by TJ Tucker
Had he been caught? Executed? She felt her stomach tighten, and she became jittery as she struggled with the thought that Lyle was in danger. Or worse. She couldn’t bear to lose him. Her presence of mind returned in short order and she knew she had to get away. This would all be for nothing if Lyle was caught or shot and she was not able to get her evidence into the right hands. She hurried to the landing spot, got her gear back on, swam to the outcrop, and waited. Any time now would be really good, Luis, she said to herself.
Luis’ boat came into view around the shoreline of a distant island, and soon arrived at the outcrop.
“Where’s Mr. Josh?” asked Luis. She suddenly had to make a decision. To stay and risk being captured, or possibly leave Lyle stranded on a hostile island, where he would surely be captured in time. She imagined that Lyle could be 10 minutes or so behind her if the shots were fired as he was making his retreat.
“Let’s give him five minutes, Luis.”
“I was afraid of this. You were on the island,” said Luis. “We can’t stay here if they know you were there. They might kill us.”
At that moment, they noticed a small unit of armed men advancing down the beach from around the end of the ridge. They were taking the much longer perimeter route, which gave Lyle an advantage, if he was still alive.
“Come on, Lyle,” said Jess mostly to herself, her agitation obvious.
Chapter 48: Ellis’ Place
Morningstar Security had no true headquarters building, but Derek Ellis maintained what could be considered the equivalent in his home in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains near Front Royal, Virginia. He had plenty of land and kept horses as a hobby. The house was otherwise impractically large for a single man with no family, and it was lavishly appointed. He could both entertain large groups of people and run Morningstar Security from his office and adjacent large conference room with grand views of the Blue Ridge. He was close enough to Washington that he could brave the traffic and drive there when the weather was not conducive to travel by helicopter, his preferred means of travel.
There were two guests in the conference room, and a third on a large video conference screen. “General Kim, please update me on the status of your forces. If you’re not ready in time, I’ll have to order Tilbury to delay their operation. Without telling you the reasons for it, simply understand that there is absolutely no flexibility in their time line once we launch our operation.”
General Kim answered from the conference screen. “We are almost ready, Mr. Ellis. The landing strips are at maximum capacity, accepting incoming cargo flights around the clock. There have not been any delays, and I am assured that everything is ready to be shipped that is not already here. I check on this daily, and there are no issues to report at present. Even bad weather is not stopping the flights. I understand your logistical concerns, but we will be ready.”
Ian Rennson’s telephone rang. Ellis had a flexible no cell phone policy at his meetings. Only phones with numbers known to few people and used sparingly for important communications were permitted in meetings. Rennson answered, and after speaking for a few moments said, “I’ll call you back.”
“Derek, I think you’ll want to know this. Can we finish up with the General later?”
Ellis shook his head. “I think we’re all set for today. General, I’m going to disconnect, but if anything comes up that would cause you not to be ready, you have three days to stop me. After that, if you have to stop it will scuttle the whole operation, and I’ll kill you myself. Do you understand?”
“That won’t be necessary Mr. Ellis,” said Kim, who knew that Ellis was not speaking only for effect.
“What’s up, Ian?”
“They’ve captured the two of them. Alive. They’re holding them up in New Jersey. The question is do you want them executed or turned over to the Feds.”
“Don’t do anything with them yet. I’d like to have a word with them myself.”
Ellis pushed the intercom button on his phone. “Gas up the helicopter. I’m going to New Jersey.”
Chapter 49: Lyle Investigates
Lyle descended the hill after splitting off from Jess, and made his way towards the port. He paused several times to look for guards. He saw the occasional armed man but there were no lookout towers or specific sentry locations. This was a complication, since he couldn’t predict when he would encounter the next armed man. Overall, the facility was only lightly guarded. No doubt they paid off the right people in Panama and don’t expect any troubles, he thought to himself.
Lyle reached the edge of the clearing in a few minutes. Across the clearing was the warehouse and behind it a field of shipping containers that stretched beyond the edges of the harbor. Lyle looked around and seeing nobody, ran to the back of the warehouse. He noticed that the workers had cut large holes in the aluminum walls of the warehouse, and since he could see no vents elsewhere, assumed the holes were for ventilation. He walked over to one of them and looked inside. The place was full of shipping containers, no surprise there. But he could see they were refrigerated containers, normally used for shipping perishables. Each container had a panel on the outside monitoring the climate inside. You don’t need to refrigerate missiles, he thought to himself.
Lyle slipped through one of the ventilation holes into the warehouse, careful to stay at the back behind a stack of boxes. He maneuvered himself into position to have a look into one of the shipping containers. He stayed low, crawled to the container and peeked in.
