Alpha Threat

by Ron Smoak

  Ben established the expedition’s base camp at the Finleys’ Rio Juruena jumping-off point, Cotriguacu, deep in the Brazilian State of Mato Grosso. It was a tiny river port consisting of a few buildings but did have electricity and communications back to Caceres, the closest major town. Cotriguacu met one of Ben’s requirements for a base camp, a bar. He set up the base camp in several large tents at the edge of the jungle near the main road. That way he had a relatively quiet existence close enough to the bar and port but far enough away to keep most people away. It was to Ben a wonderful vacation in the Amazon. He enjoyed all the creature comforts of home, even air conditioning. Or what passed as air conditioning here in the Amazon. Still it was much better than the nightly camps the Finleys were experiencing. Food and supplies were plentiful, as long as he did not have visitors from the United States.

  “Okay. We are signing off for the night. We will recontact you tomorrow sometime in the early afternoon. Please confirm recontact time. Over…” said Randall.

  “Recontact tomorrow early afternoon… Roger, Finley Base Camp. Over…” Ben replied.

  “Roger, Finley Base Camp. Finley Expedition out.” Randall switched off the mobile radio and leaned back in the chair. Dana stood over him.

  “Feel better now?” asked Dana, poking her husband in the right shoulder.

  “Yeah, you know I do when I can talk to Ben. He seems to calm me down when I most need it. Like Dad used to do.”

  “You two are a mess,” Dana replied as she turned to check on dinner. “I’m surprised Ben didn’t stow away a bottle for you.”

  “How do you know he didn’t?” laughed Randall. Dana turned grinning and shot him a bird as she walked over to check their tent.

  The sun was beginning to set and the jungle was starting to get dark. Manolo’s guys were building a nice firewood pile and a small cooking fire was already going. Manolo always wanted a large bonfire going before darkness fell. It was not a want but a need. In the jungle it really gets dark, so dark you cannot see your hand in front of your face.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Sunday, July 3, 2011

  Downtown Miami, Florida; 3:00 p.m.

  The thin man walked up to the door of the shop and rang the doorbell. The sign on the window said “International Investments, LLC, Open by Appointment Only”. He looked at the sign and rang the bell again. Being Sunday, most businesses in downtown Miami were closed. But he had an appointment. He had business to do and he needed to get this over with so he could attend the ballet that evening with his wife.

  He heard a stirring inside. The blinds covering the door separated slightly and closed quickly. He heard the lock click and the door opened.

  “Please come in, Mr. Nader,” said Dieter Blocher, a young man of about 30 years. “Mr. Jackson will be with you in a moment. May I get you some refreshment?”

  “No, thank you. I’m in a bit of a hurry today,” Nader replied politely.

  “Very well, Mr. Nader. Please be seated.” The young man gestured toward two chairs off to the right and walked away through a back door leaving the man sitting alone.

  The room was simple. With the front window shades pulled down the room was quiet and dimly lit. It had a faint cigar smell seemingly coming from the back room. Oh, God, Nader thought, he’s smoking those nasty cigars again. There were four large overstuffed leather chairs, two on each side of the room. There were no tables, no magazines, just the large chairs. In the center of the back wall was a single door. In front of the door was a small desk with a telephone handset and a flat screen computer monitor; nothing else. The simplicity of the room was welcomed by Nader. He wanted to get his business done and get out. He had no time to read anything. This was not a doctor’s office.

  As Mr. Klaus Nader sat down he placed the valise he was carrying at his feet. He leaned over to straighten the identity tag attached to the handle. The valise looked brand new. It was made of the finest leather and had that rich smell to it. As Nader straightened up, the back door opened.

  “Mr. Nader, Mr. Jackson will see you now. Please come this way, sir.” The young man’s voice was very calm and precise. He accompanied Nader down the short hall past several other offices and into a large well-appointed office. It was Sunday, he thought. Everyone else must be at home as he should be.

