece. There were even a scattering of other odd aircraft which normally served in other duties but carrying bombs today. It seemed Venezuela was sending out their whole force.

  For several minutes, the planes seemed to loiter in one place. Then the first section of Flankers turned in the sky and made their way in. Forming a straight line, the planes appeared to fly in straight and normal at a height of about three thousand feet. One by one, they released a bomb apiece and then continued on a mile or so before turning to port and returning to the start point for another run.

  The results were abysmal. Out of the first section, only one bomb landed within 100 yards of the bobbing balloon. The section of F-16s fared little better. Splashes erupted to the right and left of the target with all either too far ahead or too far behind the target. The best drop of the day came from a lone Aermacchi SF.260. The small turboprop aircraft came in much slower than the rest and had to drop both of its 300 kg bombs at the same time just to keep from flipping over. But the pilot had come in higher and had performed an almost perfect diving run. Both of the bombs had hit within thirty feet of the small ten foot target balloon.

  In an hour all bombs had been expended. The ‘killer tomato’ was still floating in the open sea. As the planes made their way home, the small patrol boat turned to go back and sink the balloon. That was when Hammond, himself, picked up the radio headset.

  “Venezuelan patrol boat, this is USS Iowa, over,” he said in Spanish over the net.

  The response was immediate. “USS Iowa, this is Venezuelan patrol cutter Warao, over.”

  “Warao, this is Iowa, have you completed your exercises, over?”

  “This is Warao, our exercises are complete. We are making our way to sink our target. Please remain clear, over.”

  “Warao, this is Iowa, request you leave the target. We will dispose of it as a courtesy, over,” said Hammond.

  “This is Warao, we will leave the target, over.”

  “This is Iowa, thank you, please stand clear, as we dispose of the target balloon. Thank you for your courtesy, out.”

  The Commander on the Warao looked back at his bridge officers and wondered what the Americans meant by standing clear. He ordered his ship to turn towards home.

  Few had noticed that the Iowa had maintained a position between ten and fifteen miles from the balloon. As the media helicopter was passing the ship, the journalists aboard saw the giant guns turn towards the little red, ten foot diameter balloon which was now twelve miles away. The center gun of turret one elevated and as they watched, flame exploded out of the muzzle of the gun.

  In Spot One, the fire controlmen watched the red target balloon through the optics of the rangefinder. In about 35 seconds, a splash was observed 100 yards in front of the target and one mil to the left. The information was relayed to the men in Main Battery Plot 15 decks below. Matching this to the information from a small radar located on the turret top, which relayed differences in the initial velocity of the round as it left the barrel, the corrections were entered into the Mark 1 computer. Already, Captain Rhodes had ordered six high capacity warshots loaded into the waiting guns. Unlike the dummy bombs the Venezuelan Air Force had used in their exercise, these would be the real thing. The guns on turrets one and three elevated.

  The media helicopter had turned around and was headed back into the area when flames belched from the six, 16-inch guns. Forty five seconds later, the sea erupted as the shells struck almost directly on top of the small balloon. As all rounds struck within 50 yards of the balloon, seawater shot skyward over 200 feet and spray hid the area for several seconds. When the spray cleared, the ‘killer tomato’ was gone. There weren’t even any shards of rubber on the surface to mark its passing.

  Aboard the helicopter, the journalists could not believe what they had seen. None had ever witnessed such a thing, first hand, although some had seen video of such shoots. For over a minute, they simply stared at the sea and each other until one of them exclaimed, “My God.”

  Flying back over the Iowa, they saw that the ship’s guns had already been returned to their normal positions. “What do we say?” asked one journalist. “We won’t be allowed to report what we just saw.”

  Another journalist shrugged his shoulders. “Let the editors worry about it,” he said. Everyone remained quiet the rest of the way home. Where before they were eager to report how close their aircraft had come to such a small target, they could no longer do so when the Americans had obliterated it with one shot from 12 miles away.

  The Presidential Palace

  Once again, President Parente was furious. He had just seen the video of the exercise and could not believe his people had performed so poorly. It had never dawned on him that bombing accuracy was directly correlated to practice, and he had cut way back on his military training so that he could concentrate on other things. Standing in the briefing room at the Ministry of Defense, he railed at his Air Force generals for a good thirty minutes before nearly collapsing into his seat. When one of the other generals came to their defense, he went after all of them.

  “You are supposed to be the people protecting our shoreline. Yet we have a hostile force just beyond our shores shaking their spears at us and you can do nothing! The only force that seems loyal to me is my personal guards. At least they can get things done,” he nearly screamed. Parente turned to the leading admiral. “And what of your plan to sink one of their battleships? It has been more than a day and both are steaming along our coast where everyone can see them. Even one of their amphibious ships was seen with landing craft headed away from our shore. It was empty, Admiral! That means they may have already landed Marines on our shores!”

