Tommy was deep in thought over the map and didn’t respond. He was unaware of anything until the landing gears of the Beechcraft dropped from the wings and nose of the craft and then gracefully touched the asphalt and coasted to a stop in front of Ryan’s private hangar.
Tommy got out and slid the hangar door back. Ryan taxied the airplane inside and Tommy closed the door. Inside Ryan turned the aircraft around, and then killed the engine. He got out and began helping Tommy unload and spread the equipment on the floor for its final inspection and packing.
Arrangements were being made, as they worked, for a scheduled, routine flight from the States to Belize, on the eastern coast of Guatemala. That route would take them over the area of the rebel camp. Tommy would make his jump from twenty-five thousand feet. He would then freefall to within five-hundred feet of the ground, then deploy his parachute and float to the ground from about two-hundred feet up.
The landing would be the most dangerous part of the jump. He would be landing in the canopy of the jungle at night unless he could spot an opening on his way down that was large enough for him to enter; unless the Captain decided on a daisy cutter.
After inspecting all of his equipment twice, Tommy unpacked and repacked the parachute he would be using for the jump. His life would be literally hanging on the proper deployment of the canopy.
It wasn’t that he distrusted the rigger and packer who had initially rigged and packed the ‘chute. It was just that once he left the aircraft, it would be too late to point fingers and collect apologies. It had to be right the first time so finger pointing and apologies were not needed. Plus, there were no second chances.
Satisfied that everything was as it should be, Tommy stood and stretched his back. He had been bent over for more than two hours. He glanced at his wristwatch. It was 3:00 P.M.
“Come on Judge, time for lunch.” Tommy smiled.
“More like supper if you ask me. I could eat a froze dawg!”
“Between us, we just might,” Tommy laughed, heading for the door, his truck and his home.
* * * * *
To put it mildly, Lisa had not in the least been thrilled to hear that Tommy was going on some rescue mission in Northern Guatemala, alone. She had, in fact, refused to listen to anything about it. She closed her ears, mouth, eyes and mind to the idea after stating her opinion. It was simple, ‘Tommy, has lost his mind!’
He sat in the cargo hold of the C-130 as it flew over the flat rolling terrain of North Central Texas. He again saw in his mind Lisa’s flat, amazed look of absolute astonishment and disbelief as what he had told her had registered in her unbelieving mind.
“Are you out of your mind, Tommy LeSade!” she had asked incredulously, staring at him as if he were a complete stranger. “To even consider such a thing is madness!” she had added in disbelief.
“It’s a hundred-million dollar piece of cake,” he had replied with a laugh. “I won’t be there two days, at the most,” he promised with a smile. She hadn’t spoken to him since. She had fled to their bedroom to pout. And worry in private.
Now, as he sat in the aircraft going over his plan, he wasn’t so sure it was going to be the piece of cake he had made it seem. Things like this seldom were. But, now wasn’t the time to be thinking about the negative aspects of the mission. He would have time enough for that on the ground after he had landed and located the rebel camp.
He decided, he would take one whole day and night to study the camp and locate the hostages. Then he would plan his attack with as little commotion as necessary to rescue the hostages and clear out the area.
This decided he felt it was time for a nap. It was going to be a long, stressful next few days. He would need all the rest he could get for what lay ahead. He closed his eyes and drifted with the gentle motions of the big, heavy aircraft.
It seemed he had just closed his eyes when he felt a tapping on his boot. He opened his eyes. He was wide awake. Captain Stamper stood two feet beyond his feet; taking no chances with a deadly, combat veteran.
“It’s time, Captain LeSade. Five minutes,” he added, holding the parachute harness up for Tommy to see.
Tommy immediately stood and Stamper helped him into the harness, insuring the straps were snug and the parachute was hanging in the proper position. When it was, he steadied him and led him toward the center of the aircraft and the side door. Tommy carried his equipment bag then sat it on the floor in front of his feet.
Stamper twisted the handle on the door and slid it open and back.
