Alpha Threat (29 page)

Dane’s mind was whirling.
 
Could this be the clue he needed?
 
He looked over at Hugo.
 
“I don’t have any proof, but I’m wondering if there could be a link between Dana and Randall’s disappearance and these Nazis.
 

“Damn, you think there could be a link?” added Hugo.
 
  

“I don’t know.
 
But it does sound plausible.
 
Wayne, you sure Nathan never mentioned a place in the Amazon?”
 

“No, but I can call him later and see if he knows anything,” said Wayne.
 

“Could you do that for me, please?
 
This sounds too weird not to be connected in some way,” said Dane rubbing his chin.
 
“Thanks.
 
Call me when you get an answer from Nathan, would you?”

“Sure, Dane.
 
Not a problem.
 
He’s down at the FBI now so it might be a while yet,” said Wayne.
 

“Great!
 
Give me a call.
 
Oh, and about my promise… I need to bring Hugo in on this.”

Wayne smiled meekly, “Sure, Dane.
 
If it will help you find Dana, you can tell the world.”
 

Dane grinned broadly and gave Wayne a ‘thumbs-up’.
 
He turned and walked side-by-side down the tower ramp with Hugo.
 
Once they got out of earshot of Wayne, they started discussing what they heard.
 

“Hey, Boss, all this sounds pretty weird to me.
 
What’s this Amazon stuff?”

“Come on.
 
I have to fill you in on a ton of information.”
 

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Fortress Alpha, the Amazon;
 
10:15 a.m.

The jet black Bell 429 helicopter with no markings skimmed over the tree tops.
 
The turbojet helicopter was perfect for ferrying in people and cargo deep into the jungle.
 
Its IFR capabilities gave it the ability to move in and out of the jungle under some of the worst weather situations.
 
Weather in the Amazon could change in a second from pouring rain to clear sky.
 
This helicopter was perfect to overcome weather changes.
 

Three days ago Albert Jackson and Dieter Blocher left the comforts of Miami.
 
Their private jet whisked them to Rio de Janeiro in luxury.
 
The trip since then entailed the use of several modes of transport that Jackson thought to be sub-par but very necessary to provide the strict security and privacy they demanded.
 

This was Blocher’s first trip to South America.
 
The natural beauty of the countryside amazed him.
 
Everything was so green.
 
Each leg of their journey, the private jet, a small puddle-jumper plane, a ramshackle jeep and now this helicopter brought him new amazement.
 
He felt like a kid in a candy store.
 
Jackson, on the other hand, hated the trip.
 
He especially hated the heat and humidity of the jungle.
 
The man was sweating like a pig.
 

This was Jackson’s fifth trip to the complex in the last eight years. Once he got there he was fine.
 
The accommodations at the complex were first rate in his mind.
 
It was that damned trek it took to get in and out of this fortress in the middle of nowhere that drove him to his limit.
 

Even with the air conditioning in the helicopter, Jackson removed his hat, took out a white silk handkerchief and mopped his brow.
 
It was hot in Miami when they left Wednesday morning but nothing compared to the weather in the Amazon.
 
He and Blocher met with cohorts in Rio and discussed the events in Miami.
 
Blocher received positive confirmation of Mr. Nader’s demise.
 
That closed a possibly nasty security breach that may have caused problems later.
 
With Nader gone all was back to normal.
 

The flight was uneventful so far and Jackson was thankful for that bit of good news.
  
The weather had caused havoc several other times when he came to visit at the complex.
 
During one flight the weather conditions nearly caused them to crash deep in the jungle.
 
Jackson carried that fear of a possible crash with him each time he flew over the heavy jungle in Brazil.
 

“Are you all right, Dieter?” Jackson inquired, thinking of his own misgivings about the flight.
 

“Fine, sir,” Blocher replied, almost chipper.
 
Jackson mumbled something under his breath about younger folks not having the sense to be scared.
 

“We should be there within the hour,” said Jackson.
 
“We have a lot of work to do so stay sharp and stay attentive.
 
You have much to learn and all of it is most imperative for you to know.”
 

The Fortress Alpha complex had already detected the incoming craft.
 
The long-range radar capabilities were state-of-the-art and could track any flights within 500 kilometers.
 
The complex personnel interrogated the onboard IFF, decoded the encoded sub-signal for Fortress Alpha and began tracking the incoming flight.
 
It was standard operation that no aircraft entered the area without completion of this automated security process.
 
If the incoming bogey passed the challenge, an extremely low power, low frequency beacon was turned on for the Alpha craft to follow into the complex.
 
If it did not pass, the Alpha site simply went dark to the outside world and the camouflaged complex seemed to melt into the jungle, becoming completely invisible to outsiders.
 
In this case the black helicopter was passed on to the complex’s approach control.
 

As the helicopter reached the ten kilometer distance from the complex, a second series of check and recheck operations were initiated.
 
Some were electronic and automatic.
 
Others required “eyes on” contact by complex personnel while the incoming craft rode the approach control glide path.
  
