by Ron Smoak
“Well, it seems like we have been here before, Boss,” said Hugo.
“Yeah, ain’t it sweet?” smiled Dane as he patted Hugo on the shoulder and trotted into the jungle avoiding the path.
“Hey, wait for me,” said Hugo. “I’m the one who knows where we are going.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Fortress Alpha; 11:00 a.m.
The world had changed drastically for the Finleys since Kaete Grimme’s visit yesterday. They were told they would receive medical attention twice a day. At 7:00 a.m. this morning they were awakened by a doctor and nurse who came in, redressed their wounds, gave them both shots and prescribed pills. Dana and Randall were told they would be seeing a dentist before tomorrow. At 8:00 a.m. the couple was delivered a very nice breakfast of eggs, pancakes, coffee and milk. After breakfast, they were led down the hall to a shower room where they took another shower. Fresh, clean clothes were also found in the shower room. Both were given khaki pants, white shirts and slippers. Not extremely fashionable but at least they were not in overalls. They were happy but still on their guard with the new way that they were being cared for.
When the couple was escorted back to their cell, there was a lady waiting. “Hello. I am Mrs. Sankt. I am here to move you to another part of our complex.”
Randall asked, “I don’t understand. Are we still prisoners?”
Mrs. Sankt managed a grim smile. “I am sorry for all you have been through. But it was necessary.”
“Necessary?” Dana said raising her voice. “You killed Manolo and beat us half to death. Why the hell is this necessary?” Dana was not taking any of this lying down. She was pissed. Randall reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder to calm her. He saw the two guards standing outside the door. One turned to see what was going on. He definitely did not want to go down that road again.
Mrs. Sankt did not react at all. Her stoic figure stood there, either not realizing Dana’s tirade was directed at her or not caring. “If you would follow me, we can go now.”
Randall stepped around Dana and reached back to take her hand as Sankt turned to lead them down the hall. They followed. The two guards followed them. Randall figured out quickly they were still prisoners. But he was also paying particular attention to where they were and where they were being led.
The halls were made of concrete block and painted a pale yellow color. The floor was linoleum. It reminded Randall of a military base although it had a particular smell. It smelled like a hospital. As they walked they passed several doors, some marked, some not. The first door they passed had a small sign, Lagerraum 8-213. They continued down the hall. Randall saw several more doors ahead. Medizinisches Labor 8-214 was the door sign. He realized the signs were in German. Across the hall was a door with the sign Apotheke 8-215. That sign he figured out, a pharmacy. He was right; this was a medical center of some sort. The group continued past two other doors with a like naming convention, 8-216 and 8-217, and came upon an elevator.
As they stood there waiting for the elevator, Mrs. Sankt turned to Randall. “We have ten levels in this complex. You will be housed on Level Six in a guest area.” She was interrupted by the elevator doors opening. As they stepped in, Randall paid particular attention to its buttons. The number Acht – eight was lit. There was a total of ten numbers, one through ten, ten levels. At least the lady was telling them the truth, Randall thought. He tried to make a mental map of where they were, hoping to figure out a way to get out. He watched as Sankt pressed the number Sechs - six.
The number eight on the elevator panel was still lit while the doors were open. Randall remembered the pharmacy room number was 8-215, level eight, room 215. There could be more than 215 rooms on this level alone. If there were ten levels with 215 rooms, there could be more than 2,150 rooms in this complex! He began to get a feel for the enormity of the complex but still had no idea where they were. Had they been flown out of Brazil or were they still near the area they were captured? He had to find out.
The elevator doors closed and went up to Level Six. When the door opened Randall was amazed. This level looked exactly like a five-star hotel. The floor was covered with a rich burgundy, white and red design carpet. The walls were fine wood which looked exotic. Randall recognized the wood. It was a type that came from the jungles of Brazil. Maybe they were still in Brazil, he thought. The room smelled of furniture polish. The group stepped out into the hall.
Dana was also amazed. “Is this where we will be housed?” she asked.
“Yes, it is,” answered Sankt in a quiet voice. Two men were walking toward the small party moving down the hall. They had what looked like military uniforms on. Randall noted the uniforms looked very similar to those worn by the German SS during World War II. They were black with a silver piping. The men were also wearing one-piece tall leather boots as well. Randall soaked in the information for use later.
The group passed about eight fine mahogany doors with small brass room number plates. They stopped in front of Guest Suite 6-208.
“Here we are,” smiled Sankt. One of the guards stepped around them and produced a small metal card about half the size of a credit card. He pushed it into an almost invisible slot in the door frame and opened the door. Again Randall noted the electric locks. The group stepped in the door. The guards came in, closed the door and stood beside it, one on each side. Mrs. Sankt led them into a large, well appointed living area. Dana was amazed as she dragged her hand across the back of a leather chair.
“I hope this will do nicely,” Sankt said. “Beyond that door is a bedroom. The bath is off of the bedroom. If you have any needs, please do not hesitate to pick up the telephone and press the white button. Someone will come and assist you. I do apologize; the door must be locked at all times.”
She pointed to one wall of the room. “There are many books and journals you may be interested in reading. Please make yourself at home.”
