A third season story; occurring two years after Mist of Silence.
Dedicated to the memory of Angela, whose sweet and
enthusiastic support will be missed by her Voyage Friends.
Esteban's Last Stand
by Lynn
Chapter One
Old Friends
Maybe it was the hot subtropical climate of the South American country they were visiting; or maybe it was the fact that the social event was held in an outside garden; or perhaps the memories were just to unpleasant; but Lee was finding himself very uncomfortable at present. At least he wasn't stuck in high collared dress whites, as the social mix was held at mid-day, he thought distractedly while nodding politely in response to the conversation. Dress whites or no, even his khaki service dress and tie was uncomfortably hot.
“Ah Admiral Nelson... Captain Crane, it is my pure delight to welcome you to my country. I trust your stay will be much more pleasant than your last visit,” President Fuentes greeted warmly.
“We are most honored to be here, Mr. President,” Harry returned with all the diplomacy of the Four-Star Admiral he was.
“It's good to be back, Mr. President,” Lee offered. “I'm very pleased to see that your country is prospering once again.”
“Yes, thanks in no small part to both of you,” President Fuentes replied gratefully. “Who knows how long the dictatorship would have continued if not for your unfortunate abduction; the world may never have known that General D'Alvarez was drugging and using me as a puppet,” the silver haired president replied sadly. “Ah but we must speak of happier times,” Fuentes added in a decidedly lighter, more positive mood.
“We are only too happy to be here to see the fruits of your Administration, Mr. President,” Harry said, his elegant graciousness much appreciated by Fuentes.
“You are very kind, Admiral Nelson. Please gentlemen, enjoy the gathering while I greet the other guests.”
A bead of sweat rolled down Lee's temple as he politely dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. He caught Harry's smirk and smiled back, as it seemed that the heat wasn't bothering the Admiral in the least.
“I guess I'm not acclimated to the weather after our last voyage in the Arctic,” he admitted with a shy if not embarrassed smile.
Harry chuckled lightly. “Why don't we amble over to the buffet table?”
“Aye Sir,” Lee replied but wasn't the least bit hungry, if anything his stomach was doing a bit of rebelling at the moment as he contemplated whether the flu that recently swept through the Nelson Institute had finally caught up with him. He opted for a glass of club soda and added a sparse amount of crackers to his plate, bypassing even the cheese and grapes.
Harry raised an eyebrow at Lee's plate as Seaview's Captain lightly shrugged his shoulders. Their relationship had grown these past three years with each considering the other as more than best friends, more than brothers even. Indeed, even though Harry was only seventeen years older than Lee, he rather thought of the Admiral with the same affection he had for his father.* They never discussed their mutual friendship, but he knew Harry returned the paternal feelings, so it was no surprise that his best friend could spot that he was out of sorts.
“Not feeling well?” Harry asked nonchalantly while smiling at a polite nod from across the patio.
“I think that flu caught up with me.”
Harry was well aware of which flu Lee was talking about, as it had affected quite a few Institute staffers recently.
“Should I make our regrets?”
“I'm not that bad off, but I can't see spreading the 'joy' and exposing others,” Lee said in concern for the contagious virus.
“I'll make arrangements for the car to be brought around,” Harry decided. “I've already been exposed with a mild case two weeks ago, so I'll make a showing tonight at the Gala for the both of us,” Harry suggested.
“I'll be glad to show up if it turns out to be nothing but a bad meal,” Lee offered.
“We'll decide that later. Why don't you wait outside and I'll make our apologies,” Harry said with a reassuring small smile as Lee acquiesced to his good judgment in the matter; besides, he really was feeling pretty crappy at the moment.
* * * * *
The Embassy driver pulled the car into the curved driveway as Harry and Lee sat in the backseat of the dark town car. Lee leaned his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes, grimacing slightly.
“Are you alright?”
“Stomach cramps, I’ll be fine when I can get to bed,” Lee noted without opening his eyes, a sure sign he wasn’t feeling well.
Harry sighed with empathy, he had a mild case of the stomach flu and it wasn’t any fun. He thought perhaps Lee had escaped the virus, but apparently it had a long incubation period or perhaps it was a new strain, either way he'd just have to ride out the virus.
The driver pulled under the canopied driveway of the luxury hotel as Harry marveled at how the country had blossomed again after Fuentes had regained his rightful office as President. It had taken a year of work from the resistance to flush out the remains of the dictatorship and another year for Fuentes to re-instill the hope of democracy and a free market back into the once oppressed country. It was to his credit that the fruits of his labors were already starting to show.
Lee woke from his light slumber when the driver put the car in park as Harry pursed his lips tightly, trying not to appear overly concerned and realizing that Lee's flu case far exceeded his own.
Lee deboarded with a weak smile that failed miserably in his attempt to tell Harry he was “fine” as the Admiral resisted an outward scoff.
“You head on up and I'll check the desk for messages,” Harry suggested.
“I can wait...” Lee started but wisely stopped himself at the famous “Glare” that made even Four-Star Generals quake. He chuckled lightly and headed for the elevator looking forward to crashing as soon as he hit the room.
He bypassed the shower he probably needed after perspiring like a leaky faucet at the party and undressed, placing his uniform jacket and slacks on the wooden valet. He quickly donned his pajamas, always wearing the pj top while traveling or on Seaview, even though at home he did without. He made sure the adjoining door was unlocked between the private rooms as he was sure Harry would look in on him later. The thought made him smile as having a doting father figure at his age was a bit humorous, still he had to admit that he didn't mind one bit. He climbed in bed, slightly shocked by the cold sheets and fell to sleep almost immediately.
* * * * *
Harry finished his business at the front desk with a friendly smile for the helpful desk clerk. Work seems to follow me everywhere, he lamented as he took his handful of messages and headed to the elevators. He was anxious to check on Lee and was grateful for the adjoining rooms his young captain had insisted upon. Harry knew full well that Lee had taken on some unsolicited responsibility to act as bodyguard on this trip. Though Fuentes and his government were on the right track to restoring freedom, the opposition hadn’t completely been dealt with. Intelligence agencies across the globe were still tracking factions reaching out to their former allies in order to reinstate the dictatorship. Indeed, sending Harry and Lee had been a well-thought out choice for this gathering of dignitaries as both officers were ONI trained. But right now he was less concerned with the Opposition and more concerned with Lee's health.
Harry entered his room, dropped his messages on the desk then headed for the adjoining door. He entered the room quietly finding Lee in bed and sleeping soundly; he closed the door figuring that rest was exactly what his friend needed the most right now.
* * * * *
Lee woke to the smell of chicken soup and moved slowly. He felt better for the rest but was still uncomfortable. He checked his watch and reached for his robe, realizing he had slept for over three hours. He rapped on the adjoining door and heard his invitation to enter, finding Harry on the phone and nodding toward the table in an obvious order to eat. Lee smiled and held his stomach without realizing it as he lowered himself into the chair.
“Very well Angie, I'll deal with the rest later... Yes I have that on my list... Very well. Good bye.”
Harry hung up and turned his attention to Lee who was staring at the bowl of soup with little interest.
“I thought you might be a little hungry,” Harry said, pouring himself a cup of coffee and pulling out a bottle of water from behind the wet bar for Lee.
“I suppose I should be famished by now, but I actually don't feel hungry at all,” Lee admitted.
“Well try anyway,” Harry admonished in his best “I'm the Admiral” voice trying to mask any paternal concern bleeding through. Lee smiled, taking a few spoonfuls to placate his boss but really wasn't interested in eating. He reached for the bottle of water instead taking a drink as Harry sat down with his coffee.
“I've already made your regrets for the evening,” Harry stated as Lee raised an eyebrow.
“I actually feel better, I'm not sure it's the flu after all... could have been something I ate.”
“Still, there's no reason for you to be up and about wearing dress whites and making small talk tonight; not when you're still not feeling well,” Harry said, silently noting that the Lee Crane he knew didn't take three hour naps in the middle of the afternoon unless he was either really ill, or spiked with one of Jamie's special sleep juice sedatives.
Lee's forehead furled. “I'd feel better if I were there...”
“Lee, the entire gathering will be surrounded by the President's Personal Security; I seriously doubt there will be any opportunity for the Opposition to strike tonight.”
Lee sat back visibly unhappy, but reluctantly shook his head in agreement nonetheless.
“I'm sure you're right. I'm just a little...”
“Protective?” Harry thought privately, inserting his own take on the matter.
“...over cautious,” Lee finished.
Harry nodded, taking another sip of coffee and keeping his observations to himself. He was inwardly pleased that Lee felt the need to protect him; though it was a bit annoying and completely unnecessary. The Intelligence communities had already deemed the Opposition as active but weak, in both structure and ability to execute any meaningful attack.
“I guess you're right,” Lee admitted. “Please extend my regrets to President Fuentes. I should be able to make tomorrow's meetings,” he said standing and noting the time. “When will the car be by for you?”
“1800 hours,” Harry replied trying not smirk as Lee was starting to sound like a father keeping track of when his kid was bringing home the family car for the night.
“Do you want me home by dark?” Harry deadpanned, as Lee chuckled realizing he'd been caught.
“Have a good time Admiral. There's a John Wayne movie playing tonight and I'm anxious to see how the Duke sounds dubbed in Spanish,” Lee joked, closing the adjoining door behind him to Harry's soft laughter.
* * * * *
The Gala was a grand affair as President Fuentes had been careful about such gatherings while the Opposition was still powerful; thankfully, the last year had been successful at shutting down operation groups around the country. Moreover, the nation was behind the new Administration, relishing the restoration of its liberty. Indeed, this was the first significant gathering by foreign dignitaries since Fuentes' return to power. It was in fact a celebration, honoring the positive outcome of the Vote of Confidence that President Fuentes insisted upon once power had been taken from the military and returned to the people.
Security was tight as Harry recognized both the uniformed guards and the plain clothes security keeping watch over the evening.
“Admiral Nelson, so good to see you,” President Fuentes greeted as he worked the crowded ballroom of the Presidential Palace. “But where is Captain Crane? He still is not unwell?”
“He's feeling better but not well enough to attend, Mr. President. He asked me to extend his sincere regrets and hopes to make the Round Table Discussions tomorrow morning.”
“I sincerely hope to see him then. Ah Ricardo! You remember Ricardo?” Fuentes asked, patting the young man on the shoulder proudly. “Ricardo is now in charge of my personal security,” he beamed, clearly fond of the young man.
“Of course, it's good to see you Ricardo,” Harry greeted offering a hand.
“I am very pleased to see you well Admiral Nelson, but the President only told you half the news,” Ricardo said with a slight grin that accentuated the deep dimple in his chin. “I share the duties of the President's security with my wife,” he said pointing Harry toward a lovely, exotic woman in a long black evening gown.
“Detta,” Harry greeted as she closed the distance across the floor. Her shoulder length hair was pulled into an elegant bun on top of her head while a gold chain with a small blue sapphire adorned her neck, adding just the right amount of color to offset her light brown eyes.
“Don't let her fool you Admiral,” Ricardo said in a side whisper. “She is working as I am tonight, and is fully armed,” he said, obviously pleased with her attire this evening as the dress hugged at the bodice and flared at the waist.
Harry avoided the raised eyebrow at the thought of a thigh holster, the only place he figured she could conceal a weapon in her bare shouldered ball gown.
“Admiral Nelson!” she greeted, offering a hand which Harry kissed politely. The able former Resistance Fighter didn't look anything like the part in the ball gown, but the last time Harry saw her she was behind a machine gun nest providing cover for their escape as heavy artillery was bearing down on their position.
“It's good to see both of you,” Harry greeted sincerely. “I'm confident that you have security completely under control, just as President Fuentes told me.”
Detta's countenance changed in reaction to Harry's last statement as she glanced toward Ricardo.
“Admiral,” Ricardo spoke softly, indicating they should move to a quieter spot to talk. “While the grounds here are fully secure, I am still concerned about the Opposition's activities and my authority lies only with guarding the President. This gathering is good for our people,” he continued. “It's good for them to see the President entertaining Dignitaries once again, but there are still dangerous men waiting to act seditiously. I tell this to you only as one Freedom Fighter to another and because you saw them at work with your own eyes.”
“We were fully briefed on the possible dangers, but I appreciate your candidness,” Harry replied.
“We would not be here tonight if not for you, Captain Crane and your fantastic Boat.”
“We did a small part, but I know yours and Detta's sacrifice was much greater,” Harry offered graciously.
“I have heard that Captain Crane is unwell?” Detta joined in.