The helicopter flew just at the height of the tree tops.
 
Again, if the craft did not pass these checks, the complex went black.
 

So far all was well.
 
As the helicopter crossed the five kilometer ring around the complex, the area below began to change.
 
A well camouflaged canopy began to open exposing a huge hole in the jungle revealing a clandestine heliport.
 
Jackson’s helicopter quickly hovered over the opening and landed.
 
Within seconds the hole in the jungle was gone.
 
The massive heliport doors closed.
 
To anyone flying over the site, there was nothing but jungle.
 

The two men sat patiently as the rotor blades wound down to a final stop.
 
The ground crew swarmed the craft and the door was opened.
 
Jackson was the first out, followed quickly by Blocher.
 
They were met by a uniformed officer dressed perfectly.
 
He strode up to the side of the helicopter.

“Good morning,
Herr
Jackson,” he said with a snap salute and a click of his heels.
 
“We are expecting you and your group,” he said, glancing leeringly at Blocher.
 
“I trust you and your guest had a very nice trip?”

“Yes, yes, quite nice,” said Jackson, wishing to move on.
 
“I have with me my replacement in Miami, Mr. Blocher.”

“
Herr
Blocher.
 
I am pleased to meet you and welcome you to Fortress Alpha.”
 
He saluted again and clicked his heels.
 

“Thank you very much.
 
I am…”

“Would you both follow me, please,” he said, cutting Blocher off in the middle of his sentence.
 
“The Führer is ready to see you.”

“Yes, certainly,” said Jackson.
 

The officer led them off of the heliport pad and down a hall to an elevator.
 
Blocher was fascinated with what he saw.
 
There were guards everywhere.
 
But it was the newness and cleanliness that was extraordinary.
 
The complex looked brand new.
 

The group entered an elevator and descended several floors, emerging to see a mini subway station.
 
This was the main backbone of the complex.
 
On three levels subways were designed to move personnel and equipment from one end of the vast complex to another.
 
After a quick ride, the car stopped and the group was met by another older man.

“Albert, how are you?
 
Was your trip satisfactory?” said the man, who looked about sixty-five years old.

“Ah, yes, Herrman.
 
It was very good.
 
I brought an associate with me.
 
Allow me to present Dieter Blocher.
 
This is his first visit to the complex. ”

Dieter Blocher stepped forward and offered his hand.
 
“Dieter Blocher at your service, sir,” he stated very formally.
 

“Yes, so this is Mr. Blocher,” the old man said, shaking Blocher’s hand with an iron grip that frankly startled Blocher.
 
“I finally get to meet you.
 
I am Herrman Kunze.”

Dieter recognized the name.
 
Jackson had filled him in on a few people he would most likely meet during this visit.
 
Mr. Kunze was one of them.
 
Kunze was the Administrative head of Fortress Alpha and reported directly to the Führer herself.
 
This put him in charge of most every facet of the site.
 

“So Mr. Blocher, what do you think of our little secret hiding place?” asked Kunze, not really expecting an answer.
 
Kunze was already sizing Blocher up.
 
Looking for weakness; looking for maturity.
 
For Blocher to take over Jackson’s position in Miami was a big step for this young man.
 
Kunze was convinced by Jackson and others that Blocher was the best candidate.
 
Kunze was not a hundred percent certain.
 
This visit would either solidify Blocher’s case or be his downfall.
 

Blocher was all eyes and ears.
 
Jackson taught him well.
 
Always be observant and speak succinctly only when it is absolutely necessary, Jackson told him.
 
Dieter took the advice to heart.
 

“The complex is magnificent,” said Blocher without emotion.
 
“It is a fitting site for the resurrection of the Fourth Reich.”

Kunze smiled slightly.
 
That was a good answer, he thought.
 
Blocher sounded like some of those SS officers from days gone by.
 

The officer that led them to Kunze stepped forward.
 
He waved the group toward a large steel door.
 
As the group stepped through the opening, the character of the surroundings changed drastically.
 
The other portion of the complex had a very clean industrial look about it.
 
It reminded Blocher of a hospital.
 
This area looked like a fine home.
 
The walls were covered with a beautiful mahogany paneling as was the ceiling.
 
The hardwood floors were covered with rich carpeting with a reoccurring pattern of old world castles.
 
The guards were not present.
 
Still one got the distinct feeling of constant surveillance.
 
And so they were.
  
Small high-definition cameras were deftly imbedded in the ceilings and walls.
 
No one was beyond the range of the cameras.
 

“This way, please,” beckoned the officer as he opened a large mahogany door and stood at attention.

The group entered the room.
 
Blocher was amazed.
 
He had seen many opulent buildings and hotels in his time but this was beyond those.
 
This was fit for royalty.
 

“Please take a seat, gentlemen,” offered Kunze.
 
“We will be joined momentarily by our Führer.”
 
The room had a large desk at one end and conference table at the other.
 
The men seated themselves around the conference table leaving the head chair open.
 
Within minutes a hidden door near the desk opened.
 
An impeccably uniformed officer stepped through.