The Krakow Klub (42 page)

For now, being the political animal that she
was, her voice oozed charm as she answered the phone. “Erik, how
nice of you to call. What may I do for you today?”

He ignored her greeting and snarled into the
phone, “Have the Navy take out an island off Key West named Scott
Key. I want everyone there taken into custody and detained for
questioning by my special team of interrogators. I don’t care if
you wipe that damned island off the face of the earth. It is
essential to neutralize what’s going on there immediately.”

She frowned and asked
,
“Now, now, isn’t it just a little premature to start wiping out
small dissenting factions at this stage of the game? I hardly think
anyone cares about what could be happening at some obscure little
mosquito-infested speck of sand. It couldn’t possibly be that
important to us.”

“Damn it, Carla, this is serious. I’m
ordering you to do it now. I’ll expect a report from you
immediately after the island has been secured.”

He ended the call abruptly without even
saying goodbye.

Carla was enraged. She yelled aloud, “That
fucking bastard! Who the hell does he think he is?” She threw the
empty bourbon glass against the wall where it shattered into a
thousand glittering fragments. “How dare he order me around like
that? I am not some common house servant! One day, I will turn the
tables on that bastard. I’m the president
now,
and he’ll just have to learn to live with it. One day I will have
the bastard’s head on a stake!”

It was such a pleasant
thought,
and she savored it immensely before picking up
the White House phone and calling Admiral Abraham L. Bloodworth to
give him the order to take Scott Key immediately with all force
necessary. The entire operation was, of course, to be top
secret.

****

Admiral Bloodworth, chief of Naval
Operations, was surprised but not shocked by the president’s order.
In the midst of a national crisis, he knew to expect anything.
Immediately, he contacted Rear Admiral Hugh Morningstar to carry
out the President’s order.

Morningstar, commander, Naval Surface Forces
Atlantic (COMNAVSURFLANT), quickly reviewed his resources in the
area and configured CSF635 from units currently operating in the
Atlantic not too far from Florida.

Captain Frederick (Fred)
Popovich
would
command the
operation.
Popovich was a first generation
Polish-American officer who had graduated with honors from the
Naval Academy. After many years of exemplary service, he was
currently on the list to be promoted to rear admiral, pending
congressional approval.

Captain
Popovich
received his orders, which were relatively brief:

“To: Commander CSF635

“From: Commander, Naval Surface Forces
Atlantic (COMNAVSURFLANT).

“You will proceed to the designated
coordinates at flank speed and secure the island known as Scott
Key.

“You are to take into custody all inhabitants
and retain them for interrogation.

“You are to use whatever force is necessary
to accomplish your mission.

“We have accurate intelligence that this
little island is the headquarters for the terrorists who
assassinated President
Wilkinson, as well as
other terrorist attacks.

“Proceed with caution but secure the
objective as quickly as possible.

“You can probably expect armed resistance so
act accordingly.”

Captain
Popovich
read
the order several
times,
and it still made
little sense to him. Scott Key was a mere speck in the Atlantic
Ocean near Key West, Florida. To send a CSF on such an assignment
seemed to be extreme overkill. He knew that Washington, DC, was in
turmoil
and the whole country was on edge, but
his orders still seemed a bit over the top. But he, like most
military officers, followed his orders even though they might seem
a bit stupid at the time. That was what you did if you wanted to
stay in the military. Orders
are orders, and you
simply obeyed them.

As his small naval armada headed rapidly
toward Scott Key, Captain
Popovich
prepared
his plan of attack.

“Plan of attack,” he almost laughed at the
term. “What the hell do you have to do to take a tiny island of
less than a square mile inhabited by less than a dozen people?”

Why couldn’t he have been ordered to take
Havana? That would have been a battle that made headlines all over
the world. And by God, he probably could have done it!

This inconsequential little sand bar would do
nothing for his career. There wouldn’t even be a report in the
newspapers. Nevertheless, he would be extremely careful in this
mission. He wouldn’t have been ordered to take the tiny island
unless there
was
accurate information about
the terrorist group. Perhaps, he could get some good press out of
this after all. Surely, anyone who captured the terrorists
responsible for assassinating the president would receive
unprecedented accolades. He smiled to himself.

Based on his extensive training and
experience, he understood that there is no such thing as an
insignificant assignment. Even the most unimportant of missions
could result in disaster. Nothing was guaranteed. Even the
best-made
plans could result in loss of men
and equipment to the unforgiving depths of the Atlantic Ocean.

Popovich leaned back in his command chair and
said out loud, “If they want that speck of sand and the few souls
there, then by God I will get it for them.” He calculated that his
strike force would be on the scene by early the next morning. In
the
meantime,
he would send a recon plane to
get photos, IR images, and radar profiles of the island prior to
his arrival.

It was only a couple of hours before the
recon plane returned. The pilot’s report was most disconcerting. He
had detected nothing even though he had made four passes directly
over the island.

The dense cloud cover over the island
obscured any hope of visual imaging, and most amazingly, there
seemed to be some
kind of
radiation shield
that blocked both the IR imaging equipment and surface scanning
radar.

Popovich
did not like
that report. He was becoming more concerned by the minute about the
possible outcome of his assignment.

What should he do next? He hesitated to send
in an assault force blindly. He had no idea what defenses might be
in place on the island. The possibilities were endless. Captain
Popovich
chose not to make a final decision
until in the morning. Perhaps by then, after a good night’s rest,
the situation would be clearer.