“Yes, but when I left he was feeling better. He expects to attend the meetings tomorrow.”
“Good,” Detta smiled. “Now, if you'll excuse me I need to 'greet' other guests,” she explained, with Harry fully understanding that she was working security tonight and needed to keep moving.
“It was very good to see you both,” Harry offered as Detta nodded and walked across the room, a beautiful sight with her jet black hair contrasting against her fair skin.
“I too must be on my way,” Ricardo added, as Harry saw the same intensity that was there in his eyes two years ago, only now it was tempered by the love of a good woman, and the letting go of a hate that nearly drove him to kill Fuentes before learning the truth that D'Alvarez was the real traitor.
Harry was offered a glass of champagne by a passing server, taking a small sip and greeting another guest as the social event continued long into the night.
* * * * *
Lee watched the nightly news on television; he was fluent in the language and understood completely as he looked for any signs of the Opposition's recent movement. So far there hadn't been anything unusual, though he was well aware that most activities wouldn't be easily linked to the subversive groups.
He glanced at his watch figuring the Admiral should be arriving soon while thinking privately how boring the evening had been. Even watching a dubbed Spanish voice actor trying to imitate John Wayne's famous vocal draw hadn't kept him fully entertained. He was feeling better and was grateful that his nausea hadn't advanced to vomiting, but had made several trips to the head as his body couldn't decide whether he was suffering from diarrhea or constipation. It wasn't polite conversation, and he had no intention of sharing that part of his illness with Harry.
He still wasn't hungry despite the fact that he had eaten very little all day, and had to force down half of a sandwich ordered from the hotel's selection of American dishes. He figured he'd be hungry by morning and didn't want to risk an upset stomach, so he didn't push himself further.
It was late evening when he finally heard the door to Harry's room open and barely kept himself from an outward sigh, realizing how tense he had become waiting for his return. Maybe he should have told him to be home by dark, he thought humorously, barely wiping the grin off his face before Harry knocked and opened the door.
* * * * *
Harry was pleased to see Lee awake and sitting on the bed in his robe.
“You look like you're feeling better,” he noted from the adjoining door.
“Aye Sir,” he said, noting Harry's dress whites and glad he had relented to the Admiral's wisdom to stay behind tonight.
“How was the evening?” Lee asked, following Harry to his room.
“Pretty much what we expected,” Harry answered. “But I did see two old friends.” Lee raised an eyebrow as Harry finished. “Ricardo Galdez and Detta.”
Lee smiled. “Did they ever...?”
“Get married? Yes, it's Mrs. Galdez, still as beautiful as ever and still as 'efficient'. She and Ricardo are in charge of the President's personal security.”
Lee blew an airy whistle out. “No doubt he's well protected.”
Harry nodded his agreement. “So are you up for tomorrow's meetings?”
“I think so. I still have some minor aches but nothing I can't ignore.”
Harry rolled his eyes and loosened the top buttons of his stiff-necked dress whites with a smirky smile for Lee's medical self-assessment.
“Well, I'll let you get settled in for the night. Good night, Sir,” Lee said heading to the door.
“Good night, Lee.”
Harry pursed his bottom lip; perhaps he should have told Lee about his conversation with Ricardo regarding the Opposition. There wasn't anything either could do about it tonight and he rather thought Lee needed a good night sleep for tomorrow's meetings, so he decided to discuss the matter in the morning. It had been a long day and he was ready to hit the sack himself, as he disappeared into the oversized bathroom emerging a short time later ready for bed. He shed his robe and sunk into the king size bed, grateful the day was finally over and Lee was on the mend.
* * * * *
Lee woke the next morning feeling comparably better than yesterday, but definitely not well; he wasn't as nauseated as before, but the dull pain in his stomach still remained. He didn't want Harry to sideline him so he planned on keeping that minor inconvenience to himself. He still wasn't hungry but knew he'd have to make a good showing at breakfast to placate Harry's watchful eye. It wasn't like the Admiral hovered over him or anything like that; it was just that he knew he was concerned and there wasn't any reason to spoil the day over something that was probably the result of an undercooked meal.
To that end, Lee managed to eat his toast and a few bites of scrambled eggs. It was spicier than he cared for right now and therefore a good excuse to skip it, as he still had no appetite. He managed to eat enough to gain a raised eyebrow from his boss, but nothing more. He also realized that the reason he felt better in the hotel room was because he hadn't been moving around much. Apparently the more he moved, the more the dull ache in his stomach protested. It wasn't anything he couldn't handle, so he ignored it as Harry relayed his conversation with Ricardo from the night before. They finished up breakfast and by 0900 were on their way to the Presidential Palace once again.
* * * * *
The Round Table Meetings had been both informative and productive as the dignitaries and diplomats discussed issues of development for their host country. President Fuentes was a very gracious host and an able Statesman as he guided the conversation into a fruitful exchange of information. Lee however, was feeling more uncomfortable as the dull ache moved into something a bit more painful, probably from sitting up all morning he deduced silently. Since the pain seemed to migrate toward his back he figured he was the unfortunate recipient of a urinary tract infection. He'd give Jamieson a call back at the hotel, he silently decided, as he ignored his affliction and joined in the conversation when appropriate. When the meetings were over he nearly sighed, but managed to keep his relief to himself.
“It is good to see you again, Captain Crane,” Detta greeted, making a point to reach out to him before they left the country.
“Thank you Detta. I'm very impressed with what President Fuentes has accomplished these last two years, I'm sure with your help,” he added confidently.
“You have seen our Harpy, Captain Crane?” Detta asked with a smile.
“Yes, the largest and most powerful eagle in the Americas,” Lee recited, wondering where she was going with the question.
“I was thinking that our fight for freedom was like taking a Harpy and capturing it for a time. Its strength and might may be temporarily subdued, but sooner or later that great bird will find a way to take flight again.”
Lee smiled at the thought as Detta continued.
“And so, freedom is like a bird that cannot be caged long,” she replied philosophically. “Sooner or later it must spread its wings and soar once again.”
Lee smiled and nodded his agreement. “Freedom is only as strong as her Protectors... you and Ricardo have guarded her well.”
Detta's smile was entrancing as Lee shook her hand fondly and took his leave; he was pleased that Ricardo had found his heart once again and marveled that Detta had never lost faith in it.
“Are you ready?” Harry asked, barely veiling his concern as Lee realized he was fully aware of his discomfort.
How does he always know? he wondered silently.
“Aye Sir. I plan on calling Jamieson for some antibiotics.”
Harry nodded in agreement for the plan as they climbed into the back seat, while the Embassy Driver held the door for his passengers.
Lee settled in and reached for his stomach; the pain however, was no longer in his mid-section but had moved slightly to his lower right side. Harry noticed and furled his forehead.
“Lee...” he started, but was interrupted when the driver took an unexpected turn and sped up the vehicle. Almost simultaneously, they heard the doors locking electronically as they were sealed behind the privacy glass separating the driver from his occupants.
Lee tried to work the locks as Harry did the same, but to no avail. Eventually they came to the same conclusion; they were being abducted and it didn't take a genius or a sub captain to know that the Opposition was behind it.
Chapter Two
Family Resemblance
Lee watched as the driver drove them away from the city, towards the outer village areas that peppered the desert landscape several hundred miles from the capital city. The villages were spread out, making it impossible to tell which one they were headed for at this time. He noted the position of the sun and the current time, in an attempt to keep his bearings when two puffs of gas sprayed over their heads. Right away Lee remembered the effect of D'Alvarez' nerve gas as he barely had time to connect eyes with Harry before both men succumbed to the Lethium.**
The driver watched through the rear view mirror as the officers slumped in their seats and smiled at the success of the well-planned operation.
* * * * *
“How long will they be out?”
“The original formula incapacitated the victims for up to twelve hours. However, this formula was devised to begin interrogations in as little as three hours,” the driver replied as Harry and Lee were pulled from the back seats and carried by their shoulders and feet into the adobe brick compound.
“Our allies won't be able to ignore us now that we have Nelson and Crane,” the tall dark headed man observed with a thin devious smile.
“Yes General, everything is going just as you have planned.”
“You have done well Juarez, but your cover at the embassy must be protected.”
“I understand what needs to be done, my General.”
Juarez Jimenez returned to the driver's side and sat down placing both hands on the wheel then started the ignition. He waited dutifully as the General drew his sidearm and shot through the windshield as Juarez cried out in pain, reaching for the well-placed bullet wound in his upper shoulder.
“You are well, my friend?” the General asked while approaching the window.
“Yes my General. I will drive to the agreed upon place and activate a Lethium canister,” Juarez recited, working hard not to show his considerable pain to his leader.
“You will rise with me Juarez, this I promise.”
“It is my honor to serve you, my General,” he stated, then put the car in gear and drove back toward the capital city. His bullet wound along with the Lethium gas would put him in the clear once the car was found, freeing him to be used once again as a trusted Embassy driver.
* * * * *
Lee groaned and turned over, grimacing as he reached for his side emphatically protesting the sudden movement. The effects of the nerve gas left a nasty headache and sluggish muscles as Lee cleared his head before scooting toward Harry.
“Admiral?”
Harry moaned, tossed his head then expelled a long breath. “So that's what Lethium feels like,” he quipped groggily.
“Aye Sir, only I thought the production plant was shut down.”
“Me too,” Harry replied, groaning as he sat up to lean against the cell wall. Their jackets and ties had been removed, along with the contents of their pockets and their watches.
Lee sat beside him, leaning his head back to give his body a chance to recover. He glanced outside noticing the sunlight, then reached up and felt his face for beard stubble.
“The last time we were out about ten hours, but I'd say by the position of the sun it's only been two... three hours at the most,” he noted looking through the barred window.
Harry nodded in agreement. “Well, they want us alive,” he noted, starting what Lee knew would be followed by a methodical set of deductions.
“Aye. Leverage?”
“That would be my guess,” Harry returned. “They can't gain anything from America by holding us, so they intend to use us against President Fuentes,” he reasoned.
“There's always information,” Lee added as Harry stood, testing his legs before walking toward their cell door to gauge how private their conversation was. He turned around satisfied that no one was about and continued his reasoning.
“There's always that, especially if they need funding, which no doubt they do. In any case, we'll need to be ready to make a move at the first opportunity that presents itself.”
“Agreed,” Lee said, content to stay seated on the floor at present and splaying a protective hand over his side.
Their conversation was cut short when they heard the sounds of multiple boots walking toward them in the hallway. Lee stood cautiously, but lowered his hand from his side in an attempt to keep his captors from capitalizing on his illness. He wasn't, however, completely successful in that he seemed to have difficulty straightening all the way up. Nevertheless, he managed to keep any signs of discomfort to himself as they waited for three guards to open their cell door.
“This way,” one demanded in heavily accented English, as Harry and Lee were escorted from their cell at gun point.
* * * * *
“Mr. President, a word if you please,” Ricardo whispered into Fuentes' ear after interrupting a meeting with a dignitary.
“My apologies, Mr. Ambassador,” Fuentes said rising.
“Of course, President Fuentes,” he replied graciously. “Perhaps we can reschedule and continue our discussion later?”
Fuentes glanced at Ricardo who indicated with a slight nod his preference as the President agreed to the suggestion.
“Si, let us reschedule. Our work is too important to cut short.”
“Thank you Mr. President, I will speak with the Secretary.”
Fuentes reached for a strong handshake and waited for his guest to leave, before turning to his Personal Security Chief.
“Ricardo, I know you would not have interrupted a meeting without good cause.”
“It could not wait Mr. President.” Ricardo's eyes intensified. “An Embassy driver was found outside the capital city; he was shot and there is evidence of Lethium gas.”
“Lethium?” Fuentes repeated incredulously.
“There is more, Mr. President… his passengers are missing.”
Fuentes nodded for him to continue, his forehead furling in concern.
“Speak on, Ricardo.”
“Admiral Nelson and Captain Crane are missing, Mr. President.”
Fuentes took a step back, obviously taken aback by the news and devastated that his guests were abducted when so many steps had been taken for all the dignitaries’ safety.
“Alejandro?” Ricardo whispered in a breach of protocol for his old friend for whom he’d fought side by side in the early days of the rebellion, even before his Presidency and D'Alvarez' control.
“I am well, Ricardo, but we must act,” he urged, regaining his strength as both men stepped back into their proper roles. “You my friend, must lead the investigation; leave no stone unturned. I charge both you and Detta to find Nelson and Crane.”
