The Battle for Houston...The Aftermath (25 page)

“Lieutenant Charlie Meyers at you service, General.” Charlie stated saluting. “These are my buddies, Lieutenants Joe Paul and Sean Murphy, and Sergeants Mendez, Chavez, Santana and Miguel Rodriquez, a family member of yours, I believe?” he stated in perfect Spanish.

“Ah! Miguel Junior, I was wondering when we would meet again,” replied the general.

“Yes, Papa, I was looking forward to coming back home again,” replied the sergeant, hugging his father. Sergeant Rodriquez was usually very quiet. The others, including Carlos, his father, and Uncle Philippe looked on, total surprise written all over their faces.

“I sent Miguel Junior to the States fifteen years ago at eighteen to get his citizenship and to see if he was good enough for the US Navy Seals,” stated the Colombian Air Force Commander to the still-shocked group around him. Philippe, you never met Miguel, my second born son. My first born, Alfonso, was murdered by the cartels a couple of years after Miguel left for America; he returned for the funeral, after just completing his selection course for the navy Seals. He was young, fit, and handsome when he left and he is still that today. And I am very proud of him.”

“Why the Seals?” asked Charlie Meyers, thinking for a few seconds. “Now it all fits together. When we were completing the Coffee-Cartel sweep and termination mission in Medellin, what…five or so years ago, Miguel seemed to know the area like the back of his hand. For us that was a real plus, and we never normally ask questions.”

“He went to high school in that area of Medellin, only a mile or so away from the coffee selling houses, the same houses you guys cleaned out for us,” replied the general. “Once he became a U.S. citizen, it was important to wipe his past Colombian history clean, so that there were no connections from the cartels to him. There are millions of Latin Americans with the same family name throughout Central and South America, so it wasn’t difficult. It was necessary to get my son into a good group of military men, who General Pete Allen and Admiral Martin Rogers, both friends of the family, could send over to help us doing our weeding and cleaning up every now and again. How did you know he was family, Lieutenant Meyers?”

“Just a hunch, General,” Lieutenant Meyers replied. “First we meet Carlos here who is a Rodriquez with fancy connections, then we are met at the airport by a whole bunch of the same Rodriquez family, then I took a guess from his past; Miguel’s knowledge of Colombia every time we entered this country over the last decade. General, I just put two and two together. That’s what keeps us Seals alive, hey Miguel?” Sergeant Rodriquez nodded without saying a word.

General Rodriquez, Sir, the second wave of aircraft is asking for finals, and the 747 is exactly an hour behind them,” stated a soldier walking up to the group several minutes later while they still stood around the snacks table and chatted.

Thirty minutes later a long line of helicopters came in to land, swooping in from high altitude above the airfield as the general had ordered, once he was told they were in the airport area.

The last aircraft came in an hour later, minutes before midnight. The 747 transporter came in dark, her external lights off, and only the shape outlined by the runway landing lights showed her massive structure and her oval forward area. Other than that, anybody in the nearby area would have needed night glasses to see her black silhouette against the lighter night sky.

An aircraft of her size couldn’t be stealthy and quiet, and the ground vibrated slightly as her engines were put into full reverse thrust; Carlos was sure that the noise could be heard as far as Bogotá, hundreds of miles away. She swept past the terminals several hundred yards away and, ten minutes later and still blacked out; her shape could be seen entering the terminal apron in front of the main building.

Carlos guessed who was flying her—only the best—and once the ladders were up, and her engines quiet, the nose opened for unloading. Majors Wong and Chong came down the stairs to be welcomed.

General Rodriquez was more interested in the two lines of ten Chinese attack helicopters to greet the incoming pilots. Carlos went with him. “Don’t get any ideas, Uncle!” stated Carlos. “America will not give you a nut or a bolt from one of these. General Patterson knows, and so do all of us who are stateside, that these Zhi-10s are the most powerful force of aircraft in the world, and you have no chance, not even a little bit of no chance.”

“Not even one, for everything we can produce?” asked General Rodriquez, already knowing that he was barking up the wrong tree. “How about a lifetime supply of our best coffees?”

Carlos smiled and looked at his uncle, silently telling him, “No!” They returned to the larger aircraft to inspect the gifts from America.

