B00H242ZGY EBOK

by Unknown

  She heard a chuckled in front of her. “Roger sent me,” he said.

  Ricks turned off the suit and pulled it from around him. The sudden appearance of a man where there was none sent even more of the people scampering.

  Wei watched in disgust as his ceremony was decimated. Angered, he switched on his microphone and called out to the people below. Everyone stopped and looked up to him as he began chanting in another tongue. It was obvious he was angry and he raised his staff above his head. He stood there chanting and watched as the people below began to kneel. Several bowed to the ground. Above them, Wei could feel his godly powers grow. The hair on his body began to rise and he knew that finally, his becoming a god had come to be. His skin tingled as he seemed to feel his new powers surge through him. As he raised his staff ever higher he made a loud call to bring his people together.

  In a brilliant flash, the lightning bolt struck the metal staff and traveled through Wei to the metal floor of the obelisk. In an instant, his bones were fused together as the god of the sun burned almost as bright. The clap of thunder joined to cause nearly everyone to fall to the ground. Half the lights in the area went out. The remaining illuminated Wei. His headdress was on fire. He stood, frozen in place. His staff was still raised high into the air. The people below watched in fascination as the wind from the oncoming storm fanned the flames of his headdress. Everything stood still for a moment as the crowd below stared at the figure. Then, after another gust, his feet peeled away from the metal stand and his still stiff body fell to the ground like some marble statue, coming to a dull thud on the stone floor of the courtyard.

  There was a scream from one of the buildings as a naked young blond girl ran to Wei’s remains and tried to scoop him into her arms.

  With her screams, the spectators panicked and fled. Within a minute the village was empty. Chapman gathered his men to assess the situation. Ricks, with Patricia still in his arms, walked up.

  “She’s in shock, Boss. I tried to put her down and she wouldn’t let go,” said Ricks.

  Chapmen looked into her eyes. They were held in a vacant stare. The ordeal had nearly broken her, but she had attached to her rescuer and wouldn’t let go. Chapman touched her arm and she looked at him for a second. “Let’s get you home,” he said.

  Sergeant Miller hopped down a set of stairs leading from the roof where he had taken his shot. He walked calmly over to a figure trying to crawl into a doorway. There was a trail of blood from where his shot struck home to the crumpled figure. Parente was desperately trying to crawl to safety, but his hands would not support any weight to allow him to stand. His headdress had fallen off and his cloak was dragging the ground behind him. Miller approached the gold encrusted figure.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

  Parente looked up at the man in disgust. The hatred in his eyes seemed to fill his sweaty face. “Do not touch me, you dog. You should be bowing before me,” he exclaimed.

  A smile appeared on Miller’s face. He calmly reached down and grabbed the back of the collar on the cloak, flipping Parente over backwards. There was a yelp of pain as Parente tried to use his hands break his fall. Miller placed his boot on Parente’s chest and pointed his pistol between his eyes.

  “I already put one hole in you. Want to try for two?” he asked.

  Parente’s face changed slightly as the realization that this man would happily end his life. He didn’t say a word.

  Captain Chapman walked over. “Any trouble?”

  Miller chuckled. “Just the trouble I’m having to keep from pulling this trigger. Where do you want him?” he asked.

  Motioning over towards the back of the compound, Chapman said, “Put him in his limousine. We’ll give him one last ride.”

  The team quickly gathered their equipment and policed their shells. One of the men tried to get the young girl to come with them, but she refused. She was still cradling Wei in her arms as they drove away from the compound.

  The Mountain Air Strip

  Messina was having a tough time dodging lightning flashes while skirting the mountains. Yet it wasn’t long before he saw the familiar lighted shack. There was a large aircraft on the runway. He skirted the area and settled on the circular pad at the end. Shutting down the engines, he found the aircraft surrounded by armed men. In desperation, he looked at Rojas. “I tried my best,” he said.

