Chapter 1 — Bombs and Bazookas

*****

~ 1 ~ “Something has come up, Leo.”

Leo recognized Witteric’s dry, matter-of-fact tone as an attempt to hide the uncertainty he was feeling. Witteric had located him on the night beach after Leo had started up the engine of the front-loader and the light of its single headlight had shone on the small waves breaking on the beach. Leo had been walking around the machine, where it was parked next to the Cortez Cottage, checking on its readiness. As Witteric’s jeep had approached, Leo had been squatting down, shining a flashlight on the underside of the vehicle.

Witteric ignored the other man who was standing in the shadows watching Leo, and said, “Retimer’s troops will not provide cover for us tonight, Leo. After the crocodile incident, we decided to keep them ready to defend our inland stronghold.”

“You have Sisebur’s squad, Wit.”

“Yes, but they are now my only backup.”

“That makes us sitting ducks for the Americans—if they show—but intelligence tells me they haven’t been mobilized.

Witteric nodded. “The Americans’ spies are occupied with women over in the main resort; they haven’t radioed in.”

“To my knowledge the Americans are not coming, Wit.”

“What’s your intelligence, source?”

“The weather station on the helicopter carrier. It was made by Aeronauticas and it’s serviced by them. Whenever a number of troop helicopters take off together, an integrating heat sensor picks up the event, and my pager rings. At that point, we’ve got about forty minutes, if they haven’t moved closer.”

“Will you let me carry your pager?”

Leo handed it over. “You’re in charge, Wit. If they’re mobilizing, the pager will ring very loudly four times and the word ‘Gringos’ will appear on the screen. If it rings twice and displays a number, please push the green button to save and acknowledge.”

Witteric dropped the pager into his breast pocket, which he buttoned. Then he leaped into his jeep and drove off.

Leo knew that it was the death of Herbert Schooner which was responsible for the absence of the guard troops. The two live atomic bombs were now protected only by himself and David, Czarina and Walter—and the twenty minutes by which he had advanced the schedule.

“Now I’ve got to get my babies onto the beach,” he said to David, who stepped out of the shadows. “Hop on; we’ve got to work fast.” The front loader sped away from the Cortez Cottage along the shore, headlight bobbing. At the small beach next to the headland cliff, it forded on the invisible metal tracks over the water flowing out of the Big Pool.

On the other side, Leo turned off the front-loader’s engine. “We’ve just crossed Cherokee’s bridge, David. Listen: There’s a seaplane at the dock just starting up. It’ll be taking off with the first two ersatz atomic bombs.”

“Ersatz atomic bombs, Leo?”

“They’re Maker Devices. Ricardo made them to be indistinguishable from the real thing. They won’t detonate unless they’re at a genuine test site. Within the hour, Witteric will be delivering two more ersatz atomic bombs to the land convoy of Olivia Lancaster and Dominick Mazzatelli—the gangster agents for the Indian and Chinese ‘cartels’. Only these babies next to you are the real thing—made in the U.S.S.R.”

David had been resting an arm on one of the bomb’s skid frames. He removed it quickly.

“Why are you telling me these things, Leo?”

“Because it’s likely that you and your photographer will be the only survivors of this adventure. You can work with the newsman Alberto to puzzle out the story in his Knox Aviation file.”

“Survivors? …Evelyn!”

“I think she, too, is likely to survive, David, and it’s possible that all of us will survive.”

“What about the old folks—Walter and Czarina?”

Leo held up an automatic rifle. “Do you know how to use one of these?”

“I do, Leo. I’ve been instructed in the use of one just like that for a scene in my new movie. I get to be my own stuntman, dashing headlong into an ambush, gun blazing. The good guys have learned where each man is hiding along the sides of the road, so I dash up the road, shooting left, left, right left, right, right, right. Then I throw myself to the ground, just saving myself from a grand explosion. We use blanks, of course, but I’ve run the routine with live ammo to capture footage of bullets hitting the ground.”

