Rogue Op II

by Roger Weston

  On the reinforced rock walls of his office, Lazar had installed a dozen masterpieces. These pieces of art featured numerous paintings of great battles at sea and on land. They featured scenes from the Battle of Marathon, the Battle of Hydaspes, the Battle of Austerlitz, the Battle of Cannae, and several others. It was truly a beautiful thing to behold, and at the moment, that’s what the general was doing. He was standing next to a large, hand-carved wood table that stood in the center of his office. He slowly turned, taking in the many battle scenes, inhaling them into his immense mental faculties. These battles excited his military genius because he had encyclopedic knowledge of military history. Of far greater importance, he had the brilliance to assimilate such knowledge into practical plans and strategies that always confounded mediocre minds.

  As he beheld spectacular paintings of the great sea battles—Trafalgar, 1805; Navarino Bay, 1827; Midway, 1942, and others—his tactical mind flew back through his immense knowledge bank, providing deep context, and making new connections. Such mental activities were necessary to keep his brain sharp and his knowledge always refreshed to serve him at a moment’s notice.

  And he had ample reasons why he had to be sharp. His plans were complicated. He would never have attempted them if not for absolute confidence in his intellect, strategic prowess, and charisma. He had engineered a set of plans that belonged in a military museum. Really, they belonged in the Hermitage. They belonged there because his plans exemplified the height of the art of war. In fact, his plans took the art to a new level because the world had never seen an attack like the one that was coming. The entire world was about to be confounded by the integrated genius of one man—if he could be called a man. He didn’t think so.

  Caesar had been worshipped as a god. Alexander the Great demanded to be venerated like a god. The Japanese Shinto religion elevated their emperor to the status of a god, and the Inca rulers called themselves "apu", which means "divinity". General Lazar had considered all such references. He was confident that he was no less than any of these god-men; indeed, he was greater.

  CHAPTER 12

  Chuck picked up his pace as he slogged along the murky jungle path. The air echoed with bird song, and the cries of frightened animals. A large snake swung down from a tree branch, and lunged at Chuck. He startled for a moment then lifted his machete and with one swipe decapitated the slithering creature.

  The trail continued its track along the river’s edge at the base of the towering cliff, but now a thousand vines hung down from the spiraling rock-face, blocking Chuck’s way. As he worked his way through the tangled foliage with the aid of his machete, he did his best to avoid any poisonous animals or flowers that might be hidden within the snarled mass.

  Up ahead, a make-shift bridge crossed over a shallow stream. As Chuck stepped on the decomposing wood expanse it collapsed under his weight. He quickly jumped to the other side of the tributary and continued along the slick trail that led him to another overgrown stone wall. After that, the trail steepened. When he heard rocks tumble down the slope below him, he looked back. Nothing there.

  Chuck started up the ascending trail once again. As he climbed the rainforest slope he noticed hand-carved sculptures of faces whittled onto the man-made fortifications that lined the trail. The peculiar faces protruded from the leaves among the vines. Chuck felt as if he was being watched by a wizened battalion of ancient warriors.

  Carefully, he continued to climb the fog-shrouded mountain. It got steep and steeper. Twice, he had to resort to rock climbing. A couple of times, when the monolith wasn’t cloaked in clouds, he got a glimpse of the foliage covered peak of the mountain top.

  At one point, when the mountain mist thinned out before his eyes, he noticed a stretch of precipice where a row of what looked like open-air windows had been chiseled deep into the cliff-side. These openings were to the north of his location and were perched about 1,600 feet above the canyon floor. The windows reminded Chuck of the cliff-side dwellings of the Anasazi Indians of New Mexico. Chuck walked a little further up the slope then stopped. He took off his backpack, but left his M16 strapped over his shoulder. He got out his water bottle and took a long swig as he scanned his surroundings. He glanced up at the openings that were chiseled into the cliff-side.

  Birds shaking the leaves overhead startled Chuck. Their shrill screams warned him of approaching danger. He wondered if it was Lazar’s Black Cobra guerilla fighters who had alarmed the birds. If so, he was ready for them. He would do whatever it took to stop Lazar.

