The Squire's Tale - 6. Chapter 6

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 20th, 11:00 AM PACIFIC DAYLIGHT TIME
BRONSON RESIDENCE, SANTA BARBARA

“Yes, I—” But El Jefe had ended the call.

Shaking his head to regain control, Tom glanced across the room at FBI agent Phyllis Barber, who had recorded and traced the call.

She took off her headphones. “Eighteen minutes, Sir. Plenty of time for the trace.”

He started to say something, but his cell phone rang. He answered immediately, “Hutton,” he barked curtly.

Ed Hopper’s voice greeted him, “Tom, I have a General Delacourt from the Air Force Satellite Control Facility on the line. I’m patching him in. Go ahead, General.”

“Thank you, Sir. Mr Hutton, first let me offer my sincerest sympathy for your situation.”

“Thanks, General.”

“Sir, our satellite is positioned right over the Qosqo Province of Peru. When the call was placed, we picked up the signal at 700 megahertz. Recording of the conversation was automatic, along with a detailed data analysis. We were able to narrow the field as the conversation went on.”

He offered hope, “You did a great job of keeping the line open for as long as you did, Sir. When the call ended, we had resolved down to an area 5K by 5K, centered on a mountainous dense jungle about 85 kilometers from the city of Cuzco, in a district called Limatambo.”

“25 square kilometers! We’ll never find him!” Tom exclaimed.

“Please, Sir, let me finish. Once we complete the detailed analysis of the origin of the call, I’m confident we’ll nail the location down to the size of a small truck.”

“You can do that?”

“Uh, Sir. I’m not allowed to say, so let’s just pretend what I said was hyperbole, OK?”

Ed Hopper spoke up, “I didn’t hear you say anything, General, and I’m sure Tom has clearance for the technology anyway, since his company developed and built it.”

The General sounded relieved, “Then may I say, Mr Hutton, thank you for your contribution to the security of our country. I’m glad your equipment can be used in the service of rescuing your grandson.”

The SECDEF sharply cut in, “Thank you again, General. We’ll be in touch to set up for tomorrow’s phone call.”

“Very good, Sir.” A click indicated the general had left the conversation.

“You still on the line, Tom?”

“Yes, Ed.”

“I think he said that deliberately.”

“Said what?”

“Well, he wasn’t supposed to mention the accuracy of the system, but he also wasn’t supposed to acknowledge we are rescuing a civilian. I guess we all three just committed high treason, and he probably wanted to cover his ass by going on record that this wasn’t his fucking idea.”

They both chuckled.

“So, what’s next, Ed?”

“We get some boots on the ground as close as possible to whatever coordinates Delacourt determines.”

“Is that going to be easy?”

Secretary Hopper sighed. “Well, I have the Peruvian Embassy’s military attaché coming to my office in 45 minutes. Let’s see just how cooperative they’re going to be.”

“What’s your gut feeling?”

“No country likes the U.S. barging in with armed men and traipsing around their fucking territory unless they’re invited and the whole thing is coordinated with local authorities.”

“Can you arrange that?”

“I’d say the chances are favorable, but not guaranteed.”

Tom smiled enigmatically. “Well, maybe I can help out in that area.”

“How?”

“Electrónicas Hutton is one of the biggest businesses in Peru, and we make substantial donations to all kinds of local charities and organizations—”

“Including political campaigns?”

Tom smiled, “I couldn’t say.”

“Nor should you.”

“So, why don’t I check in with my old amigo, Presidente Rafael De Leon? In light of my investment in his country, and the contributions I have made to his...uh, campaigns, I suspect he’ll be more than willing to cooperate.”

“You go ahead, and meanwhile, I’m looking into another interesting twist to this drama.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t have all the details yet, but if this leads anywhere, you’ll be the first to know.”

“OK, Ed. Thanks again.”

 

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 20th, 12:15 PM EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME
THE PENTAGON, WASHINGTON, DC

The phone on Defense Secretary Edward Hopper’s desk buzzed.

“Mr Secretary, General Mason is here.”

“Send him right in, please.”

General William Tecumseh Mason was Commander of the U.S. Special Operations Command, a.k.a. SOCOM—the combined special-ops divisions of the Army, Navy, Marines, and Air Force. A tall, handsome African American army officer, his authority was commanding yet at the same time respectful.