“But your safety…”
“Will fall into the hands of your most trusted men,” he interrupted while placing a fatherly hand upon Ricardo’s shoulder. “There is no one I trust more… Ricardo, there is more to this plan than high level hostages,” Fuentes said taking a step away and then turning back. “If Esteban is behind this abduction, then he is up to something bigger… much more sinister.”
Ricardo nodded and sighed his agreement.
“I will brief my Security Team. You will be safe, and Detta and I will begin at once.”
“Very well, my friend.” Fuentes paused lowering his eyes in thought, then raised them again to meet Ricardo’s. “I fear that should Esteban’s plan prevail, we will find the Opposition strong again and all we have worked for will be lost.”
“Then we cannot fail,” Ricardo stated, taking his leave and making plans as he walked through the Presidential Palace. He could only hope and pray that he and Detta still had enough tricks up their sleeves to pull off another impossible rescue.
* * * * *
Harry and Lee were escorted to another set of buildings in the compound taking stock of their surroundings as they walked; each one surveying possible escape routes as they crossed an open courtyard, surrounded on all four sides with buildings. They were led to a large hall where a man stood in military uniform, bearing the insignias of a general. Lee took a double take of the general; he was tall, dark headed and wore a thin mustache, but much too young to be who he first thought.
“So you see the family resemblance?” the general noted with a familiar thin smile. “I am General Esteban D'Alvarez.”
“Who are you trying fool?” Lee challenged. “General D'Alvarez died two years ago...”
“In your prison escape,” D'Alvarez finished for Lee. “...With a knife in his back.”
“It wasn't by my hand,” Lee replied. “But I would have gladly put it there to save the people of this country from his tyranny.”
“My, my. Aren't we still a bit touchy over your executed crewman? Farrell wasn't it?”
Lee clenched his fists as his forehead furled; he didn't need a walk through memory lane right now. What he needed now was answers.
“So we have established that you are not the General D'Alvarez that we met two years ago,” Harry stepped in, seeking any information they could get while diffusing a potentially dangerous confrontation between Lee and the General.
“Admiral Nelson,” D'Alvarez greeted. “Brilliant scientist, military tactician extraordinaire, and one of the greatest minds of our time... or so I've been told,” he said turning to pour himself a shot of dark liquid from a crystal decanter. “You see the family resemblance,” he taunted. “Why don't you dazzle us with your wit and shed some light on the situation.”
Lee took a breath in, his lips pursed tightly as he recognized the same power hungry, evil intent in this younger version of the general he met two years ago.
“D'Alvarez wasn't old enough to have a son your age,” Harry deduced. “So a family member perhaps.”
“Bravo Nelson, bravo,” the young general praised mockingly as he took a swig of his drink. “Father named me after his favorite brother; Tio Esteban was only ten years older than me and so you see we were more like brothers than anything,” he explained as his eyebrows narrowed.
“Then it's revenge,” Harry inserted.
“If it were revenge you would already be dead,” Esteban said coolly, taking a seat in a fancy winged back chair while his 'guests' remained standing. “But a dead hostage produces no dividend,” he continued with a seedy smile.
“Our government will never pay a ransom,” Lee interjected.
“Money, money. Is that all you capitalists think of?” he mocked. “You are worth far more to me than that,” he said, letting the thought linger for a moment before continuing.
“Alejandro Fuentes is a fool. He puts power back into the hands of pheasants who cannot think for themselves, the rabble must be governed with a strong hand!” he said with fervor, before taking a breath and continuing. “He has also managed to convince our former allies that our Opposition is no longer significant and unworthy to risk further involvement in our cause. The most we were able to get from them was a small supply of Lethium gas,” he added.
“Even rats know when it's time to leave a sinking ship,” Lee interrupted, his disgust for the general apparent.
Esteban ran a finger over his thin mustache then folded his hands across his lap.
“Ah but the ship is not sinking... not yet. You see gentlemen, with your capture I have now proven to my allies that we are still a force to be reckoned with. You Admiral Nelson, are worth a great deal to them; at first they couldn't decide how to cash in on you. Should you just disappear and be secretly spirited away for the military information you possess or should I keep you for the political standing that will be lost the longer I hold you? It was quite a decision for them I understand. In the end they stayed with the plan to fund our cause while using the destabilization of the region as political gain on the world scene. It did not matter to me which option they took, either way you would have paid for Tio Esteban's death, but this way your demise will be at my hands.”
Lee lunged at D'Alvarez upon hearing his threat against Harry, but was pulled back and restrained by guards.
“Now you Captain Crane are another story,” Esteban continued. “They are less interested in a submarine captain... it seems you are worth very little to them,” he chuckled. “They have agreed that you will make a good pawn to show the world we mean business, while I have the pleasure of making you pay for the General's downfall. Of course, I will make my own political gain as I show my country that their beloved President Fuentes couldn't even protect his honored guests. They will feel their security stripped from them and once again turn to military rule for their 'protection'.”
“You mean to terrorize and dominate,” Lee returned, barely held back by the two guards on both arms.
“Call it what you will, but power will be returned to my family,” D'Alvarez promised. “In the meanwhile, I am preparing a statement. By now Fuentes has been informed of your capture and it will soon be time to make my demands. You will be most helpful to me then, Captain Crane.”
“Don't count on it.”
“Oh yes, you are the one who watched his own crewman die in front of a firing squad rather than give up your high morals,” he taunted to Lee's scowl. “I am certain you would have no problem watching your commanding officer here suffer before signing any confession,” he continued as Lee tested the guards' hold. “So I have decided upon a different course.”
“D'Alvarez!” Harry interjected, trying to defuse what could only be a bad outcome to the antipathy that the two men obviously felt for one another.
The General nodded toward Harry as more guards closed in, ensuring their secure hold.
“I do not need you Crane, even if I did I would not deprive myself of this pleasure,” he said standing and walking toward his decanter, pouring another drink as he spoke.
“My informer tells me you have been ill,” he stated out of the blue, with his back towards Lee. “Let's see,” he continued as he turned around. “Nausea, no appetite, pain in your mid-section that has now moved to your lower right side, and a fever,” he finished taking a drink of the hard liquor.
Harry struggled against his captors as D'Alvarez sat his glass down and approached Lee.
“I have my suspicions to what ails you; allow me to test my diagnosis. But first...”
D'Alvarez threw a heavy fisted punch to Lee's jaw whipping his head to one side. “That's for my Uncle.” He threw another punch, splitting Lee's lip as his head whipped to the opposite side. “That's for our family name.” Then threw a punch deep into Lee's lower right mid-section, producing a cry of excruciating agony as his guards dropped him to the floor where he curled into a near fetal position. “And that's for my Tia who wept bitter tears,” he finished, stepping away as Lee groaned in unchecked pain escaping through attempts to breathe.
“Lee!” Harry called out, tugging against his captors' hold in vain, as one placed a gun to his head to stop his movements.
“I was right... acute appendicitis,” the General deadpanned and stepped away.
Chapter Three
No Stone Unturned
Ricardo headed to the hospital to interview the Embassy driver as Detta headed to the Embassy to examine the car.
“The car is here, we did not touch anything as you instructed,” the Garage Superintendent indicated as Detta walked around the vehicle, stopping as she scrutinized the angle the bullet entered the car. She donned rubber gloves and opened the door, spotting the bullet hole in the driver's seat, along with the blood. Then she followed the path of the bullet, finding a hole in the back seat behind the driver and instructed her forensic team to retrieve the bullet and take measurements. Next, she returned to the driver's side, turning the ignition and noting the gas gauge.
“When was the tank last fueled?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I will get the records, but we never send out a car with dignitaries without a full tank.”
“I would also like the odometer reading.”
“Of course,” the Superintendent agreed as the forensic team finished their work inside the car.
* * * * *
“Thank you for seeing me, Senor Jimenez,” Ricardo said amicably as the Embassy driver lie in the hospital bed.
“I will do everything in my power to help you find whoever did this,” Juarez Jimenez returned fervently.
Ricardo nodded and smiled reassuredly. “Just tell me everything you remember.”
“I picked up the two passengers assigned to me; Admiral Nelson and Captain Crane. We were driving back to their hotel when I spotted another car following our every turn. I wasn't comfortable with the situation so I tried to lose them, but I did not realize that there were several cars involved and they managed to corral us out of town. They forced us off the road, I started to get out but they shot me and threw a canister inside the car. That is all I remember.”
“And your passengers?”
“I do not know what became of them, the last I saw them they were still in the back seat.”
“Thank you, Senor Jimenez. I will be in contact if I have any further questions.”
Ricardo left the room and closed the door behind him.
“You are to guard him. No one but hospital staff is allowed in,” he instructed, then left instructions with the doctors concerning Jimenez before leaving to compare notes with Detta.
* * * * *
A moan escaped even before he gained lucidness as Lee reached for his side, tossing his head in pain.
“Easy Lee.”
Harry's voice penetrated the fog as Lee fought for complete awareness, fluttering his eyes open and finding the Admiral sitting on the cot beside him.
“Appendix?” he said with considerable effort.
“It had a little help,” Harry stated sympathetically.
“That part I remember,” Lee replied, swallowing hard then offering a small pained smile. “So what now?”
“You're out of action mister,” Harry returned in a mock order meant to lighten the mood. “We have about twelve hours, if we're lucky,” he qualified, “Before your need for surgery turns critical. Right now, you need to stay as still as possible,” Harry said fiddling with his belt buckle as he spoke. “Every movement you make will exasperate your condition,” he finished.
“What are you going to do?” Lee asked through airy breaths.
Harry pulled out his lock pick kit hidden in his belt seam, and smiled shrewdly. “I'm busting out and getting you some help,” he answered with a grin.
“You brought your picks to a diplomatic function?” Lee asked incredulously.
“Didn't you?”
“They're in the heel of my shoe,” Lee admitted with his own smile, as the two ONI spies shared a small moment of humor which immediately turned serious.
“Are you going to be alright, Lad?”
“I'll be fine.”
Harry added a pat to Lee's arm and stood.
“Admiral,” Lee called as Harry turned toward him. “Be careful, Sir.”
Harry offered a small tight-lipped smile that made his blue eyes twinkle, portraying all the confidence his twenty plus years as an ONI Operative afforded him, then headed for the cell door. The corridor was empty so he slid his hands through the bars and worked the lock. He turned for one last look Lee's way then slid silently into the hall.
* * * * *
Lee watched as Harry made his way out of the cell and grimaced for the pain. He hated feeling useless; lying here on the cot while Harry took all the chances, but right now he had a fire in his side that he could barely tolerate. The Admiral was right; every movement he made sent tendrils of fire about his gut that couldn't be ignored or worked through. Right now he had an enemy working inside his body, with pus and infection spreading throughout his stomach; all he could do was wait it out.
But if anything happened to Harry there wouldn't be any place on earth Esteban D'Alvarez could hide... He'd rise up off his death bed to make sure of that, he promised himself.
* * * * *
“What did you find out?” Ricardo asked Detta as they met at the spot where the embassy car was found.
“Several inconsistencies,” Detta reported, she had a brilliant mind for planning and therefore was an excellent choice for spotting holes in so-called alibis. “The bullet that struck the driver was fired at close range, it is from a pistol and yet the projectile went clean through the driver and his seat. We found the bullet embedded in the back seat.”
Ricardo's forehead tightened. “Blood trail?”
“Only from the driver, there's no indication that the bullet passed through a second body.”
“Which means Nelson and Crane were already out of the car when the shot was fired, but Jimenez claims the shot was fired with the two in the back seat.”
“I find that highly unlikely,” Detta responded. “They are both soldiers, they would not have been cowering in the backseat; they would have been fighting.”
“Agreed. Jimenez paints a picture of both men being quite docile. I did not believe him either.”
“There is more. The amount of fuel that was burned and the odometer indicate that the vehicle traveled much further than this point,” Detta went on.
“Jimenez claims he tried to lose his pursuers through the city.”
“I checked with the police precincts throughout the area; there are no reports of reckless driving of the magnitude that would have ensued if the driver were trying to evade pursuers.”
“I agree,” Ricardo said, looking over the odometer and the fuel consumption report his Co-Security Chief had worked up. “Someone, somewhere would have reported something to back-up Jimenez' statements. The hospital has orders not to discharge him and I have a guard posted. He is to receive no visitors or telephone communications.”
Detta nodded her agreement then referred Ricardo to a map spread across the hood of her car, pointing to a starting point with a half-circle forming a 180 degree arc.
“We are here,” she said pointing to the center dot. “This arc represents the greatest distance the driver could have traveled, starting from the Presidential Palace to some unknown point and then back to this point.”