  The cabin door opened and one of the soldiers pulled them out of the aircraft. “Who are you,” one asked in the darkness.

  Messina straightened up. “I am Colonel Curt Messina and this is Colonel Juan Rojas. Who are you?”

  Amazingly, the men around the helicopter lowered their weapons. “We’ve been expecting you, Colonel. Is this your family?”

  “Yes,” he said almost dumbstruck.

  The soldiers helped his family from the aircraft and ushered all of them to the back of the aircraft as a large truck pulled up and around the road and onto the airstrip property. A man leaned out of the passenger side and called out, “We need some help here!”

  One by one, from the back of the truck the hostages were helped down to the ground. In the light from the small office, the Marines escorted them into the back of the aircraft. Lieutenant Mason was stopped by someone in the dark. “Where are the rest?” the man asked.

  “One was taken to another compound up the hill. They went to get her,” he said.

  Two vehicles rapidly made their way down the hill and along the road leading to the airstrip. The lead car was the Presidential limousine followed by a small van. As they neared the bottom of the hill a small patrol blocked the way, but seeing the presidential limo, they stood back and saluted. Inside, Ricks sat between Patricia and Parente. The man’s hands had been wrapped by one of the team members using part of Wei’s garment. The blood still oozed from the bandages.

  Ricks looked over at the man. “Still hurt?” he asked.

  Parente glared at him. “You wouldn’t dare kidnap the leader of a nation,” he said angrily.

  “Just watch,” said Chapman from the front seat. He turned to the driver. “We going to make it?”

  “Not by 2130. We passed that time long ago,” he said as he swerved the car around the curve in the road.

  Chapman looked back at Ricks. “We may have lost our ride,” he said.

  Ricks grinned. “Have a little faith, Captain,” he said.

  Ten minutes later, the two vehicles turned up the road leading to the airstrip. They could see a light from a small building. Swerving around the last turn, the men felt a relief to see the shadow of a huge plane waiting for them in the runway. They pulled the car all the way to the ramp on the back of the plane. Flinging the doors open on the vehicles, the passengers quickly ran up the ramp as the engines began to start. Before the ramp could get a foot off the ground, Rojas darted out of the plane and to the limousine. After only a second, he ran back with something in his hand.

  The ramp slowly began to rise and the rear of the plane finally closed. Inside the plane the lights came on. Ricks was still helping Patricia to her seat when she saw someone dressed in white standing in front of her. She began to cry.

  Vice Admiral Roger Hammond swept his wife into his arms and held her closely. The strain of the past two weeks seemed to melt away as he held her. “You knew I’d come for you,” he said.

  She kissed him hard on the lips and exclaimed, “Never a doubt.” Then the stress caught up with her and she nearly collapsed to the ground. “Doc!” Hammond called out.

  Doc Dickerson led them to the small medical bay in the aircraft where he started his examination. “Leave her with me, Admiral. I’ll get her right,” he said with a smile.

  “Doc, she’s carrying our child,” Hammond told him.

  Dickerson winked and shut the door.

  A crewman came aft and addressed the Admiral. “Sir, there’s a helicopter blocking our way.”

  The second helicopter scheduled to pick up Parente had appeared and was hoverin
g in front of the aircraft. The engines were operating and the pilot was ready to take off, but it was in the way.

  Hammond looked at the helicopter through the cockpit windows. He turned to the pilot. “Turn on all our lights,” he said.

  The outside of the aircraft was suddenly brightly illuminated. The blue letters spelling out ‘Cubana,’ clearly made the aircraft one of Cuban registry. The other pilot, expecting the aircraft to be there, quickly moved out of the way.

  “Kick it,” said Hammond as the pilot shoved the throttles all the way forward.

  The large aircraft began moving rapidly down the runway. About midway, the engineer flipped a switch and six JATO rockets ignited pushing the aircraft quickly into the air. Banking to the north, it only took twenty minutes to cross into Colombian airspace.

