African Dragon (13 page)

28.

Cascaes and Mackey sat together and called Langley, where Dex Murphy and Deirdre Gourlie were sitting with Darren Davis watching a bank of televisions showing still photos and live images of the Democratic Republic of Congo.

Mackey spoke first, “Boss, we’ve got news.”

“Good,” said Dex. “Because we were getting ready to call you. What the hell just happened over there? You start World War Three already?”

“Sir?” asked Mackey, not sure how Dex could know what had happened before he even told him.

“I am looking at the satellite feed of the camp, and it looks like you crazy fuckers just shot down a plane.”

“Negative, sir! We have men observing only. The third plane crashed upon landing. My men report major secondary explosions. We’re almost three miles away and could hear and feel the explosion.”

“I’m sure. It lit up like a Christmas tree on the sat-pics,” said Dex. “What can you tell us about the cargo?”

“Not much, other than lots of crates. Most likely individual heavy weapons, or maybe crew served stuff. No armor or vehicles, and no Chinese troops. But, there were a shitload of boxes, boss. Probably a few million rounds of ammo. Not sure what was in the third transport, but whatever it was, it made a good sized black cloud. If there was armor coming in, it’s gone now.”

“Okay,” said Dex. “Just keep tabs on our friends over there. Any more word on Nigel?”

“Nothing new to report. He’s still at the camp with his army and new best friends.”

“Okay,” said Dex. “I need Cascaes a second.”

Mackey passed the phone to Cascaes. “Boss wants to speak to you.”

“Cascaes here,” he said.

“Bad news, Chris,” said Dex, who rarely called him by his first name. “I regret to inform you that Major Adam Stone passed away last night in his sleep. A doctor at the hospital called your number and it was forwarded to your office mailbox.”

Chris felt his eyes water, and said, “Thank you. Is that all?”

“That’s it. Stay in touch. Sorry to have to tell you. Out.”

Cascaes handed the phone back to Mackey and walked outside. Julia had seen his face and followed him out to the quiet African morning.

“Everything okay?” she asked quietly, putting her hand on his arm and not caring who saw.

“Pop’s gone,” he said quietly. “Won’t even be there for his funeral. Not sure who’ll be there, really. Most of his friends and family are already gone.”

Julia rubbed his back. “At least you got to say goodbye,” she said quietly. “Come on, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

They walked over to the campfire, where Jon Cohen and his crew were just pouring some of the dark coffee and eating breakfast bars.

“Hey, Skipper,” said Jon. “Just heading out to dive. Wanna’ come do some fishing.” His smile was genuine. He sure did love being underwater.

“I’d love to,” said Cascaes, “But I’m afraid we’re going to be a bit busy today. The PAC received their shipments last night. Well, two out of the three, anyway. That explosion was the third plane landing poorly.”

The men around the fire smiled.

“So what now?” asked Jon.

“You go fishing and act like everything is normal. We’re going to stay out of camp today in case the Chinese or PAC comes snooping around. They come by, you just stick with your story. We’ll have you covered. Anything goes bad, we’ve got your back, but remember, we don’t want to engage them yet, so stay cool.”

Chris and Julia drank some coffee and chatted with the rest of the team as they joined the campfire for coffee and MREs. By oh-eight hundred, Mackey walked over and sat on an ancient log by the campfire that served as a chair.

They finished breakfast and discussed how they would spend the day. Cascaes related to Mackey that hanging around camp wouldn’t be smart after the fishing expedition’s run-in with the PAC. They also didn’t love the idea of having all of them hanging out too close to the PAC camp. They were a large group in broad daylight and it was too easy to be spotted. They decided to gear up and split into two groups. One group would cover the camp and Jon’s team, the other would campout closer to the PAC camp and relieve the observation teams in shifts. As they say in the army, “hurry up and wait.”

29.

United Nations General Assembly, New York City

The Ambassador from the Democratic Republic of Congo had just finished a passionate speech accusing the Chinese of supporting the People’s Army of Congo, the rebel army that threatened his country’s stability. He went so far as to cite an explosion near the “rebel base” that witnesses say was the crashing of one of several planes that violated the DRC’s airspace without authorization. He had spoken for almost twenty minutes, at one point screaming and pointing at the Chinese delegate, who merely removed his headphones and sat glaring at the African. When he was finished, the Chinese ambassador put his headphones back on and demanded a chance to reply to these outrageous accusations.

