Читать книгу The Doctrine of Presence - Benjamin Vance - Страница 9

I received a late call from a stranger, on the very evening we returned home from New Mexico. Samantha answered the phone and when she handed it to me she gave me a raised-eyebrow look to warn that it may be a crackpot, or to help me make it short. There was an obvious pause after I said hello, which warned me someone may be recording. Within five seconds a male voice said, “Is this James Hanes?” He pronounced it correctly. I said, “It all depends on who’s asking.”

He said, “This is Andrew Wall. Do you remember me? We went to airborne school together.”

It took me a few seconds, but then, “Yeah, my God, Andy, I never thought I’d ever hear from you again after our little tangling episode. What the hell are you doing, and what have you been doing? Did you go back to work for … Metrid Equipment, was it?”

“You bet, man. I think it’s the best dang company in the world. They treated me nice and now I’m out to pasture up here in Michigan. We have a nice little place in the U.P., in the town of Three Lakes and I intend to grow old in style up here now. We go to Florida in the winter and I catch redfish you know. Man we are enjoying life; you betcha.”

“Well, Andy, you’re making me jealous. Say, how did you find me and, I’m embarrassed to ask, what is the U.P.?”

“I’m sorry James, that’s the Upper Peninsula of Michigan; the U.P. It gets butt cold up here, but it’s already phasing into spring now, with all the beautiful flowers and stuff. In the fall we scoot on down to Florida ya know and are just now gettin back up. Yeah, my wife, poor soul, is suffering a bit from Alzheimer’s, but she’s a great lady and can still get around great though. Listen, Jim, can we get together one of these days real soon and talk. I have some interests you may be able to help me with, based on your experience, ya know.”

“Well, yeah, I guess we can. What’re your plans for the month and just how soon were you thinking?”

“Jeeze, Jim, I was thinkin’ about next week maybe. Betty, that’s my wife, her sister’s here and can watch her while I scoot on down to New Mexico, or wherever ya live now.”

“I live in Arizona Andy. My hometown is a bit north and east of Phoenix. I’m kind of retired also. I guess I could meet you at the airport and bring you up here for a couple of days.”

“Oh, thanks for the invite Jim, but I’ll just be needin’ to talk to you in the airport or somewhere close, ya know. It’s really nothing important, but I best not talk about it on the phone, okay?”

“Sure Andy, it‘ll be great to see you again after all these years. Will you call me when you get in or will you just show up or what?”

“Oh, gosh no, I’ll give you a jingle when we’re about two hundred miles out, so you can come to the airport. Does it have one of those executive ports?”

“Well … yeah, it does, why?”

“That’s where I’d like to meet ya, if you don’t mind.”

“Okay … sure Andy, just call when you’re out a ways. Can I count on a specific day, or will you call out of the blue?”

“Oh, gosh no, let’s plan on next Wednesday, okay? We should hit Phoenix about, let’s see … three hours, three hours difference; we should be in Phoenix by 9:00 a.m. on Wednesday, okay?”

“All right Andy, I’ll head out and be at the executive port about 8:30, so I can have a cup of coffee or something before you arrive. I’ll be waiting.”

“Oh Jim, I remember that you’re a tea man; not a coffee drinker, huh. Anyway you might want to have a cup on the plane after we arrive. It will be the most private place to talk, ya-know. In any case, I’m lookin’ forward to seeing ya. Take care, good talking to ya, bye-bye now.”

I must have had a strange look on my face when I hung up, because Sam planted her little bare butt on my legs and asked, “Who the hell was that?” She seldom curses. Andy didn’t say how he got my number, few people know I prefer tea, and did he actually know I was just in Carlsbad? I enjoyed having missed my Samantha, and how absence makes the heart grow fonder, and so forth. She never bitched about my being gone to New Mexico and didn’t seem jealous about anything, even strange phone calls. Sometimes I wished she were just a little bit jealous though.

* * *

I talked to three of my cohorts the first of the week and told them about how this old guy from jump school got in touch with me out of the blue and how guarded he was during the call. We decided that two of them would cover my six at the executive port on Wednesday. Fredo would use a laser directional listening, or eavesdropping device to keep tabs on me, and Greenie Mitchell would be my backup guy inside the executive port. I didn’t think I would actually need any backup, but one never knows. After all, the guy and I met in airborne school and I walked off his chute one day, or at least tried to, with him pulling and screaming at the chute and me. We finally tangled and both more or less used my chute to the ground. He actually ended up hitting first so I had the benefit of a softer landing; he fractured his ankle and got booted from the program. He stayed in the Army though, and did fine, but when he retired, went straight back to Michigan and his former company, Metrid Equipment. Still, one never knows what latent emotion another harbors.

