by DiMirra
"The force strength is approximately two companies, say 200 men, plus or minus. There is no pursuit at the moment, so they have slowed down and are relaxed. I would use a lazy circle pattern so as to get them all. I want BDA (Bomb Damage Assessment) immediately, so please make ground arrangements for that. The plane will be over target at 18:30 hours. Please be the one to give the 'Bombs away' command.
"To continue Kwaheri, you will have at your disposal three teams of Special Forces, X-ray, Yankee and Zulu. They are 60 of our best men. You will also have, for the China and Vietnam operation, a team of Falcons from the Chengdu military region, commanded by General Huang Changlong, with tacit approval from Beijing. We 'Gave an arm and a leg' for that.
"Furthermore, you will have an over-strength battalion comprising Berbers and Recces (Ex-South African Special Forces,) with transport, to deploy as needed. Our fleet of drones, attack helicopters and our naval forces, including a Durango class patrol boat, will also be at your disposal. The Defender is armed with 40 MM Bofors cannons, one Apache Attack Helicopter and a transport Huey with mini-guns.
"You will have Raffa's help and guidance. He will be in Hong Kong. He'll assist and run interference for the Far East operation. You'll also have Reza to help coordinate any drone strikes or extractions necessary.
"Most of the assets and intelligence are in place now. We need an almost simultaneous execution of the plan so as not to alert any of the targets. Ali and Raffa have done a spectacular job in preparing the field for battle. The Boko Haram mission will be perceived as an anomaly and will not give away the bigger picture."
"Kenyatta, I do not want you in the thick of the action. You are the conductor. You are the artist and this is your masterpiece, your gift to Africa. I need you to stay focused on your theater of operations. It has so many components, it must be executed with perfection."
"I got it Johnny but I have one request, I want the principal buyer in Africa, the one they call Sheng Fui -- because of the way he always enters a room and how he sits for direction -- I want him captured and brought to me in the Game Park for a 'special ceremony.' He is the one responsible for that raid many years ago in which I was injured. I'm going to take my time with him using traditional Arab methods."
"Keny, I will honor your request as long as the balance of his operation is destroyed on site and the personnel terminated with extreme prejudice. I want their noses cut off while alive and their heads on a pike. Send a message with this one."
"One last item -- we are going deploy the Specter gunship, two attack Hueys, three Sharp Sword drones, sixty Ravens, of which fifty are converted to 'flying claymores' (1.5 pounds of explosives and ball bearings) and an Apache -- all to the airstrip on your preserve, so they will be better positioned for your needs."
"Gentlemen, everyone is concerned about this extinction issue and agrees that it is a huge problem but no one has the will to do anything. I guess that's just human nature. We've dreamed of this day and prepared hard for it.
"We're ready, Let's roll!" I shouted.
Then I said, "Keny, on his return from Lugano, Ali will execute phase two, code named 'Voting Machine.' He will keep you in the loop or you can watch the news.
"Uwishun, let's head back to Operations and prepare for departure to Lugano at 18:00 hours.
"Please have the ladies cater a kebab for trip to Lugano and some that baklava we had earlier and grab a couple of bottles of '78 La Tache from the cellar. The world may be going to Hell but we're going to eat and drink well.
"Ali, would you be so kind as to call your mother and ask her to meet me in Lugano Sunday evening."
Then our huddle broke up as we went separate ways to prepare for what was coming our way.
Chapter 6
Morocco: Evening of January 16th
With a smirking grin, Ali interrupted my late afternoon playtime with grandchildren.
"Father, the head of the NSA, the Not So Smart Agency, called. She said you're not returning her calls. She asked -- more accurately, she insisted -- that you call her immediately upon receiving this message. She says she knows you are nearby."
"Ali," I replied, "She is proof positive that P. J. O'Rourke was right -- 'Politics is the pursuit of power and privilege without possessing merit.' I think we'll give her another half hour to figure out how much she needs us . . ."