For the next thirty minutes, the Chinese ambassador berated the Congolese ambassador for being completely unappreciative of their humanitarian efforts in his country. He insisted that the current regime of the DRC was corrupt and afraid of the fact that the people of his country were demanding changes. He made reference to the accident at the humanitarian aid station that cost the lives of several heroic Chinese relief workers who were bringing in food and medicine. That comment was interrupted by the DRC ambassador who was screaming that “rice doesn’t send fireballs a kilometer into the sky.”

The Chinese ambassador ignored him and kept on speaking, explaining that thousands of Africans were starving, and that China was sending an example to the world of how a great nation was helping a weaker one recover. He used the spotlight to take a potshot at the United States, saying that while some nations only seek to invade or help those countries that serve their own interests, China was helping one of the poorest nations on Earth, and wanted nothing in return. They were merely trying to help.

That sent the Congolese ambassador over the edge. He threw off his headphones and began screaming. Eventually, the ambassador from South Africa, seated next to him, held him back and calmed him down. The Chinese ambassador smiled and continued.

“The ambassador makes wild allegations. Does he offer any proof? Has there been violence in the Democratic Republic of Congo? No. There is no rebel army. If people protest against the government, it is only because of the government’s corruption and inability to govern. China will continue to help the refugees and starving children of the Congo as long as the people continue to ask for our help, which they do daily. Perhaps it is time for President Kuwali to step down. I ask the other nations of the UN, have you heard reports of war and violence in the Democratic Republic of Congo? Have you seen China do anything other than help a weaker nation during its time of crisis? No. You have not.”

The American Ambassador to the United Nations, Ted Rogers, was quick to respond when the Chinese ambassador was finished. “The United States recognizes the right of the legitimate government of the Democratic Republic of Congo to defend itself against rebel guerrillas. Should the Congolese government request our help, the president would consider sending American troops to maintain order. We have marines nearby that can be called in should the situation arise.”

The Chinese ambassador rose to his feet and pointed at the American. “China has relief workers in the Congo. It would be very dangerous for the United States to send troops to the Congo, as China would be forced to defend its citizens and also send a defense force. If the Congo needs help, it should be from the United Nations, not the United States!” (Knowing full well that the UN would not be prepared to send any forces back to the DRC.)

The posturing continued for another hour, and, at the end of the session, there was no final conclusion. The secretary general warned both the United States and China that their troops’ presence in the DRC would only antagonize the tensions between the two superpowers, and the DRC was best left to solve its own internal problems. There had been no confirmed reports of violence in the DRC, and therefore, the United Nations could not afford to send in troops at this time, as their resources were already spread so thin. The Chinese ambassador smiled, then left to call Beijing and report his success.

30.

Shen Xun-jun was furious and screaming at his officers to push the men harder. The Africans were still unloading the two planes, as the third wreck continued to smolder. The fire had been so intense that much of the plane had actually melted. Occasionally, rounds would go off and the Africans would dive for cover, dropping crates and boxes and infuriating Shen Xun-jun even further.

Mackey happened to be watching when one of the crates was dropped and three RPGs fell out of the case.

“RPGs,” he said quietly to Cascaes. “Look for similar crate sizes and count. Looks like six to a crate, two layers of three each.” They watched for a while until the crates changed shape.

“I counted fifteen,” said Cascaes.

“Okay, so that’s ninety,” said Mackey. “Plus however many they already had brought in. That’s enough to make some noise.”

“And some big holes,” said Cascaes.

Julia was looking at the destroyed plane when she spoke up. “Look into the smoke, inside the plane. Looks like trucks or something were inside,” she said quietly.

Mackey and Cascaes readjusted their view. It was hard to see anything inside the billowing black smoke, but there were destroyed vehicles inside.

“Good catch,” said Cascaes. “Can’t tell what it was, but you can bet it was light armor. They must be pissed. Probably why he had trouble landing—must have been heavy as hell for that dirt runway.”

Mackey was smiling. “I bet that puts a crimp in their plans. Looks like three vehicles were in there. There weren’t any on the other planes—they didn’t spread them out. Knuckleheads.” He smiled.

“Okay, so it looks like the PAC is going to have somewhere around ten thousand heavily armed infantry, with light artillery only. They won’t have anything heavier than mortars or RPGs most likely. What do you think the president’s troops have?” asked Cascaes.

