by T I WADE
“Uncle Philippe has a nice surprise for you tonight. I believe it’s his way of giving you a gift for your success,” stated his father. “I also have a gift for you, but first we should leave for the restaurant.”
The Ambassador signaled to the attendant to have the car brought up from the basement. They slowly finished the 18 year-old single malt and then got up and made their way to the front steps of the Embassy where a black diplomatic Mercedes was waiting for them. They fit easily into the rear of the car and each was lost in their own thoughts as they drove towards Georgetown. As usual, there were two men in the front seat and a glass partition in between the front and rear of the vehicle. They arrived and the two men got out, one walking into the restaurant to see if their private dining room was ready and inspecting the interior for possible problems, and the driver scanning the street and passing cars with his trained eyes. Both wore suits and had ear and mouthpieces, common in Washington society. When the coast was clear, the driver held open the rear door and guided the three men to where the second bodyguard was waiting by a closed door.
“All clear, one occupant Ambassador. Good evening, Manuel. Good to see you are looking after your health,” the bodyguard stated, smiling a relaxed smile and then looking at Carlos. “Good evening young Carlos, you have grown up some since I saw you last.”
“Thank you, Mannie,” replied Carlos’ father. “A perfect job as usual. It’s also good to see that you have not forgotten Carlos. I nearly didn’t recognize him myself when I saw him yesterday. He’s nearly as tall as you!”
“I always remember faces, Manuel,” the bodyguard replied. “It’s my job.”
As they walked into the room, Manuel told Carlos that Mannie had been with him through the Columbian gang wars and had saved his mother’s life twice. Talk was forgotten as they all looked at the rectangular table in the posh dining room and saw a middle-aged lady sitting at one end of the table, waiting for them.
Carlos’ mind suddenly went into overdrive. He stopped and looked at her, studying her every facial feature. His face went white and his mouth hung open. “It couldn’t be. It’s not possible,” he said aloud. The lady got up and rushed to him, excited. “Sissie!” was the only word he got out before she gathered him up in her arms. He looked over to the smiling older men.
“That is my graduation present to you, Carlos,” Uncle Philippe said, enjoying the reunion. Sissie and Carlos hugged each other for a long time, with tears flowing freely from both of them.
“You are so big,” Sissie stated, wiping her eyes and trying to compose herself. “How I have dreamed of this time.”
“Me too!” shared Carlos, still rather speechless. He looked in Uncle Philippe’s direction, questioning.
“Sissie has been in Guatemala in a convent since she left New York ten years ago. She has done our family proud,” stated the Ambassador. “Sissie is now the Mother Superior of the small mountain mission there and was very scared to come, but I asked the church’s permission to allow her to travel to meet family and they consented. It took her a little time to pluck up the courage, but here she is.”
Sissie went to Manuel, who also had tears in his eyes, and gave him the same hug she had given Carlos. “Thank you, thank you, Manuel, for looking after our boy. I can see that everybody is proud of him.”
“Thanks to your early teaching and love, he had a head start on all the other kids,” replied Manuel, still hugging her.
“Sorry to hear about Sentra. I was only told by Uncle Philippe yesterday when I arrived.”
“Yes, it was tragic, but she was a strong lady and she went with dignity,” replied Manuel.
Uncle Philippe moved to the far end of the table and sat down at the head of the table facing the door. He asked his daughter to sit back down next to him, and Carlos to sit next to her. He asked Manuel to sit on the opposite side of the table. Carlos noticed that there were places for eight as he pulled out Sissie’s chair to seat her before his own. There were only four of them. There was no restaurant staff in the dining room, just Mannie standing by the one of two doors leading into the room. The man who had driven them opened the other door, entered, and stood by the door. “The car is ready in the basement parking lot if we need it, and Manuela and Antonio are looking after it,” he stated to Uncle Philippe, who nodded.
“It feels like you are expecting trouble,” observed Carlos, not used to this level of protection.