Dana and Randall were standing in the center of the room stunned.
“Oh, lunch and dinner will be served in your room, lunch in twenty minutes and dinner at 7:00 p.m.,” added Sankt as she walked toward the door. “Goodbye.”
Sankt left and the two guards left with her. The door was closed and locked.
“What in holy hell just happened?” asked Randall. “We go from a hellhole cell to a medical room to the Ritz. I don’t understand this at all.”
Dana sat down on the large sofa and ran her hands over the fine material. “This is very nice furniture. It beats the devil out of anything we’ve ever had at our home.” She looked at Randall. “What is going on? What is this place?”
“I don’t know but what I do know is that Manolo is dead. We got the crap beat out of us. And now we are being treated like kings. But we are still prisoners,” said Randall. “We must be worth something to somebody.”
“Well, I guess so if we have graduated to this level of jail cell comfort,” said Dana, still amazed at her surroundings. “I wish I knew why.”
“The only reason I can fathom is that they want to use us as bargaining chips and they need us in relatively good shape for that,” hypothesized Randall.
“But we still don’t know where we are,” added Dana. “Do you know what day of the week or month this is?”
“Not a clue,” said Randall as he walked over to the bookshelves and perused the volumes. “But this is much better than the jail cells we came from.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
The Jungle, Brazil; 4:00 a.m.
Hugo was on point with Dane trailing about ten meters behind. Even after being out of the SEALs for several years, their ingrained training was still there. They both moved through the jungle like cats. Each made very little noise and was always on alert. They quickly learned the normal sounds of the jungle and were intently listening for sounds out of the ordinary. They intentionally were several yards off the trail the Finleys had recently traveled. Th
e bad guys certainly would expect them to be on that path. Being off the trail slowed them a bit but was much more prudent in their minds.
The men in black would not expect two of America’s finest fighting machines. This gave Dane and Hugo a huge advantage. They were highly trained in all elements of combat. SEALs excel in direct action, reconnaissance, hostage rescue and unconventional warfare. They are instructed specifically to act upon their training, not their gut. Dane and Hugo in all respects were professionals in combat who could be placed in situations anywhere with the expectation of success or death. No other options existed.
The most important trait of a SEAL is mental toughness. They receive core training to disregard pain and suffering. They put it a box. A SEAL has no problem with lying in wait for an enemy for days in whatever environment needed to gain the advantage. The men in black had no concept as to what was coming their way.
Hugo and Dane traveled silently parallel to the trail. It was raining. They were on the move for about three hours. Hugo stopped. Dane stopped. Both listened intently to the sounds of the jungle and the rain. Each man had the uncanny ability to filter out normal jungle noise and hone in on man-made sounds. Neither heard anything abnormal. They pressed on. While the rain masked the sounds of the two moving though the brush, it made it harder for Dane and Hugo to hear abnormalities.
After another hour Hugo stopped again. Dane came up behind him. There was an inkling of daylight beginning to show. The rain had subsided.
“This is where I saw signs,” whispered Hugo, pointing over toward the trail. Dane nodded showing his understanding. “We’ll move out from the trail and try to come in on their flank to surprise them.”
Again Dane nodded and Hugo was off. They moved further away from the trail to get behind the men in black. One of Hugo and Dane’s worries was the men might have night vision equipment. They could see them before Hugo and Dane could get close enough to strike. They figured coming in behind them would negate their night vision advantage.
About one-half klick out, Hugo froze and raised his fist. Dane froze. That’s when Dane heard it; a soft rustling several meters to their right. Then there was a voice. It was a man’s voice, low but audible. Contact! Hugo motioned for Dane to stay put. Then he slithered through the heavy jungle underbrush toward the sounds. After a few meters he heard the voices again, two distinct voices. He continued a meter or so closer until he could make out movement in the early morning light. Carefully pushing back some foliage, he spied two men in black sitting at the base of a large tree about two meters away talking quietly. Each was heavily armed with Heckler and Koch G11 assault rifles. He watched them for a few minutes as they broke out rations and began to eat breakfast. Hugo smiled to himself. Those assholes may be eating their last meal. While they were not paying attention to their surroundings, Hugo circled back to check for a third man and made his way back to Dane. There were only two.
Dane watched Hugo come through the foliage. Hugo motioned for Dane to follow him as he turned back toward the men in black. Hugo pointed out the location of the men and motioned Dane to flank them to their left. Hugo went right. Each slithered into position without alerting the two men eating. Since the jungle floor was still wet, leaves held no crunch when stepped upon. Hugo signaled Dane to go on three. Hugo began the countdown with his fingers held up. On three, Hugo and Dane pounced on the men. The two men in black reached for their guns but were face-to-face with Dane and Hugo’s gun barrels before they could grab them. The two men stared in horror at Hugo and Dane in disbelief.
Without a word, Hugo covered the two men while Dane removed their weapons. Hugo motioned for them to place their hands behind their heads. Quickly Dane pulled out two poly cuffs, pulled the men’s hands behind their backs and zipped them on the men’s hands, incapacitating them. One began to speak. He did not like being cuffed. Before he could hardly utter a word, Hugo smashed his gun butt into the man’s face shattering his nose. He was out like a light. The other man’s eyes widened. He evidently got the message. He said nothing. Dane crouched in front of the two men and Hugo slipped back into the jungle. Dane and the men stayed there quietly for fifteen minutes before Hugo popped back in from the bush.
