by Ryan Hartung
“Like I was saying, I’ve been with the Marines for over fifteen years, and so far I’ve yet to lose a man. We take our time to plan the mission down to the smallest detail. My mantra is to make sure you’re prepared for anything out of the ordinary and always plan for the worst. By following these simple rules I have yet to have led a mission that I would consider a total failure,” Colonel Barns finished.
“Do we have to call you Colonel all the time or can we just call you Cliff?” Dominic mumbled, while shoving the last bit of his breakfast burrito into his face.
“Sure, you can call me Cliff, but you should call me Colonel,” he said turning to Colt, trying to ruffle his feathers.
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen Cliff,” Colt snapped back, staring him down. Hillary patted Colt’s arm, trying to sooth his battered ego and sighed. It’s going to be a long trip she thought to herself. She rolled her eyes as she watched the two idiots who were back to staring each other down again.
After General Radcliff had wished them well and given his final orders, a trio of soldiers whisked them aboard their military transport, heading for Naples, Italy.
“Alright, let’s go over our plan a few times since we’re going to be in the air for a while,” Cliff said after their plane had reached cruising altitude. Colt glared at Cliff assuming control of their mission, but what was he to do? General Radcliff had handed Cliff detailed satellite photos of the area prior to their boarding. He was also the main contact person with the Italian government. For the time being, Colt knew he had the upper hand.
“First of all, we’re probably going to have company while we’re there. As General Radcliff mentioned, we have reason to believe the Russians and the Chinese are sending teams to the area as well. I’m guessing we’re probably the most scientific heavy of the three, which could potentially be a problem if there’s an altercation. That means you need to make sure you have the Lightning Staff with you. Truthfully, that thing gives me the creeps, but since we’re dealing with potential weapons I’ve never encountered before, its best you bring it.”
“Of course I’m bringing it,” Colt snottily replied. He knew he was being a bit of a jerk, but he just couldn’t help himself. Cliff Barns simply brought out the worst in him.
“So, do I get to carry a gun?” Dominic pleaded, while shaking a nervous leg in anticipation of the answer. “I’ve shot handguns lots of times, so I know how to use one. I promise I’m not going to be a liability or anything like that.”
“Sorry pal, not even I’m allowed to carry a gun once we step off the plane onto Italian soil. But it’s good to know if something needing weaponry comes up that you know how to handle yourself.”
Cliff was absolutely telling them the truth that the Italian government would not allow him to bring his trusty sidearm off the plane once they had landed. However, he did not intend to follow the rules. Even now, he had a small handgun strapped to his ankle and a larger semi-automatic pistol shoved down the back of his pants. Since they were arriving on a military plane, the American government had assured their team that the Italian security forces would not subject them to the usual pat downs and metal detecting devices of commercial airports.
Dominic pouted at Cliff’s reply, but didn’t say a word. He knew it was a longshot the crusty Marine would let him carry a gun. However, he took solace in the fact that Cliff too would be arriving unarmed. Although on second thought, Dominic wondered if maybe at least one of them should be armed. Luckily, Colt had already made his position clear; the Lightning Staff would be going with him, which was one weapon no one else in the world possessed.
“Back to what we need to be discussing,” Hillary said, arching an eyebrow in Dominic’s direction. “General Radcliff said you had some aerial photographs of the area.”
Cliff nodded and began digging in his backpack. Eventually, he found the manila envelope he’d been searching for and slapped it down on the table in front of him.
“Here’s an aerial photo of the cone taken by one of our drones just a few days ago. If you look closely, you can see a few plumes of steam from the base, but really there’s not much more activity than that these days.
“Now, here’s another picture, but this time it’s from NASA’s Terra satellite. This is an infrared satellite, so it’s not just a picture. Do you see the change in coloring by the side of the crater over here?” he asked, pointing to the side of the picture.
