The Battle for Houston...The Aftermath (27 page)

“Without a shot being fired our attacking force got within 800 meters of his stronghold, walled-in like a fort, before they were noticed. Then all hell broke loose and at least a dozen machine-gun emplacements opened up on the men from the thick wooden wall.

“Colonel Moreno, who was leading the first attack, radioed in the gun positions and our frigates literary flattened the wall for a couple of hundred yards. Then I ordered in the second wave, dropping the parachutes along the wall area and inside the estate while peppering any machine gun emplacements around the large grounds with the first group advancing.”

“A well mapped-out surprise attack Luiz,” suggested Philippe.

“Yes, thank you Philippe. I believe it was a good attack. The ongoing battles lasted most of the day as we found several underground tunnels leading to military command posts, even a couple of underground sleeping areas for over 100 men. It took the whole day to flush all of Calderón’s guards out, but we completed the mission by midnight last evening. I left Colonel Moreno in charge to clean up the rest of the island, help the injured and get a list together of supplies needed for the islanders.”

“And the tourists?” asked Carlos.

“Mostly German and Scandinavian tourists, and after hearing about the news of the rest of the world, they all decided to stay. I was a few minutes late this morning due to getting several of our C-130s full of doctors, medical supplies and food supplies over to San Andrés.”

“Casualties?” asked General Rodriquez.

“When I left, under forty men killed, approximately a hundred badly wounded and another hundred slightly wounded. On their side we counted over 700 dead, many hundreds wounded and about 500 captured. I believe that we will find another few hundred men or more before we have completely cleared the island. I intend to return as soon as we are finished with this emergency meeting you, Philippe, got me into.”

“Sorry, just another two days, Luiz. Do you think Calderón knows?” asked Philippe.

“I’m sure he knows everything. I looked at him often in the meeting to see if he looked concerned. I only saw a slight bit of worry in his face when that aide walked into the chambers and gave him a note about an hour before we were done for the day. From then on he and Gonzalez were pretty keen to get out of there.”

“Radio Moreno, Luiz, tell him and his men to be cautious,” added the air force commander. “I’ll get one of our new gunships into the airport there fully armed, just in case. Our friend Pedro Gonzalez and even that fat slob from over the border, the obese Venezuelan friend of Calderón might have his own protected little corner of our Colombian heaven. I think I should send in a wing of Kfirs to be ready for an air attack from our neighbors. Our Venezuelan friend could have his own little protected base on our island.”

“You could airlift in the two U.S. jeeps we left here on our last trip and a couple of the mortars we brought with us. A C-130 belly-full of extras might come in handy,” suggested Carlos and both the admiral and the general nodded and excused themselves to sort matters out. They could have just started a bad war on the island hundreds of miles from the mainland.

“At least air superiority will be the main benefit in this operation Luiz, since you already have the three frigates there. I would get one of them closer to the mainland and you could use it as an early warning system for extra air and shipping in the area,” stated the general to the admiral as they left the table.

“How do we act tomorrow, Uncle Philippe?” asked Carlos as the rest resumed the main meeting.

Early the next morning, and with the thousands of loyal Colombian and U.S. soldiers embedded and hidden in buildings around the Palace Nariño, most within a couple of miles of the grounds, the limousines headed out in a different order than the first day. This time Carlos and his father rode in the fourth vehicle in the second convoy, while Uncle Philippe, the general and the admiral sat together in the third vehicle in the third convoy. The first convoy was full of Seal Team members dressed in smart business suits, twenty of them, and the four vehicles squeaked with the heavy weights of whatever the Seals had stashed in the large vehicles.

The three captives were going to be delivered during the lunch break in a second motor convoy of all the vehicles together, twelve limousines with military armored troop carriers as protection in front and behind the convoy. This time the tank protecting the gate would be ordered to let the whole party through and this time Colombian Special Forces would be in the vehicles as guards.