With a heavy guard, the airfield rested for the remainder of the night; the only activity was the unloading of the transporter.

Early the next morning, trucks began to arrive with produce already packed in boxes on pallets ready to be loaded, bound for the U.S.

For most of the day truck after truck had its cargo fork-lifted off and transported onto the special flat-loaders the aircraft had brought to raise the cargo up to the nose for self-loading. The transporter didn’t fly anywhere without this well-designed system.

By midnight that evening, she took off on her return flight, first to RDU and then further north to Andrews. Majors Wong and Chong bid farewell to their friends and headed back with an aircraft full of valuable food.

The second morning was also the day before the group was to fly up to Bogotá for the government meeting. Plans were made using maps of the area around the government buildings and the best locations to attack or defend the buildings, whatever came first. Being a rest day, both countries’ military rested, cleaned their weapons, refueled and armed all aircraft, and made ready for combat.

The C-130s with the Marines aboard took off first, an hour before midnight, for the short one-hour flight into Bogotá’s El Dorado International Airport. Thousands of Colombian troops were ready for their arrival in Bogotá at the Catam Air Force Base inside the international airport. The Rodriquez brothers weren’t taking any chances. The helicopters left an hour later and, at 3:00 a.m., the second wave of C 130 troop transporters took off for their short flight.

No problems were encountered, and once he had closed his aircraft down, Carlos decided to head back to bed in a new room. This was to be the final day of rest and he was going to make full use of it.

Early the next morning, the ground transportation arrived to take the officials into the city, three separate convoys of dark limousines. Carlos was asked to get into the second of the first convoy’s limousines, with Charlie Meyers and several of the Seal Team members, now dressed in Colombian military fatigues, to be driven to the Nariño Palace. They chatted, as did his father and Uncle Philippe in the car ahead of them, protected by their four guards.

Colombian police, army soldiers, and the same tank were there protecting the entrance to the Palace’s main entrance when they swept through. Several miles behind them the Marines, with Colombian support, were being driven into the areas where they would be ready to attack the buildings. The attack helicopters were ready to lift off if needed.

Everybody in Carlos’ vehicle was now quiet and all eyes scanned the open areas and buildings for angles and opportunities. Carlos noted that there were far fewer soldiers encamped around the area than on his first visit and he mentioned that to the men with him.

“Weird”, he stated to the others. “Last time there were hundreds of men with everything from heavy machine-gun placements to mortars, today it looks like a picnic in the park. I’ve only counted thirty soldiers, the tank, and one machine gun over there backing up the tank,” he stated pointed to the only visible machine gun post.

“Better for us!” replied Lieutenant Paul. “Fewer soldiers to get in our way if trouble is brewing.”

“Maybe they don’t expect any trouble today. How many days is this government get-together?” asked Charlie Meyers.

“Three days,” replied Carlos. “
If Senator Calderón wanted his men in here, he certainly doesn’t want to show them to us
,” Carlos thought to himself.

“There are many places to hide many soldiers,” added Lieutenant Murphy, sitting with them. Sergeant Miguel Rodriquez was the fourth bodyguard in Carlos’ car. There was a third and fourth limousine behind them full of navy Seals. The same was true of the other two convoys. One had General Rodriquez and the third would be twenty minutes behind as Admiral Luiz Rodriquez had just flown in from the coast in a navy helicopter.

Twenty of Seal Team Six, all the Spanish-speaking men, were included in the cars being driven into the government buildings, all with Colombian Special Forces uniforms given to them by Colonel Alberto Rodriquez, who was in command of the 10,000 loyal Colombian soldiers and the 2,000 U.S. Marines coming into the city.

“When are the three captives going to be presented to the meeting?” Charlie asked Carlos.

“Only tomorrow after lunch,” replied Carlos. “The Ambassador wanted a full day and a half to lead everybody in the meeting to think that nothing out the ordinary had happened regarding the Calderón family, and the emergency meeting was purely to bring the Colombian government up to date on the latest world affairs. It was the only way to make sure everybody important would attend. That is why Admiral Rodriquez had to fly in.”

