by C. G. Cooper
The gathered troops jumped to their feet in perfect unity, yelling and screaming their approval, raising their hands, calling out, "I'll come with you!”, “Damn the torpedoes!” and "God bless America!”
+ + +
The old man with the peg leg sticking out of his baggy trouser pants looked up briefly from his sweeping. He'd somehow figured out how to do his job even while on crutches. He leaned precariously as he swept pieces of dust and rocks into a dust pan that he held with his good foot. The cheers were still echoing from the Thunder Dome, and he'd heard each word the American president had spoken.
He took his time cleaning his little path, and when he was done, he cast the debris into a trash can and made his way back to the storage shed that Camp Lemonnier’s temporary workers utilized.
He set the broom in its rack and hung the dust pan on a nail on one of the structure's wooden posts. He sat down on a small wooden bench and rubbed his sore upper thigh. Then he reached behind the bench and uncovered a metal toolbox.
Its top shelf was filled with screwdrivers, loose nuts, bolts, and a rusted tape measure. He lifted out the tray and switched on the radio hidden underneath. In rapid Somali, he called in his report, waited for confirmation that the message had been received, and then he switched off the radio. He replaced the tray in the toolbox and rubbed his leg again.
His shift was over. It was now time to go home to see his wife, in time for lunch. She would be happy to hear about his day.
Chapter 26
Cal had no idea how Christian and his grandfather had done it. The first trio was a man and his three sons. The man nodded to President Farah, and then took up a position behind him. Then an old woman hobbled up, touched President Farah’s hand reverently and took a place in the line.
On and on it went. They came on foot, on bicycles, on motorcycles and in cabs.
The president's people: Rich, poor, old and young gathered and waited. More joined them, they also gathered and waited. Happy cries rose up when those who had heard the president was dead saw that the rumors had not been true. And President Farah was gracious with them all — shaking hands, giving hugs to others. Cal could see the swelling pride in the man who had almost been dead hours before.
"There's got to be thousands of them,” Cal said to Daniel. "How do you think he did it?"
"I think it was the grandfather,” Daniel said turning to the old man who watched it all calmly, with his knowing look.
"Do you really think this will work?"
Daniel just smiled. "I came along for the ride; I didn't care which way it went."
Even Liberty seemed to be enjoying the spectacle. Thousands of new smells, yet she stood resolute next to Cal, ready to move whenever she was told.
On and on they came, answering the call that spread like wildfire. And then suddenly, like he had known that their ranks had swelled to capacity, the grandfather walked up to his nephew and whispered something in his ear. Christian produced a bull horn and gave it to President Farah, who, with the help of some men from the crowd, climbed into the bed of a pickup truck. The crowd hushed. He spoke first in his native tongue and then switched over to English, translating as he went.
"I thank you all for coming today. As you can see, rumors of my death were greatly exaggerated. They tried, they really did,” President Farah lifted up his leg to show the crowd. “But thanks to the assistance of family and some very good friends,” he looked down at his uncle and then to Daniel and Cal, "I am still here. But now, we must deal with those who believe they can use our country and our peaceful people for their evil ways. But before we go, I ask that we not leave with anger on our lips or hate in our hearts, but with love for one another and love for the friends who we must help. If you have brought weapons, please leave them behind. Let us not give our misguided brothers and sisters an excuse to produce further bloodshed. Let us now go, brothers and sisters, and show the world that we are a strong and caring people, and we will not be intimidated or bested by madmen who seek to imprison us."
The crowd erupted in cheers that shook the windows and the buildings all around them. Cal helped President Farah down from the truck and asked, "Mr. President, are you sure you want to do this? It's really not safe."
Farah eased himself to the ground. "We must have faith. I have faith in my people. But I'm not a stupid man. I suggest that you and your friends ignore my request and bring your weapons, just in case." He threw Cal a wink, took a firmer hold of his cane and stepped off to lead his people.
+ + +
They were able to mount one thousand military personnel from Camp Lemonnier out of the roughly four thousand stationed there. More wanted to go along, if only to watch their president lead the charge; but in the end it was decided that based on the number of vehicles they had readily available, and the sheer number that could actually move through the streets, a thousand would do.
A team of SEALs and a Platoon of Marine Raiders were fanned out in front, but not too far out in front. The president had been specific on that order. The lead element would get eyes on, but that was all, and so off they rumbled. The cavalry was on its way.
+ + +
Their progress was slow and steady. Daniel could see that President Farah was in pain. Listing slightly to one side, most steps were punctuated with a wince on the man's features. But he kept going.
