In 1961 a lumber company from Wichita, Ks. had the vision of an upscale ski resort, which brought a new era to the sleepy community. Once again, Breckenridge became a hustling quaint community of the Rockies. Today, people visit this Victorian town from all over the world to enjoy the outdoor challenges of golf, biking, hiking and of course to ski the snow covered mountainside.
CHAPTER 16
Kat was on a plane to the Breckenridge airport the day before she was to take Swan home. She had spoken with Swan several times on the phone and understood the severity of the situation. She was there to help her friend and to navigate her journey to an eye specialist and clinic at UCLA. As the big bird approached the runway, she looked down to watch the colorful trendy skiers in the distance zipping across the slopes and mounting the highest ski lift in North America.
Kat was a happy wealthy divorcee. She did not grow up with money and luxury, but it did not take her long to adjust to her affluent status. She was raised by her grandmother after she was dumped on her doorstep at age four by her irresponsible mother. It was a difficult time for both the grandmother and the granddaughter. Grams was getting old and in ill health. She was so concerned with herself that she was pretty oblivious to Kat’s need to be loved and wanted. Money was always scarce.
As Kat began to approach her teen years, she began to enjoyed life to its fullest once she understood how to get what she wanted. As her body began to change around thirteen, she soon became known as K.A.T. = (K-cute/Ass/Tits), which stood for more vulgar terms as her reputation grew. She enjoyed that questionable status. By the time she was fourteen, she began to use her lush figure to her advantage if she wanted a certain boy or anything else that she could manipulate from them.
When Kat was a senior in high school, she decided she wanted to be the homecoming queen. She told the captain of the football team that she would screw the entire squad if he could make that happen. He did and she did. For Kat, it was not a hardship.
After high school, Kat was lured to the glamorous city of Las Vegas. She was content in the knowledge that she would be able to charm herself into the arms of the richest man in the city. She would not miss her mark by far. She soon landed a job as a Las Vegas showgirl at the Mirage. She had a beautiful face and figure, which immediately attracted the attention of the owner and bachelor of a chain of LV hotels, Joe Dollard. Most people called him Joe Dollar for his ability to make money.
Kat and Joe were married at a nearby chapel long before her six-month contract was up at the Mirage. After seven months of marriage, and the excitement of a newlywed began to wear off, Kat began to call her new husband, Joe Dull-y. She started eyeballing other men who were only too happy to please, admirer, and oblige her in any way that she choose to be entertained. Kat and Joe got a divorce before the end of the year. Joe walked away with lighter pockets and Kat walked away a wealthy woman.
Kat would be married three more times before she met Swan at the age of thirty-one. They teamed up at The Balboa Bay Club in Newport becoming tennis partners. It wasn’t long before the two became very close and formed a lasting bond of devoted friendship.
CHAPTER 17
Kat left the baggage claim at the airport and immediately parted through the outside doors to hail the next taxi in line. After getting settled in the back seat, the taxi departed for the Breckenridge Medical Center. Swan was very relieved when Kat walked into her room. She was like the family she never had. It wasn’t long before Kat had filled out the necessary paperwork and made arrangements for tomorrow’s departure.
After making sure that Swan was settled in for the night, Kat checked in to the Timberland Hotel. Her room faced the steep mountainside of activity and skiers. The accommodations had a rustic elegance that gave the ambiance of being in an inviting log cabin, but had all the amenities of a luxury home. Unpacking her bag and refreshing her makeup, she got ready to go on the prowl. She pulled a red-scooped neck cashmere clingy sweater over her head to compliment the black stretch pants, black pointed high heel shoes, and gold loop earrings that she had worn on the plane. Adding a little lip-gloss, she headed downstairs to the martini bar, Red Square.
The bar was full of singles and affluent jet setters all mingling together. It was just the kind of diversion, which Kat was looking. She perched herself on the stool of the thirty foot long ice bar. It wasn’t long before she was surrounded by young admiring males hoping to “score” for the evening.