  In the back of the aircraft, Parente sat flanked by two guards. Rojas walked up to him. Parente’s face broke into a smile. “Ah, My Colonel. I see you have been captured as well. And you have my briefcase! I’ll be happy to take it back now.”

  Rojas looked down at the man with disgust. “Actually, I am the one who made sure you were caught. Your story that I am responsible will not work. As for the briefcase, the American FBI will be happy to get their hands on it, after I remove the information on all your bank accounts. After all, Colonel Messina and I will need to have some income in exile,” he said as he turned and headed toward where the Messina family was seated.

  One of the Iowa corpsman came up to better bandage Parente’s hands. They had been totally shattered and would eventually require major surgery. Pieces of the obsidian knife had been forced into one by the bullet which struck him. The medic was finishing up his bandaging when a man walked up to them. He smiled down at Parente.

  President Parente, I am Gerald Donaldson of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I wanted to inform you of your rights.”

  Parente looked up at the man. “You cannot detain me. I am the President of Venezuela. Your laws do not extend here.”

  Donaldson shrugged his shoulders. “Actually, neither do yours. We are now in Columbian airspace and you are being taken to the United States where you will be placed on trial for kidnapping and murder, among other things. And we are going to give you’re the privilege of having the same rights as an American citizen. So you now have the right to remain silent…” Donaldson began.

  A few seats away, Ricks sat beside Chapman. “Thanks for keeping those guys off me.”

  Chapman glanced over at him. “Never mind me, what made you think to put on that suit and scare everybody half to death? I had to keep them off just because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing,” he said.

  Ricks gave a weak smile. “You should know I am prone to do some strange things under stress. But it was the quickest way I knew to get the civilians out of the way.”

  “I’ll give you that. But ask next time. You nearly scared me to death,” Chapman said getting up and punching him in the shoulder. He walked to the front of the aircraft shaking his head.

  Ricks gave a chuckle and turned to see that the FBI man had finished his job and was now sitting, next to Parente, now in shackles. Ricks walked back and stood in front of him. Parente looked at him with a sour face.

  Ricks leaned down and looked him directly in the eyes. “Do you know who I am?”

  Parente gave a disgusted look. “Why should I care who you are,” he said.

  Ricks grinned and gave him a look that chilled him to the bone. He leaned in until Parente could smell the sweat on him. “Oh, you should care. You see, I am the friend of Admiral Hammond and his wife, Patricia. You somehow got the idea that you could hurt my friends, and you know, I take that very seriously,” he said pulling the knife out of his boot. In doing so, the metallic glimmer of Rick’s artificial leg could be seen underneath. He waved the knife in front of Parente’s face, causing the FBI man to get a little nervous until he saw one of the men standing to one side indicate it would be okay.

  “A few years ago, I was in a war where you took the other side, I believe. I killed countless of the North Koreans because they simply pissed me off. None of them saw me coming, and some didn’t know what I had done until they were already dead. And you know what? A couple of weeks ago, you pissed me off too,” Ricks continued as he pointed the edge of his knife at Parente’s face. “Now I just heard that my dear friend’s wife was carrying a baby when you took her. So I wanted to give you a warning. If I find out that child has been harmed in any way, even if it is born with some defect, I will hold you responsible. If that happens, no matter where you are, or what you are doing – if you are in prison, or even if you are dead, I will hunt you down and dismember you like a dear in my back yard. I swear, that even in death, I will make you will feel every cut and every slice. I’ll fix it so that you won’t even be able to scream. Just watch out, because you won’t see me coming,” he said as he finally stood, turned to the FBI agent and said, “Just sending a message,” and walked away.

  Even the FBI man swallowed hard.

  Chapter 16

  Final Concert

  The White House

  The press conference had been called supposedly to bring everyone up to speed on the hostage situation. The White House Press Room was packed with journalists hoping to catch the Press Secretary with another damning question. To their surprise, the President entered the room and made his way to the podium.

