Crossing Savage (27 page)

The SGIT team was better trained and far better equipped than the terrorist residents of the training camp. It was soon apparent to the enemy combatants that they could not win. They were down to eight men from a starting strength of 67. They dropped their weapons and placed their hands in the air.

Boss Man ordered his team to cease fire, although all had already stopped shooting as soon as they saw the terrorists surrender.

“Manuel, have the prisoners line up. Let's see who we have, shall we?” Peter walked up as Jim issued the order.

Manuel spoke in Spanish, and the prisoners fell into line, shoulder to shoulder, hands on their heads. Boss Man removed a small pen light from his shoulder pocket and a photo of Vasquez Ramirez. Holding the photo in one hand and the pen light in the other, he went down the line of soldiers, first looking at the photo, then at the face of the man standing before him.

One by one, he scrutinized the details of each face. None was Ramirez.

“Manuel, ask each man his name and where he's from. And check their pockets for papers.”

Boss Man returned his attention to his team. “Bull, how are we? Any casualties?”

“Negative,” came the reply from Bull. Boss Man inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

Manuel wrote down the name each man gave. “They all claim to be Colombian peasants. But I don't think so.”

“Why is that, Manuel?” asked Boss Man.

“The three on the end… see how they look defiant? Not like the others.”

Boss Man had also noticed that these three men did not look at the ground, nor did they avoid eye contact as the other five men did. Rather, they stood straight and projected confidence, not fear.

“Homer, separate those three on the left from the remainder of the group. Bind their hands behind their backs and gag them as well. We're taking them back with us.”

The other five prisoners became agitated as they were separated. Their faces could be easily read; these men were terrified, and their eyes were wide with fear.

“Manuel, how confident are you that they are peasants?” asked Boss Man, referring to the terrified prisoners.

“See how they are overcome by fear? The three over there are leaders, perhaps instructors, and these peasants are afraid without their protection. They probably think you're planning to kill them.”

“Not this time. Bind and gag them like the other three. Bull, radio that we'll have eight prisoners along for the ride.”

“Roger,” replied Bull. In less than ten seconds he was speaking into the radio handset, antenna projecting from the top of his assault pack reminiscent of a giant cricket with a single antenna. “Home Base—this is Runner, do you copy?” Following a brief pause Bull continued, “Mission on schedule. Advise we will exfiltrate with eight prisoners, copy?” There was another short pause and then, “Roger.”

Boss Man looked at Bull as he completed the call. Bull replied to the unspoken question with a sharp nod.

“Magnum, Manuel,” ordered Boss Man. “Guard the prisoners and stay alert, just in case these guys have some friends at a neighboring camp who heard the gunfire. Homer, Ghost, Coyote—check every body against the photo of Ramirez.” Each member of the SGIT team had been provided with a black and white image of Ramirez; it looked like a surveillance photo and it was sharp, not grainy. “If he was killed in the firefight, we're bringing his body back. Peter and Bull, come with me.”

Manuel ordered the prisoners to sit on the ground, and the two men watched them closely, guns at the ready. Boss Man, Peter, and Bull jogged to the two cabins and began a systematic search for anything potentially of importance—papers, computer hard drives, maps, letters, receipts—anything. Bull swept all the papers off the desks into a nylon sack. Then he forced open the four-drawer filing cabinet with his knife blade. Rather than spending time to rummage through the files, he just packed up everything.

Peter removed the hard drives from both computers. There were no thumb drives or other removable media. They sliced open and flipped the mattress on the twin bed, and emptied all the drawers in the dresser. Nothing.

In the other cabin, they quickly cut open the mattresses and searched the bunks. “There's nothing in here, Boss Man,” said Bull.

“Let's pack up what we have and get out of here.” Jim checked his watch. “We're five minutes behind schedule. We have to move.”

Outside the cabins, the team formed up and Coyote reported that none of the bodies matched the photo of Ramirez. Boss Man wasn't surprised; he assumed Ramirez had slipped away as soon as the shooting began.