Ricardo shook his head at Detta's efficiency, inwardly pleased for her deductions but having no time to offer anything more than his current agreement.
“There are settlements throughout the region,” he noted.
“Yes, but if the Opposition is based there then they must be among those friendly to their cause.”
“Agreed. We need to make contact with settlement leaders that are known to be loyal and eliminate those settlements from our grid.”
“I have begun some of that leg work,” she said, pointing to the map once again. “Diaz has been updating the map for me; these marks designate reports from outposts and leaders indicating no unusual traffic or sightings of Crane or Nelson.”
Ricardo studied the map, his eyebrows tightening as he quickly made his own assessment, while Detta watched him intensely. She knew Ricardo had a quick mind for working through details and was efficiently eliminating settlements in his mind with his own tactical skills. He had a high aptitude for covert action and his sometimes “hot head” was actually the reason he was so good at it, as he had a knack for judging situations quickly and acting upon the information to his advantage. Even his misunderstanding of Fuentes' actions while being held captive, caused him to be at the right time and place to aid the President. His ability to rightly judge the situation won out, even over the hate he had allowed to build in his heart. Once Ricardo's faith in the President had been restored, Fuentes could have no more loyal or trusted comrade than he.
“Have Diaz continue to update the map and make regular reports, I am going to investigate this region,” he said, drawing a circle to include four settlements. “D'Alvarez has kinsmen throughout this area,” he explained. “Do not inquire in this region, I don't want to alert them if I am right.”
“Understood. How many men do you want to accompany you?”
“None.”
“Ricardo...”
“If I am right, Detta, any large detail of troops whether in or out of uniform, will be relayed to D'Alvarez immediately. It is best to go in by myself.”
“I will go with you.”
“No, you must drive the investigation from here. If I am wrong, you will need to coordinate their rescue without delay.”
“Ricardo, you will not be welcome among D'Alvarez' kinsmen.”
“Planning 'impossible rescues' is what you do best. This is what I do best,” he said referring to his ability to operate covertly. “I will take a radio and report to you when I know more.”
“Be careful, my Love. I lost you once, I do not want to lose you again,” she offered with her affection openly expressed in her brown eyes.
Ricardo took her hand and kissed the palm lovingly, then went straight away to his car as Detta watched him drive away. She placed her deep concern for her husband neatly inside; the best way she could help Nelson, Crane and Ricardo was to do her job.
Chapter Four
The Admiral's
Escape
Harry moved along the hall grateful that there weren’t any guards posted. Theirs was the only cell occupied so he figured that was the reason for the lax security, but he fully expected to see a guard at the main door. He came to an open area and peered around the corner, sure enough a guard sat at a desk. Apparently there wasn't much to do with only two prisoners, as the guard rested his feet on the desk in a rather relaxed stance. There was no way around him, so Harry readied himself for a surprise attack. He had no weapon and would have to take the guard on with hand to hand combat, hopefully it would be a short scuffle as he needed to be on his way as soon as possible. He took as step toward his quarry when all of the sudden the guard's arm fell off his lap with an accompanied snore following.
Perfect, Harry thought as he quietly scooted behind the sleeping guard, placing a well-executed karate chop to the base of his neck. The guard woke wide-eyed, then instantly sank into unconsciousness as Harry relieved him of his weapon, dragged him into the hall and stashed the sentry into an empty cell. He needed the guard incapacitated in case he had to fight his way out with other guards further along, and he couldn't take a chance of the guard waking at some inopportune moment. He peered around the next corner spotting a second guard leaning against a wall with his arms folded across his chest. Harry moved out of sight and cleared his throat loudly.
“Enrique? Is that you?”
Harry smiled and followed it up with a cough, which did the trick as he heard the steps of the guard close the distance. Harry held the barrel of his rifle tightly ready to use as a club, then waited for the right time. As soon as the guard rounded the corner he struck first with a blow to his gut then wielded a blow to his back dropping the guard, but just as Harry closed in for the final blow the guard grabbed his foot, pulling him off balance as he fell backwards. The guard grabbed a fistful of collar and issued a devastating blow as Harry fought back stars dancing around his head. Quickly, the Admiral took advantage of his position and issued the strongest kick he could muster into the guard's shin, sending him waddling back in obvious pain. Harry lunged forward to finish him off, as both men had lost their weapons in the fray. He issued a blow to the jaw, which was unexpectedly returned as the resilient guard countered with two follow-up blows.
This was taking was longer than Harry expected, as he issued a body blow deep into the guard's gut followed by a swift uppercut that sent him back against the wall. Harry knew he needed to finish him off, so he moved forward with combination punches. The final blow sent the guard's head back hard against the wall with a trail of blood following as he slid down. Harry grabbed a rifle and headed for the door, wiping his bloody mouth as he opened the door a crack to see if the compound was empty. He was exceedingly glad that the Opposition was obviously a very small movement at this point as the courtyard was empty, just as it had been when he and Lee were ushered through earlier. He had already scouted out his best escape option on that first trip and headed straight for the stone stairs ahead. He surmised that the stairs would wind around the compound, hopefully to an outer wall and to freedom.
Harry took to the stairs, quickly finding cover in the shadows as it wound around. He had to stop once, when he heard several guards talking as they walked across the compound. Thankfully, they headed away from the cell to another building, more than likely the barracks as Harry continued forward until he came to a small passage with a rod iron gate at the end. It was secured with a pad lock, but he made quick work of it with his picks then slowly opened the gate hoping it didn't creak his whereabouts. He took the time to close the gate and reapply the pad lock knowing it was always best not to leave a bread crumb trail to one’s getaway.
Harry took two steps down and stopped to survey the best escape route. He was in the middle of a settlement with other houses and buildings nearby, but he figured the best option was to get as far as he could before stopping to make a phone call. He couldn't take a chance of running into an Opposition sympathizer this close to the compound, so he finished his downward descent and picked the direction that would lead him back to the Capital City.
* * * * *
Lee lay on his cot listening intently for any sounds that would indicate the Admiral had been caught. He was relieved when fifteen minutes passed without any sounds of a ruckus; no gunfire; and no parading of an escaped prisoner back to his cell.
He closed his eyes and swallowed hard as the fire in his side nearly did him in and was just about to drift off to sleep, when he heard the sounds of someone calling for help. Lee sharpened his ears then smiled as he realized that the voice was a guard who had been waylaid and apparently incarcerated in one of his own cells. He would have laughed if it hadn't hurt so much. He closed his eyes and heaved a grateful sigh... Harry had escaped, that he was sure of.
* * * * *
Ricardo drove to the first settlement, one of four he suspected as highly probable to aid the D'Alvarez family. He couldn't just go door to door looking for someone willing to talk, there were still Opposition sympathizers that considered him public enemy Number Two, right behind Fuentes. What he was looking for were clues of Opposition movements, activities, and a place large enough to house not only the organization, but the ample ego of Esteban D'Alvarez; a man he knew all too well.
Esteban was named for his uncle and was being prepped as his Second in Command. He was away from the Capital City when Crane and the prize crew were kidnapped. Indeed, he had been dispatched to find and eliminate a key Resistance leader who had taken refuge as a Liaison to the United States; one Ricardo Galdez. The General's nephew had proven himself as the regime's top hit man and had never failed an assignment; that is until he lost Galdez in Washington DC. By the time he returned to the homeland the prisoners had escaped, Fuentes had been freed, his Uncle had been killed, and Ricardo Galdez was now actively leading the Resistance once again. In all accounts he had failed. And by all accounts, every path of his failure led young Esteban D'Alvarez back to one man, Ricardo Galdez.
Ricardo knew the history all too well, and with the D'Alvarez family scattered throughout the region he knew he was a marked man. As he drove through the small village he noted smaller houses, not the larger hacienda type compounds of other outlying communities. He quickly eliminated the village as not having the resources to attend to Esteban's lavish needs and moved to the next settlement on his list.
“Detta, this is Ricardo.”
“Si Ricardo, go ahead.”
“I am moving onto the second village, there is no indication that the General is operating here. Any news from your end?”
“We are still receiving reports, so far everything is negative.”
“Very well, I will check the next village.”
Ricardo signed off and drove to his next destination, a village with more resources, larger homes and therefore the better lead. He only hoped that his drive through this village hadn't set off any alarms to alert the General.
* * * * *
Harry moved off the main thoroughfare, an aged paved road that had long since lost the majority of its pavement. The landscape had ample cover with trees and bushes, flourishing in the hot desert region due to its subtropical weather which sported plenteous rainy seasons offset by dry summers. He bypassed the first Hacienda he came across as the estate appeared too prosperous, something he figured marked the owners as Opposition sympathizers as no one could mistake the comings and goings of the nearby compound as anything but suspicious. He moved on with the heat of the day bearing down on him and ignoring the bruises he had sustained in his fight with the second guard.
Just my luck, Harry thought to himself, To go mano y mano with the South American heavy weight champion, he finished in a sarcastic scoff, knowing it took far too many blows to finally bring the guard down.
He could see another estate up ahead as he followed the power poles, which also housed the telephone wires. All he needed was a call to the Palace, the Embassy was out of the question as their driver was obviously a plant. He planned on using the private number used by diplomats, but only if he could reach Ricardo or Detta directly, they were the only two people he trusted at the moment.
Harry took a step and fell, weakened by the hot sun and the lack of water. He wasn't done in, not yet; so he picked himself up and moved along with determination in his steps, mentally counting down the hours to the deadline he had given himself. He told Lee he had twelve hours, but Harry knew that was under the best of conditions. The burst appendix was spreading infection, and poisoning Lee with every untreated hour that passed. Harry knew all too well that time was now allied to the enemy; Lee needed surgery and he needed it now.
* * * * *
“Where is he?”
Lee was shocked to wakefulness by rough handling as he was raised by the shirt collar while he lay on the cot, groaning loudly as his side protested the movement.
“I said, 'Where is he'?” the General demanded.
“Who?” Lee asked, knowing full well he was looking for Harry.
“Where is Nelson?” D'Alvarez asked again, his face in a tight snarl as he shook Lee.
Lee suppressed his groan with considerable concentration as he spoke between shallow breaths.
“How should I know? He's your prisoner, you keep track of him,” he answered defiantly as D'Alvarez' eyes turned even darker. He wheeled back and threw a heavy blow into Lee's jaw dropping him back to the cot as his eyelids dropped heavily with the mistreatment.
The General stepped back, breathing hard for the rage that ran through him.
“Find him. Nelson is the key to the deal we made with our Allies, without him we don't hold a high enough stake to guarantee a return on their investment. They'll turn their back on us without Nelson,” D'Alvarez predicted and withdrew from the cell.
“What about Crane?”
“He may still serve our cause,” D'Alvarez said, stopping and turning back to look at his prisoner. “But not if he dies... I will contact the Doctor.”
Lee heard the cell door lock again and opened his eyes, watching D'Alvarez walk away. He cracked a small smile, checked by pain as he grimaced and swallowed hard. At least he knew Harry had successfully escaped; with any luck the Doctor would bring antibiotics and buy him some time. He wasn't happy with the idea of a field surgery out in the middle of the desert and sincerely hoped that the Doctor wasn't a quack. He shook off the thought. It was better to think positively, he admonished himself, as he closed his eyes to manage the heightened pain in his side.
* * * * *
Ricardo's car had no government markings on it, but the fact that he was driving a late model vehicle was in itself, a dead give-away. The country was still recovering from an oppressive regime, so his vehicle indicated either a very affluent gentleman or a “Government Man.” He hadn't been oblivious to this fact, but he simply didn't have the luxury of time to find more suitable transportation. It was likely the reason that the streets of the second settlement had gone eerily quiet. Upon his arrival in the village he had seen children playing, farm workers in the fields, and outdoor vendors in the market... but now it was like driving through a ghost town.
He was among D'Alvarez’ most staunch supporters, family members and friends who would have risen with him should he had stayed in power. Others who didn't share in the Opposition's views kept silent protecting their livelihood among the community, fearing boycott of their goods and services and in a few cases, even for their lives. So with this information in hand, Ricardo found it very interesting to spot a man leave his large hacienda in a late model sedan and head east, toward the third settlement on his list. Ricardo turned off the road to avoid the well-dressed man's attention, the black medical bag he carried giving away his profession. It was a long shot Ricardo knew, but a good one. He only hoped that the Doctor's services weren't needed by the subjects of his search. Ricardo watched as the car headed out of town, then pulled out to follow at a safe distance.
