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  The news of Patricia’s kidnapping had been a staggering blow. For three hours he tossed and turned in the cabin obsessing over her loss. Then slowly, his mind began to return to the analytical machine he was so well known for. Beginning with why it might have been done he began to sift through possibilities. Soon he began to focus on one avenue which seemed to make sense. Then he began to ponder what could be done about it. After another two hours he grew frustrated. There were too many unanswered questions.

  Hammond reached over and turned on the light. The cabin was all new and somewhat sterile. Although the furnishings were similar to other ships, it was unfamiliar. Hammond needed something else. He rose from the bed and put his white uniform back on. He went to the head and splashed water on his face. Checking the mirror, he noticed the age lines which had grown deeper in the past few years. The current situation wouldn’t help but it really didn’t matter. He was growing older and life was taking its toll. He grinned at the thought.

  Grabbing his cap, Hammond opened the door to the cabin nearly scaring the posted sentry to death.

  “Can I help you, sir?” the petty officer asked.

  Hammond smiled at the young woman. “No, I just can’t sleep. I thought I’d go over to my ship and just walk around a little,” he said.

  “Sir, I was ordered not to let you go anywhere without escort,” the petty officer said. “And there are some Secret Service guys outside who should be back in a minute.”

  Hammond placed a hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “That’s okay, I could use the company. Call down to the others and let them know we are going to the Iowa for a few minutes. We’ll come back in a while.”

  “Aye, aye sir,” she said as she grabbed the radio and let people know what was going on. The two walked down the passageway and aft through the King’s Mountain’s messdecks exiting on the starboard side then going forward to the brow. They were met by a member of the detail who followed at a respectful distance since the petty officer was with Hammond. He was invited to join them on their trek. Informing the quarterdeck watch, they then left the ship and stepped aboard Iowa.

  The evening air felt cool and refreshing. Stepping aboard the familiar wooden decks, Hammond began feeling more at ease. This was his ship, the ship he and his crew had taken into harm’s way. She and the crew had performed what many said were miracles in a modern age. But there was more than that. In many ways this ship was a living, breathing thing. You could feel it when you came aboard. Hammond was feeling it again now.

  Entering the ship forward on the port side, they made their way through the forward officer’s quarters and back into the wardroom. All the way, Hammond related stories of his time on the ship, her history and the interesting times they had shared. For some unexplained reason he made his way to the great ship’s bridge. He pointed out to his two escorts the thick armored citadel and all the things he had grown accustomed to on the old ship.

  Hammond finally came to his chair on the starboard side of the bridge. There was a small line across with a sign which said “do not sit.” Hammond chuckled as he pulled the line off his seat. “That doesn’t pertain to the Commanding Officer,” he said with a grin.

  The faux leather covered seat felt the same as it did when he left it. It seemed to envelope him; and his body, sensing the familiar, responded by immediately relaxing. Hammond continued to relate stories to his escorts, but as he talked, the weariness seemed to overcome him. Slowly, as he relaxed, his eyes grew heavy. Within a few minutes he fell asleep almost in mid-sentence.

  The secret service agent grinned and looked at the petty officer. “Let’s not bother him. If you take this entrance, I’ll move to the other side and take that one. We’re pretty secure up here,” he said.

  The petty officer nodded and moved back to the door just fifteen feet behind the chair. Stepping out onto the bridge wing she began gazing out around the ship and wondering about the man she was guarding. He was unlike most senior officers she had known. Everyone knew his reputation, but he was much friendlier than she had expected. Earlier that evening she had seen him mingling with his crew. They all acted more like friends than the typical officer – enlisted relationship she knew. Maybe that was what made him different. Placing her hands on the wooden railing, she glanced down along the pier. Everything was quiet and there was no movement except for a couple of birds roosting in a grassy area beside one of the buildings. Her eyes made their way along the ship and up to the 16-inch gun director far above them. Aside from a carrier, this was the biggest ship she had ever been on. She wondered what it would be like when the ship was underway. Talking to some of the old crew, she could tell they loved their ship. Somehow she too felt good about being aboard. Running her hand along the steel bulkhead, the petty officer got a sense of welcome. She glanced back at her charge, now gently snoring in the seat. She smiled at herself. They fit together, she thought. Returning her thoughts to her duties she almost dared anyone to disturb either the ship or the man during her watch.

  The White House

  President O’Bannon, with his Secret Service escort, made their way to the Situation Room of the White House for the morning briefing. It was still dark outside, yet the room was filled with cabinet members and staffers who had been up all night gathering information and making preparations to address the current crisis. The story broke from the CNN news affiliate in Bogota, Colombia, at 3 am. An initial statement had been formed two hours before and issued through the White House Press Office after the news broke. There would be a press conference at 8 am. The President hoped there would be better news.

  “Please keep your seats,” said O’Bannon as he entered the room. He quickly made his way to the center of the table and sat down. “Okay, let’s forgo the usual brief. If there’s something needing my personal attention, you can get it to me later. Right now I need to hear everything we know about this event in Colombia. What have we got since last night?”

