Jackson didn’t really know what to do, but Kelly came over to him after exiting the office. “Is there any way to lock that door?” he asked.
Jackson nodded and produced a key for the deadbolt. Kelly took it and then locked the door. Then he gave the key to another agent who positioned himself outside the office.
Jackson looked at Kelly. “Am I supposed to come too?” he asked.
Kelly laughed. “No, Deshawn. You just need to hang around until we finish up. There will be a team here in a few minutes to go through the place. I need you here to verify we didn’t take campaign secrets. My middle name is not Watergate,” he said with a grin.
“What about Greg Foster?”
Kelly placed a hand on the young man’s shoulders. “He’s fine. The information you gave us helped out a lot. When we’re done you need to go get some rest. In the morning, you need to let the staff know that neither Williamson nor Foster will be coming in tomorrow. They got called to some big meeting. Cancel their engagements and reschedule them for later on. I figure in a day or so, your friend will be back. He’s going to need your help more than ever,” Kelly said with a warm smile.
The Osprey flared out and eased into position over a small open area in the trees. Several small red lights had been placed in a rectangle at the center of the grassy area, and someone holding two cone shaped lights was helping guide the aircraft into position. Once the wheels touched the ground, dark shadows of men sprang from the rear of the aircraft and dashed to the edge of the tree line not far away. Almost immediately, the whine of the engines increased and the aircraft rose from the ground and dashed away towards the border with Colombia.
“Help me get these lights out,” said a voice coming from the direction of where the man had been standing. The men quickly turned off each flashlight and brought them back to the person now holding only one small cone. One of the figures came forward.
“Captain Chapman?” asked the voice.
Chapman extended his hand. “Thanks for the help,” he said as he took the other man’s hand.
“Carlos. I’m glad you’re finally here. We’ve been pretty anxious for you and your team to get going,” said Verdes.
“So have we,” Chapman said.
“Everything’s set. The plane will be waiting, but if you see the need to get in earlier, we can probably speed things up a bit. The net will come up in one hour. So keep in touch,” said Verdes.
“I plan on being a mile away before I check in. How bad is the undergrowth?” Chapman asked.
“You lucked out. There was a big wildfire along this section just a year ago, so a lot of the underbrush was burned down. There is an old trail running from just behind me down along the ridge that will take you within a mile and a half of your destination,” Verde said as he brought out a map and showed Chapman under the red light. “You might not have known it because the satellite images don’t really show it. Just be careful. Sometimes army troops come up this way. They tend to be noisy, so you should have little trouble,” Verde said.
Chapman studied the map for a moment. It was similar to one they had made their plans with, but with the trail, things were much easier. “Where did you come up with this?” he asked.
Verde chuckled. “I have a friend who used to be a bigwig in the FARC. He showed me this trail a while back when we took an extended hike together. Unfortunately, you don’t have the time to look at the waterfalls or scenery,” he said.
“No, time isn’t on our side,” Chapman said. He extended his hand again, “We need to get going.”
“If you’re lucky, you’ll get to your objective about midafternoon. That should give you time to look the place over before going in. Remember, your transportation won’t really be able to wait long. According to my source, they should be there by 2000. They have to be gone by 2130. That’s not a big window if something goes wrong,” Verde said.
“Just another reason to get this show on the road. Thanks for the help,” said Chapman. Motioning to his men, they followed him back toward the trees and the trail he had been shown. As one of the men passed, he said “Buenas noches.”
“Vaya con Dios,” said Verdes, slapping the man on the arm as he passed. He watched in the darkness as the shadows passed and disappeared into the woods. Once they had left, he walked back to where his backpack was and retrieved a box holding the secure satellite radio. He took out a small compass and positioned it so that the antenna was pointing at the proper area of the sky, then turned the unit on. After a moment, a small green LED came on telling him he had a signal. He pressed the transmit key. After hearing the buzz of the encoder, he said, “Capricorn, this is Spotlight. The team is on the way.” There was a response which surprised the man. “When did that get in?” he asked. After receiving a reply, he answered, “This is Spotlight, understood, out.”
After shutting down the equipment and packing it away, Verdes looked around the area, then looked up into the night sky and swore out loud, angry at the situation. He quickly swept the backpack on his shoulders and rapidly began walking his way back down to his truck. If he hurried, he might just have enough time to warn Rojas.
Chapman was pleasantly surprised that the path was so clear. He had actually expected to have to hack his way along the mountains, but he and his men were making their way rapidly through the canopy of trees. It was even easier because his men were each wearing a set of the latest night vision goggles, allowing them to proceed as if it were daytime. Each of the men had extra battery packs, but with the latest batch of goggles, a battery would last over six hours. Even with the faint light that occasionally broke through the canopy; they had been able to even see the insects that buzzed constantly around them.
One hour in, as he had been instructed, he reached up to his ‘super phone’ and began the initiation sequence to open communications. Almost immediately a voice came into his earphone. “Team leader, this is Capricorn. We see you are making excellent progress. You do not have any possibles within five miles. No air traffic. No changes in mission parameters. Eyes on the camp show no real changes. We have eyes on your position and will relay any possibles coming into your area. Do you have questions or requests?”
Chapman pressed the button on his earphone, “None,” he said.
“Capricorn out.”
Chapman triggered his local communications switch. “Mom says we’re alone,” he said. The other men raised their hand in response and continued along the slim path ahead of them. Chapman was proud of his men. Despite the delays, the hard work to get prepared, and now the pitch dark and menacing insects, they were making good progress towards their objective. None complained and none showed any sign of slowing down. It was obvious to him that these men were exactly who were needed to accomplish their mission. He chuckled at himself. He would lead them to a successful conclusion or Ricks would kill him. He had never seen anyone like Ricks. Totally dedicated to his team, he had taught them things Chapman had never thought about. Then he had performed each of the tasks just to show he wasn’t telling them something that wouldn’t work. Not bad for a man with two artificial legs. But the thing that caught Chapman’s attention was that when on mission, Richs was downright frightening. He had a way of getting a job done that commanded 100 percent effort. If not, all Ricks had to do was look at you and you got the message ‘don’t screw this up again.’
At the same time, Ricks was one of the most patient and helpful men he had met when he was doing his training and almost any other non-lethal effort. Just last July 4th, he had been the first to scoop up the little children around him to help them get a better look at the local Independence Day parade. His own sons worshipped him and they were both very smart and polite when meeting others. The dichotomy between the Ricks on mission and the Ricks at home was nothing short of spectacular. Chapman wished he had a hundred more of him in the company.