Carlos had the feeling that today there was going to be fireworks and everyone was issued thin, modern, bullet-proof vests under their suits. Philippe tried to refuse, until the general told him that he and Luiz would undress him and get the vest on him themselves if he didn’t comply.

The vest was hot under his suit as he walked into the outer room where there was always the
bocas
, soft drinks, gallons of coffee, and the president to welcome them. Only the two extra “aides” were unloaded at the door with the VIPs, the others were driven around back to work out their own way to get in. Philippe had suggested one or two of the Seals join other groups as they entered and separate from the groups before the president made his usual introductions.

“Ambassador, you rested well and enjoyed fresh Colombian cuisine for a change. Far better than Washington, I’m sure,” the president welcomed his group as they entered.

“Yes, Mr. President. It is surprising how much ones misses home when one is away,” Philippe replied.

You have a few new members in your entourage, Ambassador?” queried the president shaking hands with Manuel and then Carlos, but interested in the two large men with the group.

“Ah, yes, they belong to the Minister of Education and also Water and Land Development. They live by the international airport and asked if they could catch a ride with us this morning,” the ambassador responded.

Lieutenant Meyers and Sergeant Rodriquez had been warned this could happen and, bowing, began to give their stories. The president noticed more ministers entering the door and was already away and nodding his acceptance before the first sentence was complete.

Carlos watched him head towards the door and saw Paul and a second Seal move away from the group that had just entered. The president, with his eyes on the Minister of Roads did not see the two men head away from the group and skirt around the wall and then over to Carlos. For Carlos, it was interesting to watch the goings on.

By the time they headed into the main chamber, and Senator Calderón and Police Chief Gonzalez entered, six more Seals had disappeared into the building somewhere.

“Could be a boring morning and exciting afternoon,” Manuel, whispered to Carlos as they went through the third round of security. The two Seals were ahead of them and took the same seats they had yesterday. It seemed that the ambassador had asked each of the two Ministries to bring one aide less for the day’s business.

Carlos sat down in his usual seat and looked around the room. It looked clean and certainly the cleaners had gone through the room since they had left. He carefully felt underneath his chair and the butt of a pistol entered his hand. He looked up at Charlie Meyers sitting next to him and got a smile back in return. He then pretended to whisper in his father’s ear and felt under his chair. This time a rounded barrel of a silencer was there facing him, tight under the chair. He felt better. With the vest and the weapons in the room they were ready for any trouble, and he began to relax.

Carlos then checked out his uncles on the main table. Uncle Philippe was directly in front of them, General Rodriquez had moved a space to Philippe’s right to allow for the Ministry of Education to sit between them. Carlos thought this a good move as it would have been easier to shoot the two men sitting next to each other. As Calderón and Gonzalez reached their chairs, he noticed that the admiral was still sitting next to the chief of police, and Lieutenant Paul was one of his aides sitting behind him. He then noticed Miguel Rodriquez, the Seal sitting on the other side of his father, get up and with his briefcase walk around the table and over to the admiral’s aides. There were handshakes and greetings as if the two aides were good friends, and the young Colombian returned to his seat just as the House Speaker banged the mallet.

Senator Calderón looked a little more tired and pale than the day before, but his stone-face features persisted throughout the morning. Also the two empty chairs behind the senator had been filled with two large mean-looking men, who, like Charlie Meyers, didn’t resemble anything like what a mousy aide should look like.

The police chief looked more edgy and his aides had also changed overnight. Gonzalez was sitting next to the Admiral of the navy, the man who was in command of the frigates, which had bombarded San Andrés a day or two earlier. They certainly knew what had happened and Carlos noted that all three Rodriquez brothers at the main table smiled at Calderón and Gonzalez when their eyes wandered in their directions.

The Minister of Agriculture had just finished his 30-minute speech, the fourth and last before lunch, telling the table the abilities of the farming community to feed the population, his worry about coffee not being sold to anybody outside Colombia, and the world grain and beef prices now held no value, when it came time for the last question and answer session before lunch. Senator Calderón was the first to fire away and it wasn’t at the Agricultural Minister.

