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  “At the same time, I’ll talk to some special people and see what we can scare up for those contingencies. I agree with Perry. Roger will probably have a great idea or two. I’ll make sure we have the assets available to carry them out,” said Black, adding to the conversation.

  O’Bannon was smiling, not only because of what was being said in the room but because he could picture in his mind what Roger was thinking right about now. “Start the plans moving. Coordinate efforts between each of you so that we put our best foot forward. Each of us adds to the pot. I have a feeling it will take all of our agencies to carry this off,” he said. “At the same time, I know that Roger is a friend of mine. Let me know if I am going in the wrong direction or if it is getting a little too personal for me. I want this to work both for this country and for Roger and Patricia. I need everyone doing their best, thinking through it all and making the right decisions. In short, we all need each other. Don’t let me down.”

  Black smiled at his boss. He glanced around to the others and leaned forward. “Steve, I think Roger has made friends with everyone in this room. We want them back as much as you do and we’re not going to go flying off doing anything stupid. We’re going to get those people back, and we’re going to get them back for all the right reasons. We’ll get it done,” he said with a deeply serious face. Little did he know just how difficult it would become.

  Chapter 4

  Plans

  Caracas, Venezuela

  At precisely 5:30 am, Colonel Rojas entered his office, resplendent in his best uniform. He had no idea what his presidente wanted to do with him, but it would be wrong to think he could let down his guard or be anything less than perfect while in El Presidente’s presence. El Presidente never entered his office prior to 6 am. This gave Rojas time to make some preparations and get his morning briefings in order. The first item on the list was a briefing on what was running in the American media about the abductions. When it first appeared on CNN, Rojas had almost had a stroke. Kidnapping fourteen American mayors could bring the wrath of the United States down on their heads. He had actually prayed that it was some freak of coincidence. Then he remembered the statement that El Presidente was trying to control the American election. If it was him, and the President didn’t respond quickly, it possibly could change the election. But Rojas actually liked this American president. He had watched in admiration as he had led the US not only out of a catastrophic attack, but to an unqualified victory over North Korea. As he recalled, this president had responded quickly and forcefully. Surely his presidente hadn’t forgotten this.

  Rojas let out a sigh. It probably was just a coincidence and he was worrying over nothing. Besides, no one could be that stupid. He was only half way through his preparations when Parente opened the door to his office and walked out into the outer office. Rojas sprang to his feet in surprise, saluting stiffly.

  Parente smiled in greeting. I am sorry to have startled you my Colonel. I came in early so we could leave for a place I want to share with you. You can brief me on the way,” he said slapping Rojas on the arm, then turning to head back into his office. Rojas gathered his papers quickly and followed him.

  Parente led him through the office to a place on the wall behind his desk. Pressing a hidden switch, a portion of the wall opened and the two quickly entered. “This is my special passage when I need to enter or exit without being seen,” Parente explained as they walked. Rojas noticed him reach up and tug at his ear. Behind the door was a long hallway with only two doors. Rojas also noted what appeared to be small squared openings every ten feet just large enough to put a gun barrel through. There were also cameras every twenty feet. The hall ended and turned to the right, then down a flight of steps. Turning to the left the men entered another hall. At the end was a small room with a desk where a guard sat. Parente remained strangely silent as the two men transited the hallway. The guard sprang from his desk and came to attention, then opened the door.

  The door exited to an underground parking area where a limousine was waiting. The driver held the door for Parente while Rojas entered the other side. It was a short ride to the helicopter pad where the presidential helicopter was waiting. During the entire ride, Parente said nothing and Rojas knew he could not initiate the conversation. He sat patiently with the briefing papers in his hand.

  Entering the helicopter, Rojas buckled in and noticed Parente didn’t bother. Once the doors were shut, it was strangely quiet in the aircraft. There was a divider between the pilot and the seating area in the rear. Only after the aircraft had lifted off did Parente begin to speak.

  “I see you have brought my briefing, but let us never mind that for today. What we will be doing is far more important,” he said with a half smile. Rojas noticed Parente’s eyes seemed to be studying him as he spoke. The experience almost made him shiver.

  “I assume you have seen the news reports about several American political figures turning up missing.”

  “Yes, Señor Presidente. That was a part of my brief.”

  “Then I will share with you that I was the one who ordered their abduction,” Parente said almost matter-of-factly. “You see, by this action, I am making sure public opinion in the United States turns against President O’Bannon. They will be outraged when he cannot find the prisoners and even more angered when he can do nothing about returning them. The people will elect Mr. Foster, someone who I have met and feel is a better person to lead their country. Once he is in, we will rekindle relations with the United States and be in a much better position to influence decisions there. Once the election is over with, we will see about returning the hostages. The Americans will see me as a great leader who rescued their political leaders and will look even more favorably towards working with us. As a decoy, I have arranged to have it appear the FARC abducted these people. That will draw any suspicions away from us. Now I need you to help me keep this operation going and to watch our operations while I dedicate myself to helping the Americans find their people,” he said with a grin.