“This change in coloring is where the amount of infrared radiation that has been absorbed by the earth is different than in the rest of the crater, which means that the rock’s composition has changed. Here’s the same shot, but magnified,” he said tossing down another picture. “Does this image resemble anything to you?”
“That looks like a wall of some sort,” Colt replied, amazed. The line was uncharacteristically straight; too straight to be from pure happenstance.
“Yeah, it absolutely looks like a wall or a base of where a wall used to stand,” Hillary added. “We have to remember Vesuvius has erupted many times since whatever we’re looking at was built, so this picture might be drastically different from the original structure.”
“But wouldn’t all those eruptions have dissolved it or something like that?” Dominic asked from a seat back. “I mean, those volcanoes spit out liquid rock. Wouldn’t that be hot enough to melt anything people had built that was in its path?”
“That’s what I thought,” Cliff replied. “But after seeing this photo, I knew I had to see for myself if there’s something there or not, because I agree with Dominic. Anything manmade should have been melted down to nothingness during any of Mount Vesuvius’ previous explosions.”
“I agree, but I don’t think we should be too closed minded in our thinking,” Colt added thoughtfully.
“What do you mean boss?” Dominic asked.
“Well, for starters a few weeks ago no one thought the Greek gods and their powers were anything more than a myth. Now we have a staff that can control lightning almost endlessly. I’m just proposing that maybe whatever power that’s within this staff and any of the other possible treasures is also powerful enough to keep them safe, no matter what is happening around them,” Colt finished. He looked around at his three teammates as they absorbed his rather unconventional idea, a power that could actually protect the artifacts themselves from earthly elements.
“It’s just an idea, but we should know one way or another a few days from now,” Colt added after a few moments of thoughtful silence.
The sky outside the plane was rapidly darkening, as they flew over the Atlantic Ocean, and although by their biological clocks nighttime was still a few hours away, the setting sun was causing Cliff to feel drowsy.
“Oh, one more item before I catch a quick nap,” Cliff interjected into the silent hull. “The Italians know we’re coming and have given the four of us permission to only search for the relic. If we find it, we can’t keep it. Don’t ask me how the President managed to get our team inside Italy when they’re turning everyone else away. I guess he has his ways. Anyway, the reason I mention this is that we’ll have a little present waiting for us once we reach the inside of the cone.”
“What’s that?” Colt wondered aloud.
“Suppose we need to dig to get to the temple or chamber or whatever you guys want to call it. Are we supposed to use our hands? No way. We’re supposed to be in and out of there. General Radcliff informed me just before we boarded, that a Bobcat was parachuted in along with some dynamite for our use. Of course, we’re supposed to use extreme discretion since Mount Vesuvius is in the middle of an Italian national park after all, so we’ll only set of explosions if they’re absolutely necessary,” Cliff paused, trying to fight through his sleepy eyes while remembering if there was any more important information.
“Oh yeah, two more things,” he remembered, digging deep into his tired brain. “First is back to what I was saying before, and I’m going to repeat myself here, but we’ve been explicitly told NO
T to take any treasures we find; Colt I’m talking to you here, and we’re getting an Italian archeologist added to our party when we arrive, some guy named Leonardo Sava. I guess he was added to make sure the Italian government’s interests are persevered. Maybe one of the three of you knows him?”
Cliff stopped talking as he saw Colt’s face turning bright red. Hillary squirmed in her seat as Colt shot her a quick uncomfortable glance. He too tried to find a more comfortable position on his padded airplane cushion but was unable to find one.
“Colt, he won’t be a problem,” Hillary said after a while. She tried to reassure him by placing a hand on his arm, but he recoiled at the touch.
“How can I be sure after what happened last time?” he asked, maybe a little louder than he should have.
Incensed at the question, she responded, “Look, we were on a break. How many times do I have to tell you that? The archeological conference in Rome had just adjourned for the day, and a bunch of us went to one of the local bars to unwind. One thing led to another. That’s it. I’m not proud of what happened, and contrary to whatever you believe, I don’t spend my days pining about Leonardo Sava and what could have been. For some reason, I’m in love with your stupid butt!” she said with a huff and started staring out of the plane’s opposite window as the day’s final light disappeared below the horizon.