  “I decided to come today so my press secretary could have a break.”

  There was polite laughter in the room. The President continued. “But first I wanted you to meet some people. Come on in,” he said as the door opened and the mayors entered the room. There was bedlam at the realization that the hostages had been rescued. There were fourteen people standing with the President in front of the gallery. He held up his hand to quiet the journalists.

  “A couple of weeks ago I told a young man what happened regarding our mayors and he confidently told me to send in the Marines. Being sound advice, I contacted someone you know, General Claire Richardson, the Commander of our Special Forces Units, and asked her to take on the task of rescuing our hostages. Last night, a Special Forces Unit made its way into Venezuela and rescued all but one of the hostages. All are back on American soil. The one mayor we lost was Mayor Jim Mitchell, who was murdered in cold blood by his captor a week ago. Our hearts and our deepest condolences go out to Mayor Mitchell’s family and his community.”

  “I also want to announce that the Special Forces Team also was able to capture the man responsible for this abduction. He too is in American hands, on American soil. We know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the man responsible is President Emilio Parente of Venezuela. He will be tried in an American court, and later in an international court for his crimes. There is also a young man here, who tried to help our mayors in their time of crisis, and was jailed with them. Private Manuel Donado was actually a guard who tried to do something about the situation. Our mayors took him in and nursed him back to health when their leaders beat him and jailed him with them. We thank you for your willingness to take a stand against evil.”

  There was general applause from the journalists, happy to see the young man with the still puffy and marked face.

  “Once again, our American military has been able to strategically go in and rescue Americans from a desperate situation. Those members of the Special Forces Team have now returned to their homes, and stand ready for their next assignment. We will not tell you their names since there may be some who would want to retaliate against them. They will remain in the background ready to strike when needed. So I tell anyone out there who may be thinking of acting against the United States and its citizens, just beware. We can and we will respond. Now I’ll take your questions.”

  Shouts came from all over the gallery as hands were raised. The President pointed toward one reporter. “I’d like to ask the mayors how they were able to get through this ordeal.”

  Several of the Mayors turned to look at the other. Fi
nally Sharon Roberts stepped forward. “You know, you all gotta realize this wasn’t a whole lot of fun,” she began. There was laughter through the reporters. “But if there was one person who got us through this, it was Patricia Hammond. She was there all the time, trying to cheer us up or soothe a hurt. She even stood up for the group on several occasions, in one of which, she kicked our jailer in the balls.”

  The group roared with laughter at the thought of someone being so bold. The applause filled the room.

  Another hand was raised. “Mister President, where is Patricia Hammond. I don’t see her here.

  O’Bannon grinned for a minute and then answered. “I will tell you one of the people instrumental in getting these people back. It was her husband, Vice Admiral Roger Hammond. If you recall, we had an exercise with the navies of Brazil and Colombia. That exercise was orchestrated by Admiral Hammond to act as a decoy for Venezuelan forces. I’d like to thank the governments of Brazil and Colombia for working with us. It actually helped improve the readiness of all our forces. Getting back to Mayor Hammond, during the rescue, she was subjected to a pretty frightful situation and her physician recommended they take some time to recuperate and be together. In other words, I asked them to be here and he said no.” The gallery laughed again. “I guess I know my place,” the President said. “They both deserve a well-earned rest.”

  Annapolis, Maryland

  Doc Dickerson drove his rented Cadillac along the highway to Annapolis, Maryland. In the back, Roger and Patricia Hammond sat holding each other. After the examination, he had pronounced the baby fit, but Patricia was still in shock. Having endured both the hardship, stress and eventually the experience of being tied to a post and fully believing she would die, had taken nearly everything out of her. He had recommended a long, very relaxing vacation. After making a few contacts, arrangements were made to pick the two of them up in Annapolis for a trip on some yacht.