The second helicopter scheduled to pick up Parente had appeared and was hovering in front of the aircraft. The engines were operating and the pilot was ready to take off, but it was in the way.
Hammond looked at the helicopter through the cockpit windows. He turned to the pilot. “Turn on all our lights,” he said.
The outside of the aircraft was suddenly brightly illuminated. The blue letters spelling out ‘Cubana,’ clearly made the aircraft one of Cuban registry. The other pilot, expecting the aircraft to be there, quickly moved out of the way.
“Kick it,” said Hammond as the pilot shoved the throttles all the way forward.
The large aircraft began moving rapidly down the runway. About midway, the engineer flipped a switch and six JATO rockets ignited pushing the aircraft quickly into the air. Banking to the north, it only took twenty minutes to cross into Colombian airspace.
In the back of the aircraft, Parente sat flanked by two guards. Rojas walked up to him. Parente’s face broke into a smile. “Ah, My Colonel. I see you have been captured as well. And you have my briefcase! I’ll be happy to take it back now.”
Rojas looked down at the man with disgust. “Actually, I am the one who made sure you were caught. Your story that I am responsible will not work. As for the briefcase, the American FBI will be happy to get their hands on it, after I remove the information on all your bank accounts. After all, Colonel Messina and I will need to have some income in exile,” he said as he turned and headed toward where the Messina family was seated.
One of the Iowa corpsman came up to better bandage Parente’s hands. They had been totally shattered and would eventually require major surgery. Pieces of the obsidian knife had been forced into one by the bullet which struck him. The medic was finishing up his bandaging when a man walked up to them. He smiled down at Parente.
President Parente, I am Gerald Donaldson of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I wanted to inform you of your rights.”
Parente looked up at the man. “You cannot detain me. I am the President of Venezuela. Your laws do not extend here.”
Donaldson shrugged his shoulders. “Actually, neither do yours. We are now in Columbian airspace and you are being taken to the United States where you will be placed on trial for kidnapping and murder, among other things. And we are going to give you’re the privilege of having the same rights as an American citizen. So you now have the right to remain silent…” Donaldson began.
A few seats away, Ricks sat beside Chapman. “Thanks for keeping those guys off me.”
Chapman glanced over at him. “Never mind me, what made you think to put on that suit and scare everybody half to death? I had to keep them off just because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing,” he said.
Ricks gave a weak smile. “You should know I am prone to do some strange things under stress. But it was the quickest way I knew to get the civilians out of the way.”
“I’ll give you that. But ask next time. You nearly scared me to death,” Chapman said getting up and punching him in the shoulder. He walked to the front of the aircraft shaking his head.
Ricks gave a chuckle and turned to see that the FBI man had finished his job and was now sitting, next to Parente, now in shackles. Ricks walked back and stood in front of him. Parente looked at him with a sour face.
Ricks leaned down and looked him directly in the eyes. “Do you know who I am?”
Parente gave a disgusted look. “Why should I care who you are,” he said.
Ricks grinned and gave him a look that chilled him to the bone. He leaned in until Parente could smell the sweat on him. “Oh, you should care. You see, I am the friend of Admiral Hammond and his wife, Patricia. You somehow got the idea that you could hurt my friends, and you know, I take that very seriously,” he said pulling the knife out of his boot. In doing so, the metallic glimmer of Rick’s artificial leg could be seen underneath. He waved the knife in front of Parente’s face, causing the FBI man to get a little nervous until he saw one of the men standing to one side indicate it would be okay.
“A few years ago, I was in a war where you took the other side, I believe. I killed countless of the North Koreans because they simply pissed me off. None of them saw me coming, and some didn’t know what I had done until they were already dead. And you know what? A couple of weeks ago, you pissed me off too,” Ricks continued as he pointed the edge of his knife at Parente’s face. “Now I just heard that my dear friend’s wife was carrying a baby when you took her. So I wanted to give you a warning. If I find out that child has been harmed in any way, even if it is born with some defect, I will hold you responsible. If that happens, no matter where you are, or what you are doing — if you are in prison, or even if you are dead, I will hunt you down and dismember you like a dear in my back yard. I swear, that even in death, I will make you will feel every cut and every slice. I’ll fix it so that you won’t even be able to scream. Just watch out, because you won’t see me coming,” he said as he finally stood, turned to the FBI agent and said, “Just sending a message,” and walked away.
Even the FBI man swallowed hard.
Chapter 16
Final Concert
The press conference had been called supposedly to bring everyone up to speed on the hostage situation. The White House Press Room was packed with journalists hoping to catch the Press Secretary with another damning question. To their surprise, the President entered the room and made his way to the podium.
“I decided to come today so my press secretary could have a break.”
There was polite laughter in the room. The President continued. “But first I wanted you to meet some people. Come on in,” he said as the door opened and the mayors entered the room. There was bedlam at the realization that the hostages had been rescued. There were fourteen people standing with the President in front of the gallery. He held up his hand to quiet the journalists.
“A couple of weeks ago I told a young man what happened regarding our mayors and he confidently told me to send in the Marines. Being sound advice, I contacted someone you know, General Claire Richardson, the Commander of our Special Forces Units, and asked her to take on the task of rescuing our hostages. Last night, a Special Forces Unit made its way into Venezuela and rescued all but one of the hostages. All are back on American soil. The one mayor we lost was Mayor Jim Mitchell, who was murdered in cold blood by his captor a week ago. Our hearts and our deepest condolences go out to Mayor Mitchell’s family and his community.”
“I also want to announce that the Special Forces Team also was able to capture the man responsible for this abduction. He too is in American hands, on American soil. We know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the man responsible is President Emilio Parente of Venezuela. He will be tried in an American court, and later in an international court for his crimes. There is also a young man here, who tried to help our mayors in their time of crisis, and was jailed with them. Private Manuel Donado was actually a guard who tried to do something about the situation. Our mayors took him in and nursed him back to health when their leaders beat him and jailed him with them. We thank you for your willingness to take a stand against evil.”
There was general applause from the journalists, happy to see the young man with the still puffy and marked face.
“Once again, our American military has been able to strategically go in and rescue Americans from a desperate situation. Those members of the Special Forces Team have now returned to their homes, and stand ready for their next assignment. We will not tell you their names since there may be some who would want to retaliate against them. They will remain in the background ready to strike when needed. So I tell anyone out there who may be thinking of acting against the United States and its citizens, just beware. We can and we will respond. Now I’ll take your questions.”