  “I’ll start,” said the Jeff Dunning of the CIA. He stayed in his seat as he briefed. “We were able to work with the Colombian FBI equivalent. Mr. Brennan gave our people a good debrief on what went on and when. It appears all the mayors received a written invitation for this dinner, supposedly from their foreign minister, where he was supposed to give a farewell. We have the copy of the invitation and the envelope it came in. Obviously it is a forgery and the ministry told us it could not have issued the invitation because the Minister is out of the country. They also pointed out that the invitation didn’t even have the appropriate seal on it. We sent everything off for fingerprinting, but only Mr. Brennan’s prints are on it. When the government was notified they closed the borders and put everyone on the lookout for a white panel truck with vegetables painted on the side. They also said it had a loud engine. A border guard recalled such a vehicle going from just outside Cucuta into Venezuela. They remembered it because it had a broken muffler and the truck seemed to be simply waved on when it crossed into the country instead of the usual check. That may be a clue in the case. According to everyone on the Colombian side, the Venezuelan government always stops and inspects trucks crossing between the two countries. Why they let this one through is anyone’s guess, but it’s not normal. The Colombians also interviewed the restaurant staff when they finally regained consciousness. The people who arranged for the dinner had indicated to them that they were with the government and had issued specific instructions on what would be prepared and how everything should go. A specific chef had been brought in for the meal and everyone had been paid in cash. After everyone had been served, armed men entered the back and took over. Some of the staff members were hit over the head while others were drugged. The rest we were able to get from Mr. Brennan,” he said.

  “Right now, Colombia is turning over every rock to find these people, but they believe, as we do, they were in that truck headed into Venezuela. I contacted our people there. We have a few capabilities I can brief you on later, but there have been no indications of anyt
hing that would give us a warning. There is one guerilla group operating in the area. It’s the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia also known by their acronym, FARC. They do have a long history of kidnapping, murder, drugs and terrorist operations. Most of the time it’s against the government in Colombia, but it has spread to other countries in South America. More recently, the FARC has renounced its terrorist operations in deference to more political means, but sometimes old lessons die hard. This might be one of their operations, but as of now there’s no evidence that they are behind this,” Dunning said.

  “I talked to the Colombian Minister of State,” said Jeff Branson, the Secretary of State. “He brought up both the FARC and the ELN or National Liberation Army of Colombia. Both these organizations have been negotiating with their government and have curtailed their terrorist activities. He said for the first time in a long time, Colombia was having a period of internal peace and prosperity. He said he doubted either of the organizations would want to break that peace.”

  “I agree,” said Dunning. “It wouldn’t make much sense and there have been no activities which would suggest otherwise. I say that, keeping in mind the Venezuelans have harbored both of those organizations in the past. This means there might be some faction of either organization running an operation on their own. Again, this would be pure speculation. There are no facts to back any of this up.”

  “One thing we have learned recently is that the FARC, in particular, has been working closely with some businesses to expand and even to export goods, especially to the United States,” said Bill Cochrane, Secretary of Commerce. “We’ve been watching this for about a year and it all appears to be legitimate. This would go along with why it would not be logical for the FARC to be behind any of this.”

  The President sat back in his seat and lifted his hands in resignation. “So from all I hear we’re still pretty much in the dark on who did this. Anything we come up with would be pure guesswork,” he said.

  The men around the table nodded their heads. “It’s just too early, Mr. President,” said Dunning with almost a sigh. “We’re putting everything we have on the streets. By this time tomorrow we might have a lot more, or nothing,” he said. “Except for the border incident, which can be explained away, that’s all we have so far, sir.”

  The President looked around the table. “Okay, let’s go around the table and let me know what each of you has.”

  The meeting lasted another hour. All the intelligence services had a piece of information. Of course none wanted it to look like they were behind any of the others in their efforts. Basically, it was just like Dunning had outlined in the first place. It was very frustrating.

  The President closed his eyes and shook his head. “Never seems to fail. Anytime I feel like things are going well, somebody throws a wrench into the works,” he said. He sat forward again. “Okay, I know our ambassador and his team in Colombia, tell me about our ambassador in Venezuela.”

  “Craig Jonas was appointed by your predecessor. He’s done a pretty good job so far. He negotiated a couple of trade deals and was able to get that kid out of jail down there two years ago. I understand he has made progress getting to Parente,” said Branson. “I understand he keeps a tight rein on his staff and even our intelligence people, but that’s just his management style. He says he just wants to make sure he knows about anything that goes on through the embassy.”

  Dunning was grimacing. “A couple of times we have had to let him know that he cannot interfere with our operations. He makes our resident a little nervous with all his questions.”

  “I understand what he’s trying to do,” said Branson. “When you’re dealing with President Parente, it’s best to have a lot of information in your pocket so that you can fend off questions. Parente has a habit of trying to crawl all over ambassadors to get his way. Jonas knows when to fold and when to bluff. I phoned him personally two hours ago and he is going to do everything he can to help out.”

  The President nodded. “I want every asset moving on this. We have to find out where these people are and who has them. Right now we are not sure if they went into Venezuela or not, so let’s be looking in all the neighboring countries. Is there a chance they were taken out by plane or ship?”