There was no love lost between the US government and our agency. We were in the business of distilling political insight from hard-won facts and data. I thought that to say the NSA chief was arrogant and uniformed was an understatement. It seemed her boss had been pursuing a foreign policy in the Mideast that lacked thoughtfulness and had no discernable outcome in mind other than eliciting chaos.
I was all too aware there were no less than a dozen conflicts in the Mideast that US administrations either fomented, or meddled in, and invariably taking the wrong sides.
It was so obvious to me that this region was not culturally ready for a US-style democracy. My people still have many issues to overcome before they can deal with that much freedom. The populaces all spoke, from Egypt, Syria, Tunisia and Libya, to Yemen and beyond. They all wanted a more secular government but the US administrations and congress were continually backing brutal dictators or jihadists.
Time and again, we saw politicians viewing everything from their narrow perspective without understanding the Arab mentality or taking into account all the competing factions within these countries.
For some time, my opinion was the Middle East needed strong leaders that could keep all of the pieces of their particular country in play.
Recalling that conversations with the National Security Advisor were always complicated, at best, I asked Ali to find out what she was wearing when she entered the West Wing of the White House on this morning and confirm it with our White House contact. Hearing that I knew even this small detail would disconcert her immediately.
To confuse the opposition and create a little doubt and insecurity on the other side I needed to go into a conversation such as this with the upper hand. I knew what direction this conversation would take because the US had lost credibility. Its intelligence services were nearly blind about what was really going on.
Our analysis indicated the US deserted old friends in exchange for some unholy new alliances. Allies, and former allies noticed they could no longer depend on the US. Some of their historical friends were making overtures to Russia and China. With their foreign policy in a shambles, a declining and demoralized military witnessed its top ranks destroyed by a gutless leader who feared them and what they represented.
It seemed obvious to me foreign leaders were searching for some other superpower to fill the vacuum they created. They were defaulting their historic role as the most powerful nation on Earth -- a momentous sea change that almost nobody was fully aware of.
It was also clear to me that, unfortunately for the Western Powers, Arab countries view tolerance as weakness, and appeasement as cowardice. This led them to a conclusion that the US would not, under any circumstances, resort to a nuclear option. Certainly not after the way World War II ended and their ensuing national guilt and shame about the Hiroshima and Nagasaki attacks.
A chink in their armor and the sense of an opportunity emboldened their traditional enemies to plot a course of action to change the balance of power in their region and in the world. I was simply unwilling to stand aside and let this play out as casted and scripted. I swore inwardly to do all I could to turn this situation around and restore America's lost respect in world politics.
Forty-five minutes later, I opened an encrypted videoconference.
"Castillo, what took you so fucking long!" the National Security Advisor cursed.
"Good evening, Madam Director," I politely replied. "First let me say you look smashing in that cream Carolina Herrera outfit."
"Cut the crap, Castillo. I'm really pissed! How unprofessional of you," she ranted.
"On the contrary Madam," I said. "I know exac
tly the information you want and that type of data takes time and vetting, so I can be sure it's accurate when we speak.
"You want to know how many nukes are missing from the Iranian arsenal -- the weapons they are not supposed to have, the weapons you have been reassuring the world they don't have. Four are missing. They departed a little less than a month ago. Two are aboard the escaped Iranian subs you are searching for. One is headed for Israel overland via Turkey and Syria. The last is cargo on board a tanker, which we are tracking. It's headed to Israel via a refinery in Southern Europe.
"A better question is -- 'Where are the two Pakistani nukes that went missing last week?'"
"What?" she asked. "What are you telling me?" She was becoming agitated.
"I am advising you that the inventory at the Aeronautical Complex near Kamra is two 50-kiloton devices short. Next, that the situation in Europe will 'blow up' within 36 hours, starting in Southern France."
"And how do you know this with any certainty?"
