Total Empire, page 30
I looked at the text.
Help
That was clear enough to me.
On the third round of checks on my team, they were chattier and feeling better. All were standing outside of the backs of their ambulances, comparing notes and reviewing the last seventy-two hours.
“Team,” I said. “The president of the United States has asked us to help her. She’s what I would call a quasi-captive, being held by her own cabinet and the Chinese military. They’re trying to strong-arm her into signing phase two of the Dakhla Accords, which importantly cedes certain national authorities. It’s all very technical, but the bottom line is that it is the first step toward a globalist world order, which the Dakhla Accords are calling the CUSP.”
“Chinese-U.S. Partnership,” Zoey muttered.
“That’s right, Zoey. I have a plan that allows us to complete the mission despite our limitations. Sanson is across the gulf, rearming and upfitting for the final showdown, whatever he thinks that might be. The president is in the castle on the sea at the southern tip of the peninsula. Only one way in by way of land, and of course, three sides of the castle are protected by the ocean with forty-foot vertical walls. Chinese military and U.S. Secret Service will be guarding the entrance. Boats, I’m sure, will be patrolling the sea despite the rough waters. And there will be layers of security once inside.”
“Are you trying to motivate us, boss?” Hobart said.
“Yes, is it working?”
“Well, it’s distracting me,” Van Dreeves said. “But I don’t care if I live or die other than to protect you guys. No offense, General, but right now, it’s just us against the world.”
I nodded. “That’s what Sally said at the Mole. Us against the world. Let’s earn it for her.”
“Roger that,” they said in unison. “For Sally.”
“My thoughts are this: Randy and I execute the castle portion of the mission. Joe and Zoey, both of you are winged, so you can stay here and command and control. Zoey, you’ll be one hundred percent focused on communicating with the Moroccans, keeping them informed. Jeremy, you and the Beast team will be on standby to extract should everything go to shit, as I expect it to.”
“Why I’m here,” he said.
“When you’re ready, I’ve drawn the plan on the whiteboard. I want everyone to come in and memorize, and then I’m going to erase it. We can trust no one outside of this circle.”
“What about other JSOC units?” Hobart asked.
“The question would be, are they coming to help us or coming to stop us? Because it will be hard to tell, and if we’re wrong, it will all be over. They don’t have the insight we have or the connections. They’re doing what people who have turned are telling them to do. We’ll cross that bridge when and if we get to it.”
“Let’s get some recon out over the objectives and get to work,” Van Dreeves said.
My broken and weary team limped and hobbled to their respective desks and positions. Van Dreeves dragged two Raven drones from storage beneath a tarp in the corner of the team room. After thirty minutes, he had them launched and in the air. One circled El Argoub six miles across the gulf. The other began scoping the castle, six miles away to the south.
Van Dreeves sat at a console inside the hangar and flew the drone. Hobart flew the other with one arm in a sling. Van Dreeves found Sanson’s airplane and began a slow cloverleaf pattern from there until he found two Zodiac boats bobbing at a pier. Sanson and Champollion were talking, Champollion baring her teeth at him and raising her bound wrists as one of his large bodyguards lifted her into the boat and strapped her in using a couple of round turns around her waist and synching the line through a rubber cleat. Van Dreeves followed the Zodiac as it made the quick trip through the surging swells across the Sea of Dakhla to the castle.
I looked at the feed from the second Raven, which Hobart was flying with the joystick in the office. We used AirMap software to plan the routes but could override them if necessary. Hobart’s Raven recorded the violent waves crashing unabated from the Canary Current. He did manage to identify sentries at every guard tower and snipers in the battlements in every cardinal direction.
The drone got close enough to see a group of people on one of the balconies. Huddled together were Secretary of State McHenry, Secretary of Defense Blankenship, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs Rolfing, and National Security Advisor Kidman. They were speaking calmly but with purpose. McHenry seemed to be in charge as she pointed and spoke, then listened, and spoke again. The rest of the group appeared deferential to her. Sanson joined the meeting. There was no sign of Champollion after entering through the castle dock house.