Bunks! He said it with considerable surprise. The container was loaded with bunks, four across and five high, maybe five deep. The front of the container had a small open area from which two narrow aisles led through the bunks. This container was designed to hold 48 men in conditions he guessed would be hellish. Those refrigeration systems would be essential. As he walked back to the opening in the warehouse, he saw hundreds of toilets along one wall, and next to them what looked like cisterns, each the size of 3 or 4 bathtubs. He slipped back out of the warehouse and walked further along the wall, where he thought there was some other activity going on. He looked in through another hole and saw containers being loaded with light armaments. There were automatic rifles, rocket propelled grenades, an assortment of handheld rockets and small missiles. He thought he recognized a Chinese Type 56 assault rifle. He spent a few more minutes making a mental catalog of the weapons he could identify. He saw rocket propelled grenades, tear gas canisters, and a lot of ammunition, but no heavy weaponry. The armaments were designed to outfit light infantry. He froze in his tracks, exclaiming almost out loud, Trojan Horse!
Lyle turned and ran out of the hole in the warehouse, accidentally brushing against the aluminum, which made a ringing sound. He broke into a run, fairly confident the loud warehouse interior would not betray him. But anybody outside –.”
“Hey, stop!” yelled a voice in American English. Stopping was exactly the lowest priority thing on his mind at the moment. He was halfway across the clearing when he heard a gunshot, but continued running. He hadn’t heard the whistling of a bullet or felt anything. Another gunshot followed, and this time he heard the whistling of the bullet. But it hit the vegetation ahead, and again he felt nothing. He made it to the cover of the woods, but he had been discovered. He ran through the woods, and up the hill, breathing heavily in the humid air. His spleen was cramping, his heart was pounding violently, and his lungs were laboring to get enough oxygen. Lyle was a reasonably good runner, but now he wished he had kept training at middle-distances beyond his college years.
Once Lyle crested the hill and started downhill, his breathing eased. That oxygen-rich scuba tank was waiting for him and he could almost taste it. The refreshing waters of the Pacific were waiting for him too, once he got out of this jungle. Another few minutes and he would be there. Please be ready, Jess. Please be there, Luis.
Lyle got to the bottom of the hill, emerged from the jungle and saw the boat waiting for him. Thank God for that he said to himself. He
quickly put on his flippers and tank and swam as fast as he could, breathing heavily the oxygen-enriched air in the scuba tank until he made it past the outcrop and into the waiting boat.
Luis knew not to wait around and immediately brought the boat to plane, getting them away from the island. Lyle looked back and saw the men with automatic weapons coming down the beach. They had followed the perimeter of the island rather than chasing him through the jungle, and they were too late. They pulled out binoculars and surveyed the escaping boat, while one pulled out a radio and spoke into it.
“Luis, I hope this boat is as fast as you say, because we’re about to have company,” said Lyle. “I’m sorry for getting you into this, but if you can get us out to safety there’s a bonus of $5,000 in it for you.”
“It’s okay Senor, I told you I can handle myself,” said Luis with astonishing calm as he opened the door to the section of the boat under the bow. “Take the wheel for a second.”
Lyle held the wheel and watched as Luis maneuvered into a space full of hydraulic pistons and pumps. He activated pistons that pushed outwards through the hull and as he did, Lyle felt the hull lift out of the water. The sound of the rushing water faded considerably as the water resistance dropped. Luis returned to the pilot’s chair and flipped another switch, whereupon there was a jolt that felt like a gear change, followed by a rush of speed as the boat felt like it doubled its pace.
“I activated the hydrofoils,” said Luis. And indeed, what looked like skis now kept the bulk of the hull up above the water, greatly reducing the drag and gaining them precious time to make their getaway.
“I knew you were up to no good. You weren’t looking at sewage runoffs on the wrong side of the island. I hope you had good reasons to be there. They might have killed you.”
Luis then maneuvered among several islands in the Pearl Island Archipelago before turning into a cove on a small island, coming to rest under some overhanging rocks. It looked like an old lava tube, and he pulled into it so they would not be visible from the air.
“Another couple minutes and our wake will disappear into the chop of the water” said Luis. “They won’t find us here. They don’t know these islands. They don’t have an airport on San Marcos so it will take 10 or 20 minutes to get anything here.”
Before long they heard airplanes in the distance and within a few minutes the sky was seemingly full of small planes flying back and forth at various distances from where they were hiding.
“We can’t go back to Contadora,” said Jess.
“No, that would not be safe,” said Luis. “We’ll wait for night time and go to Costa Rica. Did you leave your papers back at the hotel?”
Lyle looked uncomfortable, but was interrupted by a cheerful Jess. “Looking for these?” she asked as she offered a plastic sealed plastic bag containing the Feldsteins’ papers.
“Whew,” said Lyle. “But we’re not clear yet. They’ll check our identities no doubt. It might not be safe to use the passports at computerized scanners.”
Chapter 50: Warehouse
John and Frank awoke in a small warehouse, bound hand and foot. The place was dark and they had no idea how long they had been under, or even what time of day it was. Groggy, Frank examined the bonds which were several layers of duct tape, the second time in recent days he had been so bound. “Well now, you never run out of uses for duct tape,” he said.
John slowly came to, but the duct tape binding him was not the first thing he noticed. There was a sickly sweet smell in the warehouse. He’d definitely smelled it before, and now he thought he remembered where. He looked at Frank and remarked “I’m guessing I know who did this, but I couldn’t tell you why we’re still alive.”
