Legend: An Event Group Thriller

by David L. Golemon

  “Seriously, Jack said you handled yourself at the Little Bighorn like a pro.”

  “So, Ms. Serrate, has Jack assigned you any duties yet?” Sarah asked as her attention swung to the Frenchwoman.

  “Yes, it seems I will be assisting Professor Ellenshaw’s Crypto group, all three of us,” she answered. “And please call me Danielle. We’re going to be shipmates, after all.” She smiled but her eyes bore into Sarah’s.

  Sarah didn’t respond. In her mind, something wasn’t quite adding up with this woman, and she couldn’t put her finger on it. Of course it just might be the fact that the attraction between Carl and Danielle was evident to anyone with eyes. Sarah wondered if she was jealous for her best friend who had died over a year ago. The friend and woman Carl had loved was killed on a mission not unlike the one they were currently undertaking. Now, here, the ex-wife of Colonel Henri Farbeaux, an enemy anyone in the Group would give five years’ pay to bag, just conveniently showed up with her offer of help? Sarah wasn’t buying what this interloper was selling, even though her director and even Jack seemed to be.

  “I understand you’ll be heading your own science team,” Danielle said.

  Sarah nodded, leaning back so she could see around Carl. “Yes, a two-man geology team, but we’ll be a part of Virginia’s overall sciences attachment.”

  Danielle was about to comment when the steel hatch opened.

  “The major says we’re needed in the ward room. Professor Ellenshaw wants to speak to the Group,” Mendenhall said as he popped his head out of the hatch. His forehead was still half-covered by a bandage from the stone chips that struck him in the gunfight two days before.

  Carl was about to say something, but Sarah held her hand up and stopped him. “We already heard about your little nickname for Ellenshaw’s Crypto Department, so don’t say it,” she said as she anticipated his small joke.

  “What, that we’re about to be briefed by the ‘Creepy-zoologist’?”

  Sarah just rolled her eyes.

  Professor Charles Hindershot Ellenshaw III gave a briefing on the skeletal hand. But the facts just weren’t there to support any conclusions as to the animal’s origins or design. He had a lot of speculation and had prepared well for any contingency, but still had no real information to give other than the fact he would consider it a crime to harm such a species if it truly did exist. Jack cut him short as he started to preach about animal rights and how special and unique this creature would have to be to be alive at all in the modern world.

  Sarah’s briefing was more to the point and actually had a purpose. Gold, if any, would not be touched. The mine, if it existed, would be placed off limits because of the fact that the president had ordered it so. The geology team would follow its orders to the letter. With the assistance of Major Collins and his security team, if the mine did contain any gold deposits as the legend said, it would be treated as property of Brazil.

  “Major,” Mendenhall said as he entered the ward room. “The Iwo’s helicopters are starting to line up and almost ready to start taking on Teacher.”

  The helicopters would airlift the sections of the boat to the small village of Rio Feliz, on the Amazon a hundred miles west of the Peruvian border. That was where the Event Group would start its expedition, saving valuable time by flying through a gap in the Andes and going straight to the source, the confluence of the Rio Negro (the Black Tributary) that fed off the main Amazon River. The route was exactly as Captain Padilla had laid down on the map and also what he had supposedly described in the diary.

  The president had supplemented information to both the Peruvian and Brazilian governments on the pretext that they were experimenting with new mapping procedures and software, and that the two governments would be the beneficiary of those experimental new devices and the more accurate underwater maps—a pretext that the team would be doing as routine procedure in any case.

  It was an amazing sight to see the Seahawk helicopters, the navy’s version of the Blackhawk, lined up in the air off the stern of the John C. Stennis. One by one they would approach and hover as Jenks supervised the hookup of the sections of Teacher. Eleven Seahawks in all would ferry the sections to the village where the parts would become a whole, and everyone prayed the thing would float. The discovery team was on deck as the last section, the bow, covered in form-fitting plastic, was lifted into the air. Then the last hovering craft came in and, in amazement, they watched as the U.S. Marine Corp’s MV-22 Osprey, the stubby-winged, tilt-rotor assault craft, slowly landed on the Stennis’s flight deck, its two massive propellers making a humming sound from their perch atop the tip of the short wings. Before they realized it, a second Osprey landed in back of the first.

