It made sense. He had thought it all out. Now he was committed to the overthrow of the American government, and with this plan he could do it. Rojas snapped out his thoughts. “So now all we must do is make sure the Americans do not find their people before the election only a month away,” said Rojas.
“Precisely,” Parente said smiling again. “Now begin thinking about things they could do to stop us.”
Rojas could think of a thousand things — not the least of which might mean a nuclear detonation over Caracas. Something must be done, but he was not sure of what that could be. He decided to humor the president and go along with him. He rifled through a couple of notes he had taken. “There was one thing I discovered last night, Señor Presidente. Their news media listed all the missing mayors. Most are of no consequence; however one may have some extraordinary support.”
“And who might that be?”
“Her name is Patricia Hammond. She is mayor of San Pedro, California. Just three years ago she married Vice Admiral Roger Hammond.”
Parente laughed. “And how could some navy admiral be a threat to me?”
Rojas had to tread lightly. His president didn’t have much regard for anyone but an army officer. “You may recall this Hammond was one of the men acknowledged to have helped plan and execute their war with North Korea. He was given command of an American battleship and later a fleet of them to battle our ally. In his actions against the North, he was awarded the Medal of Honor, their highest award. He is a personal friend of President O’Bannon.”
“A battleship? He can’t do much to me from the sea.”
“Señor Presidente, I looked some things up for you last night. The American’s battleships are still active. They can be made ready on short notice. If he took charge of them, they could sit off our shores and bombard Caracas to matchsticks and there wouldn’t be much we could do about them. Our missiles couldn’t damage them much. Three of them hit their ship named Iowa in the last war. She kept on going. We could send planes, but if they are escorted by some of their AEGIS ships our planes would not come back. Our navy would be blown from the water. As far as this Hammond goes, if the President is his friend, he may let him loose if there is a suspicion. With his wife as a hostage there is no telling what he might do.”
Parente’s face turned darker. Rojas had a point. He had only planned on some minor officials which would be of no consequence. Patricia Hammond could cause a small problem through her husband. One thing he did not want to see was his beloved Caracas smoldering in the dust. “You are sure these ships could do what you say they can?”
“Yes, Señor Presidente. This Hammond has a lot of influence. They say no one in their military can go out on their own, but with a President’s backing, who knows what might happen. If those ships or even just one of them appeared off our coast, there would be little we could do.”
Parente nodded in thought. “Then we must watch this Admiral Hammond. Contact our intelligence service and have them watch this man. I want to know where he goes and what he does. If it looks like he is getting one of those battleships underway, we can make changes to our plans.” He began to smile again. “That was good information, my Colonel. Lucky for us, this is just a naval officer and not an army commander. He is not a real threat to my plans while out in the ocean, but it is good to be careful. Have him watched,” he said.
“I shall contact our intelligence people immediately,” said Rojas. He reached for the secure telephone on the wall beside the seat. It was connected directly via encrypted radio to his headquarter where it was patched to the Servicio Bolivariano de Inteligencia Nacional (Bolivarian National Intelligence Service).
Within minutes a call was made to someone asleep near Los Angeles, California. The groggy man was briefed and quickly he got dressed and went to his car. The American media had already mentioned that Vice Admiral Roger Hammond had been aboard USS Iowa the evening before. Reporters told their audiences that he had been moved aboard the outboard navy cruiser and was still somewhere onboard. The reporter had even pointed out his automobile; an older yellow Oldsmobile convertible. Some things were just easy.
Chapter 5
Waking Up
It was like a thick, heavy fog. There was light, but nothing focused and there was no shape to anything. All around her she felt a prickly feeling; distant, but there. To move her arms and legs felt like trying to lift the weight of the world. But as she woke, Patricia Hammond’s mind started to slowly work. She forced her eyes open, and almost immediately wished she hadn’t. The light was painful. Switching senses, she moved her fingers at first and then her arms. Her fingers felt the prickly things surrounding her. They were long strands and they bent easily. Through the haze in her mind she finally figured it out — it was straw. Slowly, she eased her eyes open again. She was in a room lighted by some high window openings. As her eyes focused she saw that the walls were some sort of stucco, dirty, and in some places cracking apart. All around her the floor was covered with straw and she was lying directly beside one of the walls. She tried lifting her head. The room spun rapidly and she quickly laid it back down until the room slowed and finally stopped its turning.
She heard a soft moan. Taking it very slowly, she eased herself up until her head was resting against the wall. With some effort, she pushed herself slowly into a sitting position.
The moan had come from Mayor Robert Hudson — a 60 year old friend she had met on a previous conference. He was laying next to her and had settled down into the straw bedding. He too was slowly working his head to try and shake out the drug induced cobwebs. Easing onto his elbows, he blinked his eyes open. Looking around, his eyes rested on her and a strained smile crossed his face. “You okay?” he asked with a gruff voice.
Patricia nodded her head slightly. Even this small movement started the room spinning again. “Where are we?” she asked.
“Looks like some sort of cell,” said another voice from across the room.
Patricia squinted until things focused again. Nick Evans lifted his hand in a slight wave. Nick was a newcomer to the Sister City conferences but was one of the more enthusiastic of the mayors attending. Although normally well dressed and dashing in his appearance, he now looked almost ten years older than his age of 32. His clothes were wrinkled and stained. Yet he seemed to be doing better than the rest. “There’s a barred door on the far end. Someone passed by a few minutes ago as I was waking up.”
Despite the dizziness, Patricia forced herself to look around the room. Her eyes rested on each of the people lying in various positions in the straw bedding. Some were still asleep, while others were beginning to force their way to consciousness. Several were holding their heads, obviously having their own bouts with the dizziness. “What happened? The last thing I remember was eating dinner,” she said.
“Beats me,” said Jeff Thompson from another corner of the room. “But it’s pretty obvious we’ve been drugged,” he said slowly. “How we got here is anybody’s guess.”
“And where’s here?” asked Jim Mitchell, the oldest member of the group. His face was very pale as he sat against one corner of the room. He was feeling in his pockets until he came up with an orange colored plastic bottle with a white top. He began to struggle slightly with the “child-proof” cap, then finally prying it off, took one of the pills inside and slid it under his tongue. “Thank God I still have these,” he said with a sigh.