"Boots on the ground, Director. Boots on the ground."
"Next, I advise you to have SecNav (the Secretary of the Navy) pull back your fleets in the Mediterranean, the Indian Ocean, the Gulf of Arabia and the South China Sea."
"What are you babbling about now, Castillo?"
"Look at your satellite recon again. You'll notice increased activity from the various nations' navies that are located in those areas. Enough said."
"While you're at it, pull out that last division of Marines still in Afghanistan or they'll be cut off."
"Castillo don't threaten me!"
"Director, this is not a threat. What I've said in this conversation is simply the reality.
"One more issue that you need to look into -- a biological incident in Tajikistan left some 3,000 dead -- two entire towns, in the middle of nowhere, a place that nobody gives a shit about. So far, the pathogen is unknown. The reason, in our estimation, was a bioweapon test.
"We will be requesting some logistic support from the CIA for an operation we have in progress," I continued. "Please advise the Director to comply with our requests. Once I know he has approved, we will send the supporting data immediately to your office."
"You are an arrogant son of a bitch!" she replied. "What makes you think I am going to approve something that I know nothing about, pending your delivery of something we already paid for?
"Castillo, I could make you disappear with the push of a button."
"You're new to your job, Madam. Perhaps you should check with some of your predecessors about the accuracy of our intelligence. Since we always record each other, I suggest you advise the President. Thank you Director, we'll be in contact."
As she started to respond, "Fuck you, Cast . . . ," I gave Ali the chop sign. He cut the transmission.
Ali said, "That went well, Father," with a big grin.
"Ali, there is never a reason to be rude or raise your voice, neither of which strengthens your position."
Half a world away, the NSA Director screamed "Jackson! Get me the CIA and SecNav on videoconference. Now!"
"Ali, please check on cousin Guzman" I said, "and make sure that everything is on schedule."
"Father, I've always wanted to know why you put up with him. I know he's family, but . . ."
"Ali, you nailed it. He's family. We cannot change the career path that he chose but we can look out for him. He's been in the business since the '70's and he's the sole surviving senior drug lord. Cocaine is big business. It has generated its own infrastructure including politicians, religious leaders, law enforcement, the medical profession and, of course, the producers, transporters, wholesalers, resellers, security, and last but not least, the bankers.
"Millions of people are employed worldwide creating that product and in trying to police it. As long as there is any demand, people will produce it. We deliver other Cartels into law enforcement's hands in exchange for Guzman's safety. It may be an uneasy truce and an unholy alliance but it's what we've got."
Chapter 7
Lugano, Switzerland: January 17th
Flight time from Marrakech to Lugano was just under 2 hours in the Gulfstream. That lovely La Tache wine and kebab snack was served in the company of my son and best friend. We were all preoccupied with our own thoughts on how the events of the next days would play out, so we made small talk, mostly about days long past -- innocent and halcyon times. We wondered out loud if they would ever return.
On approach, we could see a covering of snow in Lugano. Apparently, it was even colder than normal here also. It looked so peaceful from the sky. Customs met the jet at our hanger. It was efficient and perfunctory, as the local officials knew us very well.
Many years previously, my Grandfather, Don Francisco, had purchased an old lakefront Villa with extensive grounds, just outside of Lugano, and spared no expense in renovating it for the family's use, comfort and safety.
A security team from the Villa met us at the hanger for transport to the family home. My party was first to arrive and the staff was there to welcome us with their wonderful Italian charm.
As a family, we have always treated our employees like family -- with higher wages, the best medical care, and scholarships for their children. More importantly, we genuinely got to know them. Ali and I chose to have dinner in the kitchen with the staff.
Uwishun sat with Sydney Field, our commandant in Africa. Field had enjoyed a wonderful career with the Recces, (South African Special Forces) and was known as the Field Marshall far and wide for his battlefield exploits. He served with Gary Dunn, head of Middle East Ops, who was his old Seal Commander back when Uwishun was on active duty. They had their dinner sent to the clubroom. They caught up about the goings-on in their respective theaters of operation, as only old soldiers can do.