After a couple of martinis, Kat found herself in a chinchilla coat and hat entering the $250 vodka a glass freezer room. In this icy atmosphere, the affluent enjoyed specialty vodka from all over the world. The exquisite vodka was smooth, but not nearly as smooth as the gentleman in a man’s Russian sable that had joined her. The evening ended as would have been predicted--- Kat scratching and clawing in the bed of the hunk from the martini bar downstairs.
By 10:00 the next morning Kat rolled out of bed with a smile, dressed, grabbed a cup of coffee, and hailed a taxi to the medical center. By noon she had her friend, Swan, checked out of the Breckenridge Medical Facility and on a plane to her home in Newport Beach. They were in Swan’s luxury condo by late afternoon.
CHAPTER 18
Swan’s home was a modern condo at the top of a small private building. It had high ceilings and lots of space that had originally appealed to her. The furniture was unique and expensive. Fireplaces were in every room of her home, including the three bedrooms and balcony that took the chill off of the California evenings. Ironically, considering her present predicament, she bought it for the occasional picturesque view on a clear day of Catalina and because it overlooked the tiny island of Balboa that sported a colorful rainbow Ferris wheel. A hot tub surrounded by lots of blooming colorful plants faced the fireplace on the balcony. All the rooms had a touch of antiques and interesting personal mementos that she had collected from all over the world. There were no pictures or reminders of the past.
Swan and Kat had gone to bed hours ago, but Swan couldn’t sleep. She walked out onto the dark balcony in her flimsy pale blue silk nightgown. She knew no one could see her as her house was isolated and strategically placed to shield the privacy that she held so dear. As she became rich and famous, it was important to protect herself and her surroundings. If other women had been a little more vigilant and less naïve, they might still be alive today. Swan had no intention of joining the statistics of becoming a victim of anyone as she had in her growing-up years. She had taken some karate defense classes. She had continued to take additional classes to keep herself alert and ready. For the first time, she had control of her life or so she thought.
Swan could feel the cool salt sea breeze on her face. She could hear the break of the tide that was in the close distance. It was soothing as it always had been, but tears still gathered in her sightless eyes and began falling down her soft cheeks. She couldn’t help it, the tears soon turned into uncontrollable flood of weeping. She wrapped her arms around herself and was reminded of the arms of her lover and fellow wreck mate, Ace. She never knew his last name, she never asked. It seemed better that way. The possibility of being permanently blind was devastating and she had no intentions of asking anyone to share such a life, nor could she have ever stood his piety. It was just best that she cut all ties and begin to sort her life out by herself. The sun was peaking over the horizon by the time she finally pulled herself together and climbed between the soft silk sheets that smelled of roses. Swan, however, was unaware of the new morning. It mattered not to this young woman as night and day began to blend together.
It was nearly noon when Kat knocked softly at Swan’s door. The smell of coffee that she held in her hand, finally caused Swan to arouse herself from a deep sleep and sit up in bed to enjoy the fresh brew. Kat’s bouncy personality was the only thing that kept Swan from sliding back into a deep dark funk of oblivion.
Kat told Swan that she had contacted one of her ex-husbands that was a physician at the UCLA medical facility. When he heard what had h
appened to Swan, he was only too happy to see if he could make appointments happen through connections with personal friends and co-workers. Setting up an appointment with the world-renowned ophthalmologist would probably take a while. He would get back with her at the end of the day.
It was a sunny December day in Newport Beach. So, Kat insisted that Swan roll out of bed, slip into a bathing suit, and they walk down to the ocean. Perhaps laying on the warm beach would bring some healing to both the body and soul.
It was winter break and the beach was not deserted. Swan could hear seagulls, excited squeals of small children, and an occasional sand patrol that checked out the sandy beach and kept it safe. Everything appeared normal, even Swan with her sunglasses perched on the tip of her nose. It wasn’t long before she and Kat had dozed off and the afternoon was gone.