“General, thank you for coming over.”

“My pleasure, Mr Secretary. Seems we have a common interest budding here.”

“So I understand, General. Why don’t we sit and discuss this?”

Hopper motioned the general to a comfortable high-backed leather chair in front of the fireplace and poured him coffee.

“Now, Bill, let’s talk turkey.”

“Sir, we’re coordinating with State and the CIA on this one. We’ve received reliable information that a plot is under way to replace the elected government of Peru with a military junta or maybe a dictator.”

“How reliable is your info?”

“It’s pure HUMINT. We have people on the ground, including one on the inside of the coup plotters.”

“Any idea what their timeline is?”

“According to the latest intelligence, it looks like they’re aiming for next Monday.”

“Shit! That soon. Are they ready?”

“This is where our interests intersect, Sir. They are waiting for a payment of two million dollars to show up in their offshore bank, which is how they intend to pay for mercenaries and weapons, and buy off certain influencers in the current government.”

“Goddamn! That means—”

“The coup is connected to the kidnapping.”

“So the taking of Keiran was planned?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“So, who the fuck knew my grandson was going to be in Cuzco this week?”

“Seems like quite a few people, Sir, but we’re narrowing the list down as we speak.”

Over the next half hour, the two shared confidential details and agreed upon a joint plan of action.

When they were finished, the SECDEF accompanied General Mason to the door of his office, shook his hand warmly, and said, “I’m glad we can work together on this, Bill. It will make a big difference to a lot of people.”

“Yes, Ed, it will. I’ll see you at Andrews in...” he checked his watch, “two hours.”

 

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 20th, 3:00 PM EDT
ANDREWS AIR FORCE BASE

Secretary Hopper and General Mason boarded the aircraft designated Nightwatch for the five-hour flight to Santa Barbara.

The specially-modified Boeing 747-200 E-4B had originally been deployed as one of the so-called “Doomsday Planes,” equipped to provide the president and military leaders with the ability to command and control America’s forces from the air in the event of a nuclear war or cataclysmic incident.

The plane’s original paint job was camouflage, but now it was decked out in blue and white, with “United States of America” on the fuselage like its cousin Air Force One.

Air traffic controllers always gave the official plane a direct path with no delays, moving all other aircraft out of its way until it reached its cruising altitude of 42,000 feet, well above commercial flights.

Upon landing at the USAF base on Santa Rosa Island, the two men and their team were driven by limousine to Natalie Bronson’s home, where they were quickly ushered into the house to minimize the scrutiny of neighbors.

 

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 20th, 4:00 PM PDT
BRONSON RESIDENCE, SANTA BARBARA

Tom Hutton greeted his visitors at the door and led them to the sunny room at the back of the house, where his daughter was waiting.

“Natalie, you know Ed Hopper. And this is General Bill Mason.”

She hugged Hopper and shook hands with the four-star officer. “Thank you for coming all the way out here, Mr Secretary...and General. I’m not sure why Keiran rates such high-level attention, but you are more than welcome.”

Trying to explain without revealing too much, her father said, “Uh, certain...aspects of this situation have developed that involve more than Keiran, although his rescue is still paramount to all of us.”

“And I assume you can’t tell me what those aspects are?”

“You are correct, Sweetheart.”

Tom and his two VIP guests excused themselves and went outside to the small bungalow where Richard had been staying.

In anticipation of the secretary’s arrival, the building now serving as their office and command center had been swept for bugs, outfitted with powerful communications gear, and placed under armed guard. The security team, all Special Forces personnel, dressed casually in khakis and beach shirts, so as not to be too conspicuous.

“Your son-in-law?” Hopper questioned as they took their seats at a long table.

“I told Richard we needed this space for the FBI to keep tabs on the kidnappers. He’s in a hotel in San Ysidro, with a couple of agents babysitting him—for his own protection, of course.”

“Does he suspect anything?”

“Well, he was sweating a lot when he left, but I assured him it was just so he could be brought back here easily if and when developments warranted.”

“Smart thinking.”

“Thanks for reading me in on this coup situation, Ed. I’m devastated by it.”

“Clearly, you’d needed to know.”

“Please keep me up on the details about who’s involved and how the hell they put it together to kidnap Keiran to pay for the revolution.”

“I’m sure that will all come out over the next couple of days, Tom.”