He stepped to one side and invited Tommy to stand in the door. Tommy eased the equipment over and stepped into the door with the bag in front of him. He stood in the door with his knees flexed slightly and his hands on each side of the outer skin of the airplane. The equipment bag, on a twenty foot tether, would go out first and he would immediately follow it. Stamper stared at his watch silently. Tommy waited, staring into the pitch black turbulence outside.
“Go!” Stamper yelled, placing his hand on the parachute and urging Tommy forward and out.
At Stamper’s word, Tommy kicked the bag out and hopped from the doorway. He fell into silence. The drone of the aircraft faded into the distance.
He clutched the reserve chute to his chest and felt the drag of the equipment bag at his waist. His legs and feet were held tightly together as he plunged face down at terminal velocity.
Tommy spread eagled and began to watch his altimeter. It was freezing up this high, he thought, as the digits rolled lower and lower, then passed twenty-thousand feet. He became instantly chilled and was still shivering as he fell through fifteen-thousand feet.
The equipment bag pulled steadily at his cargo belt as he plummeted toward the ground. The only sound he heard was the wind rushing past his ears as he fell into total darkness. He estimated he had about twenty seconds of freefall left before he had to deploy his parachute. He stared at his altimeter and as it passed five-hundred feet he pulled the release and the canopy fed out and fully deployed. He felt the jerk in his groin, then the release of pull on his waist when the equipment bag hit the ground and then his feet touched the ground and he immediately flexed his knees and flexing his knees, took the pressure of his landing. He took three steps forward and hit the ‘quick-release’ on his harness, freeing himself of the breeze blown canopy in front of him.
He still held a mental image of the jungle as he had fallen toward it. He relived the entire jump and analyzed his every move from the exact time the canopy had began to stream out above him and deploy. He had looked up as it had opened to ensure it was fully deployed. It had. The drag began to tilt him head up and feet down from his spread-eagle position.
He then looked down at the blackness of the jungle below, searching for any lighter spot where an opening in the canopy may be. As he fell and drifted he had spotted the large gray area and began to maneuver toward it. He drifted into it, as planned, and he had landed without injury, by pulling down hard on the risers, then releasing them and allowing the canopy to act as a brake for him. It had worked out perfectly as planned.
He stood looking around at the surrounding darkness, amazed at the cacophony of sounds in the nighttime jungle. It was deafening. He knelt at the equipment bag and withdrew his weapon and a radio. He loaded the weapon without placing it on ‘safe’ and then turned the radio on.
“Mystery Man to Spy. Confirm? Over?”
“Spy confirm. Good luck Mystery Man.”
“Roger, Spy. Out.”
“Spy out.”
Tommy collapsed the antenna and leaving the radio on, fastened it to his utility belt. He placed the headset mic near the corner of his mouth, looked at his compass to get his bearings, then shouldered the pack frame, insuring it was comfortable and picked up his weapon. He pulled his night vision goggles down over his eyes, adjusted the intensity for the terrain, then started slowly through the nighttime jungle. He had a little over a mile to cover before sunrise.
He had no fear
of the noise he made being heard. Over the roar of the millions of animals, insects and birds surrounding him, he could barely hear himself think. He knew he was in no danger of discovery, yet, he began to dread the daytime noise, when everything was awake and moving.
With his night vision goggles in place and turned on, he saw that the floor of the jungle wasn’t as thick with vegetation as he had at first feared. Still, he took caution with each step. There were many things he had to watch for. Snakes for one; on the ground and in the trees. Snakes could be anywhere! Another thing was spiders. Again, they could be anywhere! They were really worse than the snakes. A spider could be on him and he would never know it until after he was bitten; unless he was extremely lucky, that is.
So, caution was the word as he made his way slowly and carefully through the Guatemalan jungle. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was now 4:26 A.M. He hoped to be in position by no later than six o’clock.