  The admiral could feel the noose tightening around his neck. The truth was, they had no way of really striking back at the American or nearly any other large navy. They had sent in the diver to do his job, but the man had never been heard from again. He couldn’t tell Parente the man had disappeared. He would immediately suspect desertion and order the death or imprisonment of the man’s family and friends, not to mention those in command.

  “Señor Presidente, we suspect we have someone passing information to the Americans. The diving operation was conducted under the strictest of secrecy, yet it failed. We suspect someone in the headquarters is a traitor. I have already taken the steps to find this person and bring him before you. As for the landing craft, we have determined that they were simply practicing since both the Army and Navy have been able to turn up any evidence a force has landed. We have stationed one of our frigates in the area to monitor all of the American activities. To date, none has come closer than fifteen miles of our shores. I have also sent patrol planes to monitor the force daily. If someone does come in, we will know it,” he said.

  Parente didn’t respond. His mind had stopped at the mention of the word ‘traitor.’ A traitor would explain a great many things. That would explain the ships being where they were, why that special team had been sent to Brazil, and how this Admiral Hammond seemed to stay one step ahead. As he thought through the process, his senior officers remained quiet. After a minute, Parente’s face turned back to the stern mask he seemed to constantly wear with them. “Concentrate our troops at the eastern borders and especially near the shore. I want to know if anything comes in from there. Admiral, continue your surveillance and let me know immediately if there is a change. I have work to do,” he said to the assembled men.

  Parente turned and left the room, his mind still deep in thought. Getting into his car, he reached over and pressed the button for his personal guard comma
nder. “Colonel Fuentes, I want to know any member of my staff or our military senior staff who have made any contact with an American. Bring that information to my desk within the hour,” he ordered.

  Parente hung up the phone and sat back in his seat. Too many things were starting to unravel. He needed answers and he needed them quickly. Grabbing the phone again, he pressed another button.

  U S Embassy, Caracas

  Ambassador Jonas picked up the phone on the second ring. “Jonas,” he said.

  “Mister Ambassador, I feel there is a leak in our system. I am getting indications that someone is passing information to your government. I need to know if this is the case and I need to know within the hour,” Parente said sternly before hanging up the phone.

  Jonas stared at the receiver in horror. If this was the case, his head was in a noose. He placed the handset into its receiver and thought a moment. He couldn’t grill his CIA or FBI staffers. That would look bad. But he could ask for an update. He also needed to get any new information from Williamson. He dialed the number.

  Williamson was eating his lunch from his desk. Once again, Foster was on the road. He would be back tonight. More and more he was getting sick of Foster’s indecisiveness. He just didn’t have the real backbone to make the hard decisions. When the phone rang he was taking a bite out of a roast beef sandwich. He saw it was the private line and picked up the phone. “Williamson,” he said.

  “We have a situation,” said Jonas. “Our leader thinks he has someone passing information to us.”

  “Impossible. I have my people constantly on the lookout for that. If I get one hint of a leak, we pull the plug,” Williamson said.

  “I realize that, but he wants a check. Evidently something has gotten him very suspicious.”

  “What does he have?”

  “I don’t know, he wouldn’t tell me, but if he has indications there’s a leak, we have to take it seriously. There’s a lot going on down here and he may be putting a few things together. How about checking around and letting me know what you find. I’ll do some checking on my end.”

  “How soon does he want the information?”

  “Within an hour.”

  “That asshole must know this isn’t something we can just make a call and verify. Tell him to give men till this evening and I will have it wrapped up for him. And make sure you don’t raise suspicions on your end,” Williamson said before slamming down the phone. Great. Now I have two people without a backbone, he thought. Picking up the phone again, he started making a few calls.

  “So we’re still in the dark?” asked Jonas.

  Pete Wilson and Rick Lozier both nodded. “Yes sir, we have nothing that even remotely leads up to finding them. Satellites just don’t tell us much and between Colombia, Venezuela and Guiana, we are having a hell of a time. I understand the President is scared to death they are already dead,” said Lozier.

  “I understand he’s also having his hands full with this Admiral Hammond. He finagled his way into being a part of this exercise and now he has two battleships, the Wasp and about fifteen other ships at his disposal. Word is he is ready to lead the charge wherever we find them, and with a ship full of Marines, he might just be able to carry it off,” said Wilson as a part of the prepared cover up. “But the President is keeping him on a short leash, so for now we are still looking. As for us, no one has come forward with anything we don’t already know,” he said.

  “We’ll make sure you are the first to know when something happens,” said Lozier.