Daniel felt swept up in it all. His entire adult life he'd been surrounded by violence, and now here was this man, no—not man—men. President Farah, the grandfather, and even Christian, and their minds hadn't flown straight to violence as a means to an end.
Daniel wasn't ashamed to admit that if he'd been the one in charge, he would have attacked the camp and killed as needed. He wouldn't have given his actions a second thought. It was just the thing he had to do. He would never have lost a moment's sleep knowing that he had done the right thing.
But now he felt caught in the swell. It was like that feeling he had with the grandfather, only this time the surge of feelings grew stronger. There were no angry shouts or shaking fists. In fact, the crowd was singing now, and although Daniel couldn't understand the words, he somehow felt the meaning.
And so, the crowd moved on. President Farah was singing with them, the pain on his face gone. Daniel drank it in; he relished it like a great life-giving stream that would soon be gone and might never be seen again. He tucked the feeling away, and hoped it would not be the last time he would experience it.
+ + +
"Eagle Six, this is Sheepdog."
Sheepdog was the SEAL team in lead. Eagle Six was the president.
"Go ahead, Sheepdog,” the president said.
"Ah, sir, we've encountered an obstacle. How would you like us to proceed?"
"What kind of an obstacle?"
"Thousands of civilians, sir. They're taking up every inch of the streets. We tried to look for a way around and tried to push through, but, well, but they're going the same way we are."
The president looked over at Top and Gaucho, "What do you two think?"
“It doesn't sound like they're hostile,” Top said, "so maybe—”
"Hey wait!" Gaucho interrupted, “You think Cal and Snake Eyes are in there?"
The president picked up the mic, "Sheepdog, can you get eyes on the lead element of that crowd?"
"Negative, Eagle Six. Crowd's just too big."
"See if you can make your way around. We will just keep pushing forward.”
"Roger that.”
"I don't know. It could be a rally or a protest. See if you can get the embassy on the phone,” the president said to the Secret Service detail. "Maybe they know what's going on."
The call was quick and the Secret Service agent looked up at the president and shook his head.
"Would you like me to call the commander, Mr. President? They've got helos on standby should we need them."
The president thought about that for a moment and then said, "No let’s—"and then there was a cacophony of buzzes,
dings, beeps and rings. Everyone looked down at their pockets.
"It's the phones,” Gaucho said, holding up his cell phone. "They're working again.”
"Top, see if you can reach Cal. See if he knows what's going on,” the president said.
Top dialed Cal's number, but it rang and rang, finally going to his voice mail. He tried Daniel, and Dr. Higgins. Same thing all around.
President Zimmer was about to pick up the radio to call the SEALs when everyone froze. They all heard the unmistakable staccato of machinegun fire up ahead.
+ + +
They were fifty yards from the front gates of the prisoner camp when some idiot behind a machine gun just inside the fence line decided to shoot straight up in the air as a warning to the approaching crowd. Cal hated it when people did that. Where did they learn to do that anyway? Didn't they know that rounds always had to land somewhere? Stupid.
After a brief pause, President Farah continued walking toward the gates. Cal and Daniel were two steps behind him with their hands ready to go to their weapons if needed. Hopefully that wouldn't be necessary. President Farah put the hand that wasn't clutching the cane in the air as he walked, and he waved to the soldiers to show them that he was not armed. Another volley of machine gunfire was shot straight in the air, and Cal imagined what would happen if the rounds fell onto the heads of the crowd behind him.
"We come in peace," President Farah yelled. "Do not shoot."
The soldiers were looking back and forth among each other, and Cal saw one of them pick up a radio handset and speak into it.
"We come in peace," Farah repeated. "I am President Farah.”
Now there was palpable confusion.
"Our president is dead,” one of the soldiers yelled back.
Farah was now only twenty yards from the soldiers.
"I am not dead. I stand before you. Now, please open the gates so that we can enter. Your commanders were mistaken. Please let us in. There is much I have to tell you."
Someone from behind the ranks pushed forward, grumbled something to the other soldiers. He then said out loud, for whomever could hear, "Open the gates. I urge you to open the gates for the president."
+ + +
After a tense examination, the soldier in charge declared that the man who stood before them was indeed President Farah. The other soldiers offered up their weapons. Cal, Daniel and Dr. Higgins stood nearby. But the soldiers were no longer speaking in English, so neither understood what was being said until Christian translated.
"They're saying that many of the troops have left, and that they were going to let the prisoners go soon. Sounds more like they're saying that because the president's here. Wait." Christian listened now. "They're here," he said excitedly. "They say Vince and Karl are here."
President Farah joined them. "Come. Let us see if we can find your friends."