“Drugs are drugs, and since they never go away, neither do the bad guys trying to make money from them,” replied his father. “Uncle Philippe has had over a dozen attempts on his life in the last 30 years—mostly in Columbia—but since the Mexican drug dealers have become braver, so have the Columbian dealers and several over-the-border cartels are working together, which means that there is more danger, even from non-Columbian drug dealers.”
“I’ve always stayed one foot ahead of trouble,” added the white-haired man who must be well over 70, Carlos thought. “Ever since Sissie was attacked all those years ago, I have worked hard to stay alive, even sending Sissie and your family to the most unlikely place in the United States for so many years. It was only once I was promoted to Washington by a few reliable government colleagues and good friends that I could use your father’s training and services again. The old and trusted team members who fought the start of the drug wars back home with your grandmother and father, are still here tonight—Mannie; his newly recruited sister Manuela who filled your grandmother’s place after she was killed; Dani, our driver; and Antonio kept a low profile here in the United States until I was posted here. A woman in law enforcement, in South America, is unheard of and this is why we won our wars.”
“Carlos, beware of Manuela,” his father said to him and winked at Mannie smiling by the door. “She is more deadly than a rattlesnake and is as mean as my mother was, right Mannie?” Mannie smiled back. “She is our secret weapon!”
“I was always the liaison officer between the Columbian military and the armed forces here in the United States” continued Uncle Philippe. “And I have worked hard with both governments to lower the drug crime between our two countries. It took a decade of opposition from within our government before I was finally posted here. It’s crazy to think how many high-ranking government officials have been influenced by the drug cartels, and who even lead some of the cartels from Bogotá. Not many can be trusted any more, apart from the several of us who were in positions before all this stuff started in the 1960s. Now I will now shut up and enjoy our evening—your graduation party, the pleasure of having my daughter back with me after such a long time, and the company of some of my special friends for the first hour. First, we will have some bocas or snacks and drinks, Carlos, since your Spanish is the poorest I have ever seen for any Columbian—my fault not yours. Then at 8:00 we will be joined by four more men and have dinner with them. I want you to meet my friends.”
For the next hour there was much talk around the table. The restaurant’s two smartly dressed wait staff attending to them were called in by Dani. It was weird to see Uncle Philippe get up and hug each man dressed in black and white restaurant gear as they came in. Carlos’ father was next, and as they shook Carlos’ hand, his father explained to him that these two had also been with the team for many years and now worked here at the restaurant. Carlos got the drift, as this was the best Columbian restaurant on the entire East Coast.
Drinks were plentiful and the bocas came in on several silver platters. It didn’t take long before Uncle Philippe again asked for silence. He suggested that everyone take their seat. First, a young man entered the room dressed much like Carlos and Dani, and looked around. Then, two much older men entered, both wearing very well-tailored dark suits and the door was closed behind them. Uncle Philippe walked up to them, shook their hands and welcomed them. He introduced his family around the table, Sissie first, and then introduced the men.
“Family, may I introduce you to Jonathan Dover, head of the CIA, and Casimiro Sanchez, his
Assistant Chief for South American Operations.” Carlos was surprised to see a Latino in such a high position. “Cas Sanchez has been my best friend since high school in Medellin,” Uncle Philippe continued. A few seconds later the main dining room door opened from outside this time by a lady. Carlos assumed was the deadly Manuela, as she looked at him and gave him a smile and a wink. Again, two older men walked in, both in the same type of dark suit as the last two men.
Uncle Philippe did the introductions. He went around the table and introduced each family member.
“Gentlemen, I believe you know Mr. Dover and Mr. Sanchez?” The two new men did and shook hands. “Family, this is General Pete Allen, United States Air Force and Vice Admiral Martin Rogers— my long-time best American friend and my naval brother-in-law.” Everybody shook hands and sat down. The table was now full. “Dani, we can now commence with dinner.”