Leo smiled. “Sounds like a good plan,” he said, seeing that David’s excitement about his acting had transported him out of the real situation. He handed the weapon to David. “Stand guard here while I move the first bomb. I’ll be back. Losing our guards has exposed us to a new danger: Someone wanting to start World War Three may try to snatch these real atomic bombs, and you and I and the two old folks are the only defense. But Walter and Czarina also know how to use weapons, and the Czarina claims to be a good shot with a hand-held rocket launcher, against armored vehicles.”

While Leo drove the front-loader carrying the first bomb, over Cherokee’s bridge and a quarter of a mile along the beach to the pickup point, David was left without light, standing with his weapon next to the other ominous object and feeling exposed. The front-loader’s sound receded while its bobbing light illuminated the shoreline ahead of it farther and farther down the beach. The loader stopped, and for a few minutes David glimpsed in the single high headlight, one or two other figures; he knew that they must be “the old folks, my fellow soldiers.” He looked out at the sea’s dark horizon touched by the starry sky, and saw a tower rise out of the dark water. “My God, it’s big!” A large star painted on the tower flashed in the moonlight as it rocked in the seawater. “A Soviet submarine!” At last it all made sense to him, and was real.

The light of the returning loader shone on him, and Leo said, “Hop on quick, David!”, deftly slipping the loader’s forks under the second bomb. Leo turned the vehicle around, raised the bomb and carefully steered over Cherokee’s bridge. “The pickup’s arriving and the show is coming to a climax, David. Make sure your rifle’s safety is off. Czarina’s got her rocket launcher up on her shoulder, and a second loaded one at her side; she’s a professional. Walter’s armed like you. And the gangsters are arriving on the ridge above the resort buildings to pick up their bombs and pay for them in gold and gems. I think all hell’s going to break loose. Our cavalry is in the water, but they won’t stay. You might wind up in Moscow.”

Boldly, David exclaimed, “That would be great publicity!”—his teeth chattering as a movie commando raid appeared to be coming at him from the sea. Leo spun the loader around and stopped it in front of the first bomb. From out of the dark, Walter’s voice called out to Czarina in Russian. Her equally indecipherable answer sounded farther down the beach. Then the sound of a vehicle’s engine came from the direction of Walter’s voice, and was followed by a flash and the roaring sizzle of Czarina’s rocket speeding toward it.

~ 2 ~ Witteric was standing with Sisebur waiting for Dominick Mazzatelli’s convoy at the transfer point, which was located between Cherokee’s treasure house and the locked gate closing off the entrance to the Hands’ forbidden territory. Soon the two men were able to make out the dark vehicles of the convoy rolling slowly toward them, guided by shadowy armed men walking beside the vehicles. Sisebur flashed his light at the lead vehicle, and as one of the men advanced quickly toward them, they saw that it was Capricia, in light battle dress.

"Leave the light on,” Capricia said to them. “It is safe enough; we have seen and heard nothing.”

After two armored personnel carriers had proceeded slowly past Witteric, Sisebur and Capricia (AKA Olivia Lancaster), the two heavily-laden payment trucks stopped next to them, disgorging three passengers and the two truck drivers, who joined Miss Lancaster and her companions. The drivers were the two Russian bomb technicians, and the passengers were the men whom Gabriella had assigned to accompany the payment.

Witteric conferred with them for a minute, then motioned to Sisebur, who signaled with his light. At the signal, a flatbed truck laden with two atomic bombs rolled slowly toward them out of the dark.

The two Russians immediately climbed onto the flatbed with their lights, Geiger counter and other instruments. After they had meticulously examined each bomb, they nodded to Witteric. The payment trucks, driven now by Witteric’s men, then disappeared into the darkness from which the bombs’ truck had appeared—the remodeled entrance in the adobe ruins, to Cherokee’s treasure house. Witteric, who had conducted the payment trucks into the treasure house, secured its tectonic door from within, leaving Sisebur to finish up with Miss Lancaster (Capricia), who had requested that Sisebur accompany a runner to personally inform Mazzatelli of the transfer. Mazzatelli had remained farther back on the road with the third armored personnel carrier, to cover the rear of the convoy. His armored vehicle would become the convoy’s vanguard when they transported the bombs to the temporary airfield.