All the soldiers were watching wide-eyed now as the crowd entered the camp, filling it quickly. The captain led the way to the center of camp, into the semi-permanent structure they’d seen earlier in the day.
"In there, Mr. President," the man said in heavily accented English.
"And the general? Is he in there?" the president asked.
"I do not know, Mr. President. He comes and goes, and I have not seen him since this morning.”
President Farah motioned for the soldier to open the door. There was an empty anteroom that Cal and Daniel entered first, making sure to clear the room of any threats inside. Liberty bolted between them and began scratching on the door at the far end of the room.
"Open it," Cal ordered the captain. Cal called Liberty back, who came back with reluctance and sat whining at his side.
The captain fumbled with his keys and was finally able to unlock the door. Liberty darted into the darkened room.
"Damn it," Cal cursed, sprinting in behind her with Daniel at his side.
Now their weapons were drawn, and wisely the captain moved out of the way. Daniel flipped on the light switch, and Cal's stomach sank. All they found were two examination chairs, empty except for a heavy splash of blood on one headrest.
Chapter 27
By the time President Zimmer and the cavalry showed up, the camp mop up was complete. All supposed rogue soldiers had been rounded up and were being held until such time as they could be questioned, and the real traitors were weeded out. Cal didn’t think there would be many because the guys they left behind seemed to be the real soldiers, whereas the ones who ran had probably been mercenaries.
President Farah accepted Zimmer's offer for assistance. The troops from Camp Lemonnier would leave a company of Marines behind to secure the area.
"The captain believes that your men have been taken to another location. This morning was the last time he saw them.”
“Were they healthy or had they been harmed?" Zimmer asked.
"He says they were treated well, but one of them looked ill.”
They were discussing their options when the president received three calls in rapid succession. The first, he said, was from the director of the CIA, who had derived intel from the NSA confirming that a small convoy had left the detention camp hours earlier.
"So we just missed them," Zimmer said. "But they couldn't have gotten far. At least, I hope not."
The second call was brief and was an update on another situation he'd been monitoring.
The third was the most unbelievable of all and was the general himself.
"He says his name is Hachi. Do you know him?" Zimmer asked Farah.
President Farah nodded gravely. "Yes, I know General Hachi, and I am sorry to say that he would have been one of the last persons that I would consider to be behind these unfortunate actions."
"Who is he?"
"He was a friend. We went to grade school together and played together as children, but when I went to Great Britain to attend the university, he went to France for military school. It wasn't until I was elected president that we saw each other again. He had changed. He had hardened, but his position in the army was modest at best. Now it would seem that he has changed much more than I first suspected,” Farah paused, remembering something. “If I recall correctly, he was briefly relieved of command when it was suspected that he was supplying our weaponry to certain Ethiopian rebels. He was, of course, cleared of all charges, but now it seems likely that another hand has been played."
"But why would he go to such lengths to kill you?”
"I do not think that was his original intent," Farah explained. "They first warned me, and told me to resign as president. They said I would be allowed to seek asylum elsewhere, but I refused. It was only then that they used force to oust me from office. My men were killed, and if it were not for Mr. Briggs, they could have succeeded in killing me. What is it that Hachi wanted?"
"He says he wants to meet. He says he knows where my men are, and he's willing to help make an exchange."
"And where did he say he would like to meet?"
"He said he'd call again in an hour, and that we should make our way to the airport.”
"Mr. President, I don't think you should listen to him," the Secret Service agent advised. "We should wait and see if our assets can track the general and—"
"No. I'm going, and this topic is no longer open for discussion."
There were incredulous looks all around. Cal was about to speak up, but Zimmer held up a hand.
"We'll talk on the way to the airport, okay?"
Cal nodded, but knew, from the determined look in Zimmer's eyes, that it didn't matter what he or anyone else said. The president had already set his path, and Cal had the nagging feeling that his friend's decisiveness could soon be his undoing.
By the time they got to the airport, it was decided that Presidents Zimmer and Farah would take the private jet that was being cleared and scrubbed top to bottom by the advance Secret Service detail already present. Aircraft from the USS Harry Truman would provide air cover, while drones from Camp Lemonnier would scour
the countryside, and track the plane's every move. When Cal volunteered to go with them, Zimmer denied the request.
"Come on, Brandon. You need to let us go with you.” Cal urged that his friend to let his team go along, but could see the president was eager to go.
"I've got the Secret Service guys. We'll be fine," Zimmer said.
"This is stupid. I'm telling you, let the pros deal with this one. We'll find this guy; we'll get Vince and Karl back. Then we'll pack up and go home. You do not need to do this."