  “I hate these things,” Carl yelled into Danielle’s ear.

  “Why, because it’s a radical design?” she asked, holding her bush hat in place through the wind the Ospreys created.

  “No, it’s because a marine pilot is driving that radical design!”

  As they loaded their bags and personal items, Jack turned and looked at the flying bridge. There, the captain of the Stennis waved and saluted. Jack returned the gesture. The Stennis would stand off while the mission was in progress, in case they ran into trouble.

  And so the third expedition was on its way to Hernando Padilla’s valley, where a beautiful lagoon was ready to spill her secrets. What this group didn’t know was the fact that another faction was already closing in on the legendary dark water.

  12

  THE AMAZON RIVER, 45 KILOMETERS EAST OF THE BLACK WATER TRIBUTARY

  The helicopter had rendezvoused with Mendez, Farbeaux, and the crew of the charter boat Rio Madonna. Her captain had maneuvered the large tencabin river tug with precision, to receive the chopper’s passengers. The first had been Captain Juan Rosolo, a man that Henri Farbeaux despised as an ambush killer of the lowest order, and the men that followed him onto the deck were probably no better. This development was most unsettling, but it was also one that Farbeaux had made allowances for.

  Rosolo reported immediately to Mendez and the two had conversed in loud tones, enough so that Farbeaux knew Rosolo had failed his master in some capacity or other. Mendez, with all the delicateness of a wrecking ball, had spewed forth a list of his favorite profanities. Farbeaux was content to stay at the bow of the boat and keep out of it. He still heard the approach of Rosolo as the captain came forward after his browbeating by Mendez.

  “What is it, watchdog?” Farbeaux said without turning to face the man.

  “Do not call me that name, señor. My employer would like to see you at the stern,” Rosolo said with a sneer.

  Farbeaux watched the deep waters of the flowing Amazon for a moment longer before he turned and brushed past Rosolo.

  The river pilot, Captain Ernesto Santos, gave a quick two-fingered salute to the Frenchman as he walked past the bridge. This captain seemed to know his business. His reputation and self-proclamation of knowing every inch of the Amazon were known to all onboard. He said he and his family had plied the river for generations.

  But when their destination was finally revealed to him after they had set off, the scraggly bearded captain had grown quiet and sullen. He had protested in vain that the Rio Negro had no such inlet at that point of the river, that the only way in was several hundred kilometers to the east, and even that was only navigatable during the wet season. The argument didn’t last long when he was presented with his overly large charter fee in cash.

  Farbeaux maneuvered to the small fantail, where Mendez was waiting. Rosolo came up from behind and lightly brushed by him, obviously returning the gesture for Henri’s brushing him a moment before. Farbeaux ignored Rosolo and sat at the small table where Mendez was examining some photographs.

  “Ah, Henri, our friend here has brought with him from the States some rather disturbing news. As you know, we had Professor Zachary’s office monitored. And we had some fish wander into our net.” He slid a picture of Danielle toward Farbeaux. The
Frenchman merely glanced at the picture, and then he looked at Mendez, who slid another eight-by-ten glossy toward him. “She was accompanied by this man,” he said, watching him for a reaction. He wasn’t disappointed; Farbeaux reached immediately for the second photo.

  “The man in the tunnels,” he said under his breath.

  “Excuse me?” Mendez said, leaning forward.

  Farbeaux stared at the picture for a moment longer and then let it fall to the table. “Last year I ran into this gentleman in an unusual situation in the American desert; I believe his name is Everett.”