  Jonas sat back in his seat and placed his fingers together in thought. If there was nothing, then there’s nothing, he thought. “Well, I guess we just keep going. Thank you both for keeping me updated. I know the pressure is on you, so let me know if I can help,” he said to the men, dismissing them.

  Both men left the office and headed straight for the communications section without saying a word. Closing the door behind them, they immediately noticed the light was on for the phone tap. Wilson turned up the volume.

  “…contact in Washington is checking his sources there, but assures me he has heard nothing. I have checked with my FBI and CIA staff and they are telling me that everyone is still scratching in the dark. They did offer one bit of information. It seems this Admiral Hammond has pushed his way into being in this task force. He has a fairly good size force with him and is ready to take things in his own hand if he needs to. The President is having to hold him back. If you have some assets, there’s where I would put my money,” said Jonas to the other caller.

  “That’s interesting,” said the man on the other line. “My leadership feels he is the one to watch as well. When should you get information back from Washington?”

  “I was told this evening. I will call you immediately,” said Jonas.

  “Very good. I must tell you that there seem to be too many things happening for there to be a mere coincidence. I even sent a diver to try and disable one of your battleships and it didn’t work. That is one reason I suspect a traitor. If you hear anything about this, let me know. Thank you Mister Ambassador,” he said as the line was cut.

  Wilson looked at Lozier. “He’s starting to get paranoid. That’s not a good sign. I hope we can get these people out in time,” he said.

  “I’m more concerned about what he said about sending a diver to a battleship. The only one making a port visit in the vicinity has been the North Carolina, and that was about a week ago,” said Lozier.

  Wilson nodded. “We better make a call. If there’s something on her hull, there could be a lot of guys hurt. But there is one good thing. If Williamson returns that phone call tonight, we have an open and shut case.”

  “As you know Señor Presidente, we have all of your staff under surveillance since a few weeks before starting this operation. During that time, only two of your staff has had any communication with an American. We suspect Colonel Messina may have been passing information. He has met with a Mrs. Harrison at local sports events on several occasions. It is always in a crowd setting where it is almost impossible to determine what is being said. She is the wife of a local engineering contractor, but she seems to attend a number of functions at the embassy. We are not certain he is the leak, but he is a suspect,” said Fuentes.

  “Who is the second?”

  “Colonel Rojas also attends these sports events. However, he has dutifully reported his encounters with Mrs. Harrison to us and his time is spent coaching the youth team. The only other person he seems to talk to are the team coaches and occasionally purchasing local crafts from a vendor there. There is nothing to indicate that he is nothing more than interested in this sports team,” said Fuentes.

  Parente smiled. “Yes, he has told me of this team also. Lately, he has become even more indispensable for me. I do not doubt his loyalty. Do you?”

  Fuentes chuckled, “Señor Presidente, we question the loyalty of everyone, but in his case, he has not shown us anything we should doubt.”

  Parente’s face frowned again. “Messina, on the other hand, has been with me since before this event. He’s a good pilot and has never failed me. I do not want to arrest him until we are sure he is guilty. Place additional surveillance on him. Let me know the minute he steps out of line.”

  “Yes, Señor Presidente.”

  The taps placed on Williamson’s line turned up ten different contacts he was getting information from. Already the FBI was running the names to see how deep the leaks were. His final call was to Jonas.

  “I have checked with everyone. I got a hint that something was happening, but nothing about a leak. Seems we have an agent in place snooping around. I’ll try to find out who it is. Your man is getting paranoid,” he told Jonas.

  “This has already lasted far longer than I thought it might. Are we stretching our necks out a bit too far?” Jonas asked.

  “Hell no. Remember what we are doing this for. We both need Foster to get reelected. For you it will mean a cabinet post, and I have my own reasons. Yo
u keep that monkey in line until this is over. Within a few days the election will be over and our man will be in. Keep your priorities straight and we’ll get through this,” said Williamson.

  “What if he does turn up a leaker? I mean, if they are getting information and just not telling anyone….”

  “Then tell him to get rid of the evidence. That was the plan. If anything went wrong just kill them all and blame it on terrorists or something. We still come out clean as a whistle. Do I have to think of everything?”

  “Is this how Foster feels?”

  “Foster? Foster didn’t want to do this in the first place. But I was able to persuade him when I showed him something in his background that nobody knows – just like I know things about you. So forget about Foster’s feelings and stick to the plan. In two weeks we will be right up against the elections and nothing can stop us. The press is crucifying O’Bannon and the polls are going our way. Just do your job,” Williamson shouted as he slammed down the phone.

  At the FBI, the agents marked the latest recording as evidence. “The son of a bitch will fry for this. Now we have him passing intelligence information,” said one.

  “Yea, but wasn’t that interesting about Foster? I wonder what he has on him?” asked the other.

  “Yea, this calls for some special attention. Let’s get this up top quickly,” said the first.