  “It’s possible,” Dunning said. “But no ships have left port and the only aircraft we have seen are commercial or military. We started monitoring the traffic immediately after we got the news.”

  “Good. I want to know when you find out something,” said the President. He turned to General Black, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. “General, once we find out something, what can we do about it?”

  Black didn’t blink. “It depends on where it is, who it is and a whole lot of other factors. This isn’t like the big one we had where we could throw a lot of things at the problem. This one will have to be handled like a surgeon. We get in, get the hostages and get out, hopefully without getting our people killed in the process. We have teams that can do that, but we need to know a lot more first. I’ll have our people begin drawing up some plans and contingency ops to get started. Then as information comes in we can start churning,” he said with confidence.

  The President nodded. He knew Howie Black would get the job done, but he had to ask in front of his cabinet just to tie up the loose ends. “Approved. Now I want everyone at this table talking to each other. At some point we may have to use our military and I do not want people killed because someone held back information they had. Does everyone have all the resources they need?” he asked.

  Everyone around the table nodded.

  “Then this is our number one priority until I say so. The politics and the election will take a back burner till this is over. I want briefings every morning and at three every afternoon. Let’s find some answers and make some plans. I have a press conference at eight to get read for.” He turned to some of the men at the table, “I need the CNO, the Chairman, State, CIA and FBI in my office immediately after this meeting. Are there any questions?” There were none. “Let’s get to work people,” the President said rising from his seat and quickly leaving the room. He was followed closely by the men he designated.

  It was a short walk to the oval office. All along the way the detail opened the doors and made way. The men walked past the President’s secretary pool and into the office. President O’Bannon walked to his easy chair and sat while the others filled the couches and other seats.

  The President looked at the men around him. “Okay, now let’s talk a little more about intelligence.” He turned to State, “I need your frank opinion about Jonas. I know you don’t want to trash our ambassadors in front of the rest of the staff, but now I need to know the real skinny.”

  The Secretary took a slow breath. “He’s almost an unknown. Jonas was placed there by your esteemed predecessor after we had gone through two ambassadors in three years with Parente. Jonas helped him get elected and was the Governor of Idaho for a term. Then he came to Washington bucking for a position. I wonder if he wasn’t placed there to get him out of the President’s hair. In my opinion, he’s not too bright but is fairly astute in politics. As I mentioned in the briefing, since going to Venezuela he has been moderately successful. He has gotten a few minor trade agreements set up and helped get that kid out of jail two years ago when he tried to protest on Parente’s doorstep. So I can’t say he’s all bad, but like Dunning said, he asks a lot of questions,” he said.

  “Do you trust him?”

  “As far as it goes. He hasn’t done anything to cause us to mistrust him. I get the feeling he’s a political wannabe hoping for his big break.”

  The President nodded. “Alright, then let’s get him spooled up. Call him up and tell him what is going on then ask him to beat some bushes. I wouldn’t tell him we know the truck went to that country, but say we are checking out all options. Tell him we need to know about that truck. See what he says. I also want to know how he is operating and if he can handle something like this. If he turns e
veryone loose and gets the information, great. If not…” he said leaving the rest unsaid.

  The President turned to Dunning. “Get the same orders to our people on the ground. Beat the trees. I need information about that truck and our people if they can.”

  “What about the ambassador? If he can’t handle it….”

  “We’ll handle that if we have to. In the mean time get things rolling. Your people can report to us directly. What about satellite assets?”

  “We are already repositioning a KH-14 over the area,” Dunning said. “We’ll start getting images this afternoon. I talked to our people and they know what to look for as long as it’s out in the open. Once we determine where they are we can use it for a lot more. The KH-14 will give us that real-time capability that helps in these situations.”

  “I agree. Use whatever you need,” said the President. He turned to Kurt West from the FBI. “Kurt, let’s open some more communications down in the neighboring countries to eliminate some of the possibilities. At the same time, let’s send someone down to Caracas. Coordinate our efforts with their investigative people. But I also want a good watch on Jonas.” He held up his hand. “I know, he’s probably just a mediocre government official, but I want to make sure he can handle things right.”

  “We can do that. I’ll finesse it with them and send someone down today. If we run into problems, what do you want me to do?”

  “Just let me know and we’ll figure that out.” The President turned to the CNO. “Now let’s talk about a friend of mine. Perry, what do you think he’ll do?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

  Admiral Johnson sat back and grinned. “You know he’ll want to be involved. It will be hard to keep him on the sidelines.”

  The President nodded. “Yes, I know, but should he?”

  Johnson thought a moment. “Actually, we should let him be involved, but put someone else in overall charge. That way we can keep an eye on things and not let him do something rash. I got a call from Brian Davis last night. He said Roger got the word during the ship reunion. Now there are over a thousand pissed off sailors raring to go. Brian said they are getting their ship ready just in case. They won’t budge until this is over. I told him to talk Roger into riding back down to San Diego with him today. That will give us another day. Then I figure he’ll be on the next flight after checking in with his staff. I’ll call his Chief of Staff and have him get some things online. Hopefully by the time he gets here we should have more information. Then let’s hear what he has to say. Knowing Roger, it won’t be too bad. We’ll go from there.”