  “Lieutenant Commander Carl Everett, of the U.S. Navy, to be more precise,” Rosolo insisted. “I was unable to uncover his current duties or station, but it is a matter of closed naval records that he was once a SEAL, and a highly decorated one,” he said, watching the tall Frenchman closely.

  “I believe he is on detached service from the military. He works for what is best described as a think tank. The military is where the organization gets all of its security people, and they only surround themselves with the best.” He turned his eyes toward Rosolo. “And you, watchdog, if you truly knew anything about the special operations units of the American navy, you would know that a man is never a former SEAL, he is a SEAL.”

  “Regardless of semantics, this is upsetting at the very least, is it not, Henri?” Mendez asked as he brought out more pictures and shoved them toward Farbeaux.

  “These were taken at a national park in Montana. Do you recognize any of these people?” Rosolo probed.

  Farbeaux looked the four photos over. They were grainy and taken from a distance with a telephoto lens through the glass windows of a vehicle.

  “I have never seen these two before,” he said. His eyes lingered on the close-up of Mendenhall. “But this one here,” he slid a photo of the black sergeant back toward Mendez, “may work with the SEAL, Everett.”

  “Then the puzzle fits together. Our friend Señor Rosolo overheard a conversation Everett had with a second party on a secured and scrambled phone, that these people would be in Montana searching for the map of Padilla. To make a long story short, Rosolo attempted to stop them from recovering something that would lead them here and, I am sorry to say, he failed miserably, only managing to kill two federal park employees. And he was still unable to recover or destroy the map.” Mendez’s eyes looked directly at his assassin.

  “They found the map?”

  “We must assume they have, and they will undoubtedly act upon it,” Mendez said, slapping his hand on the tabletop angrily.

  “The organization in question is rather tenacious when it comes to getting at the heart of any matter. I have learned through experience that their resources are astounding and their pockets very deep, even deeper than yours.”

  “Well, they seem to be everything you admire about them. I came very close to ordering a hit on your ex-wife and their big man in New Orleans. But what sense would there be in closing the gate after your dog has already run away?”

  Farbeaux closed his eyes and forced himself to relax. He slowly pulled out a chair from the table and sat down.

  “I will state this very clearly to both of you. No one is to ever lay a hand on Danielle. Do I make myself clearly understood?” His blue eyes never flinched. His gaze froze Rosolo, after the killer had quickly rose from his seat to stare at Farbeaux after his not-so-veiled threat to his boss.

  “Is that so?” Mendez asked.

  Farbeaux leaned back in his chair. “It is I who will end her life, not you, and most certainly not him,” he said, nodding toward Rosolo.

  “Let us hope it is after this excursion, so you may be allowed to take your time with this troublesome woman, which is a husband’s right, yes?” Mendez said, trying to break the tension he had created.

  “If I know these people, they may already be on their way here. Of course, your security chief here would know that, if he would have stayed and done the job you pay him for, instead of showing up here in the one place on this planet where he is clearly not needed.”

  “It will take those people weeks to gather the means to follow us here. They will not be coming anytime soon!” Rosolo argued. “And I go where I am told to go, and I was told to come here.”

  Farbeaux lightly shook his head. Then he felt the gentle vibration under his feet first, as it traveled all the way up to his arms long before the sound reached his ears. He saw the concerned looks on the faces of the two Colombians. It would have been comical if he himself didn’t have so much riding on the line.

  “You’d better tell the captain to throttle this boat into a faster speed and get this expedition to our destination, because we are about to have company. A lot of company,” Farbeaux said, standing. “And if I were you,” he added, looking at Mendez, “I would fire this fool for incompetence, because the people he pronounced so proudly weren’t coming anytime soon have just arrived.” The Frenchman looked skyward and then easily backed under the bridge decking and out of sight.

  Captain Santos, to his credit (or the instincts needed by a smuggler and gunrunner), quickly maneuvered the large boat under the overhanging canopy and expertly sliced the bow into the mud, effectively bringing the boat to a harsh stop and hiding her at the same time from any eyes that could spy them from above.

