Alpha Threat

by Ron Smoak

  “Could you do that for me, please? This sounds too weird not to be connected in some way,” said Dane rubbing his chin. “Thanks. Call me when you get an answer from Nathan, would you?”

  “Sure, Dane. Not a problem. He’s down at the FBI now so it might be a while yet,” said Wayne.

  “Great! Give me a call. Oh, and about my promise… I need to bring Hugo in on this.”

  Wayne smiled meekly, “Sure, Dane. If it will help you find Dana, you can tell the world.”

  Dane grinned broadly and gave Wayne a ‘thumbs-up’. He turned and walked side-by-side down the tower ramp with Hugo. Once they got out of earshot of Wayne, they started discussing what they heard.

  “Hey, Boss, all this sounds pretty weird to me. What’s this Amazon stuff?”

  “Come on. I have to fill you in on a ton of information.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Saturday, July 9, 2011

  Fortress Alpha, the Amazon; 10:15 a.m.

  The jet black Bell 429 helicopter with no markings skimmed over the tree tops. The turbojet helicopter was perfect for ferrying in people and cargo deep into the jungle. Its IFR capabilities gave it the ability to move in and out of the jungle under some of the worst weather situations. Weather in the Amazon could change in a second from pouring rain to clear sky. This helicopter was perfect to overcome weather changes.

  Three days ago Albert Jackson and Dieter Blocher left the comforts of Miami. Their private jet whisked them to Rio de Janeiro in luxury. The trip since then entailed the use of several modes of transport that Jackson thought to be sub-par but very necessary to provide the strict security and privacy they demanded.

  This was Blocher’s first trip to South America. The natural beauty of the countryside amazed him. Everything was so green. Each leg of their journey, the private jet, a small puddle-jumper plane, a ramshackle jeep and now this helicopter brought him new amazement. He felt like a kid in a candy store. Jackson, on the other hand, hated the trip. He especially hated the heat and humidity of the jungle. The man was sweating like a pig.

  This was Jackson’s fifth trip to the complex in the last eight years. Once he got there he was fine. The accommodations at the complex were first rate in his mind. It was that damned trek it took to get in and out of this fortress in the middle of nowhere that drove him to his limit.

  Even with the air conditioning in the helicopter, Jackson removed his hat, took out a white silk handkerchief and mopped his brow. It was hot in Miami when they left Wednesday morning but nothing compared to the weather in the Amazon. He and Blocher met with cohorts in Rio and discussed the events in Miami. Blocher received positive confirmation of Mr. Nader’s demise. That closed a possibly nasty security breach that may have caused problems later. With Nader gone all was back to normal.

  The flight was uneventful so far and Jackson was thankful for that bit of good news. The weather had caused havoc several other times when he came to visit at the complex. During one flight the weather conditions nearly caused them to crash deep in the jungle. Jackson carried that fear of a possible crash with him each time he flew over the heavy jungle in Brazil.

  “Are you all right, Dieter?” Jackson inquired, thinking of his own misgivings about the flight.

  “Fine, sir,” Blocher replied, almost chipper. Jackson mumbled something under his breath about younger folks not having the sense to be scared.

  “We should be there within the hour,” said Jackson. “We have a lot of work to do so stay sharp and stay attentive. You have much to learn and all of it is most imperative for you to know.”

  The Fortress Alpha complex had already detected the incoming craft. The long-range radar capabilities were state-of-the-art and could track any flights within 500 kilometers. The complex personnel interrogated the onboard IFF, decoded the encoded sub-signal for Fortress Alpha and began tracking the incoming flight. It was standard operation that no aircraft entered the area without completion of this automated security process. If the incoming bogey passed the challenge, an extremely low power, low frequency beacon was turned on for the Alpha craft to follow into the complex. If it did not pass, the Alpha site simply went dark to the outside world and the camouflaged complex seemed to melt into the jungle, becoming completely invisible to outsiders. In this case the black helicopter was passed on to the complex’s approach control.