Hobart snapped several screenshots of the meeting and its location in the castle. He then moved his Raven to cover for Van Dreeves as he brought Raven 1 in for recharge. As the field of view switched, Hobart studied the northeast side of the castle where the waters were not as violent.
“Okay, we go in there,” I said. Van Dreeves was outside recovering the drone. Zoey helped him while Hobart and I were talking in the office.
“It’s just you and Randy, boss. No one else is capable,” Hobart said. “Watch out for my brother.”
I’ll never forget Hobart’s sorrowful eyes as he spoke to me. That we had persisted this long as a team, whole and healthy, was a miracle. We knew that we were tempting fate every day we continued. Was this the day everything would come undone? Unravel completely?
“I’ve always had everyone’s back, Joe. You know that. We’re all hurting right now. So, yes, it’s just me and Randy.”
“That’s my point. We’ve lost Sally. Is more risk worth it? Knowing all these people are just double-crossing everyone, looking out for their self-interests?” He pointed at the senior leadership of the government as he spoke.
“I want Sanson. I want every son of a bitch that has turned on our country. If we don’t defend it, who will?”
“We will, boss, but Jesus, the entire cabinet? Is there a country left to defend?”
“We do what needs to be done,” I said. It was a dilemma, though. What if this was just a routine meeting? What if the president had sanctioned this? What if someone had hijacked her burner? What did the Constitution call for? We had raised our right hands to support and defend the Constitution, not elected or unelected bureaucrats.
We did have a country to defend. People that were counting on us. Van Dreeves downloaded a copy of the castle blueprint onto his tablet, and we studied it for a few minutes. There was a giant ballroom in the middle, with two sets of steps ascending to internal balconies that led to a series of rooms around the perimeter of the castle. President Campbell could be held in any of them if she was being held at all.
This was a perfect mission for SEAL Team Six or Delta Force. I had at my disposal the most elite soldiers in the world but could not risk the orders process to activate them or that their mission wouldn’t be subverted by the sedition that was clearly taking place at the highest levels of government. The last thing I wanted was to order my entire JSOC force into action and have to fight against them because some bureaucrat thought they knew what was best for the country.
“They could be held here,” I said, pointing at the lines of rooms above the open ballroom, “or here.” There were two rooms in the basement area, properly called a dungeon given the age of this castle.
As we watched the monitor, Sanson appeared on the balcony with Defense Minister Gambeau and General Liang dressed in a green uniform. An aide was carrying champagne glasses and two bottles on a tray. His nervous eyes flitted from dignitary to dignitary. He poured glasses, and each person grabbed a flute.
Liang muttered something, and they all raised their glasses, touched the rims, and then drank. They laughed and smiled, chatting with each other, placing hands on shoulders, and took a few selfies with smartphones.
A far cry from the death and destruction in Loudoun County, Virginia, or the Eye of Africa.
McHenry led the team back into the stairwell that fed the crow’s nest where they had just toasted. Beneath the crow’s nest was a large, extended balcony that overlooked the swirling ocean point.
Some functionaries were setting up lights atop tripods. Someone else was wheeling a television camera onto the balcony. Against the back wall, where the sea was spraying white foam, a blacksmith was hammering pitons into the railing.
Through the glass doors that led to the second-floor landing, Sanson had taken up position behind President Campbell. As they stepped through the open double doors, Sanson’s saber sheath bounced against the threshold.
President Campbell’s hands were tied behind her back.
42
“WE HAVE TO GO now,” I said.
“It’s an hour to sunset,” Van Dreeves countered.
“By the time we’re there, it will be dark.”
“Roger, boss.”
We moved quickly from the back of the hangar and to the small pier maybe one hundred meters from the building. Scaling down a steep bank, we boarded a Zodiac Hurricane with GPS mounted on top and a .50-caliber machine gun stationed in the center. Two Moroccan Special Forces soldiers were standing on the pier. They were dressed in black cargo pants and black long-sleeve shirts with black outer tactical vests and black balaclavas. One carried an FR-F2 French sniper rifle and the other a Barrett .50-caliber sniper rifle.
