Chapter VIII

“The Third World will never be happy or free so long as there is a First World stuck in the mire of consumerism, alienation, indifference.”

Clodovis Boff, Roman Catholic theologian, philosopher and professor

Two years later – Pacific Ocean, Coast of Mexico

Capitan Francisco Hidalgo leaned forward studying the display on a small screen to one side of his command chair.  The display was zoomed out to show the battle group’s circle of outer picket ships at twenty-five nautical miles and an inner circle at only eight nautical miles out from the main group. 

Unlike most of Mexico’s aged fleet, including a couple of WW-II battleships and destroyers purchased from the United States, this modern, trimaran Littoral Combat Ship (LCS) of the Armada República Mexicana, was built by Austal USA and recently purchased, used, from Israel.  It has a ‘listed’ top speed of 40 knots.  That was prior to Mexico hiring Austal for an engine upgrade. 

Because of her state of the art defensive and offensive systems she would be playing the ‘high value asset’ bait for the purposes of today’s anti-submarine warfare (ASW) exercise.  There would be no fixed wing ASW support.  Several ships in the battle group, including the LCS, sported helicopter pads and those helicopters would be put to use in their ASW roles.  There was no determined threat axis to focus on so the helos would be covering a very large expanse of ocean trying to detect the seemingly undetectable, at least from the air.

The ship’s navigator, Teniente (Lieutenant) Indira Toyo called out from her station, “Thirty seconds, Capitan.”

Hildago stood at parade rest, clasping his hands behind his back with feet slightly apart.  He calmly ordered, “Contact the fleet.  Prepare for ‘all stop’.”  Another of the crew spoke into a headset and nodded affirmation to the captain as Toyo called out.

“On station, Capitan.”

Hidalgo responded, “Full reverse.  All stop.”

The order was repeated as confirmation, “Full reverse.  All stop.”

The almost imperceptible sound of the huge engines became louder as they strained into reverse trying to slow the large destroyer.  Within seconds the noise slowly dropped to nothing again. 

Toyo turned to the captain, mirroring his stance of a relaxed parade rest.  “Station keeping at zero, mi Capitan.”

“Very well, Teniente.”  Hidalgo turned to the man standing silently behind him and came to attention as he reported, “Almirante, we are holding at station.”

The admiral zipped his windbreaker to three quarters mast and his gave his closely cropped beard scratch as he stepped up behind the Captain’s chair.  He was trying not to smile at the tedious, albeit necessary, CYA (Covering Your Ass) of repeating back orders and confirmations onboard naval vessels. It would save seconds if the senior officers could just relay their orders to the appropriate personnel and have that person push a button, or just push the damned button themselves.  With so much computerization aboard there was really no reason for fifty crewmembers when all they need are a couple of fresh-faced, eighteen year old, computer geek at a couple of consoles.  With today’s technology, wasting those few precious seconds could mean the difference between life and death, or loss of the ship.

He put these thoughts aside and placed both hands lightly atop the chair back after he quickly checked his watch.  “Muy bien, Capitan.  I show,” glancing down at his watch. “Thirty seconds, si?”

Hidalgo looked over his shoulder toward Toyo.  “Teniente?”

“Mas a menos, Capitan.”

He turned back to the Admiral.  “More or less, Almirante.”

Now he did smile as he stated, “We go with less, I think.”

Toyo called out, “Fifteen seconds.”

The captain smiled back, “Si, less.”

Lookouts brought binoculars to their eyes and began scanning the ocean.  A speaker on the control console by Toyo crackled static before a voice announced, “Bridge, Weaps.  Possible target on sonar.”

The crewman manning the radio swiveled to face the captain.  “Confirmed, Capitan!  Both starboard outer pickets report solid sonar target approaching the line at… 300 knots?”  The crewman face screwed up as he stated the speed. 

The Admiral’s smile didn’t waiver.  Toyo gave the crewman a look devoid of humor and told him, “Impossible!  Confirm that…” the crewman cut her off.

“Si, Teniente, speed confirmed at 300 knots and...” the radio operator pressed the earpiece, “and accelerating!”   

Toyo already had her headset back in place when Hidlago yelled the order, “Lock target and fire!”

Toyo yelled back in frustration, “Firing!  Plotting targeting solution enroute.”  The captain turned on her and she hestily explained, “We’ll transfer solution to the weapons in route, if there is time.”  While she spoke, two classified ASROC homing torpedoes, two classified ASM missles, and one classified torpedo countermeasure, codenamed Sucat 3, were heard, and felt, leaving their respective launch systems.

She confirmed in a calmer tone, “Weapons away, Capitan!”

Hidalgo grabbed the arm of his chair as the admiral dug his fingers into the back as he clenched his jaw at trying to stay out of the command chain and let this crew, and capable captain, do their job.

Hidalgo called out, “Time to impact?”

The speakers announced, “Thirty sec…Mierda!  Missiles passed over the target as it raced in the opposite direction at…500 knots!  ASROC torpedoes deployed in front of the oncoming system and never locked on.  Missiles are coming about and one has locked.  Target passed by the Sucat at speed and the weapon never registered it.  One of the torpedoes has acquired an inner picket and locked on!”

The captain called out, “Destroy the torpedo!”  Then he said, to no one in particular, “The missiles will never catch the target, at that speed, before they use up their fuel and fall from the sky.”

Toyo looked to be almost in tears as she stared at her captain and declared, “It has passed under us, Capitan.”

The two lookouts and the captain moved rapidly to the port side windows.  One of the lookouts pointed to starboard.  “A estribor! Visual del objetivo!” 