“All clear,” whispered Hugo. Dane kneeled in front of the man Hugo had not hit.
“Who are you and where do you come from?” questioned Dane with steely eyes. One could tell Dane meant business. His CAR-15 muzzle was inches from the man’s nose. At first the German stared at Dane.
After a few seconds the German spoke in a low but serious voice, “Ich spreche nicht.”
“He doesn’t want to talk,” said Hugo. “I can fix that.” Dane held up his hand.
“Do you speak English? Sprechen Sie Englisch?” asked Dane, staring intently into the eyes of the German. The man looked away for a second and then glanced at his cohort out cold beside him.
“He’s not dead,” said Hugo, “at least not yet.” Hugo grinned at the German. “But you will be if you do not start talking now.” Hugo’s facial expression went to dead seriousness. The German glanced again at his comrade and returned his eyes to Dane. Dane’s eyes had never left the German.
“I am Leutnant Shaffaer,” he said in a normal tone.
“Quietly,” demanded Dane. He didn’t want any more noise than necessary. “So you do speak English? Where are you from?”
Leutnant Shaffaer stared at him with a mixture of hate and disdain. Dane unsnapped the strap on his USMC black K-Bar knife and wrapped his fingers around the handle.
“Answer or die. It is that simple. I will ask only one more time,” hissed Dane.
The leutnant looked at Dane and could tell he was not joking. “I came from the complex,” he said almost in a whisper as he looked at his comrade, who, although bleeding, was still out cold. The leutnant did not want his comrade to hear him telling Dane anything.
“What complex?” Dane asked.
“It is about four kilometers that way,” he said, nodding his head toward the north.
“What kind of complex? How many personnel are there?” Dane peppered him with questions. Before the German could answer, Dane asked him the question he really wanted to know.
“Do you have two Americans as captives?” asked Dane. The German looked both scared and angry. Dane’s guess was that he was going over any options to escape. His eyes flashed between Hugo, Dane and the jungle.
“Hey, Bub, don’t get any crazy ideas about escape,” said Hugo in a menacing tone lowering his CAR-15 to the German’s chest. “You would not get your arms raised before I would burn you down. You understand?”
The German again stared at Hugo. He realized that he had no choice.
“I was told we have three people. I do not know if they are Americans,” he whispered. “I never saw them.”
“Then they are alive?” asked Hugo.
“Yes, I think so,” he answered. Then he added, “I don’t know.”
“How do we get to the complex?” demanded Dane.
The German hesitated for a second and with one quick glance back at his buddy, he began to talk.
“There are several ingress points,” the man said. “There are two about four kilometers north of here.”
“How can we find the ingress points?” asked Hugo. “Are they marked in any way?”
“They are marked by small stones about a foot high. They look like tombstones.”
“We should be able to find those,” remarked Hugo. “Let’s move.”
“Take their weapons,” said Dane as he stood. He turned and knocked out the leutnant with a blow to the head using the butt of his CAR-15. The two men in black were both out. “Bind their feet, gag them and tie them to the tree. We don’t want them waking up and following us. Then let’s head north.”
Hugo bound their legs, gagged the men and tied them to the tree.
“These two aren’t going anywhere,” smiled Hugo. He checked their bindings once more and Dane and Hugo were off through the jungle. Still e
ver vigilant, the two men moved through the jungle like cats. They listened for any abnormal sounds, reacting instantly when they thought they heard something.
After an hour of travel, they felt they were near the complex. But there were no signs whatsoever of any tombstones, only jungle.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Fortress Alpha, Brazil; 7:30 a.m.
Their visit at Fortress Alpha was to be brief. Since their arrival yesterday there had been constant meetings. The next morning was to bring even more. It was early; seven-thirty in the morning to be exact. Dieter Blocher had been awake for over an hour. He had one last appointment with Albert Jackson and Herrman Kunze before he and Jackson were to leave. Blocher was inwardly excited to ride on the helicopter over the vastness of the Amazon jungle.
They met for breakfast in another small but opulent dining room. This room was decorated with all of the trappings of the Third Reich. There was a huge picture of Adolph Hitler on one wall and a large German flag on the opposite wall. Rich mahogany paneling and moldings surrounded the room. It was clearly a showcase of the richness and importance of the soon to be Fourth Reich.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” smiled Herrman Kunze as he walked into the room. “I trust you slept well last night?”
“Extremely well, I must say,” answered Jackson, taking the first sip of his coffee. “Your hospitality is wonderful. The coffee is particularly good.”
“Very well, thank you,” added Blocher. “This is a remarkable complex, Herr Kunze.”
“Please call me Herrman,” said Kunze. “We will be working very closely over the next several months. We must feel comfortable with each other.”
Kunze looked at Jackson, an old friend. “The coffee is one of the benefits of living in the Amazon. Some of the finest coffees in the world are grown here. We take advantage of our natural resources.”