“Well, you two lovebirds can fight about whatever your deal is for the next six hours. For me, I’m going to sleep,” Cliff said as he began shifting his body from resting on his back onto his side. Hillary continued staring into the darkened sky, while Colt had fixed his gaze to the seatback cushion directly in front of him. Dominic, sitting behind the arguing couple, rolled his eyes at their premarital spat and donned his ear buds for some heavy metal as their plane cut through the silent sky toward Naples, Italy.
Chapter
3
A small clear glass paperweight flew across the room and struck the wall, leaving a dent as it fell to the red-carpeted floor. Peru’s President could barely control his outrage at his Minister of Defense’s constant bungling.
“I said get out! You’re finished, you hear me!” President Emilio Basar yelled at the meekly retreating Minister of Defense. Having just stripped the Minister of his title, the President was clearly in no mood for cowardly groveling. The Minister’s lack of action at the Chachapoya archeological dig was inexcusable. If Colt Andrews’s theft of the priceless artifact wasn’t bad enough, the staff was now in the American’s possession. Why did the rich always get richer when the poor were struggling?
“But… I…,” the late Minister of Defense attempted to reply.
“Your services are no longer required. I have already appointed General Bellido to your position. At least he understands the importance of national security,” the President returned without feeling as he tried to calm his nerves. He knew the other diplomats in the building were without a doubt keeping as quite as possible, so they could hear what he was saying to the ex-minister during his tantrum. Even now, as the ousted Minister of Defense slowly backed toward the open door, the President could see his secretary and the waiting Venezuelan President Enrique Ramirez staring agape at his uncontrollable outburst.
“Your bungling of the situation is completely inexcusable. I know you still have friends, so although I’m stripping you of your title of Minister of Defense, I am confident you will still serve this office with all of your love and devotion that you did before,” the President demanded threateningly. Fortunately, for the sad groveling individual standing in front of President Basar, he felt he could still be of use to this regime. President Basar didn’t have a specific idea where the humiliated man could be of most use, but only a fool would turn away someone loved by the country’s people and feed them to the wolves.
He would keep the late Minister of Defense on a short leash and find a way for him to contribute to Peru. The dejected man nodded knowing President Basar had made his decision and turned with his head hanging as low as his aging muscles would allow and left the President’s office like a dog with its tail between its legs.
The President took a deep breath, then with as much dignity as he could muster, strode to his open door, and greeted the recently arrived Venezuelan president. After shaking the president’s hand, he ushered him into the cluttered office and gently closed the door behind them. Before rounding his desk, President Basar picked up the undamaged glass paperweight, a gift from his lovely wife Beatrice and gently set it back onto his messy desk.
The Venezuelan president, never one to shy away from his opinion, spoke first.
“I’m surprised at you, Emilio,” he began.
Emilio Basar raised a questioning eyebrow. “Oh and why is that?”
“It sounds as though this man defied you, and you’re letting him simply walk out of here. He should be in chains in one of your country’s worst prisons as a deterrent to anyone else stupid enough to not listen to your authority,” President Ramirez said.
“His fault wasn’t that of defiance but stupidity, Enrique. He’s the reason our stolen treasure, of which I’m sure you’ve heard about by now, is currently in American hands. Which means it’s gone for good, and it almost certainly has a close to zero percent chance of being returned.”
“I’d still have locked him up,” the Venezuelan president returned. “Sometimes stupidity can be worse than treason. Take Admiral Chuichi Nagumo for instance. He was the leader of the Japanese forces that attacked Pearl Harbor during World War II. I know he had his reasons, but if he’d followed the advice of his compatriots and ordered a third wave of attacks against the Hawaiian Islands, we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation; the whole world would be a different place.