“Let's move out,” Boss Man ordered. “We have a chopper to catch.”

They kept up the pace and made it to the LZ for extraction three minutes ahead of schedule.

Chapter 26

October 11

Sacramento, California

Outside the sun was shining
, but the air was cool and there was a gentle wind. The oak trees had begun to turn beautiful shades of yellow and orange but had yet to drop their leaves. Flocks of Canada geese were taking to the sky on their annual migration south to warmer weather. Already, ghost and goblin decorations were appearing in windows, and soon children would be dressing up for Halloween.

But inside The Office the walls were bathed in a constant sterile illumination from fluorescent lights, and it was the same uniform temperature year round. They could not afford the luxury of windows: the work of SGIT was far too secret to risk observation from outside. Day after day, the climate-controlled, artificial environment of The Office was invariant—never changing with the time of day or season.

Jim Nicolaou didn't care for the monotonous, cold interior of The Office. He preferred the warmth of sunshine, the refreshing aroma following a rain storm, the stillness and quiet that came with a heavy snow fall. But most especially, he loved a cold beer on a warm, sandy beach. Maybe, he thought, he would indulge himself after this mission was over, conjuring up an image of a white sandy beach at Cabo San Lucas. Shaking his head, he brought his focus back to the present.

Lieutenant Lacey's report was still on his desk. It was time-stamped 0535, and Jim had finished reading it before his third cup of coffee. Manuel had been correct—the three prisoners had not been Colombian peasants as they had claimed. One was identified as an Iranian, probably regular army and most likely an officer. The other two were identified as Venezuelan, also thought to be military officers. Under interrogation all three admitted to knowing Vasquez Ramirez, and one of the Venezuelans confirmed he had been in the camp on the night of the raid.

Data recovered from the hard drives removed from the two computers had implicated the Venezuelan government through a long history of messages and bank wires. Those messages and financial records documented that funds, supplies, and munitions were provided by the Venezuelan army to the terrorist training camp in Ecuador.

Other emails referenced the Caracas Hedberg bombing, and several communications pointed to Vasquez Ramirez as the chief planner of the attack, while his brother Pablo was in charge of carrying out the mission. Following the bombing, a coded congratulatory message had been sent from within the Venezuelan Presidential Palace, commending the Ramirez brothers for a well-planned and well-executed attack.

And on the same day, a wire transfer originating from the Office of the Minister of Foreign Affairs transferred two million dollars to a numbered bank account in Lichtenstein. Following pressure from the U.S. State Department, the name on the account was revealed to be Angel Quesada, a known alias of Vasquez Ramirez.

More importantly, decoded email messages also implicated Pablo and Vasquez Ramirez as the planners of the attempted murder of Professor Savage and his team on Alaskan soil. The same messages confirmed that Pablo Ramirez would lead the assault, corroborating what the SGIT team already knew. The sender of these emails was not identified, but the origin of the messages was traced back to within the Venezuelan Ministry of Defense. The financial records showed that a sum of two million dollars was wired to the same numbered bank account in Lichtenstein one week prior to the attack, but no funds were wired to the account following the unsuccessful assault.

The decoded and translated messages filled 97 pages and firmly linked high-level officials in the Venezuelan government to the terrorist group. It was not clear if President Enrique Garza had direct knowledge or not. But the messages indicated that financial support, arms, intelligence, and other aid were provided by the Venezuelan government and those of other unnamed nations. The communication also suggested that there was an official cover-up in the investigation of the Caracas bombing.

Other involved governments were referred to by code names, which the intel officers had not yet deciphered. They were still working on it. The fact that an Iranian had been captured at the training camp certainly suggested their involvement. But a firm link had yet to be established.

Jim concluded that during the raid on the camp, Vasquez Ramirez probably escaped from the cabin almost immediately after the shooting began. That would be the prudent course of action, he thought. After all, if the SGIT commandos had been defeated, Ramirez could have easily returned to the camp and continued with business as usual.