  As the helicopter reached the ten kilometer distance from the complex, a second series of check and recheck operations were initiated. Some were electronic and automatic. Others required “eyes on” contact by complex personnel while the incoming craft rode the approach control glide path. The helicopter flew just at the height of the tree tops. Again, if the craft did not pass these checks, the complex went black.

  So far all was well. As the helicopter crossed the five kilometer ring around the complex, the area below began to change. A well camouflaged canopy began to open exposing a huge hole in the jungle revealing a clandestine heliport. Jackson’s helicopter quickly hovered over the opening and landed. Within seconds the hole in the jungle was gone. The massive heliport doors closed. To anyone flying over the site, there was nothing but jungle.

  The two men sat patiently as the rotor blades wound down to a final stop. The ground crew swarmed the craft and the door was opened. Jackson was the first out, followed quickly by Blocher. They were met by a uniformed officer dressed perfectly. He strode up to the side of the helicopter.

  “Good morning, Herr Jackson,” he said with a snap salute and a click of his heels. “We are expecting you and your group,” he said, glancing leeringly at Blocher. “I trust you and your guest had a very nice trip?”

  “Yes, yes, quite nice,” said Jackson, wishing to move on. “I have with me my replacement in Miami, Mr. Blocher.”

  “Herr Blocher. I am pleased to meet you and welcome you to Fortress Alpha.” He saluted again and clicked his heels.

  “Thank you very much. I am…”

  “Would you both follow me, please,” he said, cutting Blocher off in the middle of his sentence. “The Führer is ready to see you.”

  “Yes, certainly,” said Jackson.

  The officer led them off of the heliport pad and down a hall to an elevator. Blocher was fascinated with what he saw. There were guards everywhere. But it was the newness and cleanliness that was extraordinary. The complex looked brand new.

  The group entered an elevator and descended several floors, emerging to see a mini subway station. This was the main backbone of the complex. On three levels subways were designed to move personnel and equipment from one end of the vast complex to another. After a quick ride, the car stopped and the group was met by another older man.

  “Albert, how are you? Was your trip satisfactory?” said the man, who looked about sixty-five years old.

  “Ah, yes, Herrman. It was very good. I brought an associate with me. Allow me to present Dieter Blocher. This is his first visit to the complex. ”

  Dieter Blocher stepped forward and offered his hand. “Dieter Blocher at your service, sir,” he stated very formally.

  “Yes, so this is Mr. Blocher,” the old man said, shaking Blocher’s hand with an iron grip that frankly startled Blocher. “I finally get to meet you. I am Herrman Kunze.”

  Dieter recognized the name. Jackson had filled him in on a few people he would most likely meet during this visit. Mr. Kunze was one of them. Kunze was the Administrative head of Fortress Alpha and reported directly to the Führer herself. This put him in charge of most every facet of the site.

  “So Mr. Blocher, what do you think of our little secret hiding place?” asked Kunze, not really expecting an answer. Kunze was already sizing Blocher up. Looking for weakness; looking for maturity. For Blocher to take over Jackson’s position in Miami was a big step for this young man. Kunze was convinced by Jackson and others that Blocher was the best candidate. Kunze was not a hundred percent certain. This visit would either solidify Blocher’s case or be his downfall.

  Blocher was
all eyes and ears. Jackson taught him well. Always be observant and speak succinctly only when it is absolutely necessary, Jackson told him. Dieter took the advice to heart.

  “The complex is magnificent,” said Blocher without emotion. “It is a fitting site for the resurrection of the Fourth Reich.”

  Kunze smiled slightly. That was a good answer, he thought. Blocher sounded like some of those SS officers from days gone by.

  The officer that led them to Kunze stepped forward. He waved the group toward a large steel door. As the group stepped through the opening, the character of the surroundings changed drastically. The other portion of the complex had a very clean industrial look about it. It reminded Blocher of a hospital. This area looked like a fine home. The walls were covered with a beautiful mahogany paneling as was the ceiling. The hardwood floors were covered with rich carpeting with a reoccurring pattern of old world castles. The guards were not present. Still one got the distinct feeling of constant surveillance. And so they were. Small high-definition cameras were deftly imbedded in the ceilings and walls. No one was beyond the range of the cameras.