“According to Langley, their air force has a few old helos, nothing armed. No operational combat fixed-wing at all. Maybe a half dozen forty-year-old tanks, and some poorly equipped. Maybe a few APCs. If they’re going to prevent a coup, they need to hit this base now while they’re all still here. If this army moves out into the countryside, they’ll pop each village along the way until we have another Congo war.”

“Send in the Marines?” asked Cascaes.

“Above our pay-grade,” said Mackey. “When we get back later, we’ll check in with the boss. Of course, by the time someone makes a decision, it’ll be too late.”

“Think we could move in at night with some explosives? Disrupt their camp, break moral a bit, inflict some casualties…” said Cascaes.

“I know we could get it done, but once we go there, the fish farm is closed and we’ll be running from an army of pissed off, well-armed guerrillas. Unless we coordinate with the regular army and have them move in after we get things started.”

Cascaes spoke quietly, “I know—still above our pay-grade. I just prefer being on offense.”

“I hear ya,” said Mackey.

The sound of trucks in the distance caught everyone’s attention. They all went prone and concealed themselves better as the sound grew louder. It was a small convoy of light trucks flying the government’s flag.

“Speak of the devil. This ought to be interesting,” said Mackey. “Looks like the president is doing a little recon himself.”

Cascaes scanned the camp. They had heard it too—maybe seen the dust. “We have movement in the camp,” said Cascaes quietly.

Shen Xun-jun was screaming orders at his officers, who were then screaming at the Africans still unloading the planes to hurry up. Several officers had run inside the fence to organize a few platoons of infantry and had them run out to the airstrip in defensive positions. By the time the trucks were a few hundred yards away, and slowing down, Shen Xun-jun’s men had made a decent showing of discipline. There were several thousand armed men now scattered around the camp. The convoy couldn’t have numbered more than a hundred soldiers.

The lead vehicle continued towards camp while the other five open transports spread out and stopped, allowing the soldiers inside to unload and take up positions behind the trucks. The Jeep in front, obviously with an officer or government official continued slowly towards camp. One of Shen Xun-jun’s men used a bullhorn to scream in French that the camp was a secure area and to turn back. The Jeep ignored them and continued to get closer. Two of Shen Xun-jun’s commanding officers walked slowly out towards the airstrip where their men lay spread-out with assault rifles locked and loaded. They repeated the order to turn back, which Julia translated. Again, the Jeep ignored them.

When one of the officers pulled out a sidearm and aimed it at the Jeep, it stopped moving. A single man got out and walked up to the Chinese officer. Cascaes was too far away to hear their conversation.

31.

The colonel from the DRC Army was very nervous as he walked towards the PAC camp. Two Chinese officers were standing before him, aiming a pistol at him. He put on his best game face and tried to sound tough.

“By order of President Kuwali, you are to put down all of your weapons. You are assembled here illegally, and you will be arrested if you do not cooperate.”

The Chinese officer smiled and lowered his weapon. “We are operating an aid station for the Congolese people. You are interfering with humanitarian aid to your own people. We have a security force here to protect the food against those who would steal it. I suggest you return to you vehicle and leave at once.”

The colonel spoke a tribal language to his driver, who picked up a camera and began filming the “aid station.”

“What do you think you are doing?” asked the Chinese officer, who walked quickly to the driver. “Give me that!”

The driver kept filming, his hands shaking.

The colonel stepped in front of the Chinese officer. “We are government officials and have a right to film what you are doing here. You are interfering with a government investigation. Step away!”

The two Chinese officers spoke quickly to each other in Mandarin. They had been told by Shen Xun-jun to avoid gunfire if at all possible. After a few seconds of debate, they stepped back.

“You have been warned. Our security force is here to protect the supplies. If you return, we will have no choice but to protect ourselves and the civilians.”

They eyeballed each other for a few more seconds, and the colonel returned to his Jeep, his uniform soaked with sweat. As he hopped into his seat, he barked the order to “drive,” and they sped off towards their own convoy. He had survived the ordeal, and had what he needed. The president would show the UN and the world the film of the PAC forces and Chinese officers, assuming he was still in power in the coming days.

The convoy sped off to Kinshasa as fast as it could move.

***

“That must have been an interesting discussion,” said Cascaes quietly.

“He had a camera,” said Julia. “They had serious balls.”

