“No, Mojombo, I don’t think you staged that little rally. It seemed to come from the heart. It was impressive.”
“I’m pleased. Enjoy your Coke before it gets warm.”
Ten minutes later, the jet-propelled craft skidded over two sandbars. The engine powered up, and Adams could feel the flat hull of the boat nudge the bars and the bottom slide over the sand, scraping it all the way.
Mojombo grinned at the sound. “That is the noise of a perfect defense,” he said. “No boat with a propeller could possibly get over those sandbars or another one upstream.”
Vice President Adams nodded slowly. He was becoming more and more impressed with this young revolutionary, this Loyalist Party leader.
Twenty minutes later the boat eased up to a sturdy dock at the edge of the stream. It was only ten feet long, but built well, and would last for years even though it was made of poles and wooden decking.
Ten men dressed in jungle-print cammies ran to the boat, unloaded the food and supplies the villagers had provided, and hurried with the baskets up a trail into the jungle.
Mojombo set up the SATCOM on the sturdy dock and turned the satellite dish until he picked up the orbiter and the set beeped.
“Mr. Vice President Adams, I believe the radio is ready for you to set the frequency for the White House and to start your broadcast. To be sure they are receiving you, it would be good to call them and ask for a response.”
Marshall Adams took the microphone that Mojombo handed him, moved the dial to the correct numbers, and pushed the send button.
“Calling the White House. This is Vice President Adams calling the White House.”
6
Wally’s frantic message from Air Force Two to the White House set off a near panic. President Randolph Edwards called his top advisors together at once, and they sat in the Oval Office staring at each other.
“It’s a kidnapping pure and simple,” Johnson from State said.
“But from what Wally said, the man was literate, spoke perfect English, and his gunmen did not harm any of the Vice President’s party or the newspeople with them.” The comment came from the CIA representative, Donaldson. “Doesn’t sound like a terrorist to me. Terrorists would have killed everyone in the motorcade after they captured the Vice President.”
“Wally said there were no ransom demands,” the President said, reading from some papers. “That the man who spoke English was the leader of a group called the Bijimi Loyalist Party. Have we ever heard of them?” He turned to the man from the State Department.
“No, we’ve hardly heard of Sierra Bijimi,” Johnson said.
“What’s our course of action?” General Lawford, the president’s National Defense Advisor, asked.
“Hell, what can we do? Damn near nothing,” FBI Director Worthington said. “Somebody snatched the Vice President. We’ve never heard of the grabber. He’s not with the government of that nation, so we have no clout and no target there. Damn little we can do now until we hear from the people who hold the Vice President.”
Donaldson tapped his pen on his pad of paper. The CIA man nodded grimly. “Got to admit it was a delicate and finely planned operation. Tree down across the road. The rigs all stopped. Snipers take out the twelve soldiers before they can fire a shot. Well-placed rounds that didn’t even come close to the two cars in the middle. That takes disciplined, well-trained troops. Then their leader gets the drop on the Secret Service men and it’s all over.”
“You know that Wally is reliable as the Vice President’s top aide,” the President said. “They checked the limo after they found it at the end of the road at the river landing. Evidently the kidnappers took the Vice President upstream to their strong point. Wally says the group has vanished up there before after making a raid in the city or against the Army. He also said the SATCOM radio is missing from its spot in the limo. Maybe we’ll be hearing directly from the kidnapper on the SATCOM. Make sure we keep an open channel for that set at all times.”
“Taken care of that, Mr. President,” Sage Billings said. He was the President’s Chief of Staff.
“Goddamnit, Mr. President,” General Lawford said. “We should send in a dozen of our river patrol boats and blast everything in sight until they give up the Vice President. We’ve got to show a strong hand or they’ll try to bleed us dry.”
“Easy, General. Easy. So far we don’t know what is happening. We need to find out what these Loyalists want first, before we can decide anything.”
Billings caught the President’s attention. “Sir, what about our long-standing and well-voiced policy of never negotiating with terrorists? Does that include the people who are now holding the Vice President of our nation against his will?”
President Edwards shook his head, his lips a firm angry line. “I just don’t know, Sage. I don’t know. First we have to determine that these men who have Vice President Adams are terrorists. Perhaps this no-negotiating problem will just go away.”
“Vietnam,” General Lawford said. Everyone looked up. “Reminds me of how the SEALs worked the war in Vietnam. They made the rivers their highways, charged up and down them getting their jobs done neatly and swiftly. I’d suggest we send in our special platoon of SEALs to be on station there in Sierra City, even before we decide what we need to do. Anything we come up with, they probably would be involved with anyway.”
Lawford looked around the table. “Mr. Donaldson, could you get your favorite SEAL platoon over to Sierra City in twenty-four hours?”
“We could.” He looked at the head of the table. “Mr. President, I’m liking what General Lawford just said more and more. Fact is, we can put the SEALs on the scene, and use them for recon if nothing else. They can get in and out of a rat trap and not even bother the cheese.”
The President looked around the table. He saw three of the men nod. Worthington bobbed his head. “Let’s do it, then see what else we can do when we need to do it,” he said.
“Are there any Naval units in that area?” the President asked.
“We utilized some of our assets last week up near Spain, which are the closest ones to this problem,” Johnson said. “I remember the CNO saying he had no units south of there, so we would have to fly south off a carrier.”
“Spain is how far from West Africa?” General Lawford asked.
Donaldson frowned. “Just a minute.” He wrinkled his brow and rubbed his forehead. “Even with some flyovers, it would be over three thousand miles from the task force in place to that small country. We would do better to fly in some Rangers from Germany with a couple of stopovers.”
“Premature,” the President said. “First we find out what this guy wants, and then we talk with him.”
“We try to figure out a new policy about negotiating with terrorists?” the CIA man, Donaldson, asked.
“We’re not negotiating, and we don’t know that he’s a terrorist,” the FBI director said. “First we wait and see what we have here.”
A knock sounded on a door, and an aide came in with some papers in his hand. He went to the President and whispered something to him, then gave him the papers.
The President put them on the table, adjusted his reading glasses, and went over the words carefully. Partway through he looked up.
“Well, this is good news. A SATCOM message directly from Adams. The Vice President says not to worry about him. He goes on:
“ ‘I’m being well treated and I am safe and in no danger. I already consider these men I’m with as friends, not enemies, and certainly not terrorists. I’m not sure why I am here, but Mojombo Washington, the leader of the Loyalist Party, told me that he would be making some demands on the United States soon.