  “Good afternoon, Klaus,” smiled Albert Jackson as he arose from behind his massive desk and walked around to meet him. “I’m very happy to see you again. I trust everything is well?” Jackson’s warm welcome made Nader uneasy.

  “Yes, very well indeed,” squeaked Nader. “All is well. But I must make this a short meeting. My wife expects me soon. We are going to the ballet.”

  “Ah, the ballet. I believe the performance is Le Corsaire. Am I correct?”

  “Yes. My wife loves Le Corsaire. Frankly, I’m not too enthused but one must keep the wife happy, you know.”

  “And how is your wife, Lily?” asked Jackson attentively.

  “Very well, thank you. She had that bout with pneumonia, you know, but she is much better now.”

  “Yes, the poor thing. I am so glad she is better. So better that she can now enjoy the ballet,” smiled Jackson. “I hope she enjoyed the flowers.”

  “Yes, she did very much. Thank you, Albert. That was very kind of you to remember her.”

  “Oh, please do not mention it. If Lily enjoyed the flowers then that makes me very happy.”

  “Well, she definitely was pleased, Albert. Thank you again.”

  “Let us get to work, Klaus,” said Jackson, scurrying back behind his desk. “We need to get you out of here and on to the ballet. Blocher, please get me the Dornott files if you will.”

  The young man nodded his head and disappeared down the hall.

  Mr. Nader placed his valise between his legs and opened the bag, removing one single sheet of paper. He handed it across the desk to Jackson.

  “I believe this will suffice today,” Nader said confidently. Jackson took the paper and looked at it intently.

  “Yes, this will do nicely.”

  Jackson read the note and reached into his desk to get his pen. He opened the cap on the expensive Mont Blanc fountain pen and with a flourish signed his name to the document just as the young man re-entered with a large lockable file box.

  “Blocher, please open the file box and place this inside,” Jackson said, handing a key to Blocher. Jackson waited patiently for the file box to be opened and handed the document to the young man. Without looking at the paper the young man placed the document inside, relocked it and handed the key back to Jackson. Without a word, Blocher took the box and left the room.

  “Well, it seems our operation is quite profitable, Klaus. We are averaging 2.5 million every two weeks. Everything is doing well?” asked Jackson.

  “We are doing very well,” answered Nader with a slight smile. “The Brazilian operation is well ahead of schedule and production is only at 26 percent. We can increase it at any time.”

  “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. We cannot afford to lose sight of our overall goals. Slow but steady, like the tortoise, my dear Klaus. Slow and steady. I do not want to cause any market disturbances yet. For now let’s keep the production low knowing we can ramp it up at will. Once we decide to move forward, the market will not know what hit it. This will be quite different than our predecessors. They made such a mess of things.”

  “I understand. I trust you will relay your thoughts to Kaete in Brazil and continue as we are now,” said Nader.

  “Yes, that would be best at this time,” Jackson replied.

  “Imagine,” said Nader seemingly deep in thought, “a new beginning and new Fatherland. This is a dream come true.”

  “Not quite yet, my dear Klaus,” smiled Jackson. “We are on the threshold of a new ideal world. But we have much work to do to make it happen. We must stay the course and be extremely careful in our thoughts and actions.”

  “I will do my best to ensure my part is done well,�
� said Nader, sitting straighter in his seat.

  “Yes, I’m certain you will,” said Jackson.

  “Then our business today is complete,” stated Nader as he stood to leave.

  “Yes, it is, Mr. Nader. Your payment will be as always and available in the account by Monday. Please let me show you to the door.” Jackson escorted Nader to the front door, opening the door for him. “I will see you in two weeks; yes?” queried Jackson.

  “Yes, of course. Same time, I presume?”

  “Absolutely, that will do quite well. Thank you. You and your wife have a wonderful time at the ballet.” Jackson waved goodbye as he closed the door.

  Jackson walked back to his office. Within a minute Blocher joined him.