I believe his wife may have been the daughter of a pretty high-up executive, since she certainly acted the part over the year or so I was acquainted with them. Anyway, as most of these things go, Wednesday came early.

I parked at the executive port and showed my ID to get in. There didn’t seem to be any obvious security, but I was sure it was there. I went to the small concession and ordered an English Breakfast Tea. With real half and half and plenty of sugar added, it was delicious. I was about half way through it, when Greenie arrived dressed in a nice blue suit, sans tie. He looked dapper. I glanced at him; he glanced at me. We noted each other’s location and direction, for what purpose, I didn’t know.

My cell rang at almost 9:00 a.m. It was Andy. He informed me that he was taxiing toward the terminal and would I please come out to meet him. I stated the affirmative and looked outside. All I could see was a small, double-turbine aircraft. I managed to get to the exit door before being stopped by a suited security guard. I explained my situation and in less than three minutes was being escorted toward the plane by the security man. About half-way to the jet, which still had the engines running, the door opened and Andy stepped onto the first step to wave at me. He did not walk down. The jet was a beautiful little thing with five port holes per side and metallic blue paint. The wings were turned up at the tips, which made it look like it was moving, even when still.

I was escorted to the ladder and Andy waved me up. I turned around and looked back at the terminal and saw Greenie standing at a big window. He just raised his hand, and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “Nothing I can do now.” I wondered what Fredo was thinking.

The interior of the plane was beautifully appointed in beige leather and fold-down desk tops. It was obviously a business plane. The logos for Lear Jet were apparent as well. After being warmly welcomed aboard by Andy and seated by an attractive female attendant, I felt the plane rolling and buckled up. I asked, “Abducted or shanghaied?”

As the plane lifted off, Andy responded with, “You wouldn’t have boarded if you thought something amiss. I hate to do things this way, but it’s the way the company works.”

I said, “What the hell … are you with the CIA now?”

Andy slapped the arm of his lush chair lightly and laughed, “Not really, Jim, this is the way Metrid does business. He had a good laugh, and then sobered some. “We need to talk about some shit that’s going on in South America I think you and your team might be able to help with. I’m sure you have many questions by now; shoot.”

“Damn rights I do. You inferred you’re retired. Why all the secrecy; what kind of international shit does Metrid get involved in; how do you know about our team; what happened to your far-north accent?”

“Is that the total of your questions?”

“Hell no, I might think of a dozen more, but for now, how about it?”

Andy started slowly, “Well, as you probably know everything Metrid, is made in the good old US of A. We fight a constant battle to prevent other companies and countries from pirating our technology. Some countries actually purchase an item of equipment and reverse engineer it within a year or so. There are absolute copies of our equipment running in several countries right now. China has imitated everything of ours that has landed on its shores, and it has purchased our equipment and parts from other countries as well.

“That’s why we stopped selling to China. It cost us a lot, but at least we know we’re hindering the process. As you can guess, we’ve concentrated on patented metallurgy for years, as have many other American companies. Metallurgy is one process which is very hard to decipher in reverse engineering. Now, a firm in Venezuela has received equipment and funding from China to deduce our metallic combinations and processes. They have no regard for intellectual properties; never have.

“I know about your team because Leo Dykehouse and I were in Bosnia together. He called me about two weeks ago for a chat and we talked a bit about you guys. He’s proud to be on your team and said so. He’s excited in his own way. I know Leo well and know he’s still a hard guy to figure; honest to a fault. He said you guys possess certain skills that may become synergistic when combined. So, here I am.

“The northern lingo can be turned off and on as you know. I find it advantageous to use it in the U.P. I can also talk like a cracker when in Florida. Do you have any more questions … yet?”

“Soooo, I take it the company down in Venezuela needs to be flushed, and you want us to pull the handle?”