Jim was still pondering the whereabouts of Ramirez when the secure phone line on his desk rang. It was a landline, so there would not be a cellular signal to be captured by any eavesdropping government. Also, the phone on Jim's desk, as well as the one on the caller's desk was equipped with sophisticated microprocessors that instantaneously encrypted and decrypted the voice communications.

“Good morning, Colonel.”

“It's 1400 hours here, Jim.” Colonel Pierson's office was in the Pentagon.

“Excuse me, sir. My mind was focused on the most recent intel report from Lieutenant Lacey. Evidence gathered from computer hard drives confiscated from the training camp in Ecuador strongly implicates the Venezuelan government. I trust you have already received the report?”

“Certainly. That's why I'm calling.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Jim. He had no idea where the colonel was going. So, best to keep quiet and listen.

“There are some key facts missing from the lieutenant's report.”

“Sir?” Jim was surprised. Lacey and the rest of the team were very thorough. It would be extremely irregular for Lacey, Ross, or Williams to overlook important facts and pivotal conclusions.

“I just received a report filed through COMSUBPAC. On September 26, the
USS New Mexico,
a Virginia-class fast attack boat commanded by Captain Earl Berry, was on patrol in the North Pacific. Apparently, the report was filed promptly, but those in the know didn't see fit to forward it to my attention until this morning.”

Jim knew better than to interrupt the colonel. He would get to the point in due time.

“It seems we had the good fortune that Captain Berry's orders had him on patrol just south of Chernabura Island.”

Now this is getting interesting.
Jim tensed involuntarily, willing the Colonel to make his point.

“The
New Mexico
shadowed a Russian sub,” there was a pause and Jim imagined that Colonel Pierson was referring to the report, “the
Saint Petersburg
… as she sailed north into U.S. territorial waters. Now, I'll give you three guesses as to where the
Saint Petersburg
ended up, and you won't need the first two.”

“Off the coast of Chernabura Island,” replied Jim. His mind was working at warp speed. He sensed the missing pieces of the puzzle were about to be laid on the table.

“Exactly. The
New Mexico
remained on station all day and monitored the
Saint Petersburg
undetected. Their sonar data has been reviewed over and over again, and the conclusion remains the same. The
Saint
Petersburg
inserted a covert team onto the island before dawn. The team disembarked through the torpedo tubes, surfaced, and then took a high-speed craft to the island.”

“That would be the strike team that we defeated. Peter Savage reported destroying a Zodiac on the north beach.”

“Yes, the facts corroborate one another. But the
New Mexico
recorded another insertion later in the morning. That team used a DTV to reach the island. According to the sonar data, the Zodiac never left the island. However, the DTV did—it is reported to have disembarked from the island shortly after the time the sniper team took out General Ramirez.”

“So, the Russians are also involved. They inserted the sniper team to make sure we didn't take any prisoners from their strike team.”

“Exactly. But here's the best part. Captain Berry maneuvered his boat to within 8,000 yards of the
Saint Petersburg
undetected, and then opened her torpedo doors knowing the Russian sub would hear that unmistakable sound. When she pinged the Russian sub, twice, they decided to get the hell out of Dodge while they still could.” Colonel Pierson paused for effect.

“And?” said Jim, knowing the punch was coming.

“When the
Saint Petersburg
bugged out, the returning sniper team was still in the water.”

“What?” exclaimed Jim. He jumped from his chair, dropping Lacey's report and nearly knocking the secure telephone off his desk.

“That's right. The sniper team was still 50 yards from the Russian submarine when Captain Berry scared them off. An hour later the two Russian spec ops soldiers were on board the
New Mexico.
They were transferred to a secure location, and what we learned is the subject of this report of which I am now the proud owner.”

Jim was excited, uncharacteristically so. “Sir! It is very important that we get a copy of that report ASAP! We need to know how deep and at what level the Russians are involved.”

