“Cramer,” a male voice answered at the other end.
“I’ve found our soldier,” Hawk stated, obvious pleasure in his demeanor. “He’s perfect! Absolutely perfect!”
“Can he be trusted?”
“Absolutely,” Hawk assured the man on the other end of the phone.
“Send his file.”
“It’s on its way.”
Cramer hung up without another word. Hawk didn’t mind. He had learned a long time ago that the CIA was a bunch of unusual characters. They made damn good friends and damn bad enemies. He hoped he never had to cross one of them. It would be a sad, short day for him. Accidents happened all the time and Generals weren’t immune.
But, if this worked as he knew it would, his second star was guaranteed. If he could get the right stuff on the right people in the process, then, President of the United States was not out of the question. One may as well aim high, was his motto. The only drawback, as far as he was concerned, was that one could never aim high enough. If one didn’t aim high and allow for a little drop and drift over time and distance, there was no telling where one would land, nor in what condition. Hawk planned to land directly on target. As always!
“Lieutenant!” he bellowed at the door.
“Sir?” the Lieutenant answered, coming to full attention on the other side of the door, then marching two steps to the door and opening it, then stepping in and saluting.
“Deliver this file to Mister Niles Cramer over at the C.I.A. office. He’s waiting on it, so don’t delay! I want it there ten minutes ago! What the fuck are you waiting on, Soldier! You’re on the clock!” Hawk bellowed at the top of his lungs, seeing the soldier’s skeleton through his uniform as he paled nearly translucent, then virtually ran from the office.
Damn, but I love this shit! Hawk told himself in a barely audible voice as the lieutenant disappeared like a wraith in the wind, nearly jumping through his ass to please his superior. That’s the great thing about power, Hawk thought. People paid attention and respect to the powerful. And he was powerful. But, not near powerful enough. Not yet, but he would be.
“Time,” he said softly. “It’s just a matter of time!”
* * * * *
Tommy stepped through the door at the CIA office as ordered. He had been summoned less than a half an hour ago. I wonder what this is all about, he asked himself for the hundredth time in the last half hour.
It must have something to do with the After Action Reports I filed with Intelligence, he told himself, also for the hundredth time. In reality, he really didn’t have a clue what it was all about.
“Captain Tommy LeSade, to see Mister Niles Cramer. I’m expected,” he added, as he stood at the desk and looked down at the civilian secretary.
“Yes, sir,” the young woman smiled, getting up and leading the way down the hall. “Right this way.”
Tommy followed her down the hallway and into a very sparse office. The only furniture was a gray metal desk and an even grayer filing cabinet. A gray metal ladder back chair sat in front of the desk. He also expected the man behind the desk was also gray metal. He looked at the face through the pall of gray cigar smoke roiling around the dim light from the desk lamp. The smoke floated in a thick cloud obscuring the man’s face.
“Have a seat,” the man said.
He obviously knew nothing about military courtesy, being a civilian and all, Tommy told himself as he took a seat. If he did he certainly doesn’t know how to show it, he added.
“Captain, you have been very highly recommended from very high up for a top secret mission. Top secret,” the man reiterated. “Very highly classified. Very dangerous and just the opportunity for a man on the move up the military ladder, such as yourself. Are you in or out?”
“What is this mission, sir?” Tommy asked.
“Top secret! Very classified! Are you in or out, Captain?” Cramer replied without moving a muscle or blinking an eye that Tommy could see through the cloud of smoke.
Tommy thought for a few seconds, then for no reason he would ever be able to explain, he said, “I’m in.”
“Good,” the man he assumed was Cramer stated. “As you know, from this moment on you cannot discuss this mission with anyone except me. No one else, period. I don’t care what their rank, security level or title is. You will not acknowledge the existence of this mission with anyone now, or in the future. I don’t care if you live to be three-hundred years old and have all your faculties about you. You will not discuss this mission with anyone but me,” he repeated. “Do you understand, Captain?”