  “This way, please,” beckoned the officer as he opened a large mahogany door and stood at attention.

  The group entered the room. Blocher was amazed. He had seen many opulent buildings and hotels in his time but this was beyond those. This was fit for royalty.

  “Please take a seat, gentlemen,” offered Kunze. “We will be joined momentarily by our Führer.” The room had a large desk at one end and conference table at the other. The men seated themselves around the conference table leaving the head chair open. Within minutes a hidden door near the desk opened. An impeccably uniformed officer stepped through.

  “Actung!” The officer had a strong voice along with a loud pop as his heels clicked together.

  Everyone in the room rose quickly. All eyes were on the open panel door. Two other officers came in followed immediately by Kaete Grimme. She was dressed in a simple, black uniform. She walked over to the head of the table briskly and stood, eyeing everyone in the group. She paused for a moment, smiled and walked over to Jackson.

  “Herr Jackson, it is so very good to see you again.”

  “Thank you, Mein Führer,” Jackson answered as they shook hands. Blocher was stunned. Grimme looked past Jackson at Blocher.

  “I assume this is Dieter Blocher,” she said.

  “Yes, Mein Führer. May I present to you Herr Dieter Blocher.”

  She stepped over to Blocher and offered her hand. Blocher took her hand. She shook his hand twice and then pushed his hand away, a point of behavior she had learned from royalty. This prevented any long handshakes from those enamored with meeting her.

  “I am very happy to meet you, Herr Blocher. I am certain you will serve us well in your new assignment.”

  “Thank you, Mein Führer,” Blocher said strongly and succinctly.

  Both Kunze and Jackson took note. Dieter had handled the introduction very well. Kunze mentally racked another plus down for Blocher.

  Grimme turned and returned to the head of the table and sat down. The rest of the group sat down.

  “Gentlemen, we are on the verge of what we have worked toward for more than fifty years. What our fathers and forefathers worked so hard to create. We are once again on the verge of world domination,” stated Grimme with little emotion. Dieter had goose bumps running up and down his arms and neck. He could not believe what he was hearing.

  “Here at Fortress Alpha we are now ramping up to one hundred percent output in production. Our work was started by our predecessors. We have worked very hard to build upon their findings and move forward. Our scientists have now perfected the greatest scientific breakthrough in the history of man.” She paused to let what she had said sink in. “We are now making our own gold!”

  The group leapt to their feet and began their applause. Blocher was right with them although hearing this was as astounding to him as Jesus Christ walking in through the door. Make gold? My God, how in the hell was that possible? Surely she meant “mine” our own gold. If you can make gold, the future is limitless. Of course, Dieter knew of the gold shipment back to the United States. Jackson and he handled the financial recordkeeping of the transfers. But he had no idea where the gold came from other than Brazil. And that gold was created here at Fortress Alpha? Blocher’s head was swimming.

  Grimme raised her hand and the group was seated.

  “As we all know, we embarked upon a plan to conquer the world back in the 1930’s. Since then many others gave their lives to transfer that plan to Brazil after the fall of the Third Reich. Our forefathers risked everything to see that we had the ability to further our cause,” she explained.

  “Now their work and our work are yielding great rewards. We have plans to overwhelm the world markets and bring them to their knees. We will succeed in doing what our beloved Führer Adolph Hitler was unable to do with brute force. We will conquer the world but through the strangling of its financial system. The actions have been set into motion. Within a year we will control the gold market and control the world.”

  The men stood again applauding. Dieter was proud to be here in this room. This was a great moment for the Fourth Reich and they were all part of its birth.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Saturday, July 9, 2011

  Finley Base Camp, Cotriguacu, Brazil; 11:00 a.m.

  Ben Jamison and Lee Watson waited hoping to hear something from the Finley party. He, Lee or one of his men staunchly stood by the radio the entire time. Many times each day and night they attempted to contact the Finleys by radio. The result was nothing but static.

