Foreign Enemies and Traitors (75 page)

“Hey,” said Boone, “I just figured out why the men are all on one side and the women are on the other.  Besides making it easier to manage them, I mean.  They have to send the men out on work projects, right?  Well, they won’t run away if they know their families are still back in the other part of the camp.  Those FEMA bastards use the men’s families as hostages, to keep them from escaping.”

“It sounds like slavery,” said Doug.  “Or a concentration camp.  The British did something like that in the Boer War.  The Boers were fighting a guerrilla war.  The English invented modern concentration camps to break the Boer resistance.  They grabbed all the Boers’ families, their women and children, and stuck them behind barbed wire in concentration camps until their men quit.  And it worked.”

Lieutenant Malverde offered no further observation on this topic, nor was he asked again, because they were fast approaching the next guard position.

There was another NAL humvee with a pintle-mounted medium machine gun on its roof, parked where State Road 13 left the far end of the vast FEMA center.  This was where the chain link fences and barbed wire marking the perimeter of the complex ended.  A pair of oversized stop signs flanked the last stretch.  There was another set of tower stands for arc lights, but it was daylight now and the lights were not turned on.  Two NAL soldiers in camouflage parkas and blue berets leaned against the front of the humvee, smoking cigarettes and talking, probably waiting for their reliefs to show up.  They appeared not even to notice the passage of the “friendly” Legion humvee.

Once they were beyond the final guard post, Lieutenant Malverde said, “Okay, I kept my part of the deal.  You’re going to let me out like you said, right?”  He turned slightly to address Phil Carson.

“Soon, lieutenant, soon,” said Boone from behind Malverde.  “Just have patience.  We’re not in a safe place yet.  But soon.”

Each of the men in the humvee shared the same unspoken question.  Would they really let the Legion officer go, as Carson had promised…or kill him?  It was an age-old problem for guerrilla fighters: what to do with prisoners taken on a mission behind enemy lines.  Not one man in the vehicle could have said with any degree of certainty what the outcome of Lieutenant Malverde’s request would be.  There was much more certainty about their own fates should they be captured while wearing Legion uniforms.

They would be hanged as spies and terrorists.  Of that, there was no question at all.

                                                      
 23

Large maps, aerial photos and charts
lined the walls
of the first-floor conference room in Building 1405.  A giant flat-screen television was mounted above the far end of the long mahogany conference table.  Director Bullard dropped into the leather executive chair at the head of the table and was immediately handed an enormous mug of black coffee.  He was wearing his usual khaki Eisenhower jacket and matching pants.  A platter of his favorite Danishes was discreetly placed next to him on a folding TV tray, just below the table level.

                “All right, people, get me up to speed.”

                His communications assistant said, “We have Colonel Burgut of the Kazak Battalion on the video conference link standing by.  Should I put him on, or keep him holding?”

                “Oh, put him on.  Might as well get the bad news right from the horse’s mouth.”  A tiny video camera was already on the table in front of Bullard, aimed at him.  Colonel Burgut’s face appeared on the TV screen at the other end of the long table.  All of Bullard’s department heads, deputies and assistants turned toward the screen.  Colonel Burgut appeared both haggard and angry, his thick black hair combed back.  He was unshaven, which was typical for the Kazaks, but then, Bullard hadn’t shaved either.  Unlike Bullard, Colonel Burgut had the thick moustache so common among the Kazaks.

                “Okay, Colonel, I’m here.  Tell me what’s going on with the Nigerians.”

                “Good morning, General Blair.  Or maybe, not good.  Problem with Nigerians was result of small mistake, that become very big mistake.  Last night, two Kazak armored scout vehicles were attack in County Radford, east from Mannville.  One ASV stealed by terrorists.  Six Kazak peacekeepers having been murdered in situation.  Ten more Kazak peacekeepers having been murdered short time later, when stolen ASV ambush Kazak platoon on truck.”  Burgut sighed, ran both hands back from his face and over his head, and took a deep breath.  “Stolen ASV scout vehicle was discovered in pursuit, and other Kazak armored vehicles making effort trying to stop.  Stolen vehicle crossed to Nigerian territory of County Lexington.  After, situation not clear.  Nigerians fired on Kazaks, according to radio messages received.  I was in command vehicle, remaining in County Radford.  General Blair, all was simple case of hot pursuit, all being in accord from International Peacekeeping Forces Agreement.  One Kazak ASV on hot-pursuit mission was destroy, and crew murdered by Nigerians.  One Kazak ASV returning to County Radford, crew okay.”