* * * * *
Harry reached a large hacienda on the outskirts of the village, he hadn't felt secure with the farms and houses along the way, but short of a long walk in the desert without water, he didn't have much choice but to take a chance. He was drawn to this hacienda by the fact that one of the out buildings on the estate had both power and telephone wires leading to it. He hoped to use the phone in this building and avoid the main house altogether. His mouth was dry and he was in real need of a long drink of water, but he would attend to that later, his first priority was to alert the authorities to their whereabouts. Harry slinked around the back of the building and listened at a window before looking in to case the building. He couldn't be sure the owners weren't Opposition sympathizers, so his best chance was to make the phone call stealthily. He raised the window and climbed in sinking to the floor and finding immediate cover. The wires running from the main pole to the building indicated a phone set up, he only hoped it was in place and operational as he made his way toward a room he deemed to be an office. The lateness of the day was working for him as it was close to supper time, apparently the reason the building was currently empty. Harry made his way into the office and thankfully found it empty. He headed straight for the phone and dialed the direct phone number to the Presidential Palace.
“Ricardo Galdez, Presidential Security Chief,” Harry answered to the switchboard's greeting, while listening for sounds from outside.
“Senor Galdez is unavailable.”
“Senora Galdez then...”
“Senora Galdez is unavailable...”
“This is Admiral Nelson of the US Delegacy, now get me one of the Galdez', and I suggest you get them soon,” he ordered.
“Un momento, por favor.”
Harry avoided tapping out his irritation on the small desk as he waited impatiently for the reply.
“Admiral Nelson!” he heard and sighed in relief at the familiar voice on the phone, though it was apparent by the bad connection that the call had been patched through to a remote location.
“Detta, listen I may not have much time...”
Harry was just about ready to relay their whereabouts with the general direction relative to the Capital City, when a loud report was instantly followed by a searing pain as a bullet ripped through his left side. Harry dropped the phone in pain and fell in a heap, the shock of the wound sending him into a dark void.
At the door, a man held a smoking gun as he watched Admiral Nelson fall. He walked across the room, picked up the receiver and ended the call with a press of a button, then dialed a new number.
“Tell the General that I have the man he is looking for... Si, Nelson.”
Chapter Five
Esteban's Prizes
“Nelson! Nelson!” Detta called, hearing the unmistakable sound of gunfire cutting off the Admiral in mid-sentence. The open line was then silenced as Detta heard the “click” of the phone hanging up. Quickly she began the process of back-tracking the call, hoping that the operator had followed standard security procedures.
* * * * *
Ricardo followed the car ahead of him, careful to keep his distance by keeping the natural curves of the road produced by the hilly landscape in between the two cars. He was banking on the fact that the man he was tailing was a Doctor, not a spy. Perhaps he would be focused on his obvious medical call and ignore the car occasionally showing up in his rear view mirror. At any rate, this was the only road to the next village and if he were lucky, he'd be able to spot which hacienda the Doctor arrived at before ditching the car.
He was rounding a corner when he caught sight of an oncoming covered troop truck in the distance; this was definitely bad news as he wasn't aware of any active military operation in this region. The country hadn’t sold its surplus military equipment, so that left the vehicle as a possible asset of the Opposition. The truck turned into a lonely hacienda sitting on the outskirts of the village. He pulled off the road into suitable coverage, cursing his luck as the Doctor's car widened his following distance. He needed to be careful; having a country doctor wondering who was behind him was a completely different venture than having a troop truck decide he needed to be questioned.
He watched the truck pull into the long driveway then lost it in the greenery of the landscape, and thought perhaps it was safe to continue after the Doctor. He started to put the car in gear just as his portable radio came to life.
“Come in Ricardo.”
“Go ahead Detta.”
“Nelson contacted us, but something went wrong. I heard gunfire, then lost the connection.”
Ricardo's eyes narrowed at the new information as Detta continued.
“We traced the call back to Tierra Fertil...”
“I am headed there now, I was following a Doctor into the village but I may have lost him.”
“I will bring backup, but how will we find Nelson and Crane in time? They will execute their prisoners if they feel they have lost,” Detta predicted.
“I think I have a way,” Ricardo replied as he watched the troop truck pull back onto the road and head back to Tierra Fertil. “I'm going to make sure I don't lose them,” he said confidently.
“How will you do that?”
Ricardo responded with a half-crooked smile that Detta couldn't see. “By getting caught... I'm activating the homing device in the radio, follow it.” With that he cut off his communication and turned the radio over, opening the backing and retrieving the small button like transponder. He ensconced it into his pocket and pulled out onto the road, closing the distance on the truck at high speed.
* * * * *
“Ricardo!” Detta yelled into the radio, then tossed it aside knowing that her husband had turned it off, more than likely to silence her protests. She knew full well that Ricardo had put his life on the line with the plan; he was a hated man among the Opposition and she feared what they might do to him in retaliation for their defeat.
She had no time however, for sorrow or fear; Ricardo was counting on her to find Nelson and Crane. Detta moved quickly to mobilize a Special Operation's Unit, praying silently they would get there on time.
* * * * *
Ricardo sped his car to close the distance on his pursuit, his approach in the side mirrors not missed by the truck driver. He easily overtook the truck and feigned an attempt to stop the vehicle by pulling his car ahead and spinning to a stop to block the road. The result was the truck slamming on its brakes but ramming the car broadside on the passenger side. The impact was devastating to the car, but produced only minimal damage to the truck as Ricardo leaned against the window with blood running down the side of his face. Two soldiers pulled him roughly from the front seat and deposited him into the back of the truck, then pushed the car off the road and continued on its way to D'Alvarez' stronghold.
The driver picked up the radio, reporting his successful mission.
“Inform the General that we have Nelson... and another surprise for him.” He smiled, knowing D'Alvarez would be pleased by the prize he was delivering while silently pondering what his reward might be.
* * * * *
Harry felt the tension in the truck heighten as he worked his eyes open. He only had a moment to consider the burning pain in his side and the fact that he had failed to bring help for Lee, when the truck slammed on its brakes. A loud screeching noise was followed by a louder bang as the impact jarred the truck, adding to his pain and invoking more bleeding from beneath his fingers. He swallowed hard, still breathing heavily when another prisoner joined the party. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust from the sudden sunlight, as the canvas was parted to load the soldiers and their new “passenger”. He didn't know whether to curse Ricardo's luck or praise his ingenuity in finding him... somehow he thought it was the latter and offered no hint of recognition for the soldiers to report.
* * * * *
“My General,” Dr. Salcedo greeted with a handshake.
“Doctor, I am pleased you responded so quickly.”
“Si, I was told a burst appendix?”
“Yes, but I have another patient who takes precedence at this point.”
“If I could just see the patient, I could confirm the diagnosis and start him on antibiotics...”
“He can wait; your greater concern will be focused on an incoming prisoner.”
Salcedo nodded in agreement, silently holding back his concern as the various dangers of a burst appendix ran through his mind. He wasn't an Opposition supporter, personally he felt the country was headed in the right direction with Fuentes back at the helm, but he had family in these villages and he couldn't abandon them just because he had the resources to leave himself. So he cared for whoever called for his services, including the young general who Salcedo believed to be just as evil as his uncle before him.
He was just a country doctor and no match for people like this, or the backlash from their family scattered throughout the region. So he did his best to fit in and silently hoped the new government would get a handle on the seditious family. He wasn't privy to the plans of D'Alvarez and had no clue what was at stake, nor the importance of the prisoners he now held. He would do the best he could, but what can a country doctor do against a man like this? he wondered silently.
* * * * *
The truck entered the compound as D'Alvarez waited with Salcedo. Nelson was carried in on a stretcher as the General motioned the doctor to his patient.
“Take him to a cell, you will treat him there,” D'Alvarez ordered as the doctor offered no resistance, though he much preferred to have cared for the injury in a clean guest room.
The General looked with approval as the soldiers escorted in their second prisoner.
“Ah... this must be the 'surprise' you promised me Jorge.”
The driver smiled as the soldiers held their prisoner firmly by the arms.
“Ricardo Galdez,” D'Alvarez stated in a superior tone. “I was charged with your execution over two years ago, the stars must smile on me now to bring you to my feet.” He stopped to add a seedy smile, accentuating his next words with obvious lust. “And how is that lovely wife of yours?”
Ricardo tugged against his guard’s hold in vain, pursing his bottom lip and shooting daggers from his dark intense eyes, as Esteban continued to taunt his prisoner.
“I always thought she was a beauty, she keeps your bed warm at night?”
Ricardo tugged all the harder. “You pig!”
“Perhaps when I retake the country I will take her for my own...”
With that Ricardo broke free and managed to lay a powerful blow to D'Alvarez' jaw before the guards overtook him once more. The general extended his tongue, licking the blood running down his mouth and took a step forward.
“You will regret that Galdez; you will regret a great many things,” he promised, then descended upon Ricardo issuing heavy blows over and over until he hung between his captors in pain and exhaustion.
“Take him away,” D'Alvarez said with a toss of his head. “I will deal with him later, my Uncle’s blood will be avenged appropriately.”
Ricardo was dragged toward the cell block, silently counting on Detta to plan that 'impossible rescue' he had hoped for earlier.
Chapter Six
Impossible Rescue
“The helicopter will approach from the west where there are little homesteads and no tele-wire services to alert our presence. We will land here,” Detta instructed, pointing to the map as she briefed the Special Ops Team and continued. “...Taking the remaining three miles on foot to avoid detection.”
“That will take time,” the Lieutenant observed.
“Yes but necessary. D'Alvarez will not give up easily, and once his options are gone he will execute his prisoners; he has done it before. We must enter the compound and attack. You have each been outfitted with a small breathing unit in case the General uses Lethium again. You have a small air supply, so do not activate your breathers unless you suspect the gas is in use. Our first priority is to free Nelson and Crane; satellite photos provided by the Americans show this is the most likely building for the cell block,” she explained, pointing to a specific spot on the photo.
“Our operative's homing beacon is still active and has not moved from its present coordinates, he is our second extraction target, but only after Nelson and Crane are safe,” she explained as the Team nodded their understanding.
“Questions? Good then let's get going,” Detta ordered as the Team boarded the helicopter, all dressed in desert brown fatigues and loaded with equipment and gear.
Detta took her seat near the pilots and donned a radio set as the chopper took off, her heart torn between her desire to find Ricardo and her duty to save Nelson and Crane first. But she was confident Ricardo was still alive, she would accept nothing less and buckled her seat belt firmly across her lap.
* * * * *
Lee heard multiple steps enter the hall and rose painfully on an elbow at the sight of a stretcher being placed on the cot in the cell across from his. His vision was blocked by guards and a doctor working on a prisoner, but the patient’s khaki uniform pants and auburn hair gave away his identity. Grasping his side he moved to a sitting position to get a better look, as Harry's head turned toward him. Their eyes locked as their mutual concern for one another passed silently. Harry offered a thin half-smile signaling he was okay, before the doctor began administering a local anesthetic causing a temporary grimace, then closed his eyes to deal with the soft tugs of the sutures closing his wounds.
Lee watched as long as he could before his body demanded he lay down once again, the movement sending coils of pain too sharp to ignore. He curled to curb the pain, all the while observing the doctor's care of his best friend.
* * * * *
Ricardo found his feet beneath him and worked hard to keep up with the guards’ steps as he neared the cell block. He was relieved to note that D’Alvarez wasn’t nearly as organized as they feared, lacking personnel to guard the cells properly; that would help in the coming assault. He was thrown into a cell and lay on the stone floor for a moment gathering his strength until he realized he wasn't alone. A moan from one of the cots caught his attention as he made his way over to his cell mate.
“Crane,” he whispered, so as not to alert the soldiers guarding the doctor while he worked on Nelson.
Crane's eyes opened slowly, studying the face before him until his vision cleared in recognition.
“Ricardo? What happened to you?”
Ricardo shrugged his shoulders, “D'Alvarez doesn't like me much,” he quipped, vaguely explaining the abundance of bruises and scuff marks on his face. “And you?”
“The flu turned out to appendicitis, it burst... with a little help.”
Ricardo nodded, not needing any more information to fill in the blanks.
“What do you know of the Admiral?” Lee asked with a furled forehead of concern.
“Only that he was shot, a straight through. From what I saw it was a clean shot, he should be fine.”
Lee nodded, accepting Ricardo's assessment knowing he had plenty of experience with gunshot wounds while leading the Resistance.
“You must rest now,” he said, looking back as it appeared the doctor was finishing up on his patient and retreated to the other cot in the cell.