“I have a question for the Ambassador to the United States, Mr. Speaker,” and before permission was given or refused, Senator Calderón carried on. “When are we going to see these so-called captives from the government of the United States of America …and what rights do the ambassador, a Rodriquez, the chief of the air force, a Rodriquez and the admiral of the navy, another Rodriquez, have to attack an island belonging to our nation… as if it was an enemy country?”

There was absolute horror and silence from the room as everyone waited for the ambassador to answer. He first looked at papers in front of him for a few seconds, then took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, replaced his glasses and finally looked straight at the senator; this time he wasn’t smiling.

Senator Calderón… first that was two questions, but I will answer both for you. We will see these captives in this room after lunch. They are already in this building and have been since early this morning. Where, I don’t know, but they are being guarded by our Colombian Special Forces,” he replied. Carlos knew that it wasn’t exactly the truth. “I received these men’s names from the U.S. government late last night when they arrived in the country. All I will say for now, and since you have mentioned our Rodriquez name three times, I will let the cat out of the bag that one of the names of the prisoners is Calderón!”

There was a gasp in the room. “Yes, Calderón is a name found all over the Latin world, but this Señor Calderón is a Colombian Calderón, and we think he might be one of your family members.” Again there were gasps and sounds of shock around the room.

“To answer your second question, Senator Calderón, we heard from reliable sources in the United States and our spies in our neighboring country, that a coup was taking place on the island of San Andrés, one of our most valuable islands. We didn’t believe it, but the admiral, chief of the air force, and I decided to find out for ourselves and put men on the ground, just in case the rumors were true. Funny, our men—our own Colombian soldiers—arrived on our own island to find out that there were thousands of armed soldiers suddenly shooting back at them. Now, Senator Calderón, is that a possible coup or not? It took us less than twenty-four hours to kill the enemy forces, which were well over 1,000 soldiers mainly around a couple of prominent villas outside El Centro and we are checking to see who those villas belong to. That should tell the Government of Colombia who was trying to take over its territory. Personally I believe it is somebody from Venezuela, but we don’t know yet.”

There was absolute silence in the room. Uncle Philippe just sat there and looked at the senator and for the first time Carlos saw a twitch on the senator’s face. It was the first time the usually stone-faced man had shown any emotion.

“Is this all true Ambassador Rodriquez?” asked the president in shock, and Carlos then knew that this poor man knew little about the country he “governed.”

“I’m afraid so, Mr. President,” the ambassador responded. “I need to discuss how we will bring these prisoners into Chambers with you and your Presidential Guards during lunch, if you don’t mind. I speak first after lunch, and I will elaborate on these important topics.” And the House Speaker awkwardly banged down the mallet for lunch. Lunch was a pretty quiet affair. Nobody laughed or joked as they usually did between colleagues and the room had a dark cloud about it.

The ambassador sat with the president explaining how dangerous the next part of the meeting would be. He suggested that all guards with guns should not be present in case they might be spies or in the employment of a possible “dark side”. The president couldn’t believe his ears, that there could be so much potential trouble inside the actual Government Chambers. He refused to order the guards to leave until Ambassador Rodriquez told him that if there were men with guns in the room, he could not bring in the captives. Any bad soldier with a weapon could easily take out the whole government, if given the chance.

Slowly, and wanting to see these so called gangsters from America, he relented and stated that he would give orders for the room to be cleared of the Presidential Guard, as long as the men bringing in the captives were also unarmed. Ambassador Rodriquez agreed.

Carlos counted the decreasing minutes to the end of lunch. He noticed that Calderón and Gonzalez were nowhere to be seen.

“When the crap hits the fan, duck and get under the table, Carlos,” ordered Manuel, his father. “I’m sure that there will be more hardware in the Chambers than in the military armory by the time we show the captives. Keep eyes on the aides sitting behind Calderon and Gonzalez. Also check every face in the room to see if it is a new face. I’ve tried to commit every face around the room into memory and I will nudge you if I see any fresh faces.” Carlos nodded.