~ ~ ~

Had Retimer’s troops not been recalled to quarters, they would have provided protection for the convoy on its way back to the airfield—protection against any land-based incursion from other arms dealers.

Capricia and Mazzatelli had not been informed that Retimer’s troops had been confined to quarters in order to maintain a full guard for the Hands’ camp. Witteric had told Sisebur not to inform Mazzatelli of this change in plans, whispering to him, “Since they got here without trouble, they’ll get out with the bombs without trouble.”

After Sisebur had been sent off by her to personally inform Mazzatelli that the transfer had been completed, Capricia slipped away into the darkness and met up with her two armored vehicles and the seven armed men flanking them. Not having stopped to turn around, they were continuing toward the beach on the way which Leo had seen Capricia exploring earlier in the day, before the crocodile attack.

Capricia was confident that she would easily seize Czarina’s two bombs which were waiting on the beach, because she had bribed the contingent of Retimer’s troops meant to defend them, to remain in their skiff. Being uninformed about those troops having been confined to quarters, she was planning to meet them at the Big Pool’s edge to pay them the last third of the bribe money. Capricia anticipated resistance only from Leo, with his pistol, who would be in the front loader, its engine running, ready to place each bomb on a separate large inflatable raft from the mother ship in exactly ten minutes. She sent her seven armed men to kill Leo and use the front loader to move the bombs to her own armored vehicle; then she climbed quickly over the low wind-formed berm to meet the bribed troops and hand over the final payment. Capricia planned after that to see that the bombs were loaded before Praskovya’s faction had been able to touch them, and then catch up with Mazzatelli.

But those events which were capable of seriously interfering with Capricia’s plans, had already taken place: (1) Leo had arranged with the Soviets to begin the transfer twenty minutes earlier than Capricia had expected, and (2) Retimer’s troops had been withdrawn from all scheduled engagements that night and sent to guard the Hands’ camp.

~ 3 ~ Minutes earlier, Dominick Mazzatelli had taken Sisebur into his armored carrier, which had been turned around in order to lead out the convoy with the bombs. Suddenly, Dominick’s scouts came running back from the crossroads, shouting that a column of Mexican soldiers was right behind them!

Sisebur said quickly, “Dominick, Retimer’s troops evacuated earlier to deal with another matter; you’re on your own with the Mexicans,” and slipped out of the armored carrier, disappearing into the darkness.

Dominick turned on the armored carrier’s headlights. Facing him in their light were two long columns of infantry, one on each side of the road, the nearest grim-faced soldiers having advanced to less than a hundred feet before him. Dominick shouted from the driver’s window to his three men, “Go stand ahead of us, holding up your rifles over your heads! Now!”

Dominick Mazzatelli’s men obeyed, and the Mexican advance halted. The Mexican soldiers dropped as one man into kneeing position, their carbines pointed at Dominick’s headlights. Dominick’s three men, silhouetted against the light, advanced toward them slowly, their weapons over their heads, while the barrel of the armored vehicle’s top-mounted machine gun swung silently back and forth, aiming at the kneeling troops.

Neither side was issued an order to fire. From the darkness, an officer appeared beside the Mexican troops, holding a rifle above his head as he strode forward into the light. Dominick alighted from the armored carrier, displaying weaponless hands, and strode to meet him.

“Safe passage forward for my vehicle, President Leandro, in exchange for two atomic bombs for your national defense.”

Leandro smiled as if in response to a pleasing compliment offered in a televised debate. Then both men turned quickly toward the sound of automatic weapons fire, and two explosions, coming from a mile away in the direction of the beach.

They turned back toward each other, and Dominick said, “The Russians are attacking. They have a submarine just offshore and commandos on the beach. You don’t want to fight two battles.”

“I can call the Americans, who are very near,” answered the President.