“Precisely, it is Venezuela after all. The manufacturing unit or reverse engineering unit is on the outskirts of Maracay; fairly hidden in a small valley. Fortunately, it’s not well guarded. What we want you to do is fry their plasma generators, electron microscope and mass spectrometer. It will take them at least a year to get new equipment, let alone get it operational. We don’t want any killing, just destroy that equipment.”

I said, “Andy, I don’t know where you got the audacity to request something like this from a bunch of amateurs, but I think you might be sawing on the limb between you and your tree. I cannot imagine how a bunch of old misfits like us could pull off an operation like you suggest. We’re all has-beens. Well, Gimp is still a young man, but he’s constrained by his wheelchair, or thinks he is. What you ask is not what we want to do, or are capable of doing.”

“Jim, did you get some gold coin from Leo?”

“Yeah, quite a few actually. We were able to purchase a lot of our equipment because of it.”

“Did you look at the dates on the coins?”

“Yeah, 1993, why? Did he pick up a few in Bosnia, Kosovo or Herzegovina that was lying on the street?”

“No Jim, he and I and three other U.N. troops stole 2.2 metric tons of gold from a bank in Srebrenica. We were sent there to report on the ethnic cleansing, genocide and rape. We found the town all but deserted and constantly being bombarded from almost every direction. We took shelter during a somewhat fierce shelling and found ourselves in a burnt-out office building which had housed a division of the economics ministry.

“Leo did a routine sweep and found a large walk-in safe in one of the alcoves of the building. It didn’t appear to have been compromised. Leo inspected it and found that the damn thing opened after he turned the wheel on the front ‘til it stopped. He came to get me in his common, nonchalant way. We all saw what was there and could not believe our good fortune. One of the men, there were six of us still alive at the time, wanted to turn the gold in to the proper authorities. I off handedly asked him who that would be. He responded with General Milosevic’s name. We talked it over for a while and Leo asked if he and the gentleman shouldn’t go somewhere high and observe what was going on around the town so we could find a way out with the gold. They left; only Leo returned.

“In any case we loaded about half of the gold, which consisted of bars and guilders, into our U.N. truck and left the next morning. We shut and locked the safe when we left. There were many more bars of gold in it; we just couldn’t get it safely into our two and a half ton truck. By some stroke of luck and pure guts, we made it to our headquarters the next day. We reported on the ethnic cleansing and left the gold, hidden in our truck. We flattened two tires so no one would want it, and when we were ready, we made our move to Montenegro. There was so much chaos where we were and so much calm in Montenegro, it was like a Sunday outing. We made it to Kotor on the Adriatic and from there it was easy.

“The bullion is buried somewhere safe and the coins are in seven safety deposit boxes in Manhattan. At today’s prices we think we’re worth about 1.2 billion dollars. One of our cohorts died of natural causes, so that makes the remaining four of us very wealthy. I flaunt mine, Leo doesn’t.

“We, who are left, have a meeting about once a quarter and talk about old times, but we never mention the gold. We’ve learned to talk around it. We have been looking forward to doing something meaningful with our lives and liked your story, or at least Leo’s version. If you guys take this offer, you’ll be paid handsomely by my employer and it will serve to hone your skills as a team.”

I could have said something different, but I sat forward in my chair and blurted out, “We’re amateurs Andy! We’re old farts and one of us is a Gimp. I don’t know what Leo told you, but we are not up for this kind of thing. What if someone gets killed? I don’t want that on my conscience, I’ve seen enough killing.”

“Funny … Leo says you guys could do almost anything. What the hell makes you think you’re amateurs anyway? You were all trained the best our government could train you. So, you might be a little rusty or even creaky, but you’re all experts in your fields and putting you together; who on this earth would be better … okay, okay maybe a SEAL team, but who else? SEAL teams are all a bunch of young bucks and almost always overstep their mission anyway. Shit, with this added training you guys are it.”

“You … are out of your mind Andy; you and Leo both. Just for shits and giggles, how much would your company be willing to pay for this fiasco?”

Andy looked at me and smiled with hooded eyes. He said, “Five million dollars when the deed is done.”

Not wanting to seem too irreverent or stunned, I said, “Five hundred thousand up front. Five million split equally to whoever is left when the job is done.”

Andy casually said, “Done!” shook my hand and smiled. “You won’t be sorry Jim. You guys will pull this off without a hitch. I know it.”

Then Andy directed the pilot to head back to Phoenix. Apparently we were just over Albuquerque, New Mexico.