“My guess is you have the report already. I suspect it's in the secure email database.”

“I'm on it. And thank you, sir.” Colonel Pierson had already hung up.

Jim wasted no time; he logged onto the secure server and there it was, received seven minutes ago. He opened the file and called Lacey.

“You're going to want to read this report now! Drop whatever else you're doing. The Russians are involved deeper than I could've imagined. That sniper team on Chernabura Island—it was a Russian spec ops team. And we have them!”

Lacey was confused. But she knew the best way to understand was to read the file, and she did.

An hour later Jim gathered his intelligence team: Lieutenant Lacey, Sergeant Ross, and Sergeant Williams. Uncharacteristically, Jim also included Peter, justifying it based on his involvement from the beginning. Plus, he believed Peter might bring a fresh perspective as an outsider to the intelligence world. Jim knew he was bending the rules, but what the hell… rank does have its privileges.

Jim was standing in front of a white board in a small conference room. There were several bullet points listed on the board—Venezuela, Russia, sniper team, submarine insertion, Iran, cartel, oil revenue. Williams had just started to recite a brief history of the oil cartel.

“OPEC stands for Oil Producing and Exporting Countries. It was founded in September of 1960 by Venezuela and Saudi Arabia after many years of lobbying efforts by the Venezuelan government. The main stated goal was to manage the volume of oil that its member countries exported for the purpose of driving the price up.”

“I thought cartels were illegal,” commented Peter. “So why has OPEC been tolerated for more than five decades?”

“Two reasons. First, OPEC is an organization of states—sovereign governments—unlike other cartels that are organizations of companies. International law exempts sovereign countries from trade regulations that apply to companies. Second, and perhaps more importantly, is the fear that any legal action against OPEC would be totally ineffective and a retaliatory response, such as an embargo, would be very painful. So the United States has tolerated its existence.”

Williams continued his lecture. “By the late 1950s, countries like Saudi Arabia were complaining that they were selling oil to the West at rock bottom prices only to have that oil converted to high-value chemicals and commodities that were then sold back to them at enormous profit. They felt the West was taking financial advantage of them.

“Today OPEC, or the oil cartel as they are informally known, controls 36 percent of global oil production and they own two-thirds of known petroleum reserves. In 2000 Russia joined the cartel as a non-permanent member. The headquarters is located in Vienna.”

Jim interrupted. “This is all very interesting, but with the President pressing for answers, we need to know whether Venezuela is the ringleader and, if so, who are the likely collaborators?”

“Lieutenant Lacey, Sergeant Ross, and I have debated that question. The more radical members, at least in our opinion, include Iran, Venezuela, Nigeria, Libya, and Russia. We agree that all should be viewed with suspicion.”

Jim frowned. He was given a long list of suspects when he wanted a short list.

Lacey went on, “The Venezuelan government under President Enrique Garza has taken increasingly hostile positions toward the United States and Western Europe since taking control in a swift coup just over a year ago.”

“Garza had been a captain in military intelligence,” added Ross. “Seems he had greater ambitions.”

“How strong is the military backing?” queried Jim

“He's been in office for thirteen months, and there's no sign that his control has weakened. He's playing into the aspirations of several ultranationalist generals.”

“Okay. What else?”

Lacey proceeded, “Interestingly, in December 2008 Russia and Venezuela held joint naval exercises off the coast of South America, signaling an ever-growing political and military cooperation between the two countries. This alliance began with Hugo Chavez, who also courted a military and political alliance with Iran beginning back in 2005. President Garza has intensified those alliances, even speaking publicly in support of Iran's nuclear program. And Garza just returned from a visit to Moscow, where he was treated to a state dinner with President Pushkin and Prime Minister Petrovsky. CIA has warned of a probable missile defense treaty.”

“Seriously?” said Peter, wondering why the South American country would feel the need for protection against a long-range missile attack.

His comment prompted Lacey to elaborate, “The concern is that such a treaty would result in a significant tightening of air defenses in Venezuela.”