The next day was spent at the Research to Prevent Blindness Foundation Center in Los Angeles. It was a grueling and exhausting experience. Swan had several tests and saw six different doctors. Their combined conclusion was that scarring from the lasik surgery that had corrected her farsightedness may be interfering with the healing process. The final consultation with the panel of doctors only told her that someday she may regain her sight and some day she may not. Her concussion and trauma had caused the blindness. It could be that something equally as traumatic would cause her to regain her sight.
It sounded a bit like the snake pits of the 1800’s when they would lower insane people into a pit full of snakes. Their thinking during that period was that something that would drive a sane person insane would make an insane person sane. At least snake pits were not available today, which Swan could be grateful.
The present day had advanced only to give Swan the hope that future programs in vision genetics may someday give her back her sight. She was told that a new experimental drug, Ranexa, ironically made at Global Genetic Research Inc., was on the horizon of restoring eyesight for some people who had lost it for various reasons. It wasn’t much, but it gave Swan a glimmer of hope. The doctors looked at this beautiful woman with her head bowed and tears streaming down her cheeks from her sightless aquamarine eyes and all prayed for a miracle.
CHAPTER 19
Slater stood in his navy silk Armani suit and Italian soft leather shoes watching the ocean tide from his four-story office building, Global Genetic Research Incorporation. He liked the feel of nice fabric, but was always most comfortable in soft cotton, linen, or khaki. However, a man in his position was expected to dress the part of a successful and powerful businessman, which sometimes gave him a slight advantage when negotiating contracts.
Since the downing of the unfortunate airliner and the brief affair with Swan, Slater threw himself into several new projects for his company. Drowning himself in work, he managed to get through the holidays. He was finally able to ignore the nagging feelings for the one woman, which he might have had a relationship.
Slater rubbed the back of his stiff neck. He was restless. He was ready for some action. By the middle of January, he got his wish.
Slater, Bear, and Dog were no longer part of the United States SEALS. They had not been for over ten years, but because of their expertise in delicate international matters that involved kidnapping and extortion, wealthy companies and private individuals often hired them. It wasn’t long before they were in the top 25% of the world wealth themselves. They would, however, continue to take risk-taking jobs from time to time because they enjoyed the thrill and success of the hunt.
Slater and his private commando unit were contacted for a delicate and dangerous kidnapping assignment. He soon found himself on a chopper for jungles in an unknown destination somewhere in Bogotá. Bear and Dog sat across from him. They had both felt that Slater wasn’t nearly as focused as usual. This was crucial as in dangerous situations death could be only one second away for any of them. Neither soldier, however, wanted to have their head bitten off, so neither pointed this out to Slater. There had always been tough scenarios with distractions and he always come through. There was no reason to doubt that this time would be any different.
They each backpacked grenades, guns, and any arsenal they felt would be needed to free an American hostage from renegade drug dealers and terrorists. Their mission was to get in and get out of the Bogotá jungle with the American oil executive in tow.
Today, they had flown out of the Dallas/Fort Worth airport. It was an International airport that flew soldiers all over the world. The port was full of troops getting ready to evacuate to Iraq or a desert area, which was obvious from their camouflage uniforms that were the color of cream and tan. Many had on the new uniforms whose fabric was made on the computer with a digital look. Those that were flying to a green belt wore the multi-colored green and brown. Slater and his unit of two wore the traditional green.
All the soldiers were roaming the airport shops, restaurants, and bars hoping to get their last glimpse of America before they departed to unknown foreign lands to try to keep world peace and democracy. About half of them had never been out of America. Some would never see it again. Others would be seeing combat for the very first time. It was just as well that they had never been to war, as all too often it is not what they could have ever imagined.
Desert areas were hot and dusty, 115 degrees was not unusual. When the wind blew, dirt would fly into your mouth, eyes, and ears. Handy wipes from home along with DVDs, magazines, TP, cookies, jerky, and other personal items that arrived in containers the size of shoe boxes from loved ones and special organizations were sometimes the only items that made this foreign land tolerable.