****

The Gulfstream V stopped briefly in Honolulu
for refueling. The Dragon Lady, accustomed to taking long flights,
used a three-pilot crew to enable her to fly as long as she
desired. One pilot was sleeping, and two were on duty at all times.
The flight to Shanghai required maximum fuel
capacity,
and that’s why she had selected the Gulfstream
V for her purposes. At the time, she hadn’t thought of needing such
long-range capabilities, but being ever cautious, she decided that
someday,
at some time
, she might just need
that extended range. Now, she was most thankful
for
that decision.

As the jet lifted off from Honolulu, Number
Eleven, the Dragon Lady, settled down for some serious thinking.
She did not intend to go down without a fight. She
was convinced
that Stoellar, for all his brilliance, was
losing it. She mulled over her position and came to the conclusion
that the only person in the Krakow Klub that she needed from this
point on was Carla Montrose. Controlling the White House was
essential to controlling the military. Controlling the military was
essential to taking control of the entire government. It was that
simple. If the plan
had
any chance of success,
Montrose
would be needed.

Fortunately, Eleven had insisted that
Stoellar introduce her to Carla Montrose before she agreed to her
being the president of
choice
for Operation
Plato. The meeting had been a highly charged affair. The two women
disliked each other immediately. Montrose, the emotional one,
displayed her feelings through body language even though she spoke
quite civilly.

The Dragon Lady betrayed nothing. She was a
master at hiding her real feelings and acted as if she were quite
pleased to meet such an important personage. Her performance
probably merited an Academy Award. Only
Stoellar
noted the glint in her eyes that told him she
could dispatch Montrose without batting an eyelash.

Fortunately for all concerned, the meeting
had been short.

Afterward
, Stoellar
nervously asked Eleven what she thought of Montrose. She gave him a
look that could have incinerated a lesser being. “Who?” she
answered in a voice as cold as the Arctic. “I don’t think that I’ve
met anyone of importance today. Your minion is far below me
socially, mentally, and physically. My ancestors would have used
her for target practice. I’ve had gum on my shoe that was more
important to me.”

Stoellar was obviously not happy to hear this
and started to try to explain why Montrose had
been
selected
, “Eleven, she…”

Eleven put her forefinger to her lips and
smiled. “Shhh! My dear, Number One, I understand that you had to
select that creature, but take heed, she is out of
control,
and it will only get worse. Use her for now but
remember that she is dangerous, not because of her brains, but
because of her ego. Watch her at all times. You may need to
eliminate her sooner rather than later. You’re out of practice.
Back in the good old days, she’d already be swimming with the
fishes.”

Stoellar knew that she was
right,
but he still needed that
pint-sized
psychopath for a little while longer. She had
been the only viable candidate for the job, e
ven
though she was a diminutive egomaniac and totally devoid of
principals or morals
. In other words, she was perfect for
the job. At least for the moment.

Eleven had already been formulating a plan of
action. She would use Montrose to her advantage and without the
knowledge of Stoellar. It was against Krakow Klub protocol, but she
figured that the Krakow Klub was nearing the end of its useful
life.

She quickly called Madame President in the
White House.

Montrose was most annoyed that the phone had
interrupted her. She knew it would be Stoellar again since he was
the only person with access to that number, or so she thought.

She answered impatiently, “What do you want
now? I have a lot of work to do for you so stop interrupting
me.”

Carla was so startled to hear the female
voice that she almost dropped the phone.

“Carla, this is Number Eleven. I have
important information for you and it is urgent.”

Regaining herself, Carla, in a voice that was
far less than pleasant, replied, “And what is so urgent that you
bother me after hours?”

“Listen carefully; time is not on your side.
We have discovered that the members of the Krakow Klub
have
been compromised by an implant that allows us to
be tracked
. That implant is extremely small
and cannot be detected by most normal scanning procedures. There is
a doctor in California who understands the device and where it
is located
.

“I’m going to make arrangements for him to
come
to you
and remove yours as soon as he’s
finished
dealing with Erik Stoellar. I would
suggest that you have a military jet fly him from California ASAP,
as it is getting late in the
day.
Come up with
some story that he is essential
to
national
security. Also, don’t say a word to Stoellar;
keep
this
just between the two of us.

“I’ve already talked to Dr.
Cheong,
and he will be prepared to extract your device as
soon as he gets to the White House. The extraction is painless and
will only take a few minutes.
I suggest that you do
not let the Secret Service know what you are doing. Have Dr. Cheong
do the procedure in the residence.

“Then, I would suggest that you have your
device planted into another person’s head. Obviously, that would be
someone already in the White House. If I’m correct, the other
person will also have a device. That being the case, just have
Cheong switch the two. Then, voila, you will be off the radar. At
least for the present time.”

Number Eleven gave Montrose Dr. Cheong’s
private number and urged her to call him as soon as possible. “You
make up whatever story necessary to get him to the White House. But
get him there as fast as
possible.
I’ve
already discussed this with Dr.
Cheong,
and
he’ll be awaiting your call. So,
get moving
!
Carla, your life probably depends on ridding
yourself
of that device very soon.”

With that, the line went dead and Montrose,
for once in her life, was speechless, but not for long. With her
life at stake,
she
would certainly not
hesitate to act swiftly.

President Montrose immediately called an air
force general in her acquaintance to arrange for Cheong’s flight to
Washington, DC, in a
supersonic
military jet.
The trip would take less than three hours, even with the jet
needing
an in-air
refueling midway.
Helicopters would
be made available t
o take
Cheong to the airport and to deliver him to the White House upon
arrival in Washington, DC. The cost to taxpayers would be
enormous,
but she didn’t care at all.