*****

As they partook of an after-dinner digestif, Natalie teased her dad with a smug smile, “Richard was really pissed when you made him move to a hotel.”

With a self-satisfied grin, Tom replied, “Oh, I’m not so sure. The air in here had gotten so chilly I imagine he was glad to have an excuse to be somewhere else.” Tom smiled back.

Rising, she gathered her empty glass. “Well, gentlemen, try not to stay up all night planning whatever you’re up to. Although I doubt I’ll sleep much tonight. I can’t stop worrying about my son.” Her voice caught on a sob.

“Natalie, my dear,” Ed Hopper said, “I’ve known you since you were born. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to help you get Keiran back safely.”

“Thanks, Uncle Eddie,” she said, using her pet name for him. “I’m glad you’re here, helping Dad. I hope whatever you’re going to do works. Please catch those bastards who kidnapped my son and...well, I can’t actually think of anything bad enough to give them what they deserve.”

After Natalie left, the three men returned to the office, where Bill Mason placed a secure phone call to General Delacourt. As darkness fell, the tiny blue lights of the security team’s communicators flitted around the property like fireflies.

The Air Force officer addressed the SECDEF, “Everything is primed to go here, Sir. We’re infrared-scanning the target area by the square meter, but so far we haven’t detected any signs of light or heat signatures.”

“Does this mean we’re looking in the wrong place?”

Delacourt was quick to respond, “Doubtful, Sir. As I promised Mr Hutton, we’ve clearly pinned down the source of the phone call. Most likely, the jungle is dense where they are hiding, which makes sense if they think we might be trying to locate them from above. I think it’s just a matter of time until we lock in on them.”

“Thank you, General. Keep us posted, whenever you have information.”

“Will do, Mr Secretary...and Mr Hutton?”

“Yes, General?”

“We’ll find him, Sir. I promise you.”

“Thank you, General.”

Seated across from the two men, Mason spoke, “Once we have a location, my men and women will go into action.”

Ed Hopper turned to Hutton with a grin, “I have no idea what the hell you did, Tom, but in the middle of my meeting with the Peruvian military man, he got a phone call and suddenly green-lighted the whole goddamn plan.”

Tom smiled and addressed the general, “Where are they now?”

Mason continued, “They’re on base at Astete Airport outside of Cuzco. The helos can be airborne in fifteen minutes. The team will parachute into the target area and establish a perimeter to ensure no one will get in or out. Then, at first light, they’ll move in and take out any opposition.”

“How will they keep the kidnappers from hurting Keiran?”

“Well, Sir, they’ll be operating silently, so he should be safe until they locate him.”

“Should be?”

The general turned to Secretary Hopper uncomfortably.

“Tom—” Ed began.

Hutton nodded with resignation, “I know, Ed. This isn’t my first rodeo. Even though I understand the risks, I can’t help but worry. I sure as hell hope everything works according to plan.”

“We’ll do our best, Sir,” the general said quietly.

“I believe you will, General, and thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

An hour later, Tom climbed into bed. Beau was still up, reading. “Do you think you’ll get any rest tonight, Babe?”

Tom sighed. “I’ll try not to keep you awake the whole time.”

“I’m all right. I don’t think I could sleep, knowing what you’re going through.”

Tom smiled innocently, “So, is there anything we could do to pass the time?”

Beau beamed back, “Oh, I’m sure we’ll think of something—” He pulled his husband into a loving embrace.

 

THURSDAY, JUNE 21st, 3:45 AM PDT
BRONSON RESIDENCE

Tom and Beau had barely fallen asleep in the afterglow of sex when they heard a soft knock on the bedroom door. Groggy, Tom stumbled to the door, where a member of the security team stood waiting.

“General Mason asked me to tell you the operation is about to begin, Sir.”

“I’ll be right with you.” Tom dressed silently, hoping not to wake his husband.

“Don’t worry about me, Tom. I’m awake, too. I wish I could help somehow.”

“Me too, Babe, but this is all hush-hush. You’re not even supposed to know we’re up to anything.”

“I get it. I’ll keep quiet, but I’m thinking about you and Keiran every minute.”

When Tom entered the command center, it was bustling with purposeful activity. Secretary Hopper indicated a chair next to his own.