Time seemed to drag by for him as he made his way carefully step, by cautious step, through the jungle. Even with the NVGs (night vision goggles), it was difficult to move fast. He was virtually blind at his feet, so had to remember what he had seen in the distance and where it was in relation to then and now. Still, he moved slowly toward his final destination.
After what seemed like hours of moving through the green and white landscape, he thought the batteries on the NVGs were finally going dead.
He stopped and removed them to replace the batteries and go on. He realized he could see better without them. So he hung them on his belt and removed his GPS device and map. He squatted in place and began to compare the two.
After several minutes’ comparison, according to them, he should be dead center in the middle of the camp. He looked at his watch. It read 6:00 A.M. He had to be close. He stayed squatted, waiting for a human sound to lead him the rest of the way.
It wasn’t long in coming, but it didn’t come from the direction he had expected. It came from the direction he had just come from, but to his left several feet. He carefully retraced his steps, listening intently.
Around thirty yards back and thirty feet to his right was a large flat clearing. Makeshift structures were scattered around it helter skelter. The rebel camp was beginning to come to life.
He low crawled on his stomach and elbows to the edge of the jungle for a better look. He saw right off it was going to be difficult to watch and study the whole camp from any one position. There were just too many blind spots.
After a while, satisfied that he had seen everything he could from his position, he moved to his right nearly a hundred yards, lay and studied. Then a short while later, he moved again. He continued until he had surrounded the whole camp and studied it from every angle.
Around noon, and only halfway around the camp, he saw a man carrying what he thought was two plates of food. He watched the man closely as he opened the door of the shed and placed the plates inside, then closed and locked the door by placing a bamboo pole across it.
As he turned to leave an armed guard came around a corner of the shed. The two men stood talking for a few minutes, and then the delivery boy left. The guard continued on his circuit around the shed.
Tommy smiled. He had found what he hoped was the hostages. Now he had to plan an escape route for them. He couldn’t go through the camp at night unless he was extremely lucky. And he didn’t feel that lucky. So he had to get into the jungle at its closest point to the shed, and then go from there. He glanced at his wristwatch.
Captain Stamper should have left Belize two hours ago, headed for Brownsville, Texas. From there he would fly a Blackhawk helicopter to an awaiting aircraft carrier on maneuvers in the Gulf of Mexico. Once there, he would wait for Tommy’s signal, then head for the pickup point five miles from the camp. If all went well, he would be there waiting for their arrival, rotors spinning, when Tommy and the two hostages arrived. Hopefully, unpursued and uninjured.
Tommy lay watching the inactivity around the camp. He thought they were certainly a lazy bunch. But, then again, they had a million dollars from Jenkins Petroleum to lounge around on. And they were expecting another hundred-million more in the next two weeks. With that kind of money, why not take a day off from time to time, Tommy smiled.
The day wore slowly on. The heat became oppressive. Sweat ran into his eyes and soaked his clothes. There was no hint of a breeze in the jungle. Between him and the shed, heat waves shimmered and danced. Everything became blurred as the afternoon heat began to beat down upon him. It felt like a heavy weight as he lay sweltering inside it. He longed for night. Nothing dared move in the heat for fear of a heat stroke. Even the insects that had tortured him unmercifully had enough sense to seek shelter from the relentless attack of the tropical sun.
Tommy stared through bloodshot eyes at the shimmering, dancing waves that seemed to be losing their energy. He blinked the sweat from his eyes and thought he saw movement through the slow motion heat waves. His eyes snapped wide open and he stared at the wavering shadow as it neared the shed. Once again the man carried two plates of what was obviously food. He unlocked and opened the door, handed the plates inside, said a few words and then closed the door and locked it again.
Just as had happened earlier, as the man turned away from the door, the guard came around the corner. Tommy had not seen the guard since early that morning. The two men exchanged a few words then parted. The guard continued around the shed to complete his circuit.