Casually he reached and felt the small button in his pocket. It was small enough to be missed by the guard, who was looking for a weapon not a transponder, subsequently missing the device on his pat down. Ricardo lay on the cot, splaying a hand over his broken ribs to rest. At least they were all together now; he only hoped D’Alvarez would be content to leave all three men in their cells until Detta’s assault team showed up.
* * * * *
Salcedo stood up and washed his hands in the cell's small sink as Harry lay with his shirt discarded and a white bandage across his middle.
“He is stable, and will recover with rest. He also needs another blanket,” he instructed a guard while drying his hands. “Is that my other patient?” he asked the other guard.
“I do not need him, now that I have Nelson back,” Dr. Salcedo heard as General D'Alvarez entered the cell block.
“With the General's permission, I will diagnose the patient. I can stabilize his condition by starting antibiotics; without it your options will be limited for this one,” he returned coldly, knowing the General would only be influenced by what could directly benefit his plans.
“No Dr. Salcedo. That one is responsible for my uncle's death,” he said referring to Lee, followed by a tilt of his head toward Ricardo. “That one is a traitor to his country. I have special things in mind for both of them.”
Dr. Salcedo held back his disgust at the General's disregard for life and kept himself silent; he didn't see how he could help anyone if he were incarcerated, or worse.
“When will Nelson be able to speak? I need him to send a video transmission.”
“I had to give him pain medication. I'd say about two or three hours before he is ready.”
D'Alvarez snarled his lips in disgust. “You should not have medicated him.”
“A thousand pardons, my General, but he would have been of very little use to you without it.”
D'Alvarez cooled his temper and placed a hand on the Doctor's shoulder. “You are a wise man, I will find a place for you in the new Regime,” he promised then led Salcedo out of the cell block.
* * * * *
The helicopter landed undetected three miles from their target as Detta and her Team filed out, checked their gear then began a hasty approach through the foliage rich landscape of the subtropical desert. Their insertion zone was picked for the most direct travelable distance to the compound, ample cover to hide their movements, and the absence of farm houses between them.
Detta was an excellent planner and strategizer; she had proven her skills to plan out many attacks, counter-attacks and rescue operations as a Resistance Leader. She was a marksman with firearms, but not an expert in hand to hand combat. She did however, have a few tricks up her sleeve, enough to make her formidable on this or any mission... and there was no way she was going to lead this mission from a safe radio, 200 kilometers from the action.
* * * * *
Harry heard a distressed moan and fought his way out from under his pain medication. He pondered for a moment, that the moan had been his own as his side still protested despite the meds in his system. He took a breath in, careful not to invoke a full lung capacity; his side and back feeling every movement as his local anesthetic wore off.
He heard the moan again and turned his head toward the sound in the cell across from his. Lee's head tossed side to side as he groaned, holding his mid-section as another man tried to aid his distressed friend. It took a moment for his head to completely clear before recognizing Galdez.
“How is he, Ricardo?” Harry asked, slowly rising with his hand against his side. His bloody shirt was discarded on the floor, which explained the solid green fatigue shirt he wore, though completely unbuttoned.
Ricardo turned, relieved to see that his assessment of the Admiral's wounds were correct.
“He has deteriorated this last hour, he is much worse,” Ricardo replied moving to the bars to talk as Harry walked slow deliberate steps to his own bars.
“He needs surgery,” Harry replied looking over Lee's condition for himself.
“There is hope, Admiral,” Ricardo said, pulling the small button transponder just far enough out of his pocket for Harry to see, then returning it quickly to avoid detection.
Harry breathed out a soft sigh, while holding onto the bars to keep himself steady. He was only hours out of the doctor's procedure to clean his wounds and stitch up both the entrance and exit wounds. The necessary care had added to the discomfort, his pain meds were wearing off, and the blood loss had left him considerably weakened.
“You must rest,” Ricardo suggested. “I will watch over him.”
Harry cracked a small half-smile. “But who will watch over you?” Harry asked noting the obvious beating Ricardo had sustained.
“If all goes well... my wife,” he replied with his own small smile.
Harry nodded, relenting to Ricardo's good advice and moved back to his cot.
“I want to know if he wakes up,” he admonished to Ricardo's affirmative nod, then positioned himself back on the cot with great care. The local anesthetics had worn off and the pain meds he received hadn't been the good stuff. Probably for the best, he thought silently while managing the pain from moving too soon. I'll be of more use to Lee if I'm not dim-witted from pain meds, he thought resolutely and then allowed sleep to take him to a place where the pain receded, if only temporarily.
* * * * *
“And you have the American Admiral in your possession?”
“He is in my prison cell now. He was wounded, but my Doctor assures me he will recover,” General D'Alvarez said as he spoke with his allies via the video telecom equipment left behind from the Regime's prior association. Esteban was dressed in full military bloom, with an array of service pins and medals that were questionably his, being of such young age. Nonetheless, he looked the part of a General while carrying himself with the same air of arrogancy of his uncle before him.
“We must see Nelson for ourselves,” the Asian officer announced. “You understand that your organization is dangerously weak, we must ascertain whether our investment in your cause will bring about a suitable return.”
Esteban D'Alvarez held in the distaste of very nearly being summarily dismissed as a player too small to reckon with, and drew instead upon the perceived nobility of his family name.
“But of course, my Friend,” he relented in false civility. “I will send for Nelson, then we will discuss the advantages of continuing our mutually beneficial association.”
The Asian Colonel raised an appraising eyebrow, as if he wasn't convinced of the facts just yet and signed off.
D'Alvarez dropped his pretense of friendship once the monitor darkened and immediately called for all three prisoners to be brought to the Communication's Room. By producing Crane, another high level American officer, and Galdez the former Resistance Leader, he would show he was still a force to be reckoned with, he calculated.
The young man looked much like his uncle, only he wore his hair long and pulled into a pony tail. His arrogance was noticeably distasteful, indeed his uncle had warned him that his Allies were less impressed with youth and had consequently kept him from any direct negotiations. This displeased the younger D'Alvarez greatly, as he despised being dismissed for any reason. If he didn't need the Lethium gas or the financial support he'd have nothing to do with the foreign leeches, he thought with a visible snarl.
The General was also fully aware that this was his last chance at retaking the Regime. A strong show of military and monetary support from his Allies would give disgruntled countrymen the confidence to join him. Without the support, his personal Revolution would fail. He had nothing to offer the hard-working citizens of his country but his own idea of government, ruled by a firm hand with the tools of terror and dictatorship as his means of control. He offered rewards to those who joined him and terror to those who opposed him. Indeed, he was well aware he wouldn't win the country by the people's will, but by sheer force. Everything rode on his uncle's Allies and their aid.
Chapter Seven
“Her”
Harry roused at the sounds of the multiple guards in the cell block, sitting up gingerly as his body acclimated to the new position. The guards opened both cell doors and indicated that all prisoners were required by the General.
“Crane can't be moved,” Harry demanded more than stated.
“He cannot walk,” Ricardo joined in, stepping away from Lee at the guard's insistence.
“Then we will carry him,” the lead guard announced.
“No you will not,” Harry countered. “If I remember correctly, your General needs me to make a video call, I assume he needs me lucid to convince his Allies that I will be of future use,” he said as the guards approached Lee. One held Ricardo at gunpoint as two started to pull Seaview's Captain from the cot, eliciting excruciating pain at the sudden movement and invoking a loud cry of discomfort.
“Move him and I guarantee you'll have to shoot me again to keep me from ripping your throats out,” Harry promised darkly.
The lead guard backed off, not used to making command decisions and fearing for his life if he should make the wrong one in this case.
“Leave him, I will confer with the General when we return,” he ordered, invoking false confidence in his decision.
Harry held back an outward sigh of relief and shrugged off the foreign fatigue shirt.
“Hand me my shirt, I'm not being displayed in a foreign uniform,” he ordered as the guards quickly obeyed, acquiescing to his authority even though he was their prisoner.
Harry donned the bloody shirt favoring his injured side, then buttoned up, taking the time to tuck his shirt in as Ricardo was restrained with his arms tied behind his back. The guards then surrounded their prized prisoners, as the two were led away to meet General D'Alvarez.
* * * * *
Lee was deep in a pained sleep when he was jolted by rough handling, he groaned out a near primal cry at the unexpected pain, while fighting for his lucidness as the sounds of voices were barely recognizable to his ears. Indeed, the pain very nearly took him back to unconsciousness again, before he was able to discern Harry's voice. He focused in on it like an anchor and pulled himself out of the darkness to stay awake, though he was still unable to fully understand the conversation. His eyes fluttered open just in time to see Ricardo being led away with Harry by his side. The blossom of blood on the back of his shirt sent tendrils of deep concern throughout his body as he breathed heavily, feeling more pain that he could remember in a long time.
He tested his ability to move and found himself more a prisoner of his body's pain than the actual prison cell at present. He laid back in defeat, praying desperately for the strength to help Harry.
* * * * *
“Where is Crane?” D'Alvarez demanded upon seeing only two of the three prisoners he had summoned.
“Admiral Nelson insisted he be left in his cell,” the lead guard stammered.
“Admiral Nelson is my prisoner, not your commander!” D'Alvarez yelled back, as the veins on the side of his neck bulged in rage.
“But my General, he threatened to revolt. We knew you needed him without further harm...”
“Callate!” D'Alvarez yelled, losing his cool and silencing his men with his command to 'shut-up'.
Harry watched the display pondering if perhaps D'Alvarez was losing control of more than just his temper; he would look for a way to capitalize on it.
“Get Crane,” he demanded.
“Not if you want anything from me,” Harry interceded as D'Alvarez wheeled about.
“You are hardly in a position to demand anything, Nelson.”
“Perhaps,” Harry said in a tone that didn't concede to the General's statement. “But I'll wager that your Allies expect me to be well enough to interrogate sooner or later and I can guarantee you this, General: If you move Crane and exasperate his condition any more than it is then you'll have to shoot me, because I'll come after you with everything I've got,” he threatened.
D'Alvarez laughed unconvincingly. “You are an old dog with no teeth, Admiral Nelson.”
“Try me,” he returned darkly.
The young General didn't have time for this confrontation and he was quickly losing face with his men as Nelson's inner strength produced a commanding air. He stepped forward in an attempt to regain control, issuing a backhand across Harry's face.
“What difference does it make to me old man...” he snarled, “...if Crane rots in his cell or here in front of my men? Either way he will be dead by morning,” D'Alvarez stated, bluffing that it was his decision and not Nelson's he was acquiescing to.
“Now Nelson, time for you to look a bit more like an Admiral,” he continued regaining his arrogant, superior tone as he motioned for Harry's uniform jacket to hide the blood from his gunshot wound.
“And now, you will stand here...” he said, placing Harry between two guards who donned dark sunglasses to look the part of an elite menacing force.
“And you Galdez... you will be my grand finale. You will stand there,” he directed. “You will be executed in front of my Allies and it will be recorded for Fuentes to see,” he announced proudly then stepped back to taunt Ricardo.
“Soon you will be dead,” he threatened. “And I will have your woman,” D'Alvarez declared while running a repulsive tongue over his lips.
Ricardo scoffed a shallow laugh. “Detta is more woman that you can handle and you are not man enough for her,” he jeered in a major jab to D'Alvarez' manliness. “She is used to a man with greater virility... you will not be able to satisfy her.”
The General reacted about how he expected he would, by closing in and delivering powerful blows of frustration to Ricardo's face and body. The guards at his arms kept Ricardo from falling as he bore up under the beating till D'Alvarez tired himself and stepped away.
Ricardo breathed heavily, suppressing a smile. The beating was worth the dis on D'Alvarez' machismo besides, he feared less the General and more what Detta would do to him when she found out about the coarse conversation he had dragged her into.
D'Alvarez stepped back and worked hard to compose himself. He needed to make contact with his Allies; he needed their support as his options were just about gone. If he didn't capitalize on the prizes now in his possession, he feared the Regime would never rise again.
* * * * *
Harry watched the entire scene from across the room. He recognized that Ricardo had played upon the General's current lack of control and raised an eyebrow at the less than appropriate conversation regarding Detta. He was sure Ricardo was going to have a little explaining to do when she caught up with him. Nevertheless it was a good move, as D'Alvarez was more off his game than ever. Everything was falling apart on the General, that Harry was sure of. Now if they could only help it along a little.
Harry caught some movement out of the corner of his eye and looked across the room in recognition, then nodded a minute negative. If they waited, this might just seal the Opposition's doom.
* * * * *
Note: Scene takes place
before D'Alvarez' confrontation with Ricardo.