“Yes, Sir. No one but you, period!”
“Very well. Sign this. Read it first,” Cramer advised.
Tommy read the document, then reread it. It was basically an iron clad contract which said that when he signed it, if word of his mission was to become known to anyone besides himself and Cramer, he would be held absolutely responsible for the leak and would be court-martialed and convicted and would face a minimum of life imprisonment and possibly death by firing squad, or hanging. There was no way he was going to sign this document!
“Fuck you, mister! I’m not signing this,” Tommy said seriously, tossing it back onto the desk. “This is a fucking death warrant!”
“Bravo!” Cramer said, clapping his hands slowly. “Exactly! I wouldn’t sign it either. So you just passed the first test,” Cramer laughed. “So, sign this one.”
Tommy read the document, then reread it. Then signed it. It basically said that under no circumstances including threat of death would he reveal anything about the mission he was being sent on to anyone not authorized to receive that information. Cramer was the only one authorized that Tommy knew of. Cramer was his only contact.
“Captain, you just passed test number two. Now, who are you authorized to deliver any and all information to concerning your mission?”
“Only you, that I know of,” he replied.
“Test three passed! Follow me,” Cramer said, rising from behind his desk and heading for the door.
Tommy followed him down the hallway and through a door. They entered a large map room. Cramer approached a large map of the Middle East, but turned at the last moment and approached a map of Iraq and pointed to a spot in what seemed the middle of the desert.
“This is where you are going,” Cramer said. “And this is where you are.” He pointed to another spot just a little east of Baghdad. “As you know, Iraq is biting the big one! Saddam hasn’t a chance of ice in hell of winning this war. But, as you know there are literally hundreds of war lords and tribal leaders that are going to raise billy hell once Saddam is history.
“The problem is, for the past twenty years or so, Saddam has been robbing the Iraqi people blind. He didn’t trust his own banking system, so stockpiled billions of American dollars in bunkers in very secluded spots, filling them with tons and tons of currency, gold, platinum, diamonds and any other thing that held intrinsic value and was easily stashed. Now, he is history and Uncle Sam wants all his money back.
“The gold bullion will be given to the Iraqi government once it is in place and stable. It’s theirs, after all. They can have it.
“Your mission is to capture this lone bunker where we believe there is between two-hundred and five-hundred trillion American dollars stored; maybe half again as much gold bullion, platinum and diamonds. We don’t know for sure. There are always between eight and twelve guards at any given time. You are to eliminate the guards and secure the facility. You will then activate a beacon you will be carrying to alert me that your mission is accomplished. I will arrange for your pick up and evacuation back to safety. You will be given everything you want or need to accomplish this mission. Any questions?”
“Only one,” Tommy mused. “When do I leave?”
“When you’re ready,” Cramer smiled. “It will take me one phone call to get you reassigned TDY, temporary duty, to me. It will be done by the time you’re geared up.”
“Well, let’s
get going, then,” Tommy smiled, standing up.
“I’ll make the call. You go get packed, soldier!” Cramer smiled, sitting back down in his chair and relighting his cigar.
Two hours later, Tommy was headed northeast in a Blackhawk helicopter that wasn’t black. It was desert tan camouflage. It blended in perfectly with the terrain speeding by fifty feet below. He wasn’t worried about their altitude, Blackhawk pilots were the best. He knew he was in good hands.
He felt his eyelids getting heavy, so decided to get some sleep. He knew it might be a while before he had another chance. He was right.
While he napped, one-hundred-and-fifty miles behind him, his C.O. put out an order; find Captain Tommy LeSade! Escort him to my office if necessary. But, get him here! Now! Unknown to him, the search was futile. Captain Tommy LeSade was on a secret mission and wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon.
Tommy snapped wide awake when the chopper bumped into the sand upon landing. It seemed to him that he had just closed his eyes. He glanced at his watch. He’d been asleep for a little over two hours. He didn’t know that just ten minutes earlier he had been listed as AWOL by his commanding officer.
