Brannigan glared at him. "I'm think you're a spy."
"I don't unnerstan'," Ignacio Perez said with a hopeful smile. "No more fight. I quit. Oh, yes!"
"We found a lot of papers and computer disks in your rucksack," Brannigan said. "What are they all about?"
"I quit. No more fight:'
"Shit!" Brannigan said. He spoke into the LASH. "Chief Gunnarson, send Gomez back here to the Command Element."
Frank Gomez came trotting up less than a minute later. He started to report to Brannigan but caught sight of the prisoner. "Who the hell is he?"
"He's somebody that Olson captured," Brannigan said. "He doesn't speak English, so ask him who the hell he is and where he comes from. I also want to know about the stuff in his rucksack."
"Aye, sir," Frank said. He knelt down beside the EPW and began talking to him. After an exchange that went on for five minutes, Frank stood up. "Sir, he says his name is Ignacio Perez, and he's a warrant officer in the Falangist Army. The guy wants to defect and says that he worked as the adjutant for the generalisimo."
"That must be that Castillo guy they told us about in Isolation," Brannigan said.
"Yes, sir," Frank replied. "And he says the papers and computer disks in his rucksack are secret intelligence and operational documents of the Falangists. They include the names of special contacts those guys have in the Bolivian, Argentine and Chilean armies."
"Jesus!" Brannigan exclaimed, having trouble believing that such good luck had occurred. "Find out why he defected."
After another conversation with Ignacio, Frank said, "He wants to get the hell away from the Falangists. He was hijacked out of the Spanish Foreign Legion where he was serving in lieu of a prison sentence. He is hoping he will be allowed to go to America."
"Give one of those documents a read and tell me what it says:' Brannigan ordered.
Frank reached in Ignacio's rucksack and pulled out a folder. He flipped it open and read the top page. "This one here lists the names of Chilean intelligence officers that are either sympathetic or belong to the Falangist movement."
"Gomez," Brannigan said in a steady voice in spite of his excitement, "get on that fucking Shadowfire radio and raise Matrix. Tell them what's come stumbling up the mountains to us."
"Aye, sir!"
Frank went to the radio and flipped it on. After getting Matrix and going through the authentication procedure, he informed the CIA operator of what had unexpectedly transpired in the Selva Verde Mountains.
Ignacio, now sure that things were going his way, smiled.
.
FALANGIST LINES
EASTERN SIDE
1830 HOURS L0CAL
THE original convict contingent from the penitentiary in Patagonia were now down to thirteen from the original twenty-four. The poorly armed men had made constant attacks with submachine guns at their backs and were now so desperate some considered simply getting it over with quicker by refusing to move up the mountain again. It seemed better to die without further fear and exhaustion.
Capitan Pablo Gonzales recognized that they were almost at a breaking point. It would do nothing for the Falangist cause to shoot them down below the mountaintop rather than forcing them to die at the enemy's line of defense. He ordered a stand down, pulling them farther back and giving them a chance to rest, eat and get their emotions under control. The convicts were taken to a glade and allowed to get off their feet. Their wardens, however, still kept the muzzles of their submachine guns on them. Several of the prisoners thought they would be s this point but saw no hope in resistance. They simply sank to the soft jungle ground to wait whatever fate had destined for them.
Gordo Pullini recognized the fatalistic attitude that was fast developing among his gang. It was now time for him to take over and get them back under his personal control. The one thing that Capitan Gonzales didn't know about convicts was that after long years behind walls, they had developed efficient albeit simple ways of communication. These could be codes tapped on cell walls, passing notes via twine and paper clip hooks, or speaking in secret ways to convey special meanings or instructions.
As the gang leader sat in the clearing, his leading lieutenants gathered around him, looking as if they had settled down in the locale casually, without any special purpose. Cortador Marconi, Cicatriz Bagni, Pancho DiPietro and Navajaso Coletti seemed to be daydreaming as Pullini spoke softly in a patois of prison slang. Although gthgir gazes and attention seemed to be directed elsewhere, each man received and completely understood the instructions. When Pullini stopped speaking, the subchiefs casually got to their feet and stretched, then walked around the group, stopping to get a light for a cigarette or exchange a word or two. The guards with the submachine guns did not notice anything unusual, unaware that each of the wandering convicts had passed on orders to two men each.
The guards, now wanting to eat and grab siestas, moved away to organize themselves into three shifts to watch over their charges. Capital? Gonzales was lying on his back, fast asleep.
Each convict slowly worked the bolt of his rifle, chambering one round. Pullini watched, then stood up and walked over to the side like he had to urinate. His men watched him carefully for a few moments. He suddenly turned, and his gang leaped to their feet and aimed at the individual submachine gunners they had been assigned to kill.
Thirteen Mauser rifles barked and spat death.
Now the convicts looked back to Pullini. "Get the submachine guns and bullets," he said. "Take all the rations they carry."
As soon as the task was completed, the convicts hurried from the clearing, entering the jungle to begin a trek upward into the mountains, leaving the corpses of Gonzales and his men to rot in the high jungle terrain.
.
CAMPO DE AVIAGAO CABRAL
ARREDORES, BRAZIL
17 JANUARY
THE preliminary examinations of the intelligence turned over by Ignacio Perez proved to be absolutely accurate. The problem was having to wade through all the names in the documents to eliminate trusted officers who had not joined the Falangists. Because of that, it was still too risky to call in the armed forces of Argentina, Bolivia or Chile to fight against the generalisimo's men. This left Wild Bill Brannigan and his SEALs twisting in the wind.
It was the time for dirty tricks to be played, and nobody knew that game better that a United States undersecretary of state by the name of Dr. Carl Joplin.
He made contact with his counterpart Bernardo Spinola from the Brazilian embassy in Washington, and the pair met in an upscale restaurant in Silver Springs, Maryland. The two statesmen spoke low over the wine and dinners with Joplin doing most of the talking. He glibly informed Spinola that there was irrefutable proof that the massacre of the Brazilian settlers in the Gran Chaco had been done by the Falangists. Spinola listened intently as Joplin explained why the armed forces of Argentina, Bolivia and Chile could not be brought in to deal a death blow to the murderers, even though they were now contained in the Selva Verde Mountains. It would be helpful if Brazil could furnish gun helicopters to make an aerial assault to back up the Americans who even now were locked in battle with the fascists. This, of course, was top secret and not for public consumption, but it would be sweet revenge for the Brazilians.
Now, in that airfield in Brazil, four Defender 500 Scout multi-mission helicopters of the Forca Airea do Brasil were warming up for a combat mission. These small aircraft were armed with 40-millimeter grenade launchers that spewed out the little explosive devices in deadly salvos. Although they would have been at a disadvantage against heavily armed troops with anti-aircraft capabilities, they would do fine against the Falangists.