The table was quiet as the first course was delivered to the table by the two wait staff. “This is ‘Potaje de Garbanzos’ or Spanish bean soup in Columbia, gentlemen—one of my favorites,” said the man at the head of the table. “My old grandmother made for me when I was young, a couple of centuries ago.” Every laughed and then silence was king as the attendees enjoyed their soup.
As the soup plates were cleared away, the wait staff checked and refilled the wine glasses. Only Sissie was drinking water. Uncle Philippe motioned to his two men still standing by the doors and the two bodyguards left the room and closed the doors behind them.
“We thoroughly checked this room before any of us came in and it was clean. We are not here on business, but as you all know, we must always be one step ahead of the rest,” Philippe began. “Tonight I am excited to have two of my family back in town. It’s the first time I’ve seen my daughter Sissie in 18 years and Carlos, Manuel’s fine son, has just finished his Ph.D. at MIT and now it seems wants to do a second one. I believe its time he got a job like the rest of us, and maybe went back to study in a few years time!” The guests smiled at Carlos.
“So, tonight you have been invited to have dinner, a little Columbian finery. Please, eat, drink and enjoy yourselves. I’m certainly going to.” With that, he took a large sip of wine and buttered a piece of roll on his side plate.
“What did you major in, Carlos?” asked Casimiro Sanchez with everyone listening in.
“Electrical engineering, my minor was computer engineering,” replied Carlos.
“And your next field of study, Carlos?” asked General Allen.
“I would like to study global-communications engineering next,” replied Carlos. “It would give me an opportunity to go into global, orbital and space communications, and my hope is to be invited into NASA one day.”
“You will get into NASA much more easily if you are a member of the Air Force,” replied General Allen. “I was told by your father that you are a pilot already?” the general asked, winking at Carlos’ father.
“Even though my father thinks I’m a little weird to love flying so much, I believe that it is a necessary requisition for NASA, and I can’t think of many other hobbies I would rather do,” was Carlos’ reply, smiling at his father who smiled back at his son proudly. Manuel put his hand into his coat pocket, pulled out a small black box, and placed it in front of Carlos.
“Your graduation present, my boy, well done, I’m proud of you.”
Carlos couldn’t believe his eyes when he opened the box. It wasn’t the three new keys on the gold key chain that were in the box that caught his eye but the description on the soft leather key ring. It read: King Air C90SE-661972. Carlos was at a loss for words.
“She’s brand new and just finished her delivery tests,” said his father. “She’s waiting for you at Andrews to pick her up, thanks to the General’s kind permission.”
“I completed a couple hundred hours on a B-90,” the General explained to Carlos. “I flew President Lyndon Johnson around in it many years ago in the only B-90 designated as “Air Force One.” I use to fly him from Bergstrom Air Force Base near Austin, Texas to his ranch in Johnson City, Texas. She was sweet to fly and the same aircraft is now on display at our Air Force Museum in Dayton, Ohio. I go and see her every now and again when I‘m in the area. She brings back many memories of my chats with the President, a man I really admired. She’s a great bird, Carlos, you’re going to love flying your new C-90.” Carlos was still speechless.
“Say something, Carlos,” added Uncle Philippe. “If you can’t, I will give you your graduation gift from me.” Philippe opened an envelope and read from the piece of paper inside. “Two weeks, all expenses paid for two people in Nassau. The hotel’s best Presidential suite, and everything is included, but you have got to get there by yourself,” he laughed.
“For two?” asked Carlos.
“I think it’s time for Sissie to have a real modern vacation as well, and you two can catch up on your lives and have some relaxation away from the human rat race,” replied Philippe, smiling at his daughter.
“Thank you, Papa. Thank you, Uncle Philippe,” were the first words Carlos could manage.
“Here’s a pass for both of you into Andrews,” added the General. “Take the Embassy car and hand the pass to the gate. They will be expecting you. Manuel, what’s so special about the C-90SE version?” the General asked. Manuel looked over at Carlos for the answer.