  “Dieter, please contact our Swiss accounts and prepare the appropriate deposit. Also contact our sources and relay the acceptance and deposit of these funds as soon as they have been confirmed in Switzerland. I need to update the Führer.”

  “Yes, Mr. Jackson. I will take care of it immediately.” Dieter turned and left the room.

  Albert Jackson opened a desk humidor and pulled out one of his Cuban Cohiba Behike BHK 56 cigars. He meticulously trimmed the end and lit the cigar with a gas torch lighter. He relished his first puff and watched as the sublime smoke rose into the air. He sat back and contemplated the future; his future and the future of the Fourth Reich.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Sunday, July 3, 2011

  Deep in the Amazon Jungle; 6:00 a.m.

  Dawn broke with a beautiful purple sky as the sun peeped through the trees. Sunrise in the Brazilian jungle was not the “Oh My God!” sight many people might think. In fact, if the Finleys were not in a small clearing, they probably would not have seen the sunrise at all. With a full canopy of trees, the jungle has a full-time umbrella over its head.

  Manolo and his men expertly produced a filling breakfast and while the Finleys were eating broke camp. As Randall finished his coffee, Manolo’s men doused the fire and packed the final items.

  “We are ready to go, Dr. Randall,” smiled Manolo. Manolo loved the jungle and always seemed to have a wide smile on his face.

  “Manolo, what would we do without you?” chided Randall. “You are the best!”

  Manolo gave a wide grin and turned to his men. After a few short words the crew hoisted their loads and was ready to move.

  “Which way we go?” Manolo asked.

  Randall checked his map as Dana stood beside him. He looked at his GPS and rechecked the map.

  “We go this way, Manolo. We go this way,” said Randall pointing to the northeast.

  The troop headed off for another day’s trek.

  The Finleys were experts in early Amazonian history and the tribes therein. It was important to them and to Princeton that this expedition be successful. The study of the indigenous tribes led them here; the people, their customs and their artifacts. They knew humans thrived in these ghastly jungles for centuries, but little if anything was known about them. No white man ventured this far back into this part of the jungle. The Finleys felt they were groundbreakers and indeed they were.

  While exciting, it also carried huge dangers. Not only the normal dangers of walking through a dangerous, wild jungle thousands of miles from home but also the danger of meeting tribes of natives that may have never seen a white man or, for that matter, a white woman. One’s mind swirled with the images of being captured by natives, enslaved or worse, being killed either via a ritual execution or simply for dinner.

  After several hours the troop came to a garden-like open area with a small lake fed by a beautiful waterfall on one end. It was about ten o’clock in the morning but this idyllic setting was too good to pass up.

  “Randall, let’s stop for a while. We can bathe and enjoy the water. We haven’t had a bath in weeks and I’m tired of washing myself from a bucket. We have the time.”

  Randall could see Dana was clearly enamored with this oasis-like place in the Amazonian jungle. Why not stop at least for a while and enjoy some downtime. They were technically ahead of schedule as if any research expedition could ever be considered ahead of schedule.

  “All right,” Randall huffed, acting as though he thought he wanted to keep moving. But the cool, clean water did look very inviting. “We can stop for a few hours but then we need to keep moving.” Inside he was already wondering how the water would feel. “Manolo, let’s stop for lunch and some rest. Tell everyone to just break out what we need but be ready to go again in two hours. I want to make another several miles before we set camp for the night.”

  “Yes, Dr. Randall,” answered Manolo. “I get lunch ready too.” He hustled off barking instructions to his men.

  There was no stopping Dana. In her excitement she started scouting about the lakeside looking for a secluded place to bathe away from the immediate camp.

  Dana Finley didn’t look like the stereotypical university scholar. She was one beautiful lady. At twenty-nine she still held her teenage figure very well. Her once long blonde hair had been cut short for the expedition and made her look even younger than her age. At five feet six inches her athletic build made her a very sexy-looking university professor, and Randall loved it. She possessed the wonderful Scandinavian beauty that came from her parents. Born in Washington State, she and her brother, Dane, grew up in the outdoors. Trekking through the jungles of Brazil came natural to her.