“End of the line, Captain,” the pilot said over his shoulder.
“Good enough,” Tommy replied, as he opened the cargo door, climbed down and began unloading his gear.
“Good luck,” the pilot yelled.
Tommy nodded his head and slammed the door. He picked up his pack and moved away from the chopper. He took out his compass to get his bearings. When he was satisfied he knew where he was, and where he was going, he shouldered his pack and started walking.
His destination was approximately ten miles northwest of his present location. It would take him about three hours to get there, more or less.
It would be pitch dark long before he arrived. But, that was the plan. Arrive after dark, dig in and watch, and wait. When he had their routine down, make his move. Simple.
This little exercise won’t take three days, he thought, as he humped along. He periodically scanned his surroundings with his binoculars to insure he was alone and unobserved. It would be pure hell to get caught. So, he wasn’t going to get caught. Plain and simple.
Back at headquarters, Colonel Austin Lake had just gone into thermal nuclear meltdown. LeSade’s ass was his! When he found him. And he would find him! Where could he go?
“It just don’t make no goddamn sense!” he screamed. “Who in the hell would go AWOL in the middle of the goddamn desert. In the middle of a goddamn war? This ain’t like LeSade! Goddamnit! I’ll skin his white ass from here to goddamn Austin Lake!” he roared, as the anger and pressure of LeSade’s absence began to mount once again.
The sun was going down on Tommy in more ways than one. Luckily, ignorance was bliss. He was about four miles from his target. He stopped, scanned his surroundings, and then took a small drink from his canteen, then continued on his journey.
An hour later he saw the glow of lights in the distance. He seemed to be coming up directly in front of the bunker; which was exactly where he wanted to be.
He low crawled up the last dune between him and the bunker and peeked over carefully. He was looking straight in the front door. “Perfect!” he thought as he began to bury himself into the sand.
From his pack he took a sand colored sheet with four, foot long stakes attached to the corners. This he spread over his body from head to foot. Not only did it blend in perfectly, but it repelled heat as well. When he got the lower part into position, he folded the sheet up to his waist and rolled over onto his stomach.
From his pack he took a foot long telescoping pipe that appeared to be sand colored PVC. He extended it to four feet and pushed it through the top of the dune. When it came out the other side, he crawled over the top of the dune, pushed the end of the pipe back even with the sand and removed the pointed cap from the end, then crawled back over the dune and under the sheet. He slid back down the dune until he could see through the tube and into the front door of the bunker without raising his head too far.
Next he pushed the two top stakes into the sand until they were flush with the surface, then pulled the sheet up over his head and folded the inner edges under and covered them with sand. This would keep stray gusts of wind from getting under the sheet and making it billow up in the middle like a dome.
After looking around carefully and deciding the sheet was virtually undetectable, he ducked under and pulled the sheet into place. He looked through the tube. Nothing moved around the bunker as night fell like a black curtain across the desert. The place seemed to be deserted. Satisfied he was safe, he decided a nap was in order.
He was awakened by the sound of a racing engine and loud excited voices. He looked through the tube. Eight men were unloading supplies from the back of a pickup truck. The driver stayed behind the wheel and raced the engine as if he were at Indy.
Now was a perfect time. If only he could be sure there were no more men in the bunker. All eight at once. All in one place. Plus, the driver. He wouldn’t get a better chance for maybe a week. He’d better go for it he decided, as he pulled the sniper rifle up beside him and eased himself to the top of the dune very slowly.
The men below were too busy to notice the small silenced rifle barrel lying on top of a sand dune at four hundred yards away.
Tommy studied the positions of the men and figured a firing order as if connecting the dots. He decided on the driver first, to prevent a possible get away, then the man standing at the bunker door. From there he would work left to right, back to front. This order would keep them away from the door and virtually out in the open.
