Chapter 40
Vince was able to catch up with the Vice President just as Chapman was in the process of reaching the bottom of the hollow.
Frantic voices sounded ahead, the encroaching night veiling all but the trees and scrub that immediately encircled them.
“Mr. Vice President, you’ve got to slow down and think about what you’re doing,” warned Vince.
“If that blast was a mine, it means that Mariano’s men will also be drawn there.”
“To hell with Mariano!” cursed Chapman, who was vainly attempting to extract his foot from a tangled snare of twisted branches.
“Those poor folks need our help, and I’m not going to abandon them.”
Vince realized it would be fruitless to argue his point further.
He merely knelt, pulled the branches apart, and as Chapman pulled out his foot, Vince had time to deliver one more passionate plea.
“At the very least, let me lead the way. If there are mines out here, I’ll be the one to trigger them. Keep a good five paces behind, and try to step only where I do.”
They proceeded in such a manner, Vince trying his best to navigate a safe course toward the voices that continued to sound in the distance. Though he failed to uncover a single trip wire or booby trap, they were unable to escape the overhanging tree limbs that scratched their faces and threatened to gouge out their eyes, the thorn bushes that grabbed at their clothes and skin like barbed wire, and the ankle-twisting, rock-filled potholes.
“Oh, sweet Jesus, Pa, ain’t there nothin’ we can do for him?”
sounded Miriam’s pleading voice from nearby.
Vince carefully scanned the forest in the direction of her voice. Because of the lack of direct light and the abundance of vegetation, it was all but impossible for him to see more than a few feet ahead. Andrew Chapman was practically standing on his heels, and Vince turned around and whispered, “They appear to be on the other side of this scrub. Please follow my every step, sir, and try to keep your distance.”
To reach the others, they had to tear their way through a bramble patch, step over a succession of fallen timber, and circumnavigate an immense limestone boulder. This put them in what appeared to be a clearing of some sort. Stars could be seen twinkling from above, where the last light of dusk illuminated a scene that Vince would not soon forget.
Huddled in the center of the clearing were Amos, Miriam, and Tiny. C.J. lay in a bloody heap at their feet, his skull cracked open and his intestines hanging out of the large hole that had been blown in his lower abdomen. Junior was kneeling close to his fallen friend’s side, his face covered in blood, the stiff corpse of Satan held tightly in his grasp.
“When I catch the bastards responsible for this slaughter, there’s gonna be hell to pay!” warned Amos, who watched C.J/s body issue a frenzied spasm before surrendering to the final throes of death.
“Not only did they set that trap. Pa, but they went and cut Satan’s throat,” the still-sobbing Junior managed to mutter.
“They’re nothin’ but a spineless bunch of cowards!”
While Andrew Chapman moved in to comfort the bereaved, Vince pleaded for them to keep their voices down. Then he surveyed the clearing in which they stood. It didn’t take him long to discover the piece of nylon fishing line that had served as the trip wire, and the jagged piece of green plastic proving a claymore mine was responsible for killing C.J. The claymore was a favorite weapon of SOG, and Vince scanned the surrounding woods, knowing full well that Mariano’s forces were surely close by.
“I think it’s best if we got out of this hollow with all due haste,” Vince advised.
“Mr. Vice President, I insist that we get moving this moment. Either you come with me voluntarily, or I’ll carry you out of here by force if necessary.”
Andrew Chapman was comforting Miriam. He had his arm draped over her shoulders, and as Vince moved in to enforce his ultimatum, a pair of green-faced, ghillie-suited individuals dropped out of the overhanging trees. At the same time, three heavily armed, BDUclad commandos emerged from the woods, and though Tiny bravely charged into their ranks, Vince knew in an instant that resistance was futile.
Chapter 41
“… which leads me to believe that they plan to target both General Spencer aboard Iron Man One and the Vice President in the Ozarks.”
Coach and Red breathlessly listened to Brittany’s chilling words of warning from the hushed confines of the upper-deck rest area. Their worst fears were now realized, and they struggled to put the entire situation into perspective.
“Whomever the Chairman called in the Ozarks, they’d better have one hell of a fallout shelter if Yankee Hotel is ever implemented,” Coach said with a worried shake of his head.
“With both the VP and Iron Man One out of the way, Warner will have effectively wiped out the opposition.”
“With the individual military units that he contacted standing by, should any unexpected obstacles be encountered,” added Red.
“I still can’t believe he really thinks he can get away with it,” said Brittany.
“And what could his motives possibly be?”
“Megalomania, delusions of grandeur, or some infantile shortcoming that he never fulfilled — it really doesn’t matter at the moment,” replied Coach.
“The one thing we have to focus on is how we’re going to stop him.”
“If only we could get the Vice President to address the American people,” suggested Red.
“Once they see him alive, and he’s sworn in as the new President, Warner’s forces won’t stand a chance.”
The cabin shook slightly, and Coach replied while steadying himself on the edge of the table he was standing beside.
“The question remains, how can we help the VP in the meantime?”
“I think it’s only obvious that we have to share our findings with General Spencer,” offered Brittany.
“As the EAO aboard Iron Man One, he’s the second most powerful man in the country until the next President’s sworn in, and with TACAMO at his disposal, he’s in the best position to directly challenge Warner.”
“You don’t feel that Spencer could be part of the coup?”
asked Coach, carefully testing the waters.
“At some point we’ve got to trust someone in a position of real power, and the General appears to be our only safe bet,” answered Brittany.
“I agree,” concurred Red.
“I can’t forget the way Spencer took on the Chairman earlier. They were arguing away like a bunch of schoolboys, and even if it does turn out that Spencer’s a coup insider, he can’t be a happy camper.”
“Then we’d better be giving the good General a call,” said Coach, who removed the “NO FEAR” ball cap he was wearing, and smoothed back his full head of wavy black hair.
“As aircraft commander, I’ll shoulder the responsibility of passing on the bad news. Now all I need is a secure line to Iron Man One.”
Red flashed him a thumbsup, and less than five minutes later. Coach was sitting alone in the upper-deck rest area, sharing his suspicions of the impending coup with General Lowell Spencer.
“Sir, we’ve got a security compromise — upper flight deck rest area, unauthorized SATCOM transmission.”