Tommy could think of only two possible explanations for the guard’s unusual behavior, one. He was sitting at the side of the shack in the shade, talking to the hostages through the wall. Or two, he had a makeshift lean-to on the side of the building that provided enough shade to be comfortable. Occasionally, he would peek through a crack in the wall to insure his hostages were still inside and safe. Whatever it was, Tommy hoped he was enjoying his last day on planet earth.
The intense green of the jungle began to turn gray. It slowly faded to blue, then finally to dirty gray again. It was as if that had been the tensely awaited signal for life to begin in the jungle. It seemed as if someone was steadily increasing the volume until the sound was a deafening roar.
Tommy noticed there was steadily more activity around and in the camp. That’s when it hit him, these people slept through the heat of the day and the relative silence. Now they were up because it was cooling off but noisy as hell and sleep was impossible for anyone except the stone deaf.
This called for a change of plans. It was Murphy’s Law in action! There was no way he could get through to the shed with all the activity and people around. He would have to do it in broad daylight when most everyone was asleep. He hoped.
Fires began to spring up around the camp. Lights began to come on. Music began to play. People began to make merry. Children ran around in groups playing games in the dark. Adults began to shout and talk loud as the volume of the night increased around them. The jungle was at full volume and raising hell. The smell of cooking food wafted on the evening air reminding Tommy that he had eaten nothing since the night before. He broke out a MRE and feasted as he watched the activity of the life of a jungle rebel camp. He noticed that very few of the people were armed.
Sometime after eating the MRE he drifted into a fitful sleep. Dreams of being taken prisoner in Iraq began to haunt his dreams. Then the dream of being shot in the chest by Cramer; pushing Lindsey aside and taking the bullet himself. As the projectile impacted his chest like the kick of a mule, he started and woke up suddenly, eyes wide and looking around as if expecting enemies from any and all directions. He sweated profusely. Between him and the shed, heat waves shimmered and danced once again in erratic patterns. The camp was as silent as a cemetery. It baked in the midday sun, as if in an oven, like he did. It was sweltering!
Tommy couldn’t see anything clearly. If he couldn’t, he reasoned, neither could they. Therefore, it was time to make his move. And he was ready to go home!
First, he had to eliminate the guar
d at the side of the shed. Then unbar the door, get the hostages and drag them into the jungle if he had to. He began to crawl slowly toward the shed, weapon across his arms, but ready for instant action if necessary. He didn’t want to fire a shot that would more than likely bring the camp to a boiling caldron of life around his ears. If that happened, he and his hostages would be history in seconds.
His plan all along had been to get in, get the hostages, then get out without the captors being any the wiser. If he was unable to do that, for whatever reason, he would have no choice but to fight his way out for as long as he could.
Ten feet from the front door of the shed, he stood up. He stepped to the side of the shed and began to sidle his way along the side slowly. He peeked around the side of the shed in the direction the guard always came from. On the side was an open-sided lean-to. Under the lean-to was a lazy boy recliner, in the recliner the guard lay sleeping peacefully. Around his right arm was an electric cord. It ran from his arm to the side of the shed, then down the side and around the corner to the door, when the door was opened an electronic breaker was closed sending a mild electric current through the cord and into the guards body, waking him instantly. Satisfied that he knew the security system, he withdrew the ten inch Gerber survival knife from its scabbard and slowly approached the sleeping guard.
He stood beside the chair looking down at the sleeping man. Without hesitation, he clamped his left palm over the man’s mouth and nose and, as his eyes flashed open in terror, he plunged the ten inch blade into the man’s heart. The man looked up at Tommy in wonder, then slowly closed his eyes and relaxed into the arms of death.
Tommy placed his knee on the dead man’s stilled chest and, with effort, withdrew the ten inch blade. He cleaned the blood from the blade on the man’s shirt, then turned and retraced his steps around the front of the shed.
He placed the bamboo pole to one side and eased the door open. Two men in their early twenties sat cross legged on a pallet staring up at him.
“Are you Adam Jenkins, Junior?” Tommy asked the youngest looking man.