A single man watched as Admiral Nelson and Galdez were marched into the Communication's Room. He stayed long enough to hear that Crane was still in the cell block and slipped out easily as the guards ignored him, their attention currently being spent on the exchange between their commanding officer and Nelson.
He headed across the courtyard to the cell block and stood at the duty guard's desk.
“The General wants me to check on Crane,” he stated flatly, hoping the guard didn't verify the orders. The guard practically yawned his boredom, grabbed the key and ushered the man down the hall.
They had barely keyed the cell door open when a rush of soldiers in brown desert fatigues fell in behind them, training guns on the hapless men as they were pushed against the wall and frisked.
“It's Crane, Commander,” a Special Ops soldier reported, finding Lee in a cell.
Detta entered the cell noting the deep pain lines in Lee's face.
“Crane?” she called.
Lee's eyes fluttered open, his mid-section racked with nearly unbearable pain. He spotted Detta but found himself struggling to even speak.
“Are you injured?” she asked, seeing no blood and only minor facial bruising that didn't indicate the kind of pain he was currently expressing.
“It's not what you think,” Dr. Salcedo interjected over his shoulder. “It's acute appendicitis and I must be allowed to treat him,” he finished, still facing the wall with the guard beside him.
Detta stepped toward him, sizing him up along with the medical bag at his feet.
“Where are Nelson and Galdez?” she demanded, not sure where Salcedo's loyalties lay.
“They were with the General in the Communication's Room when I left. Now please, I risked everything to get here. If I don't begin treatment he will not make it to the hospital.”
Detta looked back at Crane and quickly made her decision.
“Lock the guard in that cell,” she instructed her men. “You stay with the Doctor,” she ordered another Team member. “The rest of you follow me.”
Before leaving the cell she leaned down, connecting with the pained eyes of Seaview's Captain, barely open in small slits.
“We will find them,” she promised and then turned swiftly on her heels to lead the way.
* * * * *
“Make contact with our Friends,” D'Alvarez ordered, primping his hair back in place and adjusting his uniform before moving to stand in front of the camera.
“General D'Alvarez,” the Colonel greeted. “You have something significant to share with us?”
“Two things actually,” Esteban proclaimed proudly, then stepped aside so that the Colonel could see behind him. “Admiral Harriman Nelson,” he introduced.
The Colonel nodded and smiled, clearly pleased with D'Alvarez' acquisition.
“And my other surprise,” D'Alvarez said, motioning for his men to bring Ricardo into view.
“None other than Fuentes' Personal Security Chief and former Resistance Leader, Ricardo Galdez.”
“Impressive D'Alvarez,” the Colonel complimented. “You may do what you want with Galdez, but we are most interested in Nelson.”
“I thought you might say that. I also have Commander Crane, but he is mine. He was directly responsible for my uncle's death and I claim the right to deal with him my way,” he said, feeling much more in control, and still not willing to believe that the deadly knife wound had been inflicted by Captain Serra, a Resistance Operative deep within D'Alvarez' administration.
“Crane is a liability. Deal with him as you please, but make sure he is dead when you are done.”
“With pleasure, Colonel,” he said, then turned toward Harry with a victorious smile. “Well Nelson, is there anything you wish to say to my new Allies?”
Harry nodded casually. “No... No, I believe I'll let her speak for me.”
D'Alvarez turned with a crinkled forehead. “Her?”
* * * * *
Detta and her Team made their way to the Communication's Room, previously identified from the satellite photos the Americans had supplied. They silently took out stray guards along the way, hearing the tell-tale sounds of someone receiving a beating in the room up ahead. They settled alongside the door frame in the hall, listening to the sounds inside the room to determine the situation. Detta risked a look inside and spotted D'Alvarez stepping away from Ricardo, obviously the brunt of the beating they heard. She couldn't rush in for his sake, she needed to scout out the entire room. She scanned and found Nelson who acknowledged her presence with his eyes, but then shook his head “no”. She took it to mean something was wrong; that she needed to wait, so she acknowledged with an affirmative shake of her own head. She retreated behind the door frame and held up six fingers, indicating how many targets were in the room as the Team nodded their understanding.
They leaned against the wall, listening to D'Alvarez make contact with his Allies as the Lieutenant looked her way, inquiring with his eyes if they should attack and silence the call. Detta nodded a negative, not exactly knowing what she was waiting for and listened intently to the conversation between the foreign Colonel and D'Alvarez. Understanding hit as she realized Nelson's ploy to wait. If they timed the attack right, D'Alvarez' Allies might just get a ringside seat to the showdown and subsequently the Opposition's final downfall.
She peered her head around the corner as Harry made eye contact once again, imploring her to wait a moment longer. Finally D'Alvarez turned triumphantly toward Harry.
“Well Nelson, is there anything you wish to say to my new
Allies?”
Harry nodded casually.
“No... No, I believe I'll let her speak for me.”
D'Alvarez turned with a crinkled forehead. “Her?”
Message received loud and clear! Detta thought as D'Alvarez turned around in confusion to see just who “her” was.
Instantly, Detta and her Team stormed the room taking out their targets with single shots, leaving only D'Alvarez left standing as the Allies got front row seats to the event over the video monitor.
“It's all over D'Alvarez,” Harry announced as Detta headed instantly to Ricardo's side, who was barely standing on his own.
General D'Alvarez turned slowly in a circle, noting his complete defeat and utter failure. He dipped his head in surrender then scowled, spewing out his hatred with his next words.
“I will NOT be beaten by a woman!” he declared, reaching for the sidearm strapped low on his hips. He quick drew his weapon intending to gun down Detta, when five shots fired simultaneously as each man on her Special Ops Team acquired their new target. General Esteban D'Alvarez fell to the ground with his eyes wide open expelling his last breath, but staying alive just long enough to see his Allies cut the transmission leaving nothing behind but a black screen.
Ricardo sighed in relief as Detta looked him over in concern, while balancing him with an arm over her shoulder.
“Are you alright Admiral,” he asked as Harry walked toward them holding his side.
“I'm fine, but we need to get to Crane.”
“A doctor is with him now,” Detta assured him, then turned to her Team. “Secure the compound and signal our ride, we have two walking wounded and one stretcher,” she ordered as Ricardo reached a hand to her face, thumbing her cheek gently.
“What?” she asked, as Ricardo realized how true his statement was; she was indeed, more woman than D'Alvarez could handle.
“Ask me later,” he replied with a sly grin.
Chapter Eight
Lots to Do
Dr. Salcedo entered the cell and placed an appraising hand to his patient's face then started to reach for his bag when a weak, but insistent hand gripped his wrist.
“Who... are you?” he breathed out.
“A doctor. I'm here to treat you.”
Lee's grip slipped to the cot. “Nelson?”
“He will recover,” Dr. Salcedo replied, palpitating Lee's mid-section, an uncomfortable venture until he moved to the side and pressed, which turned into excruciating pain accompanied with a heart wrenching groan.
“You need to be in a hospital. I cannot do the surgery here, but I will start you on a strong antibiotic to combat the infection. I have something for the pain, it's not as strong as you would like but it won't interfere with the general anesthetic when the time comes.”
“Anything Doc... anything would be good,” Lee admitted, very nearly at the end of what he could take as the infection ravaged his insides.
Salcedo prepared his arm, injecting first the antibiotic then the pain medication while Lee closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to subside.
He was still enduring his own private hell of pain when sounds of gunfire erupted across the compound causing his eyes to pop open instantly. The Special Ops soldier saw Lee's concern and stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.
“It's alright, Sir. That's our fire.”
Lee blinked, connecting with the young man then allowed his eyes to close as the first warmth of the pain meds finally found him.
“Here young man,” Salcedo said handing the soldier an IV bag to hold. “I'm going to start him on fluids and boost the antibiotics from there.”
The young soldier held the IV bag in one hand while leveling his rifle at the same time, keeping himself ready to move from nurse maid to combat soldier. The gunfire ceased and then a few minutes later a loud report as if multiple weapons were fired simultaneously. A short time later, he heard the outer door to the cell block open, as he handed the IV bag back to the Doctor and moved forward to take a defensible position. A whistle of recognition alerted him it was his own Team; he whistled back his “all-clear” as multiple steps made their way down the hall.
* * * * *
Lee felt the gentle ride as multiple hands held his stretcher. His pain was still present, duller as the doctor promised, but still taxing on his weary body. His eyes fluttered open finding himself surrounded by soldiers loading him into a waiting helicopter. He was in a state of quasi wakefulness as he turned his head to see soldiers defensively guarding the bay door while others boarded the chopper.
“We're on the way to the hospital, Lee. Hold on,” Harry said, siding next to his stretcher.
“You... okay?” he asked wearily, but only caught half the answer before his eyes fell heavily again.
“I'm fine, Lee. Fine,” Harry answered, while gently brushing wet curls from Lee's sweat soaked forehead.
“Please Admiral,” Detta said sympathetically. “But we must look to your injury as well,” she finished, urging Harry to buckle in as he swept a tired hand across his side. The vibrations of the helicopter worked against his body as Harry sat back, dealing with the pain while keeping his free hand on Lee's shoulder.
* * * * *
Lee felt a strange disconnection from his body, then shuttered in new pain as the helicopter ride evoked renewed pain in his side. His pain overtook even the medication, and he was feeling much too weak. Another shutter of pain brought a comforting touch to his shoulder as he opened his eyes to see Harry leaning over.
“Never thought... it would be like this...” Lee started, as Harry leaned closer to hear him. “I always thought it would be a bullet... or a two-headed sea monster,” he quipped with a pained smile.
“You hold on, Lad,” Harry admonished. “You're not going anywhere,” he ordered, knowing Lee was attempting to say his good-byes.
“Feels like bad guys... got a hot poker in me... and I've got no way to make them stop...”
Harry saw the desperate plea in Lee's eyes to anchor him; to help him fight. He knew it wasn't Lee giving up; the man had fought through life-threatening trials before, but the untreated burst appendix had now turned into a dangerous medical emergency.
“Do you trust me, Lad?” Harry asked as Lee focused on his eyes for support.
“You know I do, Sir,” he breathed out.
Harry nodded, as Lee cringed again in pain. “I can see the hospital from here, Lee. We're less than ten minutes out. You just do the pain for another ten minutes Lad, and you'll be home free.”
But it wasn't just the pain, it was a weary darkness calling his weak body to slumber; a surreal beckoning, one he was finding hard to ignore.
Harry reached for Lee's hand, taking it in a firm grasp as Lee's eyes fluttered open, taking hold of the lifeline pulling him back. His eyes widened as he felt the sticky wet feel of Harry's hand, then weakly moved their grasp into his line of sight with Harry's help.
“You're bleeding...” Lee noted, his concern shifting from his own state to Harry's well-being and finding the anchor he needed.
“It will be okay, Lad,” Harry said, as the events of the day had broken open a stitch. He was leaking slowly and found himself also becoming very weary.
“We still have lots to do... you and I,” Lee said as Harry saw a determined fire return to his eyes. “Ten more minutes...” Lee promised then squeezed Harry's hand and closed his eyes.
Harry squeezed back, somehow understanding it was alright to let him rest now. He raised his head and leaned back on the bulkhead, meeting Detta's concerned gaze from her own seat.
“He'll make it,” the Admiral declared. “We still have lots to do,” he finished with tight lipped determination as he watched the hospital helipad come closer into view.
* * * * *
Harry woke to a bright cheery hospital room, obviously the next morning. He remembered the helicopter landing and hospital staff descending on the chopper, triaging their patients and sending Lee into emergency surgery. He was wheeled into a treatment room to get re-stitched and that was the last thing he remembered. Perhaps it was the blood loss, or maybe a much needed sedative, but either way he was mad as hell that he had slept through Lee’s surgery.
Sun filtered into the room through the blinds revealing a beautiful view of the Capital City, visible from the upper floor private room. He used the bed controls to tilt the head of his bed forward, then realized he wasn’t alone in the room.
“Admiral Nelson,” Ricardo greeted, moving from a chair in the corner of the room.
“I didn’t know you were here, Ricardo,” Harry said, making sure not to take his frustration out on the battered man. Ricardo had been treated and cleaned up, but he only looked slightly better for the beatings he sustained.
“I knew you’d want to know as soon as you woke up.”
“Lee?”
“He’s in Intensive Care. The surgery was successful, but it was apparently close. I’m told they nearly lost him in surgery. But he’s a fighter,” Ricardo encouraged with a small smile.
Harry's relief was tempered by the news that his condition had been so precarious.
“Then he’s expected to recover?”