His first shot took the driver clean, laying him gently over in the seat. The truck lunged and died. The men laughed and made jokes. His second shot hit its mark and the man dropped like a rock. After that it was like shooting pigs in a pen. Within a minute and a half eight men lay dead, or dying. Everything was silent as the grave. Tommy kept the cross hairs on the center of the opened door. He halfway expected someone to show up to find out what had happened to all the talking and joking, and the steady stream of supplies that should have been coming into the bunker.
Five minutes passed. Nothing. Ten minutes, nothing. Fifteen, nothing. Then, a head appeared and started up what was obviously stairs. He seemed to grow out of the sand in the doorway. Tommy let him get halfway up and then shot him between the eyes. He crumbled like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Tommy waited thirty minutes this time; nothing. An hour; nothing.
He slowly eased back down the dune. He took his binoculars and slowly scanned the surrounding area. Nothing moved. He slowly stood and, carrying his rifle at the ready, his eye to the scope, he started for the bunker, stepping soft and slow, the rifle making a slow 180° arc across his front.
Ten minutes later, he had covered the four-hundred yards. He stood beside the door, looking and listening. Voices, either a TV or a radio, he decided. He started down the steep steps, one step at a time.
At the bottom he spun the rifle barrel quickly around the room. It was empty except for a long sofa, two tables and eight chairs. On one of the tables was a radio and on the other a TV. Both were playing at once and at close to top volume.
At the back of the room was a door. He stood beside it, turned the knob slowly and carefully, and then jerked it open. He almost fainted when he saw what lay beyond.
From the door, as far back as he could see were pallets of money. He stepped inside and started slowly through the pallets. On his left and right, two pallets, four feet by four feet by three feet high, and stacked two high. He came to a crossway, looking slowly left and right. He saw no one. He went deeper into the warehouse until he was several pallets from the back wall. The money stopped and the gold bars, stacked on pallets eight or ten bars high, began. There were hundreds of the pallets. At the far end were large boxes sitting on pallets, he went to them and looked inside one. Diamonds! Tons of diamonds!
Tommy fou
nd it hard to believe, hard to breathe and hard to control his heartbeat. It seemed to want to race away with him. He had never been so excited, that he could remember, anyway. He scanned the warehouse once again. It appeared to be empty. At least he hoped so. Then the question that had been nagging at the back of his head came forward and was recognized: where did they sleep? He went back through the pallets quickly and was soon back at the door leading into the front room. Then, he saw it, a door on the far left hand side of the room. It was covered with a large tapestry. It wavered gently in a cross draft. He wondered how he had missed it the first time through. That was a deadly mistake. It was mistakes like that that got men killed, he chided himself as he stepped over to the tapestry and gently, slowly pulled it back and stepped inside.
Four men lay sleeping, two to a bed. He killed them as they slept. He felt no remorse. He was a soldier, as were they. This was war. They were the enemy. If they didn’t want to die, they shouldn’t sleep so heavy.
The bunker was clear and it was time for the beacon and time to relax and wait. While he did though, he had to do something with the bodies outside. Might as well put them to bed, he thought as he climbed the steps slowly, his rifle up and ready for the unexpected.
Outside was clear and thirty minutes later he had the last man lying softly on top of his friends. They had all smelled like goats. Now he smelled like a goat, too.
He drove the truck out into the desert and left it. He would have burned it, but he knew the smoke would draw unwelcome company. On his way back to the bunker, he grabbed his gear and took it with him. He activated the beacon as he went.
When he got back he sat in the stairwell just high enough so he could see out. That way no one could sneak up on him. He was careful not to sit in the blood and urine from the man who had died on the steps. He was on full alert when, less than two hours later he saw a plume of dust rising into the midday sky to the north.
Looking through his binoculars he could see the lead truck. It was an eighteen wheeler pulling two large box trailers with giant white crosses painted on the sides. He began to prepare for a fight if need be.