“Then the Americans will get your bombs.”

“True. I will give you my jeep to return to your airfield. You may take one man back with you. Order the others to engage the Soviets with us.”

Dominick turned his head and addressed his men loudly in Italian: “We will go back now to push the damn Russians into the sea because they are trying to steal our swag. We will split it with the Mexicans, so take orders from the Mexican officers. I will follow with their boss.”

One of his three men leaped into the armored carrier to turn it around toward the Russians. The other two ran back beyond them carrying Dominick’s new orders along the line.

Leandro motioned his men forward. From their lines, two officers came to him, received more detailed instructions, and hurried back. The armored carrier squeezed past the truck laden with ersatz atomic bombs, which was now slowly approaching Leandro and Dominick and the knot of armed men gathered around them. Dominick gestured for the truck’s driver to get out. “I’ll take my driver with me. The two passengers are the Soviet technicians who go with the bombs.”

From the direction in which the Mexicans had come, the dim running lights of a communications van and a jeep slowly approached them . Leandro strode over to speak with them.

Dominick said quietly to the truck’s driver, who had joined him, “Guido, we’re barely getting out of this with our skins intact. Don’t say anything stupid to the President.”

“The President? He is a man with balls; I like that, Uncle. Let’s become Mexicans and join his Party.”

Leandro returned. “Get into my jeep. The driver will go where you tell him.” A soldier with an automatic rifle jumped into the back seat next to Guido. “I will see about getting you a partial refund for your clients, Mr. Mazzatelli,” said Leandro as they drove off.

“He has a fine sense of humor, too,” said Guido, leaning forward to his uncle.

“He meant what he said,” replied Dominick.

“Old men,” muttered Guido to the young armed man beside him. “Cigarette?”

~ 4 ~ “Good evening, Mother.” The armed commando had waded ashore after leaping out of the inflatable landing boat as his men deployed along the beach. Surveying the burning vehicles, he said, “We saw the action as we were approaching.”

“I hope that you were not concerned, Ivan. ‘Capricia’s’ colleagues attacked us, not being content with their share. Perhaps she was among them. Our promised rearguard did not materialize, but Mr. Roberson provided me with anti-tank weapons. Having once practiced with anti-tank shoulder rocket launchers, I took pleasure in applying my training in a field situation. I expect, at my age, to feel aches in my bones tomorrow.”

“I saw two vehicles hit, and two are burning.”

“Both are my handiwork, Ivan.”

The headlight of a front loader sped toward them on the beach, illuminating the two atomic bombs on their skids behind Praskovya. At the same time a man staggered out of the dark from the direction of the burning vehicles, passing through the light of the front loader and narrowly missing being run over. He halted before Ivan’s mother and asked, “Did we do that, Czarina? Where’s the photographer?”

“We were part of a plan, David, but it was not staged. I think you were incredibly brave.”

“It was just like the part I’ve been rehearsing.”

“You have practiced well, then, David, and you have played your part to perfection in the real world.”

While they were speaking, the front loader picked up one of the bombs and carried it to the first of the rafts. The bomb was deftly lowered onto it, and was afloat. The Russian commandos had practiced this move many times on the shore of the Black Sea. The second bomb was being loaded onto the second raft when they heard a new sound of gunfire from not very far away. “Go! go!” cried Leo from the front loader. “No more talk! David, hop on my rig!“

Ivan signaled to his men, who quickly returned to their boat and pulled Praskovya and her son from the waist-deep surge into which they had waded. Following the other vessels, all at full throttle, they headed out to sea.

Ivan asked, “Where shall we drop you off, Mother?”

“Lisbon would be nice, dear.”

~ ~ ~

The front loader sped to the mouth of the Dark River and turned around, facing down the beach in the direction of the resort. Leo said, “Just steer this thing slowly along the water’s edge, David,” and climbed up onto the back of the loader. After he had turned on the smoke-maker, Leo returned and took the controls. (The machine had drifted toward deeper water, despite David’s best efforts, for handling front-loaders on the beach was a part for which he had not rehearsed.) Artfully, Leo laid a dark, thick cloud along the beach, all the way to a location opposite the Cortez Cottage.