I said, “Farouk,” and the lead soldier said, “Ahmed.”
With bona fides exchanged, we boarded the Zodiac, which quietly and slowly departed the pier as if the Moroccan troops were also urging the sun to set. They took a deliberate wide berth of the shore and entered the Sea of Dakhla about three miles in the middle.
“Farouk was my best friend,” the soldier steering the boat said.
“He was a good man. The best,” I offered.
“We’ll kill for him,” he said.
“You most likely will have to.”
“I’m Lokmane. This quiet one is Samir.”
“Sinclair and Van Dreeves here,” I said.
“We know who you are. Farouk told us many stories about both of you and Joe Hobart. We are sorry about Colonel McCool, also.”
Van Dreeves looked away. I wondered if he would be able to focus enough. I figured either he would be so fueled by anger at Sanson that he would be motivated to follow through, or his loss would overwhelm him to incapacitation.
As if reading my mind, Van Dreeves said, “Boss, I’m okay. Let’s get this done. For Sally.”
“For Sally,” I said.
A few minutes passed with us drifting in the water when Hobart radioed us. “Joe’s up on the net,” I said, pointing at my earpiece.
The wind rippled the water, and we continued to drift under minimal power. Once the sun was dipping into the southwestern horizon of the Atlantic Ocean, Lokmane tilted the throttle forward and marginally increased the speed.
The shoreline crept by in the distance. Looming high above the horizon was the castle, right angles and varying elevations jutting upward. Like something out of a horror show, the night completely enveloped the citadel as end-of-evening nautical twilight extinguished all light.
“Now,” Lokmane said. “Perfect darkness.”
The engine revved some more, still quietly buzzing beneath the ocean’s surface. Cool sea mist sprayed our faces as we skipped along the water. We passed a few fishing boats, men pulling in nets beneath spotlights and completely focused on their haul. As we neared the castle, the riptide was strong. The open ocean funneled into the gulf around the point and sucked the water in the center of the channel. Large rocks guarded the shoreline like jagged teeth. Samir lay on the front of the Zodiac, looking through his nightscope. Van Dreeves and I adjusted our refreshed IVAS.
“We will cut the power to the castle when you give the word. We are up on your comms net,” Lokmane said.
He slowed the Zodiac to a stall, and we drifted with the rip, which pulled us parallel to the shoreline and then released us from its grip maybe fifty meters from an opening in the rock formation. Lokmane slipped a trolling motor over the bow, and it purred, pulling us silently into a cordoned cove, where Sanson’s boat sat empty.
Two coughs from Samir’s silenced FA2 sniper rifle dropped two men who were standing on the dock. We had scant time to get to their communications equipment and prevent them from talking if either were wounded. Seconds later, Van Dreeves was scaling the dock while Samir was tying off the line to the pier. Van Dreeves confirmed Samir’s shots had killed both men.
“One MSS and one DGSE,” Van Dreeves whispered. MSS was the Chinese Ministry of State Security, the rough equivalent to the United States’ Secret Service. What we saw on the battlement with the Raven drone meshed with what we were seeing here: Chinese and French teamwork. It was a consistent theme from the very beginning. Sanson and the Chinese were paired in a massive ruse to provide satellite imagery top cover for the rapid installation of the Chinese GLINTS. All the lock’s tumblers were falling into place now.
“Thirty minutes, we are gone,” Lokmane said.
“Roger that.”
After removing the communications devices of the guards, Van Dreeves and I moved into the dark recess of an alcove, which required a scan of a chip card. Van Dreeves had secured both sets of identity markers from the guards and used one card to scan us both into the hallway. The dim red light turned green, and a sharp beep sounded once, followed by the unlocking of the door.
We were in. The air was damp and musty. The contrast from the surging waves and rip currents to the still confines of the castle tunnel was stark.