  Rojas nodded. This was a risky operation filled with problems, but to hint skepticism around Parente would not win him favors. “I am ready to serve, Señor Presidente. I saw on their news that someone seemed to think a truck had carried the people away. They will be looking at both Colombia and Venezuela closely.”

  “As expected,” Parente said smugly. “If they are looking for the FARC, so much the better.”

  “Haven’t they been our allies, Señor Presidente?”

  Parente shrugged. “They have grown weak and have succumbed to blatant capitalism. It is time they were no longer associated with us. Now we have other assets,” he said. “Besides, if the Americans do find their people, we will go in and shoot everyone involved. Again, I will be seen as a friend helping the new administration.”

  It made sense. He had thought it all out. Now he was committed to the overthrow of the American government, and with this plan he could do it. Rojas snapped out his thoughts. “So now all we must do is make sure the Americans do not find their people before the election only a month away,” said Rojas.

  “Precisely,” Parente said smiling again. “Now begin thinking about things they could do to stop us.”

  Rojas could think of a thousand things – not the least of which might mean a nuclear detonation over Caracas. Something must be done, but he was not sure of what that could be. He decided to humor the president and go along with him. He rifled through a couple of notes he had taken. “There was one thing I discovered last night, Señor Presidente. Their news media listed all the missing mayors. Most are of no consequence; however one may have some extraordinary support.”

  “And who might that be?”

  “Her name is Patricia Hammond. She is mayor of San Pedro, California. Just three years ago she married Vice Admiral Roger Hammond.”

  Parente laughed. “And how could some navy admiral be a threat to me?”

  Rojas had to tread lightly. His president didn’t have much regard f
or anyone but an army officer. “You may recall this Hammond was one of the men acknowledged to have helped plan and execute their war with North Korea. He was given command of an American battleship and later a fleet of them to battle our ally. In his actions against the North, he was awarded the Medal of Honor, their highest award. He is a personal friend of President O’Bannon.”

  “A battleship? He can’t do much to me from the sea.”

  “Señor Presidente, I looked some things up for you last night. The American’s battleships are still active. They can be made ready on short notice. If he took charge of them, they could sit off our shores and bombard Caracas to matchsticks and there wouldn’t be much we could do about them. Our missiles couldn’t damage them much. Three of them hit their ship named Iowa in the last war. She kept on going. We could send planes, but if they are escorted by some of their AEGIS ships our planes would not come back. Our navy would be blown from the water. As far as this Hammond goes, if the President is his friend, he may let him loose if there is a suspicion. With his wife as a hostage there is no telling what he might do.”

  Parente’s face turned darker. Rojas had a point. He had only planned on some minor officials which would be of no consequence. Patricia Hammond could cause a small problem through her husband. One thing he did not want to see was his beloved Caracas smoldering in the dust. “You are sure these ships could do what you say they can?”

  “Yes, Señor Presidente. This Hammond has a lot of influence. They say no one in their military can go out on their own, but with a President’s backing, who knows what might happen. If those ships or even just one of them appeared off our coast, there would be little we could do.”

  Parente nodded in thought. “Then we must watch this Admiral Hammond. Contact our intelligence service and have them watch this man. I want to know where he goes and what he does. If it looks like he is getting one of those battleships underway, we can make changes to our plans.” He began to smile again. “That was good information, my Colonel. Lucky for us, this is just a naval officer and not an army commander. He is not a real threat to my plans while out in the ocean, but it is good to be careful. Have him watched,” he said.

  “I shall contact our intelligence people immediately,” said Rojas. He reached for the secure telephone on the wall beside the seat. It was connected directly via encrypted radio to his headquarter where it was patched to the Servicio Bolivariano de Inteligencia Nacional (Bolivarian National Intelligence Service).

  Within minutes a call was made to someone asleep near Los Angeles, California. The groggy man was briefed and quickly he got dressed and went to his car. The American media had already mentioned that Vice Admiral Roger Hammond had been aboard USS Iowa the evening before. Reporters told their audiences that he had been moved aboard the outboard navy cruiser and was still somewhere onboard. The reporter had even pointed out his automobile; an older yellow Oldsmobile convertible. Some things were just easy.

  Chapter 5

  Waking Up

  The Mountains of Venezuela

  It was like a thick, heavy fog. There was light, but nothing focused and there was no shape to anything. All around her she felt a prickly feeling; distant, but there. To move her arms and legs felt like trying to lift the weight of the world. But as she woke, Patricia Hammond’s mind started to slowly work. She forced her eyes open, and almost immediately wished she hadn’t. The light was painful. Switching senses, she moved her fingers at first and then her arms. Her fingers felt the prickly things surrounding her. They were long strands and they bent easily. Through the haze in her mind she finally figured it out – it was straw. Slowly, she eased her eyes open again. She was in a room lighted by some high window openings. As her eyes focused she saw that the walls were some sort of stucco, dirty, and in some places cracking apart. All around her the floor was covered with straw and she was lying directly beside one of the walls. She tried lifting her head. The room spun rapidly and she quickly laid it back down until the room slowed and finally stopped its turning.