I retired early. It felt like I had not slept for days. Having ordered the summary execution of about 3,000 of the worst criminals on the planet did not weigh heavy on me. In fact, for the first time in a long, long time, I felt the tide may be turning, that good men would not stand around idly and tacitly support acts of pure evil.
Before turning in, I had asked Giuseppe, the estate manager, to awaken me at 06:00. I had a "day of days" before me.
Throughout the evening, the security staff made several trips to the airport to retrieve all our family members to attend the meeting. Ali would send the Gulfstream in the morning to pick up his mother, Ana, and bring her to Lugano. We are still married under Arabic customs.
We definitely still had that magical attraction from when I first met her in Paris. I was 18 and fresh off the farm in Bogotá. She was 26 and stunning, with prematurely gray hair, the perfect mature and sophisticated Parisian. It was love at first sight.
It felt like I had barely laid my head down when I awakened to Maria, my childhood nanny from Bogotá, standing beside by my bed with a double espresso coffee that wafted over me. After that, plus two more espressos and a smoke, I was wide-awake ready to shower.
Feeling refreshed and ready for the day, I checked my computer. It had a direct encrypted link to our satellite system. As expected, there was a 90-second clip on the Boko raid.
Executed at dusk, the drone multi-camera effect was spectacular. You could see the troops become aware of the low-flying C-130 and begin to mobilize. The FAE bomb pattern outflanked the soldiers by a good 200 yards. The visual of ignition was slow motion so you could see the effect.
Even in the low light picture the flash was brilliant. The debris cloud rose up while most of the shock wave and destruction dispersed in a 360° field, enveloping everything in its way, covering an area of 400 acres. What wasn't incinerated immediately was torn apart by the shock waves.
And so a horror ended as something new began. I would have BDA by tomorrow. Nature would reclaim the area in a year or so. The elephants of Yankari had spoken. Boko would get the message that would go unperceived by the rest of the world. We just denied them $2 million in financing and wiped out twenty percent of their figh
ting forces. They would know that future justice would be swift and merciless.
"Score one for humanity." I thought.
I decided to dress formally for the day's events. I chose a Brioni three-piece suit, light charcoal with blue pinstripes, a pink shirt, and a spectacular Hermes tie, the one with roosters that Ana had given me some years ago.
There was a heated piazza on the east wing of the villa that overlooked Lake Lugano. I gabbed my fourth cup of 2-shot espresso coffee. I headed to the piazza as the first pale red and yellow streaks of daylight smeared across the horizon, which seemed to presage a spectacular day for this time of year.
Don Francisco and my daughter Helene were first to arrive the previous night. It was no surprise she greeted me on the piazza for coffee. She always needed less sleep. She was an extrovert and had been very affectionate from childhood.
We are a touchy-feely family. Latinos are always so with family and friends. There were lots of hugs and kisses, along with a few recriminations that I did not call or visit often enough.
It was still early. Helene brought out her iPad, as a Millennial will do. I got the full tour of the last 4 months with a running commentary. We had toasted croissants, some Italian sausage and a wonderful bowl of fresh fruit direct from our greenhouse.
The conversation was light. Don Francisco soon joined us. He came bearing gifts, as always. We both remarked that he was looking incredibly healthy and young. He is the quintessential Grandfather -- tall, well built for his age, with a head full of silver hair, which he wears fashionably long. He has a sweetness about him that endears him to almost everyone.
Underneath all of that, I knew a hard and driven man, off-the-charts intelligent, a holy man with vision and the drive to see his vision through. He reached over to Helene, touched the hair behind her ear and magically produced a 20-karat emerald, very fine, from one of our mines in the Muzo region of Colombia. With a flourish, he handed it to Helene, who squealed like a delighted schoolgirl.