Ed said quietly, “The paratroops have been on the ground for two hours now. It’s a quarter to five AM in Peru and nearly dawn. Because the area is mountainous, daylight comes a little later.”

They focused their attention on a wide-screen monitor on the wall at the far end of the table. Tom needed a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the room.

The display was divided into two halves. On the left, he saw the view from the satellite, looking directly down on the compound. In the infrared picture, black boxes represented buildings, and glowing silhouettes indicated the troops moving across the ground. The image was high-res, and eight of them were visible.

The other half of the screen was a view from a helmet or body camera, worn by the leader of the assault team. They were making their way carefully through what appeared to be a maze of trees.

Tom looked across the table at General Mason, who was studying the image intently. He stated quietly and confidently, “The ops commander is on radio silence now, but as you can see, the rescue team is proceeding through jungle underbrush into the secured perimeter.”

The soldiers on the ground came to a stop. The soldier wearing the helmet camera checked to his left and right.

Tom watched as the other men in camouflage uniforms signaled with their hands.

“They’re confirming positions, which means they’re ready to move in.” Mason explained.

The man wearing the camera broke radio silence, “Red Leader. Ready to move. Awaiting ‘go’ order.”

“That’s Lieutenant Abrams.” Secretary Hopper whispered to Tom.

General Mason barked, “Roger that, Red Leader. Go!”

“Go received.”

The body camera image jostled as the mission commander jumped into action, surrounded by the other Special Forces troops.

The satellite view followed them as they burst out of the underbrush and silently fanned out across the dark compound.

Tom thought to himself, In the early morning light, they have the element of surprise.

The sun was beginning to peek over the mountains, revealing the details of several buildings.

Tom identified a sizable central house surrounded by a porch. “That must be where they made the phone calls,” he said to no one in particular.

He saw the troops move into position. Five of them circled the main house, covering every exit. The other three split up, each one taking an outbuilding.

The mission leader’s body cam was aimed at a small shed in the compound, directly opposite the house. One of the men approached cautiously, weapon lowered and his finger on the trigger guard.

“I hope they don’t resist. I don’t want any shooting,” Tom told Ed.

“Neither do we,” his friend assured him.

The room was silent and everyone’s attention was glued to the camera feed as Red Leader turned back toward the house, where he took position to the left of the door. With one smooth action, he used the butt of his weapon to force the door open and tossed in a small grenade.

There was a loud bang and a blinding flash of light before the troops burst in simultaneously from all the portals.

At the same time, similar explosions were heard from two of the outbuildings, and the soldier who had been assigned the shed kicked the door in and stepped inside.

Breathless in the silence, Tom watched as the man wearing the camera cautiously entered each room, alert for any movement but finding none. As the group in the command center watched hopefully, the assault team methodically searched every building. They found no one, and the location appeared to have been unoccupied for some time.

“Stand down. Repeat, stand down,” came the order from the officer in charge. All was dead silence in the small building in Santa Barbara.

The voice spoke the feared words, “Red Leader reporting. The place is deserted, Sir.”

Tom’s heart fell.

“I don’t understand. I thought this was where the phone calls were made,” Tom whispered to Secretary Hopper.

Before the SECDEF could reply, they heard, “This is Red Leader. We have something.”

In the dim light, the camera homed in on a shape in the middle of an otherwise empty room. A small computer sat in the center of a table next to a battery pack. The screen was blank, but a white cursor was blinking.

“What the hell is that?” Hopper muttered.

“Mr Secretary, this is Delacourt at Sierra Madre.”

“Go ahead, General.”

“From what I can make out, that is some kind of cellular repeater, Sir.”

“A what?”

“It receives a cellular phone signal and then retransmits it,” General Mason explained.

The Air Force officer added, “A repeater allows the call to come from somewhere else and appear to be from this location, Sir.”

“Shit!” The SECDEF shook his head in disgust. “The motherfuckers are smarter than we gave them credit for.”

“Can we tell where the phone actually was?” Tom asked in desperation.

“We’ll need to take the repeater back to the base and hand it over to analysts. But—” Mason hesitated.

“But what?” Tom’s voice quivered.

“Well, Sir, the most we can know for sure is where the cell phone was when the call was made.”

General Delacourt added reluctantly, “And given they were savvy enough to use the repeater, odds are the call originated somewhere other than where they’re holding your grandson, Sir.”

“Goddammit!”