  CHAPTER 13

  On thick stubby legs, General Lazar paced in front of the masterpieces on the wall of his mountain top office. He walked in a clockwise quarter circle. He stopped in front of a dark, dramatic painting called “Pursuit of the Bismarck” and stood there for several minutes basking in its glory. Light illuminated the dim scene.

  Although there was no standard electricity to be had anywhere near Viracocha, his office had power, as did most of the buildings. This was made possible because the general was closely connected to a former U.S. president as well as three high-level traders inside a top-secret American intelligence organization called EREBUS, formally known as RUMAN. Because of these relationships, particularly the moles in EREBUS, General Lazar was able to secure power from a top-secret space-based solar power program. Used by EREBUS for military purposes, satellites in a geosynchronous orbit, over 35,000 miles above the Earth's surface, collected solar power and sent microwave beams down to power collection farms on earth. Lazar’s moles secretly arranged for special transmissions of the microwave beams down to a collection farm of rectennas that General Lazar had built near Viracocha —and elsewhere. The whole program was run out of a high-security mine complex in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest—a complex that Chuck Brandt had largely destroyed a few years ago, but that had been rebuilt.

  General Lazar’s power collection farm was the size of a soccer field, and he had all the free power he could use thanks to American taxpayers. This power was converted and wired into the buildings. His stone office structure, built hundreds of years ago, was now lit up by an antique bronze and crystal Italian chandelier. The light beautifully illuminated the large room and his masterpieces.

  The general continued to pace in a clockwise quarter circle. Then he walked back to the table in the center of the room and picked up his sat phone. “Javiar.”

  “Yes, General. I’m here.”

  “Are the statues ready?”

  “They arrived last night.”

  “Good. I’m expecting important guests soon. Be sure the statues are placed properly. I want one statue on each side of the Octagon. Got that?”

  “Yes, sir. I will make sure that it is done correctly.”

  “I will be coming for an inspection soon. Be ready.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Lazar set down the sat phone. As soon as he did it rang loudly. He flinched. Who would be calling him here at the lost city? Very few people knew this place existed and even less knew he was here. He hadn’t even told his wife. He picked up the handset.

  “Yes.”

  “General. This is Admiral Leguia with the MGP. I have importante news for you. There has been an incident on El Fronten Island.”

  “Go on.”

  “I’m afraid your men won’t be coming home.”

  “What happened? Where are they?”

  “Dead, sir. It appears that they have been ambushed. It’s been reported that a lone man headed out to sea shortly after your men. That man hasn’t been seen since.”

  “Thank you, Admiral. I will get to the bottom of this. No need to worry. I have it under control.” Lazar set the receiver down. His hand was shaking. Rage flowed through his brain. His neck muscles bulged, and his nose snarled. Who would have ambushed his men? Was it one of the local drug lords who wanted in on the action? No! It couldn’t be. None of them were stupid enough to interfere with his plans. It was someone else, someone insane enough to come after him….and there was
only one person that could be. Brandt. Chuck Brandt.

  That sheep dog, that ex-assassin, that relentless rogue-op had tracked him down just like he said he would. Lazar pondered that in disbelief. His anger rose to a boiling point, but he controlled his composure as was characteristic of the greatest generals in the teeth of adversity.

  Twice now Chuck Brandt had come against him, and twice General Lazar had defeated him, which was no small accomplishment. Now Brandt was back, and the timing could not be worse. The wheels that he had put in motion were well beyond the point of no return. They could not be stopped. Important diplomats and dignitaries from around the world would soon meet at his recently built retreat center that was adjacent to Viracocha. They would come to enjoy a weekend of entertainment and hospitality, but most importantly they would come for high level talks on the finer points of his master plan.