  Dana had met Randall when they were freshmen at Princeton. Dana was the demure young lady with enough natural good looks to drive all the guys crazy. Randall was a studious, somewhat shy guy from Chicago. But his love for sports caused a happenstance meeting between the two at one of Randall’s Kappa Sigma frat parties. He invited her to come to one of his lacrosse games and they had been together ever since.

  Even though Randall spent many, many days and nights in Princeton’s libraries it never stopped him from playing the sports he loved. He excelled at baseball, basketball and lacrosse in high school but concentrated on lacrosse at Princeton. He played for Princeton all four years of his undergraduate time. He also played freshman baseball but gave it up due to the sheer number of games each season. His six foot one lean frame showed his love and dedication to sports even though he had little time to participate over the past two years. But he kept fit at the gym and by running each day. The Finleys could have been a cover couple on any fitness magazine.

  Randall saw that Manolo had everything in hand so he decided to follow Dana. He walked about forty yards from the camp where he found her standing barefoot in her underwear on a small sandy beach on the lake. She was struggling with the back catch on her bra.

  “Need some help there, lady?” he called, startling Dana, who turned seemingly ready to pounce. He grinned and stepped back, throwing up his hands in defense. “Whoa, who’d you expect? Who can find us out here?”

  “Isn’t this fabulous?” she asked excitedly as her startled look turned to glee. Randall stepped behind her and unsnapped her bra. “I can’t wait to get into this water,” she said, dropping her bra on a small bush and using her thumbs to pull her panties to the ground. She flicked them over to the same bush and stepped into the water up to her ankles. She turned. “You are coming in, aren’t you?” she asked.

  He stood there marveling at her. She was beautiful. She looked like she had not aged a week since their marriage. She looked so happy… and so naked! He felt himself getting excited.

  “Hell, yeah, I’m coming in,” he cried as he began to shuck off first his boots, his shirt and then his pants. He hesitated a second, realizing he was out in the wild jungle, and then dropped his shorts, hanging them on Dana’s clothing bush.

  Dana was now in the water, waist deep. “Ooohh, looks like somebody’s getting a bit excited,” she cooed. “C’mon in, big guy. The water’s nice and cool.” She slowly sank down to her neck.

  “See any piranha?” Randall asked just to pick at her.

  “What! You mean there are piranhas in here?” she g
asped, popping up out of the water like a cork, her small white breasts heaving.

  “Just kidding,” Randall laughed, although the sight of her naked in the water did have him wanting to steal her away into the bushes. “They usually inhabit the rivers where there’s more food, not these smaller ponds.”

  “Damn you. Get your ass in here and quit scaring me.”

  The water did feel fine. Neither had bathed properly in over two weeks. A bath was a washcloth and a bucket of water. This was a real treat! About fifty yards away, they heard several big splashes and laughing. It sounded like Manolo and his guys were enjoying the water as well.

  Dana and Randall swam around for about thirty minutes; half cleaning, half playing in the water. Both were giggling and playing like two kids. Sometimes the jungle was great!

  They both helped each other out of the water, clearly refreshed.

  “I see shrinkage,” she giggled as she noticed Randall coming out of the water.

  “Oh, and I see little miss iron nipples,” joked Randall, reaching over and tweaking Dana’s hard left nipple. They continued to giggle and laugh as they redressed and returned to the campsite. The simple swim did wonders for both of them. They were refreshed and ready to tackle the jungle again. The rest of the group had returned from their swim and were busy setting out lunch.

  Manolo was smiling ear to ear. “This water is very fine; yes, Dr. Randall?”

  “Yes, Manolo, it was great! What’s for lunch?”

  “Ah, only the best for all of us,” answered Manolo, cutting fresh fruit.

  As they all ate, no one was aware of their visitors; several men dressed in black uniforms… watching.

  After lunch, the group packed everything up, said goodbye to their watery oasis and set themselves back on track.