                “So what happened to the stolen ASV that you were pursuing?”
                Burgut’s expression of cold rage appeared partly dulled by deep fatigue.  He spoke very slowly, with long pauses between each phrase, obviously struggling to find the English words to express his thoughts.  “Status of stolen ASV not being known at this time.  Kazak requesting for aerial reconnaissance having been denied, as you very well are knowing already, General.  Is impossible for Kazaks to know where is stolen ASV today.  Stolen Kazak ASV in Nigerian county of Lexington.  Perhaps better to ask Nigerians where is stolen ASV.  General Blair, two Kazak peacekeepers are being dead today because of denied helicopter medical evacuation, even before incident of stolen ASV.  Three Kazaks having been killed from terrorist bomb south of Mannville yesterday, 1700 hours when sun dropping.  Two Kazaks injured in terrorist explosion has now being dead, because of denied helicopter medical evacuation.  I am thinking that you are understanding much of situation already.” 

                Bullard ignored the charge contained in the Kazak’s last comment.  “We’ll be sending Predators up for reconnaissance ASAP.  As soon as possible, since the weather is clear.  And I’ll see about helicopter medevac flights if you still need them.  The weather is better for flying today.”

                “Good.  We are needing still casualty evacuation for eight or seven woundeds.  I will make radio call to air operations after video conference.  General Blair, I must also inform that Nigerian forces are moving to north side of Butler Creek.  This small river being border to County Radford.  Nigerian forces are taking very aggressive posture, including Nigerian snipers with harassment shots firing.  I believe it very important that Nigerian forces redeploy north, away from border of County Radford, to avoid very big problem of great danger to both forces.”

                “Thank you, Colonel.  We’ll be in touch later this morning.  Call air operations about a medevac helicopter.  I’m sure you’ll get one.”  Off camera Bullard made a dismissive hand gesture, and the flat screen went blank.

                A reconnaissance and surveillance technician spoke next.  “Sir, we may have an idea about what happened to the stolen Kazak ASV.  We already have a Predator over Lexington County.  I just came from flight ops, and I copied the pertinent video.”

                “Well, put it up.”

                The tech was seated at the table with a laptop in front of him.  He made a few clicks, and aerial video appeared on the big screen.  The aide used a pen-sized laser to pick out his references, tracing and circling them with the bright red dot on the giant TV screen.  “You see this S-shaped line across here?  This is Butler Creek.  Below it is Radford County; above it is Lexington.  You can see where the Nigerians are moving troops and vehicles to positions all along the north bank of Butler Creek, here, here and here.  Now, look up north about a mile.  See this group of vehicles?”  He circled the area with his red laser.  “Right here, right here is what we
think
is the missing ASV.  Or was.  We’re sending people down, but we probably won’t get anything out of it.  If it’s the missing ASV, it’s been blown up and burned.  It’s totaled.”

Bullard slurped his hot coffee, and then said, “You mean, we’ve got
nothing
on who caused this whole mess?”

“Umm, not quite nothing.  Actually, it seems that we did record an unusual snippet of digital audio last night.  We just found it, after searching through the pertinent audio archives.  This was on the Kazak tactical network.  Let me cue it up.  Here, give a listen.”

“No, nothing, I’m just hearing radio chatter.  It’s not in English.”

Bullard asked, “What the hell does that mean?”

“We’re analyzing it now.  It appears as if it might have been transmitted from the stolen Kazak ASV by mistake.  I’m told the voice belongs to a male in his twenties or thirties.  His accent places him from the area between Washington, D.C., and Philadelphia, so clearly he’s not a local insurgent.”

“Well, plug it into Omnivore, and let’s see if we get any hits on it.  The voice might already be in a database.”