“Thank you, sir,” replied Carlos, trying to get his mouth around the words. “The SE is a simplified version of the C-90B. She has three-blade propellers instead of four, a simple interior that I like, and all mechanical instruments instead of the usual Electronic Flight Instrument System, or EFIS, usually found in the C-90Bs. She is the old and real way to fly, except for the twin Garmin GPS systems, which I find an excellent backup for longer flights, as well as fuel efficiency in side winds, sir.” The General nodded. “Papa, she is a two-million dollar aircraft. How could you afford a C-90?”
“Let’s just say that your late grandfather helped out,” replied Manuel. “When I was given the money from the sale of our old farm in Florencia, I did not want to spend the money. I put it away in U.S. government bonds and stock for many years, and it grew and grew. I believe that your grandfather would appreciate me using his money to give to you, his only grandson, on such an occasion.” A clapping of hands around the table erupted in the room.
“I second that, as your father’s older brother,” added Uncle Philippe. “He was an honest man and would be proud of you today, Carlos. Sissie, enjoy your time with Carlos, catch up on your lives, and I will get you back to your mission when you are ready.” There were tears in her eyes.
“Thank you, Papa,” she said getting up and giving him a big hug. “There is nothing more that I want in the world than to spend time with my son. Manuel, you don’t mind me saying that, do you?”
“Never!” replied Manuel. “Sentra would be more than happy for you if she was here with us tonight.”
The group turned back to chatting. The CIA chief offered Carlos any help he might need in the future. The CIA was seriously in debt to the Ambassador for all the help he had given them in Central and South American drug-related information. The chief handed Carlos a card and told him to call him or Cas directly at any time. Slowly the courses came, and it was over dessert that the Vice Admiral was able to chat with Carlos.
“We are really moving forward with global communications at the moment,” the Vice Admiral said. “I believe that we are in the forefront of very new communications. Scrambling messages between ships, submarines and their home bases has always been an especially tough nut to crack. It could be of interest for you to look at what we are doing, and you could study at the same time. And we do fly airplanes in the Navy, Carlos. There is nothing more exciting than putting a turboprop down on an aircraft carrier.”
“Except putting a turboprop down in Nassau,” laughed the General. “Carlos, how many flight hours do you have?”
“Seventeen hundred, with two hundred on turbo props and another hu
ndred on jets,” Carlos replied. “I’m already qualified on King Airs, did most of my turboprop time on C-90s, and now I’m working on getting qualified on twin jet Citations. I don’t like jets very much. They’re too sterile for me. I love the old-time flying and I’m just as happy in a Cessna 172 or even a sailplane or glider. I have over a hundred hours on gliders and after my next jet certification I want to complete a helicopter license.”
“What is the one aircraft you would like to fly?” asked the General, “apart from the one your father and grandfather have just given you?”
“In earth’s lower atmosphere, an old P-51 Mustang. In earth’s higher atmosphere, the space shuttle,” Carlos replied with a smile. Everyone laughed at that one.
Carlos flew Sissie down to Miami late the next afternoon, since he had drunk more than usual the night before, and on to Nassau the next day. They had a very restful vacation, enjoyed each other’s company, and talked for hours.
It took time, but he finally understood his second mother’s (as he called her) dream to be in the Church. They reminisced about the days in South Dakota and all the ups and downs they had shared, and she told him a lot about his mother and father and what good people they were. She told him about her horrible ordeal with the gangsters trying to kill her and her father’s reactions to her being pregnant and not being married. She explained how straight her father was and what he had been like when she was a young girl. They had often had to hide, and twice the family had been shot at by gangsters, long before her terrible ordeal.
They flew back refreshed—he, darkened by the sun, and Sissie, who was not happy about swimming or wearing a swimming costume, the same color as she arrived. She had enjoyed wandering around the streets of Nassau while he spent time swimming, scuba diving, and sunbathing. She had spent time on the dive boat, but was not interested in going in the water. Swimming or scuba diving was the opposite direction she wanted to go, she joked with Carlos.