Richardson nodded. “It must have been pretty bad then. What did he say?”
Will looked at his Mom and then back again. “Mom says it’s not a nice thing to say.”
Richardson smiled. Will was growing up to be such a good boy. Her pride in the young man was growing each time they saw each other. She smiled slightly and said, “I’m sure it’s alright to tell me. I won’t be angry.”
He looked at her with almost a pleading in his eyes. “He said my brother and all Marines were a bunch of pussies!” he blurted out.
There was a slight gasp in the other room as Richardson calmly nodded and asked, “And then what happened?”
William suddenly stood up tall with a look of intense determination on his face as he told her, “I kicked his ass.”
There was a whoop from the outer office as four Marines sprang into the room. They swept the young man up offering their support, then slapping him on the back. Richardson sat back laughing while his adopted father beamed with pride. Only his Mom looked a little skeptical. Richardson knew that it would be only a matter of minutes before every Marine in the Pentagon knew what had happened.
“It turns out this guy has been a troublemaker for a while. He ended up with two black eyes and lost a tooth. The teacher had to pull Will off of him. When I told the principal the situation, Will got off with just one day. The other boy got a month,” Russ Dickson said with some pride.
Richardson continued to chuckle at the situation. The boy had defended both his brother and the Corps. Not bad for an 11 year old.
Will was now smiling broadly. Although the guys were reinforcing the idea of not starting fights, it was clear they approved of what he had done. To him, it meant the world.
The celebration was short lived. General Black entered the room and the shouting and congratulations suddenly halted as everyone came to attention. Even Will stood straight.
“I seem to be interrupting something,” Black exclaimed.
After introductions and retelling the story which had just unfolded, Black stood back and grinned at the young man. “It appears our young man has some pride in the Corps and his family. That is a very good thing, young man. Now, what’s this I hear about you wanting to see the Iwo Jima Memorial?”
“He’s been wanting to see it for over a year, General,” said Amy Dickson. “In the three years since he’s learned about his brother and the Marines, he’s wanted to see for himself. We can’t keep him from the history books.”
Black looked at the boy, and then got down on one knee in front of him. “Tell me. What is so special to you about the Marines?”
The young, dark eyes focused on Black. The boy’s face was thoughtful and determined. “The Marines always try to do good things. They stop people from doing bad things. They rescued me and my friends. A Marine saved my life and gave me my family. When I grow up, I want to be one,” he said.
Black looked at the sincerity in the boy’s eyes. It was the most innocent and truthful thing he had heard in a long time. He placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder and nodded his head. “Then I promise I will help you become one,” he said.
Black got to his feet. “Mr. and Mrs. Dickson, how about you and Will come with me. Claire, you come too. I’m going to personally make sure you get to see the Memorial, but first, I want you to meet a friend of ours,” he said with a grin. Before he left the office with everyone in tow, he made a special phone call to a number only a few people know.
“I just need to know if Parente will be cooperative or not,” said the Secretary of State Branson over the secure communications set. He had been on the phone for an hour with Ambassador Jonas trying to get a feel for Parente and how far they could trust him. Jonas hadn’t given him a really straight answer yet. “We don’t know if we can trust him.”
“Of course you can,” said Ambassador Jonas. “I keep a dialogue going with him just so he knows me and I can know him. He is a man of considerable power and can do quite a lot for us when the time comes. I know what makes him tick.”
“So he’ll cooperate with our investigations?” Branson asked.
“He has no reason not to since it doesn’t involve him. Just send one or two people down and I’ll see about getting them in with their counterparts,” Jonas said. “They can work through me to get their investigations done.”
Through him? thought Branson. What did that mean? “We’re already working to get people down there. They may need a wide range of assistance,” the Secretary said without telling Jonas of the revelations about the truck. “What if we need the help of his armed forces?”
“What? You think someone might make a break across the border? Parente won’t stand for that, and he won’t be willing to take orders from the United States. He is the leader of a sovereign nation and takes it very seriously. I can get him to do a great many things, but using his military will be his call and his call alone. He also won’t stand by and let someone else come in either. I can tell him if we have suspicions about this and he will act on it as he sees fit,” Jonas said.
“I’m not talking about any invasion, but if we find out someone has spirited the hostages across the border, will he use his people to help in the search?” Branson asked.
“I have no doubt,” said Ambassador Jonas, growing tired of the conversation. “I have been able to get on his good side and intend to keep it that way,” he boasted. “But at the same time, he will want something in return. That’s why I have to keep him informed about what we are doing and what we are planning. That way he will feel he can trust us,” Jonas said.
Branson looked at the handset he was holding in disbelief. Is he joking, he thought. “We are not in the habit of telling others our operational plans — especially those who are outspoken against what we do.”
“That’s part of the reason these people down here distrust us so,” said Jonas. “They think we just go around doing what we want to do without their advice or consent. Give him something to make him feel good and it will go a long way,” Jonas said. “That’s how I can handle him. You let me know what’s going on and I can use some of it to keep him doing what we want.”
Branson almost couldn’t speak. Maybe this guy was just tired and a little boastful, but if he thought this was the way to handle a dictator, they were all in trouble. He decided to calm the waters for the time being. “Very well, expect someone from the FBI and CIA down there sometime today. As we find out anything, I will let you know. The main thing is to find our people and get them back,” he said.
“No CIA. Their guy down here is good enough. The agency is hated around here,” Jonas said.
“I’ll pass that along. In the mean time, try and find out anything you can as well. There are fourteen Americans who need our help,” said Branson, wanting to end the conversation.
“I will. Keep me informed,” said Jonas as the call ended.
Branson stared at his desk. This guy’s a piece of work, he thought. And what was that all about keeping him informed? The hair on the back of the Secretary’s neck was standing on end. Something was terribly wrong. He picked up the phone and hit the speed dial. It was answered after only one ring.
“Pete, I just got off the line with Ambassador Jonas in Venezuela,” he said. “I think we have a problem.”
The helicopter circled the airfield before coming in for a soft landing on the pad. A black armored Chevrolet Suburban was waiting and Presidente Parente and Colonel Rojas quickly exited the craft and climbed into the car. They completely ignored the small contingent of soldiers standing stiffly at attention to one side. Once inside the car, the driver closed the door and ran to get into the front. The big vehicle pulled out of the gate and down the paved road.