  General Lazar scanned the battle paintings on his rounded walls. The glory of war, he thought, was immense, but it was less than the glory he was about to bask in. His plan would shock the world. The entire geopolitical landscape was about to be turned upside down. The idea that an ingenious military tactician like himself could be foiled by a man like Brandt was intolerable. Not only had Brandt now shamed him in front of the Peruvian Navy, but he had taunted him, hectored him, and distracted him from his plan. Now, he would pay for his foolish boldness, for no man alive had the capacity and the brilliance to finish what he had started.

  The fact that Brandt was still alive and now on his tail showed that he was a worthy adversary, but he was nowhere near the equal of Lazar. Brandt would soon learn that. Very soon. Lazar would find him and put an end to his madness.

  The general knew that there would always be lesser players who strove to take down great men. These inferiors always thought they could rise to the top if they took down the big man. Lazar was certain that was what Brandt was after, but as he would learn shortly, it would be a waste of his time. No one could take down General Ivan Lazar.

  Even his own country had failed to destroy him.

  Lazar snatched his walkie-talkie from the pocket of his green fatigues.

  “Muerte, this is Lazar. Come in.”

  “Yes, General. I’m here. Over.”

  “Gear up. I want patrols on the mountains and in the tunnels. We are on heightened security alert. Be on the look-out for Brandt.”

  “Brandt?”

  “That’s right. You heard me. There’s been a mishap on El Fronton. I’m afraid your brothers are no longer with us. There’s only one guy who’d do such a thing.”

  “My brothers?”

  “Someone wiped out the whole operation. They’re all dead.”

  “Nooooo!” He screamed as he tore at his bald head with his free hand. “I’m going to kill him. He’s going to experience the slowest death ever experienced by man. He’s going to regret that he was ever born.”

  “You can do whatever you want once we catch him. In the meantime, we need to be prepared. I doubt he could find us here, but we need to be ready for anything.”

  CHAPTER 14

  As the old Inca trail gained altitude, Chuck saw fresh human tracks, so he slowed down. He held his M16 at the ready and stopped frequently to study the forest, listening to his instinct, which often told a truer tale than his eyes and ears. To his right a two hundred-foot waterfall spilled over a precipice, and the water boiled over the rocks in the gorge below. A cloud of cool water vapor rose and the watery haze soaked the air amidst the trees.

  As he neared the top of the mountain he hid in the bushes and scanned his surroundings. Through a break in the fog, he saw a cross carved into the granite cliff of the mountain top. It reminded him of something he’d read in an old dusty leather-bound book when he was at the monastery in Spain. In the old tome, he’d learned about how in the fourth century, Constantine the Great saw a cross in the sky bearing the inscription, “By this symbol you will conquer.” Constantine’s whole army witnessed the mysterious apparition and attributed their success to this miracle in the sky.

  Chuck was hoping for the same kind of miracle in what he was about to do. As he continued to scan his surroundings, he noticed that the peak of the mountain was actually a plateau with a wall built on top of it. At first sight, Chuck thought the peak was a natural formation, but on second look, the patterns on the rock wall became clear. The stone barrier had been built with huge slabs of stone. Each rock looked like it weighed a couple hundred pounds. Chuck knew that the Incas were well known for invading and enslaving the original builders of the Peruvian citadels, the Chachapoyas. He marveled at the incredible feat of ingenuity and engineering that it took for the Chachapoyas to construct such a place.

  He remembered that Maria had once told him that her dad was fascinated with the Incas. As a matter of fact, the artifacts that she’d tried to sell back in Spain were Incan treasures that her father had collected. She had told him that her dad greatly admired the Incas, in part because of their defeat of the Chachapoyas.

  Thinking of Maria, Chuck was relieved that she had decided to stay in America with Jeff. At first, she had insisted on going to Peru with Chuck, but Jeff who was still grieving the loss of Karla, offered to train Maria on his ranch in Texas on the finer points of hand-to-hand combat and gun use. After what she’d been through on the Amazon River, Maria was determined to learn how to defend herself. Chuck was happy that it seemed to give Jeff a new purpose in life and take his mind off the unfortunate loss of Karla. Chuck felt a deep pit in his stomach.