One by one the cars stopped in front of the same entrance Carlos had used on his last trip. The men were ushered in in front of them and then it was their turn. Mannie, the ambassador’s bodyguard, waited for the cars to show the visiting Seals where to go and how to act.

Carlos caught up to his father and Uncle Philippe as they waited for him inside the doorway and out of harm’s way.

“Nothing has changed,” Uncle Philippe said to Carlos. Once again they were in the large room where dozens of officials congregated around a long table helping themselves to
bocas
and soft drinks. This time Carlos recognized the short military man who came up to greet them.

“Ambassador Rodriquez, aides, I am happy to see you safe. Did you have a good flight in? How is the United States? I’m sure you have much to tell us.”

“Yes, to all three, Mr. President. How is your grandson?” replied Uncle Philippe shaking the president’s hand and bowing slightly at the same time. Manuel and Carlos just bowed.

“Fine, and now I have a second and a third grandchild on the way, Ambassador. I’m sure you must have much to tell us, convening an emergency meeting, no?” the president asked.

“It is important that every member of the Colombian government knows and understands what is going on outside of our borders,” Philippe replied.

“Of course, of course, I look forward to your speech,” and the president saw General Rodriquez enter the room with Senator Calderón; both men seemed to be laughing at something. “Glad to see your families enjoying each other’s company, Ambassador Rodriquez. Please excuse me, I must welcome them,” and he headed towards the two men, more like a salesman than a president.

“He is the only president we have ever had who deems it necessary to welcome every member on the first day to the government meetings. It is one of the small things he does which makes me want to trust him,” whispered Philippe to Manuel and Carlos.

Philippe decided to follow the president to see what was so funny between his brother and the enemy, and they slowly wandered over, allowing the head of state the opportunity to greet them, and then move on to the next entering members.

“Ah! Philippe,” stated the general as his older brother approached. “I was discussing how lax the guards are out there with Senator Calderón, here, and he agreed with me, adding that there is possibly little to worry about on the first day.”

“Ambassador Rodriquez,” acknowledged the senator.

“Senator Calderón,” replied Philippe keeping his manners impeccable and even giving his arch-enemy a kindly smile. Carlos noted that neither man offered a hand shake.

“Nothing much ever happens at the beginning of these government meetings,” added the senator looking straight into Philippe’s eyes and smiling. “It is always Day Two or later when our arguments get heated that fireworks could happen.”

“What do we have to disagree about, Senator? The country has been going forward in these bad times, our citizens have food, and Americans don’t need drugs anymore; I’m sure that helps the world’s balance.

“Of course, Ambassador, now if you will excuse me,” and the senator went off to meet others.

“Today is a day everybody wants to listen, not to fight,” added Philippe to the two younger men.

Carlos didn’t know how anybody armed could enter the main chambers when the time came to start. There were three different stations next to the defunct metal detectors where everybody was searched from head to foot. Small military metal detectors still worked and three times Carlos and his family members were checked for anything metal. At the third area, they were expertly patted down by men wearing plastic gloves and sniffer dogs were in attendance.

“They must be explosive sniffer dogs, very few would get through if they were drug sniffer dogs,” joked Manuel to Carlos in a whisper. Carlos nodded and smiled in agreement.

They sat in the same chairs he and his father had last time, in the line of chairs against the wall, and he watched General Rodriquez and the Ambassador take their usual seats. Still munching on a snack as he was patted down, the admiral made a late appearance as everyone was taking their seats. The long table still had its forty-two chairs and Luiz Rodriquez was the last to take his seat nodding at everybody around the table.

The roll call was taken and Carlos noted that all forty-two chairs had a person in them again; only two chairs around the walls were empty, directly behind the senator.

The meeting began with a speech by the president, and Carlos recalled what he had seen since he entered the Nariño Palace. The only real security was at the front and only entrance where guards checked everybody’s name off a list. Then there was little security in the room where the snacks were. Only when everybody entered the main conference room, was everything checked. He had carefully counted the guards around the three separate security points. The first was the set of very large, dark wooden double doors which opened into a large palatial-style decorated, but empty room. Here, six well-dressed guards stood at attention. The large doors were built with thick mahogany; Carlos had tapped them as he had passed through, and they were thick enough to stop most bullets and small arms.