“I’m told he is weak, but his prognosis is good.”
“I have to see him,” Harry stated, pulling the blankets off his bed.
“I will see to it,” Ricardo said turning to leave as Harry gingerly donned a robe.
“Ricardo,” Harry said, stopping his movement as he turned to face the Admiral.
“Thank you for finding us,” he offered sincerely.
Ricardo sighed and dipped his head slightly. “I only wished I could have done more.”
“You gave us a chance, that was enough,” Harry said, offering a half-smile showing his approval.
“I uh… do have one favor to ask of you Admiral.”
Harry tilted his head inquisitively. “Yes?”
Ricardo ran an awkward hand across his neck. “I uh… said some things in order to upset the General… I never intended to drag Detta into such a coarse discussion…”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Harry said as his smile grew. Ricardo nodded looking much more at ease, smiling as the dimple in his chin deepened.
* * * * *
Harry agreed to the wheelchair ride to ICU as he was still representing the United States as a diplomat, and didn’t want to invoke his Stars. He was however, exceedingly grateful that Detta in her efficiency, had brought a uniform and sundries from his hotel room. Once in the room he discarded the wheelchair and moved to Lee’s bed. He was surrounded by machines hooked into various tubes and ports and still sported an oxygen cannula.
“Hello Sir.”
Harry smiled pleased to see Lee awake, though noticeably weak.
“Hello Lad.”
“You look better,” Lee noted, looking Harry over.
“And you look tired.”
“I am,” he admitted. “Dr. Salcedo tells me I'm here for the next week,” he said a bit disgustedly. “I don't suppose there's anything you can do about that?” he asked with a small grin.
“No, I'm afraid not. We're guests here, and both you and I are playing the good little diplomats for our host country,” Harry explained, silently grateful that Lee was already planning his escape as it meant he was truly feeling better.
“O'Brien was only in Med Bay for two days after his,” he added rather petulantly.
“O'Brien's didn't rupture; he wasn't denied treatment; and he didn't get used as a punching bag,” Harry recited. “You're in no condition to argue the point, Lee. You're staying put and that's an order.”
“Aye, aye Sir,” Lee returned in defeat then offered a smile for their banter, hidden behind a worn-out argument played before on several unfortunate occasions.
“I guess it was close,” he said, his head lying heavily against the pillows.
Harry didn't want to think about how close and kept his mouth pursed tightly closed.
“I missed most of what went on,” he continued with a yawn as Harry smiled.
“I understand the doctor is moving you out of ICU by the end of the day. I'll drop by then and give you the scoop,” he promised, knowing Lee needed his rest and that he'd only been given a fifteen minute visit. His weakened state had kept him in the Overnight Intensive Recovery Unit, but he was breathing on his own, his vitals were strong and his sepsis status had been upgraded as he had responded well to the surgery. It was a good sign his recovery was on its way.
“So you get in a good rest and I'll be by later to visit,” Harry finished to another yawn by his dark headed captain.
“Aye Sir,” Lee responded as Harry placed a hand on his shoulder and watched him drift back to sleep.
Chapter Nine
New Hope
The next time Harry saw Lee, he was in a private room with his head and torso elevated and looking much better. Most of the machines monitoring his condition were gone, and he was free of the oxygen cannula.
“Well you're looking much better,” Harry said upon his arrival.
“And you're looking... free,” Lee replied noting Harry's easy smile.
“I was discharged this afternoon,” Harry explained, still careful with his side as he approached Lee's bed.
“What did the doctors tell you?” Harry asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“They say everything's looking good and I can look forward to a walk across the room tomorrow,” he answered with a raised eyebrow, not relishing the thought one day out of major abdominal surgery.
“You'll be up and around in no time, Lee,” Harry encouraged.
Lee nodded. “You were going to fill me in on what I missed.”
“I hope you don't mind, but I invited Ricardo and Detta. It's going to take all three of us to fill in all of the blanks.”
“That's great and... thanks Admiral.”
“For what?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.
“For helping me focus through yesterday. I was sinking fast.”
“That's what friends are for,” Harry replied in a rare transparent display of his feelings.
Lee nodded and smiled as their moment was interrupted by a slight rap on the door.
“Are you up for visitors?” Detta asked as she and Ricardo rounded the door.
“I'm just fine, come on in,” Lee replied, noticing that Detta had shed her Special Ops fatigues and was now comfortably wearing a skirt and blouse. It was hard to tell in her current attire that she was once a Resistance Fighter and now the Co-Chief of the President's Personal Security. He was also a bit concerned at Ricardo's appearance and figured he had missed out on quite a bit.
“I want to thank you both for finding us,” Lee offered sincerely.
“I'm only sorry that greater security measures weren't taken to prevent the abduction in the first place,” Ricardo replied, sincerely remorseful even though the security arrangements of the diplomats hadn't fallen under his authority.
“That wasn't your fault, but that does remind me... what became of our driver? He sold us out,” Lee asked.
“We were on to him quickly. He never left our custody and is now in jail awaiting charges of treason,” Ricardo replied to Lee's relieved nod.
“Well, I'm curious to hear what happened,” he continued with an easy smile.
It took the next hour and a half to tell the whole story, with each one filling the others in where their stories left off.
“In the end, you have helped us once again in our country's quest for liberty,” Detta said, wrapping up the unofficial debriefing.
“How so?” Harry asked.
“Your unfortunate abduction drew D'Alvarez to deal out a hand he wasn't ready to play yet,” Detta replied. “This was his chance… his last stand. By failing in plain view of his Allies, his failure sealed the fate of an uprising. Even if he had survived, neither he nor his family will ever again receive the necessary funding to be a threat again.”
“I am still amazed that you and Detta were able to communicate so well Admiral.” Ricardo noted. “Delaying the attack until D'Alvarez made connection with his Allies was a stroke of genius.”
Harry nodded and smiled. “Detta and I have always communicated well,” he replied as the unassuming woman blushed slightly at the compliment.
“Well we must be on our way,” Detta said, her exotic smile lighting up the room without her even trying. “We have a meeting to debrief the President.”
“Thanks for coming by,” Lee said as they made their good-byes. “They're a good pair,” he noted once the door was closed, his respect for both former Freedom Fighters clearly evident as Harry nodded his agreement.
“Well it's time I let you rest,” Harry said, standing to leave.
“Will you do the same?” Lee asked, seeing Harry's careful movements and knowing just what a straight through shot in the side felt like.
“Yes mother,” Harry deadpanned, stealing a line Lee used often when he was mother-henned and silently pleased at Lee's protectiveness.
They both chuckled, as Harry left the room and Lee closed his eyes, vowing next time to do a better job at protecting his best friend.
* * * * *
Lee was released from the hospital five days later just as Dr. Salcedo promised. True to his word he had done his part, playing the good patient for the sake of diplomacy. He was still moving slowly, and currently working hard to stand straight and tall as he and Harry had been invited to the Presidential Palace to offer their final farewells.
“Once again my country extends its deepest gratitude to you,” President Fuentes declared, crossing the room to offer sincere handshakes to both men.
“It was our pleasure to be of service, Mr. President, but it was your able Security and Special Ops Unit that turned the tables on the General,” Harry replied graciously.
President Fuentes nodded his agreement proudly, clearly fond of both Ricardo and Detta. “I am trying to convince Ricardo to run for President when my term is up; so far he tells me he is no statesman, but I still have four more years to convince him otherwise,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “I am indeed sorry that the two could not be here to extend their own farewells, but I have given them a much needed holiday.”
“We said our good-byes at the hospital,” Lee assured the President.
“Farewell Admiral Nelson, Commander Crane,” Fuentes said. “I sincerely hope the next time you visit our country you will find it more prosperous and much more hospitable.”
“Thank you Mr. President, we look forward to returning,” Harry replied.
* * * * *
Ricardo and Detta were enjoying their holiday getaway in a nearby beach resort, only an hour from the Capital City. The sea breeze blew the sheer curtains as refreshing breaths of air filled their room. Detta's head lay across Ricardo's chest, the two contently enjoying the ocean view as he fessed up to his jab on D'Alvarez' macho manliness.
“You said what?” she said popping her head off his chest as he winced, more at her reaction than the shift on his healing ribs.
“It was to put him off balance, My Love,” he defended as she tossed a pillow playfully his way then smiled deviously and snuggled back up to his bare chest.
“So... I was too much woman for him?” she repeated, playing with the thought. “And I'm used to a man of greater virility?” she repeated, invoking an embarrassing grin from Ricardo. “And that would be you, of course?” she teased as he reached to play with the spaghetti strap of her night gown.
“Of course,” he played back sliding the strap down her shoulder.
“Well Mr. Virility,” she said, listening to the strong beats of his heart under her ear. “Then now is a good time to tell you,” she said leaning on an elbow to look into his eyes. “I am carrying our child, Ricardo.”
Ricardo's eyes widened, “But your injury, I thought it was impossible?”
She shrugged her shoulders and smiled, knowing that the bullet wound she sustained in a Resistance battle had indeed produced the diagnosis that she would never bare children. It was, oddly enough, the catalyst for Ricardo's hatred toward Fuentes, as the battle had been against the Regime they wrongly believed to be led by the imprisoned President. Something in Ricardo snapped at her near death, as he became obsessed with stopping the madness of the Dictatorship. Ironically, his hatred for Fuentes over-powered even his love for Detta. Only his sense of justice and his quest for truth kept him from following through on his promise to kill Fuentes before learning the facts. With his trust in the man he thought of as a father restored, and the love of a faithful woman who never lost hope in him, he was able to fight for the right reasons; to restore to his people the hope of liberty.
“What can be impossible when you are in love?” she asked rhetorically.
Ricardo caressed her cheek, hoping with all his heart that their sacrifice in the Resistance had produced a better life for the new generation of the Galdez family.
“You are aptly named, My Love,” Ricardo said kissing the top of her head lovingly, and referring to her full name, Benedetta, meaning “Blessed.”
* * * * *
Harry and Lee left the Presidential Palace, stepping into the sunlight of the beautiful gardened courtyard. They stopped to square their service caps as Lee looked up and smiled at the sight of several song birds flying spectacularly in an obvious mating flight. He sighed and then explained his wistful mood.
“I was just thinking of something Detta told me.”
“Oh?” Harry asked in easy conversation as they watched the birds overhead.
“She said, 'Freedom is a bird that cannot be caged long. Sooner or later it must spread its wings and soar once again'.”
There was a small moment of appreciative silence marking the thoughtful words, until an elegant baritone voice added his wisdom.
“And when she does soar...” Harry added philosophically while watching the love dance of the song birds, “...She will produce a whole new generation of Freedom Lovers.”
Lee smiled as the two exchanged glances appreciating the sentiment, and pondering the soaring beauty of freedom's flight and the hope a new generation brings.
The End
Esteban's Last Stand
Notes and Credits:
*There are actually only 13
years difference between Richard Basehart and David Hedison's ages in real
life, but in my universe Lee is younger by four years than he actually was when
the show aired. I play upon the fact
that he was the youngest man to command a nuclear sub and the fact that he
carries his age so well. Even today, his
famous handsome features are still evident as an elegant 88 year old man who
carries his age beautifully.
**My story contains plots, characters and paraphrases from the First Season Episode, Mist of Silence, written by John McGreevey, directed by Leonard Horn, original air date October 5, 1964. (Credits sourced from Mike's Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea Zone.)
Following the lead of the original episode, my story is set in a fictitious unnamed, undisclosed South American country. Likewise, D'Alvarez' allies are also from a fictitious unnamed Asian country. Any perceived likeness to real people or countries is purely coincidental.
Lethium Gas was the fictional
nerve gas used in the original episode; not to be confused with the element
Lithium, number 3 on the Periodic Table, or the pharmaceutical drug used to
treat bipolar disorders.
***Appendix research: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Appendicitis
Author's Notes:
Finally, I found Ricardo and Detta's characters extremely fun to play with. They were portrayed beautifully by Alejandro Rey, whom I always thought was a bit of an Argentine Kirk Douglas, and Rita Gam who commanded an exotic and elegant presence as the able Resistance Fighter. Along with the solid acting of Hedison and Basehart, as well as Mike Kellan who played D'Alvarez all too well, Mist of Silence ranks as one of the series finest episodes in my book.
My thanks to Gail for this and other great Picture Challenges, giving us wonderful visualizations that inspire fresh new ideas while sparking new stories to share. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed the tale. Lynn
Copyright 2016, All Rights Reserved
Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea and her main characters belong to Irwin Allen
and the respective production companies.