  He returned his thoughts to the native Chachapoyas and how they must have enjoyed this peaceful mountain location until the Incas conquered, killed, or enslaved them. How ironic it was, Chuck thought, that General Lazar of all people should have discovered and now taken over this lost city—a man who also enjoyed conquering, killing and enslaving people. Lazar, however, was about to get his own unhappy surprise and Chuck was going to make sure of that.

  Over the next two hours, Chuck crawled through the undergrowth, marking out a trail, taking note of every landmark, and mapping numerous tripwires along the route. The climb continued at a slow pace as Chuck read the ground and the bushes around him. He slowly ducked under some logs that reached across the trail, but froze when he saw a lone strand of a spider web. He quickly realized that it was something else. It was a piece of long clear thread, very hard to see. Fishing line.

  Chuck followed the nylon line to where it was attached. It was connected to a claymore mine that was hidden within the tangled branches. Chuck shook his head. Lazar wasn’t going to make this easy for him. He backtracked and found another way around the fallen trees.

  As he continued up the slope, Chuck could smell the danger in the steamy rainforest. His eyes took in details as small as individual leaf vines and flower stems. Every stick was scrutinized. Ground disturbances were studied as if they were marked by signs that said buried explosives. He spotted and bypassed a second tripwire on the trail, then he left the trail completely.

  He rewired several enemy traps, rigging his extra Sat Phone as a detonator. These traps would be useful for an alternate exit route. At the very least they would frustrate any pursuers. At the third booby trap, he rigged up an explosive next to a half-fallen tree that was caught up in the branches of another. While backtracking, Chuck heard something, so he sunk down in the bushes.

  The sound of footsteps approached, and it was the sound of several men, probably five or six. They stopped no more than twenty feet away from his location and lit up cigarettes. Chuck watched through the mesh of undergrowth. The men were all armed with AK-47s. They talked in Spanish in soft tones, all of them keeping a close watch on the land around them. A dozen times one or another of them looked straight at the underbrush where he was hiding. Then one of them squinted and started over for a closer look. Chuck grimaced, but otherwise didn’t dare move a finger. Then the group’s leader flicked his cigarette and ordered his team to resume their patrol. The straggler fell in line with the others.<
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  After they were gone, Chuck continued his approach to the top of the mountain. The rock walls that surrounded the mountain top was well camouflaged by dirt, roots, foliage, and trees. He was extra careful as he approached the perimeter of the lost city because it was ringed with so many trip wires and claymore mines that he figured a ferret would have a hard time slinking through without setting them off. Chuck was surprised he’d survived this long.

  ***

  Lazar headed to the round building adjacent to his office. This building served as his security headquarters. Dozens of monitors were mounted along the perimeter of the ancient stronghold. From this location, Lazar had eyes on almost every nook of the catacombs beneath the lost city. He paced in front of the screens. The walkways were empty. Lazar looked over at the AK-47’s that were hung along one wall. He grabbed one and headed outside into the quad. He found the stairway that descended into the underworld. The flight of well-worn stone steps took him thirty-feet into the earth. He found himself in a section of the underground city that had been constructed after the Incas had conquered the Chachapoyas. This was always clear to him because the sections built after the Incas were in power were always marked by finer construction standards. They expertly crafted reinforced tunnel walls with strikingly detailed arched portals. After the Chachapoyas were enslaved by the Incas they were forced to continue building the city to the new higher standards of the Incas. However, some of the tunnels of the massive underground labyrinth still had the rougher Chachapoya construction. Once his current operation was completed Lazar planned to elevate all areas of the tunnel system to the superior Inca construction.

  As Lazar walked down the tunnel, the sounds of his footsteps on the stone floor echoed off the walls. Soon he entered the older Chachaphoya area under the heart of the city. The tunnels were dim. Track lights were spaced out thirty and fifty meters, leaving dark patches in between. These lights, along with all the video cameras and monitors had recently been installed by his Black Cobra construction crew.