~ 5 ~ Fear seized her. Something had gone amiss. The contingent of Retimer’s troops whom Capricia had bribed were not waiting here in their skiff for their final payment. The sounds of combat came to her then: anti-tank rockets, exploding vehicles, bursts of automatic rifle fire and shouts of men. She scrambled up the sandy rise and saw the front-loader swinging around in the moonlight and the three commando boats heading out to sea. She was outraged by the sight of Czarina’s submarine, quickly fading from view behind the dark smoke laid by the front loader. Praskovya knows my plan! They are looking for me!

Capricia raced down to the edge of the pool and yanked off her boots. She tore off her khakis, stuffed her cash clip and keys into her bra, and plunged into the pool in her undergarments and a shoulder holster holding a pistol loaded with waterproof bullets. Being a good swimmer, she was confident of getting herself upstream to the opposite side of the river beyond the headland, and out of Praskovya’s grasp. There, where the high ridge began, a trail ran for a few hundred feet along a small stream which emptied into the river, then cut back to the far end of the high ridge to a place where it sloped back down to the water’s level. By continuing on that trail, she would be able to get to Retimer’s or Sisebur’s apartments in the troop quarters. Each had shown an interest in her, so there she would have money in the bank and sex. Her only plan at that point was to get one of them to help her with whatever followed.

Swimming a steady breaststroke upstream, Capricia was keeping herself as close to the rocky cliff as possible when the Americans’ helicopters appeared. Hiding herself against the cliff, she slipped beneath the water’s surface when the searchlight approached her. She came up to see a woman in a skiff blowing kisses to the aircraft in the light of its searchlight.

Having arrived at the trail, Capricia waded out into waist-deep water and into the moonlight to examine the view. To her left she was just able to see the troops’ quarters and the lighted dock where activities in the bar and the brothel were in full swing. To her right, she saw the waning fires of her burning vehicles. The absurdity of her situation struck her. “At least I’m dressed to join the party on the dock!” she thought hysterically, and began beating the water with her fists crying, “Merde! Merde! Merde!” She turned and took a step toward the shore.

Pain! The teeth of the freed crocodile bit to the bone as its jaws snapped onto Capricia’s legs and the croc dragged her under.

~ 6 ~ In Witteric’s pocket, Leo’s pager had rung four times. Witteric was alone, securing the payment within the treasure room after dismissing his men to join the others while he locked the gate from the inside. Once the men were gone, he took an odd key and accessed a second, secret tectonic offset which had been delved for him by Herbert. Then he rolled the treasure truck slowly into its hidden parking place, and exited to the resort compound on the opposite side of the wall from that in which the transaction had taken place.

Leo’s pager alert drove Witteric hastily up to the lookout guard tower rising high over the resort. It was the highest penthouse apartment, walled with windows all around, and having a concealed radar under its roof. In the tower, Witteric looked around on all sides and saw two burning vehicles near the beach. What the hell?

All heads had snapped around and all eyes had stared at Witteric as he burst through the door. Saying nothing, he was searching the horizon for American aircraft when the radio operator handed him a "most urgent” note from Retimer: “Herbert Schooner is dead, the victim of a crocodile attack.”

“What has happened?” Witteric again searched the horizon for an American strike force.

One of the guards, holding binoculars, replied, “I think Miss Lancaster’s group tried to snatch the Soviets’ bombs and failed. But I see more men down there than Lancaster and Mazzatelli are reported to have. They look like Mexican regulars. There has been no further gunfire associated with their appearance.”

“Captain Witteric, we’ve just received a call from Retimer’s radio man. Retimer is on the troops’ dock.”

“Bogeys! Bogeys coming right at us! At least a dozen big helicopters, I think,” shouted the American-trained radar operator.

“Inform Retimer!”

The radio operator reported, “He sends orders for you to stand down the SAMs and their support radar.”