  She heard a soft moan. Taking it very slowly, she eased herself up until her head was resting against the wall. With some effort, she pushed herself slowly into a sitting position.

  The moan had come from Mayor Robert Hudson – a 60 year old friend she had met on a previous conference. He was laying next to her and had settled down into the straw bedding. He too was slowly working his head to try and shake out the drug induced cobwebs. Easing onto his elbows, he blinked his eyes open. Looking around, his eyes rested on her and a strained smile crossed his face. “You okay?” he asked with a gruff voice.

  Patricia nodded her head slightly. Even this small movement started the room spinning again. “Where are we?” she asked.

  “Looks like some sort of cell,” said another voice from across the room.

  Patricia squinted until things focused again. Nick Evans lifted his hand in a slight wave. Nick was a newcomer to the Sister City conferences but was one of the more enthusiastic of the mayors attending. Although normally well dressed and dashing in his appearance, he now looked almost ten years older than his age of 32. His clothes were wrinkled and stained. Yet he seemed to be doing better than the rest. “There’s a barred door on the far end. Someone passed by a few minutes ago as I was waking up.”

  Despite the dizziness, Patricia forced herself to look around the room. Her eyes rested on each of the people lying in various positions in the straw bedding. Some were still asleep, while others were beginning to force their way to consciousness. Several were holding their heads, obviously having their own bouts with the dizziness. “What happened? The last thing I remember was eating dinner,” she said.

  “Beats me,” said Jeff Thompson from another corner of the room. “But it’s pretty obvious we’ve been drugged,” he said slowly. “How we got here is anybody’s guess.”

  “And where’s here?” asked Jim Mitchell, the oldest member of the group. His face was very pale as he sat against one corner of the room. He was feeling in his pockets until he came up with an orange colored plastic bottle with a white top. He began to struggle slightly with the “child-proof” cap, then finally prying it off, took one of the pills inside and slid it under his tongue. “Thank God I still have these,” he said with a sigh.

  “Is everybody here?” Patricia asked.

  Evans was looking around as well. “I don’t see Alan Brennan.”

  The others were looking around as well. “There are only 14 people here,” Thompson said.

  “Remember, he was feeling sick all day and I remember he had to leave the table before this happened,” said Hudson, finally shaking loose from his haze. “Maybe whoever it was didn’t get him,” he said.

  “There’s some bottled water over here,” said Sharon Roberts, one of the four woman mayors in the group. She began tossing the plastic bottles around the room. “I suggest everybody drink one before trying to get up.”

  By now everyone was stirring. Each reached out for a bottle and quickly down its contents. To Patricia, nothing had ever tasted so good.

  There was a sound of a metal door opening. A figure appeared at the cell door with a television camera. He stuck the lens through the door and began taping. Several of the mayors struggled to their feet as he did so. After a few minutes, another figure appeared at the door and placed his hands on his hips. Each of the people in the room turned to stare at him. He was heavy set and dressed in a dark sort of military uniform with a beret type cap. His face was framed with a Van Dyke style beard and mustache. It was set in a scowl.

  “I see you are awake finally. As I am sure you have guessed, you are now prisoners under my care,” he said as a smile gently eased onto his face. It was quickly replaced with a frown as he continued. “I see you have found the water. I am instructed to give you all you desire.” There was a rattle of some pots being brought into the outer room. “Your food is here and as long as you are compliant, you will be fed regularly. However, any mischief on your part will be rewarded
with the loss of food. So that means that if you want to eat, you must obey my every command. There shall be no disrespect to me or my people. Be good, and you will be treated well.” A door opened up on the wall and paper plates and plastic utensils were shoved in along with a plastic garbage bag. Two of the mayors took the items along with two pots of something warm. “Ask your questions now,” the man said.

  “I want to know who you are and who has abducted us,” demanded Curtis Walker, one of the men as he got up from the floor.

  The reply was swift and painful. The cell door was flung open and the man struck Walker across the face with a baton before stepping back outside. Walker fell back against the wall and slid to the floor; his eyes now burning with hatred. Two others stumbled to his aid. The rest reacted in horror that such a thing would happen.

  The soldier shook his finger at them. “Remember, I said you must be respectful. It is none of your affair who has brought you here or who I am. You must simply obey.”

  Sharon Roberts raised her hand like a schoolgirl. He nodded at her. “My I ask where we go when we need to use a bathroom?”

  The soldier smiled at her. He pointed to a corner of the room. “It is right over there,” he said with a smirk. Everyone turned to look at what appeared to be a bucket covered with a piece of canvas. When the canvas was lifted, there was a wooden toilet seat laid over it. She looked over at Patricia and rolled her eyes.