The stone hallway led to an iron-bar gate that required another keypad entry, which Van Dreeves buzzed us through. The blueprint had shown two large rooms off this hallway, and the first was empty, save a few marketing materials, such as signs and brochures, a few tables, and scattered chairs.
The second room was piled with dead bodies. I watched the hallway as Van Dreeves counted each person.
“Four Secret Service. Bullet wounds to the head. Hands behind the back. A few staffers. Don’t recognize any of them. Maybe the chief of staff. Dreads around the bullet hole in his head. He looks familiar. Maybe the DNI, too. All executed. President not here. Champollion not here. Assuming other cabinet members still up top. No clue on president.”
“Infinity is missing … Infinity is missing…”
The earpiece had popped out of one of the dead agent’s ears, and a tinny voice kept whispering, “Infinity is missing … Infinity is missing…”
President Campbell often spoke about her childhood growing up on the exclusive Figure Eight Island just north of Wilmington, North Carolina. As a child, she playfully called it “Infinity Island,” because on the map, the landmass looked more like a tilted infinity symbol. The Washington Post had referenced this fact in one of many profiles on her, quoting her, “Yes, Infinity Island is my happy place.” Upon election to the presidency, the Secret Service had assigned her the call sign Infinity.
The voice was scratchy and removed from the microphone on the sending end of the communication. It was impossible to determine if it was male or female. Was it President Campbell herself? Her bodyguard?
Van Dreeves removed the device and set it up on himself while I did the same with the other dead agent’s equipment. I stuffed the earpiece in my pocket so that I could continue to communicate with our throat microphones and earpieces yet have access to the Secret Service system if needed.
Backing out of the kill room, we found a stairway that led up to the ballroom level, where we expected the main force to be. The door at the top required another keypad swipe, and evidently, the security teams had leaned upon two guards at the pier to secure the bottom half of the castle. Van Dreeves swiped the card and slowly pushed the heavy oak and wrought iron door open. It creaked on old hinges and opened to a dark, motionless ballroom, save a rat skittering along the stone floor, searching for scraps.
Checking at every juncture for cameras, we found no obvious signs of fiber optics or security alarms. I was beginning to think this was a baited ambush when a light switched on behind the ballroom. Beyond that large expanse was a balcony that overlooked Point Dakhla with its crashing seas and vicious rip currents.
Two men moved quickly through the balcony doors and into the ballroom. They were husky, shoulders and arms bursting at the seams of their suit coats. More of Sanson’s men, I presumed. Pistols in their hands, the men darted directly toward us, possibly having been alerted after failing a radio check with the pier security force.
We had moved away from the door behind a long dining table with ornate high-backed chairs. A large chandelier hung precariously above the table, suspended from the castle ceiling. Light skidded from beneath the doors on the interior balcony above us and from the exterior balcony to our two o’clock position.
The men spun around, looking upward and in all directions as they moved in a two-person rotating huddle toward the basement door. Van Dreeves nodded at the large iron hinged locking bar and two U-bolts on either side of the jamb. Concerned that dead bodies on the dance floor might become an issue, as soon as the lead man opened the door, I shot the guard facing the ballroom. Van Dreeves raced the ten meters to the slumping man, caught him, fired two silenced shots behind the door, presumably hitting the lead man. He tossed the dead man he was holding into the stairwell and disappeared for thirty seconds. Reappearing, he closed the door and slid the locking bar across the door.
That avenue was secure, and we now had four fewer bodyguards to concern ourselves with.
One of the information gaps we had was knowing who had departed Air Force One and who had remained. We had two dead Secret Service agents and four staffers in the kill room. How many were ordinarily on the detail when you had a plane full of administration types wanting to escape what they knew was coming?
We had to assume that the French and Chinese joint venture had disposed of everyone they didn’t need at the beginning of this operation. Who remained? Where was President Campbell? Killing her would simply put the vice president in charge. But in charge of what? A country that had signed a treaty subordinating itself to a global entity?