The first time a platoon saw combat was the most difficult. In a war zone, a buddy was always dying. Troops’ puking up their breakfast was not an uncommon sight. Charlie Med always had the worst job of sweeping areas and looking for injured soldiers after the combatants left the war zone. The medics would then load them on Chinook helicopters to get them back to medical facilities before death. Many didn’t make it. Some wished they had not.
Slater was no novice to war and neither were his buddies. Their experienced team was what made them the best in the world. That was why they were often contacted when diplomats and heads of state disappeared into the unknown. That is why their little unit had just departed to Columbia.
Before they left the States, they had received classified information from the US State Department that contained certain information in a special document about the drug warriors of Columbia. It was much easier to have a successful mission when you knew your enemy and had an outline of what to expect. However, they were a savvy group and knew how to deal with the unexpected. They would have the American out of camp and on the Apache chopper by nightfall.
Columbia is the fourth largest country in South America. It is also one of the toughest hotspots in the world making it a perfect breeding place for the lowlifes of the universe. Three Andean mountain chains, grasslands, and extensive jungle coastlines on the Caribbean Sea and Pacific Ocean make it easy to smuggle drugs and human trafficking in and out of the country. Kidnapping for ransom is also part of their illegal activities. All of the above is an extremely lucrative business for the scum that choose this way of life.
The natives of Columbia eke out an existence farming as did the nomadic farmers during the pre-Columbian period. It has the largest reserves of coal in Latin America. In the next decade, natural gas will be available to millions of Columbians. With luck, their wealth will help Latin cities eliminate the hordes of homeless children that live in the sewers with the rats. Hopefully, their plan will include deleting the sophisticated organized drug lords and the government that gives them immunity by looking the other way.
Today, there is a wide range of ethnic diversity in Columbia due to the intermingling of the native Indian, Spaniards, and black slaves. Only about 1% can claim 100 percent Chibchas Indian. They originally lived off the land that Slater was observing from above in the helicopter as it zigzagged over the lowlands and
highlands to reach the kidnapped victim before he was assassinated.
Slater looked at the swirling green grasslands below as the helicopter hovered above and they repelled to the jungle floor. The object was to evacuate quickly, melt into the lush vegetation, and leave no evidence of any kind of human disturbance. Rendezvous was established early evening after the sun went down around 1700. Faces painted and ready for action, the three men moved in swift silence toward their intended target three miles away.
It was misty and muggy when the chopper dropped them off. That was not a surprise as rain was usually expected daily during the rainy season. The forest was alive with the wild animals of the region. A brightly colored macaw’s scream blended in with the spider monkeys as they swung from branch to branch on the overhanging trees. An occasional jaguar or ocelot lurked lazily on high branches or blended among the vegetation. It was alive as well with the smaller creatures that slithered and scampered throughout the jungle floor. They seemed very aware that man had invaded their territory and they wanted to make sure that they knew that they had not gone unnoticed. The only native wildlife that seemed happy to see them were the mosquitoes.
The three men neither had the time to notice the nature around them nor could they afford to be distracted from their mission. They were only aware of anything that seemed out of the ordinary or moved like a human. Faces covered in jungle green camouflage they moved quietly towards their destination silently signaling as they went. It was about forty-five minutes before they spied the guerrilla camp.
This group of narco-terrorists that they were observing was the largest group in Columbia. They are well organized. They are known as FARC, the Revolution Armed Forces of Columbia. In addition to their trafficking activities, they are reputed for their frequent vicious attacks on the oil pipelines. Their bombing campaigns occurred weekly as a recreational activity. They also enjoy the status of extortion, kidnapping, and are the instrumental lead suppliers to the world with heroin and refined cocaine. They are as tough, rough, and experienced as any trained army and were not to be underestimated.