  “Something’s definitely happened to them,” Ben said quietly under his breath. “I just know it. It’s not like Randall to not get back to us somehow.”

  Tecal, one of Ben’s trusted natives, was sitting at Ben’s side at the table. Tecal worked with Ben and Lee for ten years and knew Randall, Dana and Manolo well. He accompanied Randall on one of his solo treks a few years ago while Dana stayed back at Princeton. Tecal knew the jungle well and also knew that the jungle carried many dangers.

  “Mr. Ben, what about the GPS?” Tecal asked. “Why have we not the GPS?”

  Tecal was right. Even if Randall ditched the radio he still had a GPS unit small enough to be on Randall’s belt. They should be receiving GPS info all of the time. But there was no GPS signal at all. That worried Ben. He felt that something very bad had happened. Especially after hearing about the men dressed in black. Putting all of this together, Ben knew something terrible had happened to the Finleys.

  The Finleys were at least three or four days back into the bush when they last contacted Base Camp. So logically it would take at least three days or so for them to return. If that were true, Dana and Randall should be back by tomorrow. Ben anxiously felt he could not wait that long. Hell, it would be five or six days total to initiate a rescue mission. That was too long to wait in his opinion.

  Lee walked into the hut and sat down at the table. “Anything new?” she asked tentatively. She so wanted to hear there had been contact. Dana and Randall were not only colleagues but friends. One does not spend days and weeks with folks in the wilds of the Amazon without becoming close.

  To Lee, Dana reminded her of her deceased daughter. If she had survived the car crash, Amy would be the same age as Dana now. Maybe that was why she felt so close to Dana. It gave her comfort.

  “Not a peep,” said Ben looking up. “I can’t see a light at the end of this tunnel.”

  “They are out there somewhere,” Lee said. “We’ll find them. I know it.”

  “God, I hope so,” Ben said seriously. “What worries me is the GPS. That damned little unit is almost indestructible. Why aren’t we getting that signal? It must have been destroyed. That worries me.”

  “I know. It worries me too,” said Lee softly.

  “Well, I don’t know what else to do but send someone out to try to find them.”

  Lee l
ooked at Ben. “You think that’s a good idea? I mean, what if someone did kidnap them? We could be sending in more people into a trap… or worse.”

  Ben thought for a second. “That’s true but we can send someone out to meet them. Maybe they are on their way back. We would know that much sooner,” answered Ben.

  “Then let’s do it,” chirped Lee. “Let’s send Tecal now.”

  Ben looked at Tecal. “We have to send someone out after the Finleys today,” blurted Ben. “I can’t sit here another minute without knowing something.”

  “Yes, Mr Ben.”

  “Get a few men and follow the Finleys’ trail. Take a radio and GPS and leave as soon as possible. Within the hour would be great. If they are out there and on the way back, you should find them within a day.”

  “Yes, Mr. Ben,” agreed Tecal. “I get three men and leave quick. We can travel fast and make good time in the jungle. “

  “Call me immediately on the radio when you find them. Otherwise radio me every four hours,” explained Jamison.

  “Yes, Mr. Ben. We go now,” said Tecal as he raced from the hut to gather his men for the trip.

  Ben sat back and wondered if it was too late. Possibly he should have done this yesterday. He might have known something by now. Dumbass, he thought. You are a complete dumbass! He should have acted on this earlier. God, he thought, I hope we are not too late.

  It took Tecal only twenty minutes to corral three of his men, a bit of food and a handheld radio and GPS with a portable antenna. They were ready to go.

  Tecal and his men walked over to the base camp hut.

  “We are ready to go, Mr. Ben,” Tecal called inside.

  Ben walked out onto the porch of the hut and smiled. Lee followed.

  “Tecal, you guys are as fast as lightning. Everything’s set?”

  “Yes, Mr. Ben. We leave now. We can travel very fast in the jungle. Tyana is one of the best trackers,” Tecal explained, patting the small native standing beside him on the shoulder.