“Yeah, I thought for sure they were all dead when he started filming. The Chinese must be getting ready to move quickly, or they never would have let them go.”

“Or they need more time,” said Julia. “Maybe they’re waiting for more supply planes? Stalling? Trying to stick with their story as long as they can until they are totally prepared to take on the army?”

Mackey was watching lots of activity in the camp, as platoons of soldiers began opening crates of weapons.

“Keep four men here to keep tabs, and we’ll get back to the farm. We need to update Langley.”

Cascaes pulled Moose, Ripper, Hodges and Jones aside and told them to sit tight and keep track of whatever weapons they could see. They would be in contact soon. With that, Cascaes, Mackey, Julia and Theresa quietly snuck out through the small forest back towards the fish farm.

By the time the four of them returned to the fish farm, it was midday and blistering hot. They each drank a few liters of water and collapsed on the straw mat inside the command hut, where they called Dex Murphy again. As they set up their secure phone call, Julia groaned exhaustedly.

“As soon as we’re finished, I’m jumping in the lake,” said Julia.

“I’ll be right behind you,” answered Cascaes, hoping for a few minutes alone with her. Mackey pretended not to hear, wishing he was enjoying himself on this mission as much as they were.

Murphy answered the phone while eating a doughnut and drinking coffee—the breakfast of champions.

“Morning boss,” said Mackey.

“And how’s it going on your side of the world?” asked Murphy. “According to our satellite pictures, nothing has blown up in at least a couple of hours.”

“Yeah, well, it’s still early. Listen, the plane that went down, it had what looked like three armored vehicles in it. They were the only ones. The PAC will have a hundred RPGs or more, plus plenty of squad sized automatic weapons. They won’t run out of lead for another six months, either. The Chinese brought in plenty of ammunition. Also, something interesting happened while we were there.”

“I’m all ears,” said Dex, munching his doughnut.

“The DRC sent a guy over with a set of brass balls and a camera and filmed their operation. The Chinese exchanged words with them, and the Vegas money was on the DRC officer getting his head blown off, but nothing happened. He left with his camera.”

“Interesting. The DRC was just making noise at the UN late yesterday. They were talking about the plane crash right after it had happened, so they must be watching over there, too. You see any DRC forces nearby?”

“Negative contact, and we’ve been sitting on the airport twenty-four-seven for over two days. The Skipper and me were thinking we should hit them before they get armor support flown back in. It will take another day probably. We could go in tonight and ‘disrupt’ things a bit. They won’t think it’s us—they’d blame the DRC.”

“I’m not sure. I’ll have to ask the director. You were sent there to find out what you can about uranium and to rescue Nigel, not start a war. And just so you know, the Chinese at the UN still deny any involvement with the PAC forces.”

“War is coming anyway, boss. We’re just trying to even the odds a bit for the DRC army. The PAC looks pretty well trained. And there sure are a
lot
of them. The Chinese can say whatever they want, when that tape gets aired, it will be pretty clear what’s going on over there. I think it will push up their timetable.”

“Okay, sit tight for now and stay near the phone. I’ll get back to you ASAP. And Mac, you’re sure about Nigel, right? I mean, the guy’s been with us a long time. A-desk is pretty upset. She trusted him.”

“Boss, if he hasn’t changed sides, then he’s the best agent I’ve ever seen. Academy Award material. Sorry, boss. He’s flipped, man.”

“Okay. Let me get to the director. He’s up to his ass in alligators, as usual.”

“Roger that. I’ll have a couple of the guys snoop around near the uranium mine and see if they find out anything.”

“Okay, just stay low. Out.”

Mackey hung up and looked at Cascaes. “Okay—enjoy your swim. Take an hour off, grab some chow and pick three guys to go uranium hunting.”

“
Guys
?” asked Julia sarcastically.

“You can take Julia, too, if you want.” He looked at her. “If you aren’t afraid of your hair falling out.” He looked at Cascaes, whose cropped head was getting thin on top. “I wouldn’t worry about yours too much.”

“Fuck you,” said Cascaes with a smile. “I’m gonna’ go jump in a lake.”

“I’ll protect you from alligators,” said Julia, getting up off the floor mat.

“Who is going to protect him from you?” asked Mackey, with a knowing smile.

She winked and tussled Mac’s longer salt and pepper hair. “Jealous,” she whispered.

“You bet your ass, he replied.