Authors: Murray McDonald
The American delegation island was a mere eight miles from the summit hotel Llao Llao, a luxury retreat in the Patagonian Hills at the foot of the Andes. No time at all in the helicopter. So when the Secret Service suggested the first lady’s helicopter became President Warner’s, he told them not to be so ridiculous, the helicopters were identical.
It was only as he was about to board his chopper that he remembered his uncle’s request. He was not supposed to let Aunt Val out of his sight. He also wasn’t really needing to be in quite that early, although his wife Maria was, since she was the guest speaker on pregnancy issues for underdeveloped nations.
“Look, honey, I’ll come with Val later, you go on ahead. It’s only a five minute ride.”
“You know I hate these things. Please don’t send me off on my own. You could always leave me there and fly back.”
A shake of the head from a Secret Service agent suggested that wasn’t an option. “We can’t leave the first lady there without a means to extract her.”
“My Aunt Val is the first lady,” Eric said, annoyed. He had already told the agents not to call Maria the first lady. His Aunt Val was upset enough without hearing them say that.
“Eric!” Val called, approaching in a golf cart. “We ready?”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“No news is good news. We need to keep busy, and there are people out there who really need this summit to be a success,” she said breezily, although it was clear it was a façade.
“We’ll find them soon enough,” Eric assured her.
“So where are we off to?” she asked as both helicopters rotors began to spin.
Elsa and two of her men had come out of their hideout and were
in situ
in a vantage point that allowed them a line of sight to the VIP helicopters. While it wasn’t perfect, it gave them as good a line of sight as they could have hoped for.
The two spotters lay to her left, both had a telescopic sight trained on the area.
“Did anyone see which chopper he got into?” asked Elsa
“He got in the left one.”
“That’s the right one?”
“No I said he got in the left one.”
“Yeah but that’s the right one.”
“No, left.”
“I meant the one we want him to get into, you know, the right one!”
“No, left.”
“Are you two for real?” snapped Elsa. “Did he get in the correct chopper?”
“Yes.”
“We sure?”
“Pretty sure.”
“Okay, send the signal. Five minutes and we should hear something.
Five minutes came and went. Nothing. Ten minutes, perhaps it wasn’t that far away.
Her cell rang. ‘Dad’ was displayed, phoning to congratulate her she expected as she answered.
“Why the hell am I hearing the first lady is dead?!” he shouted.
Florida had been as brief a landing as was physically possible. Two men boarded and Ramona worked her magic with their routing, miraculously arranging for their immediate departure to join the US aircraft already
in situ
at Bariloche Airport and offer in flight fuelling if required.
Clay and Joe had told Mike, Sarah, and Joe’s former Force Recon team members what they knew. The silence that befell them was testament to how unbelievable the events of the past ten days had been. None dared interrupt with a question as the story unfolded.
As to why, well, that part was still in question. Amy knew so little about the bigger picture she was useless. They needed to get to a bigger fish, not just a pawn in the grand scheme.
With a few hours still to run, Clay signaled for Joe to join him at the rear of the plane.
“I owe you an explanation,” he said.
“No you don’t, you’ve welcomed me into your family like I’m one of them.”
“You are!”
“I don’t understand, why didn’t you tell the truth when you were rescued from prison?” Clay asked.
“I was broken. I wanted to get out. I didn’t care. You thought I was dead, you played it to your advantage, and look where you are now.”
“But it’s a lie. I was the coward,
you
were the hero. It was you running into the enemy that caused them to retreat. It was you that made them think we were a far greater force. It was you that risked your life while I cowered in a hole out of sight. Two of my men saw enough to know someone was hiding while someone was fighting. I told them I was the fighter. I couldn’t face the shame and the lie just grew. I never cowered again after that day. I stood tall and lived up to the example you had set. I led my men from the front from that day on.”
“If I had told the truth, it would have destroyed you. That would have been me knowingly destroying you. Never gonna happen.”
“But I ruined your life!”
“So you’d rather it was you standing where I am? That I would knowingly destroy you? Would you have done it if you knew I was alive?”
“Of course not!” Clay exclaimed in horror at the thought.
“Uday Hussein ruined my life. It wasn’t what you did that kept me on the streets and drinking, it was the memories of what he did. What I witnessed in that torture cell. You had no part in that.”
“I robbed you of your life, Joe. I’ll never forgive myself for that or for my cowardice in not clearing your name when you were found alive.”
“You changed my record the day you were inaugurated. The first chance you got, you did something. That means a lot. And I forgive you.”
“It was my first act. It’s probably the reason they never realized who you were. Your name is nowhere on either of our records. I graduated school in Florida and we never served in any of the same units.”
“Are we good?” asked Joe.
“As long as you are, I am,” said Clay.
“Good, ‘cause we need to get some sleep. I’ve a feeling we’re in for quite a day.”
“Mr. President?” One of the pilots had come through from the cockpit. “I’m very sorry, Mr. President, …we’re hearing on the radio that…” he took a gulp of air, “…that the first lady is dead.”
Both choppers landed as planned. Eric bounded down the steps of his chopper and waited for Maria to exit. The other chopper remained stationary, its rotors slowing as the engine was switched off. The pilots exited, and still the rear failed to open.
He thought back to his phone call from the president:
Keep your Aunt Val safe, stay by her side.
It wasn’t a request he’d taken lightly. He had every intention of keeping her safe, even to the point of upsetting his wife.
“Where’s Maria?” asked Val, exiting the helicopter she had shared with Eric.
“I’m guessing she’s on the phone.”