“Already done, sir.  Now, back to the stolen ASV, which we think is this black thing here.  It basically melted, what didn’t burn.  You can see the scorched ring around it, where all the snow is gone.  The Nigerians are saying that the commanding officer of their 2nd Battalion was murdered right there, just a few yards away.  That’s his official residence, right there by what we think is the burned ASV.  The Nigerians are saying that this colonel and his personal detachment were murdered there, by Caucasian soldiers in this ASV.  Americans or Kazaks, the witnesses couldn’t say for sure.  The Nigerian 2nd Battalion CO’s personal vehicle was apparently driven away from this point.  A black Dodge Ram pickup truck.  Now, this is where it really gets interesting.  This is very recent, this just happened.” 

The tech clicked his remote control, and the video images on the big screen were replaced by a detailed map of western Tennessee.  “Over in the town of Carrolton, that’s right here, we just found the Nigerian vehicle.  It’s a pickup truck with Nigerian Peacekeeping Forces markings, a black Dodge Ram.  It was hidden inside an abandoned building.  Less than two miles from the pickup, three North American Legion soldiers were just found murdered in a gas station.  These reports are still coming in, so there’s some confusion about who’s who and what’s what, but their proximity seems to rule out a coincidence.  Either two or three are dead there.  A Legion humvee is missing; apparently, it was taken when the soldiers were murdered in the garage.  And that’s all we have at this point.”

Bob Bullard selected an apple Danish, and studied the map.  His eyes traced the meandering south-to-north course of the Tennessee River, from the state of Mississippi up into Kentucky.  While chewing on the pastry, he found Radford County down near the bottom of the state, on the west side of the river.  His eyes searched for and found the black dot representing the insignificant town of Mannville, near the scene of Saturday’s rampage by the Kazak Battalion.  Colonel Burgut had just said that terrorists killed several of his men with a bomb down around Mannville, one day after the massacre.  Then one of his ASVs was stolen in the same general area, and more Kazak soldiers had been killed.  Next, the Kazaks crossed from Radford into Lexington County in hot pursuit of their stolen ASV, precipitating a blue-on-blue firefight with the Nigerians.  And from that point, a Nigerian pickup truck was taken, a truck which was just discovered in Carrolton, right by the only bridge in that region across the river to Middle Tennessee. 

Bullard didn’t vocalize his thoughts, nor even point his finger at the map, much less use a laser pointer.  Not with a dozen staffers in the room studying his every move.  Military vehicles were being taken one after another, and each time, fresh bodies were being found.  A pattern and a timeline were emerging.  From Mannville, to the Nigerian outpost and now to Carrolton, the direction was clear.  The only possible significance to Carrolton was its location by a key bridge over the Tennessee River.  These incidents in southwest Tennessee were moving in a line toward Fort Campbell, toward him.  It was just a matter of connecting the dots, and projecting them forward in space and time.

Bullard asked his deputy, “Where is this missing NAL humvee now?  That’s our top priority.  Let’s get over to UAV flight ops.”  He not only wanted to know more about the Nigerian-Kazak situation, and find out about the missing humvee and its next possible destination, he also wanted to take a circumspect look at that corpse-filled ravine outside Mannville.  Obviously, that wasn’t a topic that he could have discussed with Colonel Burgut on the video conference in front of his staff.  But if those hundreds of bodies outside Mannville were still uncovered and visible from above, that would be the last straw for Burgut.  He would not be given another chance.  It was time to send the Predators down there and get some answers.  What in the hell was going on in Radford County?

****

When Zack Tutweiler woke up for the final time,
it was already daylight.  Both Zack and Jenny were fully dressed with even their boots still on, and a triple layer of blankets over them.  He was lying on his right side, pressed against Jenny’s back, his right arm under her head for a pillow.  The top part of her pack was his pillow.  His left arm was over her waist, over her arm, and over the baby.  The baby was sleeping against her chest.  He had heard and felt Jenny comforting and quieting the baby during the long night.  They had been in this warmth-maximizing position for hours.  Each time he had awakened, he had felt her breathing by the movement of her back.  Her long hair tickled his face, but he didn’t mind.