A voice from the darkness answered his question. “Because then I’d miss the chance to meet you in person.” A tall man walked out from the shadows, now visible only in silhouette.
“You tried to have both of us killed before, so what’s different now?” asked Frank.
“I wondered that myself,” said the tall man. “I’m not at all confident it will pay off to prolong your lives, so I hope you can prove me wrong, and make it worthwhile for me. You must understand I don’t really enjoy ordering people killed. I’m on the fence with you guys. Too many bodies and you attract the very attention you’re trying to avoid. You may be too late to change anything, but not too late to be a nuisance to me. So I want to know what you’ve learned, and who else knows it. Mr. Linssman has proven to be more trouble than I’d first realized.”
John was now sure he had encountered this man previously. “You’re going to unload a shipment in Newark in a hurry and under tight security. It’s highly choreographed, with specific locations prearranged for each container. If you want to know more, introduce yourself.”
The man walked toward them until his face was illuminated by a distant light. Frank blurted out, “the devil himself,” before he could have second thoughts.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, Mr. Goworski,” answered the man. “Mr. Corson, you may not know me. I am Derek Ellis. President and CEO of Morningstar Security Services. And Gentlemen, I’d like to know who it was that paid us a visit at San Marcos, pretending to be the Feldsteins. They called your phone from a number that was obtained at exactly the same time and place as your own. I want to know what they’ve relayed back to you and who you’ve told about it.”
“And then you’ll kill us, to tie off loose ends?” asked John.
Calmly, Ellis replied. “I told you, I’m on the fence there. This is just business after all. Everything’s negotiable.
“Except that Morningstar’s business is murder, so cut the bullshit,” snapped John. “You have no intention of letting us walk. So stop pretending, and I won’t stand here and tell you I have no idea what you’re talking about and what you’re up to.” John did his best to look self-assured while also hiding his joy that Lyle and Jess had escaped.
“When the operation runs its course, I won’t care anymore who knows about it,” offered Ellis. “At that point, I can release you without fear of any consequences. I’m not Mother Teresa, Mr. Corson, but I do keep my word.”
“So when the plot hatches, you’ll have the power to kill anybody who opposes you openly?” asked John.
Ellis offered a cold smile, adding, “Yeah something like that.”
“Anyone who doesn’t speak Chinese that is,” said John.
Ellis appeared to be disturbed by his inability to gain the upper hand in the discussion. “Gentlemen, if we don’t get anywhere now, we can continue this chat later with the assistance of the enhanced interrogators.”
John decided to push his advantage. “We know that the operation starts in San Marcos, and ends in Newark, and other ports,” guessing on the last part.
“You bore me, Mr. Corson. That much is obvious from anything you’ve seen. If you’re as smart as I think you are, then you’ve learned a lot more than that.”
“You were banned from Afghanistan because you’re not Mother Teresa, and you were staring bankruptcy in the face. Then someone approached you with big bucks, maybe someone representing the Chinese. And all you had to do for your money and power was to sell out your country. An easy choice for you, I guess.”
Ellis showed no reaction to that statement. “We’re interviewing witnesses on Contadora, and we’ll get security photos from any airport they’ve been through, so we’ll find them, eventually. It’s just a matter of time. In the meantime, you two can think about what you want to say to our interrogators.”
Ellis walked off into the darkness and a door opened, then closed. Ellis’ fragrance lingered another five minutes or so.
Chapter 51: Making Sense
It was past 4 pm in the Pearl Islands, and another couple of hours until sunset would make it safe to go out again. “So what’s on that Island that I’m risking my life over?” asked Luis, making it clear he was tired of being kept in the dark.
“Jess, how many buildings did you count?” a
sked Lyle, ignoring Luis’ question for the moment.
Jess thought about it for a moment then offered, “About 1,000 plus or minus 50 or so, each housing maybe 100 men. There was a small section I couldn’t see, so I had to estimate. And about three quarters of the area was buzzing with activity and people. The area closest to the port looked empty and men were making the trip to the other side of the harbor. Thousands more had just arrived on that cruise ship. The whole place was in a state of flux, but I had the impression that the arrivals had concluded and the departures had begun.”
Luis was not impressed. “Of course there are people. Where you think all that sewage is coming from? But what are they doing there, that’s what I want to know.”
Jess added “There were empty container ships coming in. I guess they’ll be loading up whatever is in those containers.”
Lyle decided to end the suspense. “I’ll tell you what’s going into those containers. Luis and Jess, this is a Trojan Horse army. Those containers are built to hold people, not stuff.” He saw the realization slowly sinking in.
“If you want to invade a country across the ocean, you face the problem of crossing open water without being detected. You then have to land and establish a beachhead you can defend before the defenders can mount a response. But if you import an army in shipping containers, you eliminate those two problems completely. America is the only country that imports at such a furious rate that this many containers are nothing unusual. It’s the only possible target. Fortress America as we always called it was thought unconquerable by the Japanese and the Germans, to the degree they even spoke of it. The Japanese knew it would be futile because they couldn’t cross the Pacific in an invasion fleet big enough. And what forces they could land would be attacked right away by Americans with guns. They described it as a ‘gun behind every blade of grass.’”