She probably was. She was always on the phone. Her mother took a great deal of interest in the pregnancy, particularly after the scan had revealed abnormalities. It wasn’t going to be an easy pregnancy, as there was a high probability the child would be born with disabilities. It was a heartbreak the two were having to bear, both vehemently rejecting the idea of an abortion.
“Her agents haven’t come out either?”
Eric raced across the field with his agents in tow and pulled the door open to the rear of the helicopter. On entry, his agents immediately called a medical team and advised that the first lady, wife of President Eric Warner, was presumed dead.
“NOOOOO!!!!!!” Eric screamed, his head in hands.
Though it took some time to confirm the initial suggestion had proved correct, it was carbon monoxide poisoning. A manifold on the exhaust system had fractured and pure carbon monoxide had entered the purified air system. Maria and her two agents looked as peaceful as they ever had. If there was a way to go, there weren’t many who wouldn’t choose that option. Not that it was any comfort to Eric, he had just lost his wife and unborn child.
The evening banquet for the American delegation had been arranged for some time. A guest speaker was attending, and after some deliberation and to many people’s surprise, it was to go ahead as planned. Though Maria’s death had cast a dark shadow over the summit and the planned events, Eric had issued a statement insisting everything went ahead. Maria’s parents had been born and raised in Columbia and her heritage meant she fully understood the importance of the summit for the less developed countries in the Americas.
He remained in his room, his Aunt Val by his side. The VC25s were being flown in to repatriate Maria’s body and take President Eric Warner home in the style befitting a president and his wife.
The guests filtered into the grand dining hall. A number of US cabinet members, including the defense secretary and the attorney general, took their seats at the top table. A number of others including the secretaries of Education, Veteran Affairs, and Health and Human Services, were seated among high profile industrialists. Senators, congressmen and congresswomen and Supreme Court justices who had been invited along especially for the dinner also took their seats. The island buzzed with security. Despite Maria’s death being ruled an accident, security had been heightened, patrols increased, and numbers swollen, partly due to Eric being inaugurated as temporary president, though in no small part to the hundred or so security personnel that accompanied their guest speaker. He was a man few outside of the dinner and the corridors of power would even recognize. He was and had been for some time a king maker. With his power and influence behind you, elections were guaranteed. Democrat or Republican, he wasn’t interested, if it was good for him and his organization, you had his support.
Only six seats remained empty at the top table. Eric’s and Maria’s, Val’s, the guest speaker’s, and the Baldwins’ - Vic And Ed. A gavel banged on to the table by the defense secretary silenced the audience.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I please introduce our guest speaker? I’m sure few here need to hear his achievements but it’s only right to indulge…”
The secretary went on to list the number of major organizations the man owned or was major shareholder of. He made the Baldwins look poor, such was the size and scale of his organization, which generated billions of dollars a year in profits, all of which were poured back into programs to help build a better America for all.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Mr. Karl Leipzig,” he concluded.
A standing ovation and thunderous round of applause followed. Karl Leipzig, a man easily in his eighties and requiring some assistance from a cane, walked onto the stage and embraced the warmth of his reception. Standing silently, he waited for the applause to die down. It didn’t, the noise only grew. Finally he realized only he could stop it. He raised his hands outwards and directed the roar much as a conductor would an orchestra. The level dropped to complete and total silence.
Karl looked around the room. Security had taken their positions at all entrances to the dining room. Waiters and waitresses had been excluded while he talked. To his right, a technician behind a curtain was monitoring for any recording devices being active in the room. He gave a thumbs up. The audience had, as fully expected, adhered to the conditions imposed upon them.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his booming voice defying his frail appearance, “few of you have heard this story firsthand. You may have heard it from one another but never from me. It is not a story I tell often for obvious reasons. However, I believe tonight is an event worthy of me perhaps for a final time telling the story of how we came to be here today…”
“Good luck,” Clyde said as Elsa slipped into the darkness from the vantage point they had over the lodge. The beat of choppers coming and going had finally calmed. The golf carts had also stopped their constant buzzing between the helipad and the lodge as they delivered guest after guest to the dinner. Men and women bedecked in formal evening dress were welcomed at the door by a Marine guard.
Elsa brushed down her dress, an exquisite designer piece from her collection. It wasn’t often she wore formal attire but when she did, there were few who pulled it off better. It was the perfect cover for her entry to the lodge. She stepped out of the shrubbery and was met by one of the golf cart drivers as arranged.
“Whoa? Hot!” he whistled at the woman he was more accustomed to seeing in combat gear.
“Shut up and drive,” she barked, climbing into the cart, although the compliment was secretly appreciated.
She arrived at the gate and rushed towards the guard. “Sorry, I’m a little late,” she said, showing her invitation.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I can’t find your name,” the guard said, checking the list.
“Sorry, I was a last minute attendee. I’m tagged on at the bottom I believe.”
“The guard flipped the page, ah there you are, I was checking alphabetically,” he crossed off her name. “Elsa…”
“Yes, yes, I’m late.” She brushed past him and into the building.
She breathed a sigh of relief. Security, as anticipated, was outside, not inside. She had almost free reign of the building. She checked the time. The main speaker would be starting. She climbed the stairs and spotted the room she needed to get to. Two Secret Service agents were posted outside the door like a neon sign flashing ‘The president is in here!’
She checked herself in a large mirror opposite the main staircase, added a touch of lip-gloss, and rearranged her cleavage for maximum effect. Perfect. She placed her lip gloss back in her clutch. Her throwing knives, ceramic to avoid the detectors, sat there too, ready to use. She walked confidently towards the agents. They remained at ease. A beautiful woman who had passed through numerous scanners and checks, wearing a dress that barely hid her panty line, and carried a clutch so small no weapon of any concern could be contained was little for them to be concerned about.