“Just think about it. His decision against attacking a third time was ultimately responsible for Japan’s defeat. Because he didn’t take out the American’s Pacific fuel and torpedo storage facilities and dry docks in a third strike, the Americans were able to quickly regroup, fix their sunken ships, and rout the Japanese armies on Japan’s own turf. Now, I’m not saying Admiral Chuichi Nagumo should have been sent to prison, but his decision of inaction was ultimately responsible for his country’s defeat,” President Ramirez finished.
“You know, it always seems to come down to America doesn’t it? If this event had happened or if some country had done this instead of that, then everything in the world would be different. Well, it’s time we take the future into our own hands. I’ve been giving your question a lot of thought, and my answer is this; if you can convince Russia to join our coalition, then you can count on Peru.”
“I’m extremely pleased to hear that, Emilio. I’ve already had conversations with most of our other South American brethren, with Ecuador, Brazil, Bolivia, Paraguay, and Uruguay each agreeing to add their numbers to our ranks, if war is to happen. Oh, and I can’t forget Columbia. President Felipe was almost giddy, when I pressed him for an answer.”
“Maybe he was high on his country’s highest grossing product,” Emilio said with a laugh.
“Cocaine? Maybe. I just think he’s tired of seeing his country torn apart from America’s never ending thirst for drugs. I think Señor Felipe is simply looking for a chance to get even,” President Ramirez thoughtfully responded.
“I guess in essence so are we,” President Basar replied. He swiveled in his chair to an open cabinet. He lifted the lid off an aging Peruvian cigar box and withdrew two long hand rolled cigars. Handing one to President Ramirez he said, “Here’s to us not making one of the most stupid decisions ever.” Emilio grabbed his cigar cutter, snipped off the closed end, and lit it with an elegantly engraved Zippo lighter. Through the puffs of smoke, he feared they were making a terrible mistake.
***
A little past ten o’clock Italian time, in the middle of the night, the Russians’ plane landed in Naples, Italy. Although weary from the flight, Vladimir pushed his crew to remain vigilant and ready to leave in a moment’s notice. Vladimir Pavlov
’s many years in the Russian military had ingrained in him a sense of timeliness and duty. For Vladimir it was simple, President Aleksandrov had given him an order of an extremely urgent nature, which meant the order was to be carried out regardless of the hour or the amount of sleep he might of wished he had found.
“Come on, let’s get a move on,” he ordered his slow moving compatriots. “We’ve got to get our gear off the plane and find out where we’re spending the night.”
Pavel being the most similar to Vladimir in terms of military readiness and drive had already exited the plane with his gear before Natalya and Dmitry were even close to gathering theirs. Natalya was the next one off the plane, struggling with her heavy pack, but moving forward nonetheless. She was determined to show her rugged military companions that, although she was a woman, she was as capable as the rest of them.
Vladimir waited outside of the aircraft tapping his foot in initiation. Both Pavel and Natalya were finishing stowing their gear in the waiting SUV, while Dmitry had yet to de-board the plane.
“Dmitry, get a move on!” Vladimir bellowed into the plane’s hollow hull.
“Give me a sec, I’ve finally got a connection,” Dmitry said back from his seat. Hours of flight time without an internet connection felt like an eternity of wasted time to Dmitry. Although, like Pavel and Vladimir, the expectation was that Dmitry was to be a soldier first; all things electronic were his true love. With the internet not being available on the plane for the entire flight’s duration, his new connection to the information highway was now seductively beckoning him with all her might.
Annoyed and ready to get moving, Vladimir re-boarded the plane ready to rip Dmitry’s throat out given the chance. Dmitry looked up, saw the lumbering behemoth of man thumping toward his seat, and readied himself for the punishing blow that was sure to come.
“Vladimir, wait this is important,” he cried as Vladimir grabbed hold of his shirt and started pulling. “Look, see,” he said pointing to the screen.