  The quiet river was rocked by the sound of helicopters as they flew high overhead. Through the thick trees that crowded the riverbank, Farbeaux could see cargo of some kind hanging from cables attached to the gray-colored choppers. As he watched, he could see the words united states marine corps stenciled in darker gray paint on their rotor booms. The eleven helicopters were followed by two strange-looking craft that screeched over the flowing Amazon. The MV-22 Ospreys shook the jungle as they roared past with their famed tilt rotors in the three-quarter position that supplied them with speed greater than that of any helicopter in the world. The Frenchman noticed the fact that they were traveling low to the ground, possibly meaning they had to stay below radar. Indicating the intruders might not have official clearance to be in Brazil.

  But nonetheless, the Event Group was indeed here, and Henri Farbeaux helplessly watched their arrival from the shadows.

  EVENT CENTER, NELLIS AFB, NEVADA

  Niles and Alice had just received notice of the Group’s arrival near the Black River Tributary. The director was talking with the president while Alice listened and took notes. Niles’s other assistants were busy in the communications center, monitoring radio traffic for as long as they could before the expedition went in to radio-dark territory. Director Compton was in the process, along with Pete Golding and the computer center and Jet Propulsion Lab in Pasadena, California, to retask Boris and Natasha, and once that was done the satellite would have been moved farther south by a thousand miles to a place directly over the lagoon and valley. After it had been found, they not only hoped for satellite communication with the Amazon team, but also they thought it possible to get a video feed from Jack.

  “Niles,” the president said, “the intelligence chiefs of the three branches are gathering what information they can find. But no one has a clue as to why Kennedy and his men would have been on that boat. The consensus is that they were working outside the command of the navy and air force, possibly freelance. I made inquiries with the FBI. They say they have verified there was gunfire at the cemetery and that there was damage sustained to some of the monuments, but there were no bodies.”

  “With your permission, sir, I would like to start working on this and the Kennedy connection myself, if you concur, of course.”

  “Granted. Someone somewhere thinks they can do as they please around here. Find out who it is. Now, tell me about the progress of the rescue team.”

  “We now have competent people in the field and moving upriver, Mr. President. I believe we will know more this time tomorrow. Major Collins knows what the priorities are in this situation. I briefed him about your daughter.” Niles paused. “Jack will get those kids home. And maybe it wil
l work out for the best that her expedition was tagged by those SEALs, for whatever reason they were there. I can’t see them allowing harm to come to innocents.”

  “Agreed,” the president said. “You keep me informed on what’s happening out there when you can.” He hesitated. “Something far more precious than gold or prehistoric animals is at stake for me here.” He cleared his throat. “I have the coordinates where Proteus will be passing by the site. Damn, they have to be inside Brazilian airspace for a long time. I hope they’re not tracked as something other than a commercial airline.”

  “That’s a chance we have to take. Proteus is Jack’s only backup in case the school bully shows up.”

  “I just don’t think we can protect her over the target area.”

  “If they run into trouble, Proteus has her fighter escort. They may be able to drive any hostiles off her until she gets out of Brazilian airspace.”

  The president did not respond for a moment. Then he told Niles, “If I allow a fighter escort inside Brazilian airspace right now, and if they either intentionally or accidentally fire on any attacker, it would be construed as an act of war. The president of Brazil is already giving me one hell of a hard time through the secretary of state.”

  Niles deflated. Now Proteus was going to be flying into hostile airspace without her needed fighter protection. The mission backup was nothing of the sort. The odds of it working were astronomical, and the odds that they could even get over the right area of jungle even greater.

  “We’ll talk soon, Niles. Let me know as soon as you hear anything from Major Collins, please.”

  Niles faced Alice. “Jack has to find Helen and those kids alive.”

  “You know, Niles?” She looked him straight in the eyes. “I think you should unburden yourself and tell me what has you and the president so frightened.”

  “How did the senator ever keep anything from you?”