There was an obvious wake from something moving very rapidly just beneath the water, then, not a thousand meters from the ship, a circular craft broke the surface with enough speed to physically leave the water and become airborne for only seconds before slipping back under.  This had been designated by the project team as the Dolphin Maneuver, for obvious reasons. 

The sea became still, as in Melville’s story of the great white whale, Moby Dick; the whale sounding, diving deep, while the whalers waited for it to breach and loose upon them certain death if their harpoons did not strike true first.  Here, however, there would be no noisy, circling, seabirds to herald the target’s return, and only the bridge crew awaited the coming vengeance.

The lookout pointed in the same direction again.  “Por ahí!  Que es eso?  What is that?”

Captain Hidalgo brought his own binoculars up and could see a short, rolling wave, curved as if being pushed from behind.  “Si, what is that?”

The question didn’t finish before the disc leapt out of the roll it had created, airborne again for mere seconds.  The seconds were enough time to make out two pilots sitting abreast in the low, clear, canopy, and a long, narrow panel that popped up between the canopy and the rapidly spinning outer ring.  In a fraction of a second the mechanism inside this panel levered up the ten needle nosed tungsten rods that were already spinning at velocity on their rail launchers. 

There were ten bright flashes of light from a strobe unit above each rod just before the panel snapped closed and the craft slipped back under the surface and slowed its intercept course for the ship.  It submerged only enough to cover the distance rapidly, slowing as it approached.  It came to full stop upon reaching the hull and a short appendage reached out from another panel underneath the craft, magnetically anchoring it to the steel plating before the craft powered down completely.  The exercise had taken but a few minutes.

The bridge crew, including the captain, was straining to look over the railing as if they could actually see the craft from their position. The admiral kept one hand on the back of the captain’s chair and put the other in the pocket of his slacks as he rocked on his heels, back and forth, smiling. Toyo brought everyone to attention as she yelled out in fear, “The target has become us, Capitan!”

Captain Hidalgo spun on a heel, “What?”  The exercise was over so what was she on about?  Then, then realization of what Toyo was saying finally sank in.  The disc merging with the ship and powering down had tricked the still active weapons into acquiring a new, hotter, noisier, and much larger, target.

Toyo took her short career and hung it out there.  She didn’t wait for verbal confirmation, or of what weapons were still active, she only acted by the look on her captain’s face giving the only, obvious, order, “Weapons abort!  All weapons abort!  Abort! Abort!  Abort!”

Less than a kilometer from the ship, after making the wide arc to reverse direction, the engine on the second self-homing torpedo shut down.  A split second later, and almost on top of the ship, the last missile shut down and fell from the sky, mimicking the first which, only seconds before, ran out of fuel.  Onboard homing beacons would allow for later recovery of all the classified experimental weapons.

The Admiral unzipped his windbreaker as he stepped from behind the Captain’s chair.  He retrieved a couple of Cuban cigars from the breast pocket of his navy blazer and held one out to the captain.  “It is a good thing we used practice weapons, eh Capitan?”

“Si.”  The captain was thinking of the classified countermeasure they also had to find floating around underwater somewhere.  The Admiral was reading his thoughts.

“Damned waste of an expensive countermeasure though, if we aren’t able to find it.  Herrera will not be pleased.”

The captain pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his brow with one hand while accepting the proffered smoke with the other.  He gave it a quick run under his nose, appreciating the aroma, and nodded in concurrence.  “Si, Almirante.  He will not be happy.  However, I think you can report your final test a success and this may temper his disappointment.”

“I will have the families of the crew notified that no hands were lost at sea and all will be home for a late evening comida.”

The captain struck a wooden match and lit the admiral’s cigar.  “Gracias, Almirante.”  He lit his then blew out the match with the rich smoke. 

The admiral took a short draw, exhaling the smoke toward the ceiling.  “Saying ‘it is nothing’ would seem inappropriate after so many have given so much of their lives, so to speak, in so short a period to bring us to this point.”

The captain nodded agreement.  “What you say is very true Almirante.  In just two years you have brought a small cadre of patriots together and accomplished… well, no less than a miracle, senor.  You deserve to feel proud.”

The Almirante shook his head and exhaled another draw of smoke. 

“My pride is tempered by the honor I feel to have been in the company of those patriots, and those of your fine crew.” several, including Teniente Toyo, turned and came to attention at the accolade as he continued, “Many have shown a professionalism Mexico can be proud of.”  He straightened his blazer and faced the attentive bridge crew.  “Please do me the true honor of passing along my heartfelt thanks to the rest of the crew.  If I were younger, I would welcome any of you to serve alongside me.  As it is,” he turned to Hidalgo and grasped his hand, “you seem to already have a fine captain to serve with, though not for long I think.”  He faced Toyo and whispered, “On your toes Teniente Toyo.  He may need a replacement soon.”  Toyo blushed, but her chin rose a tad higher at the praise.

The admiral returned his attention to the captain as he pulled a silver flask from his jacket pocket and looked at the captain.

“Let us walk.”

The captain grinned widely, bowed his head, and motion toward the door.  “After you, senor.” 

Chapter VII

Donde no hay humo, no hay fuego.

(Where there’s no smoke, there’s no fire.)

Mexican Proverb

The escape tunnel was a series of one and a half meter diameter concrete conduit with male and female ends which fit together tight enough to keep water and critters out.  It had a slight downward slope at the end of which was another locking hatch. 

The difference between this hatch and the one in the hacienda had to do with what one couldn’t see.  There was only one wheel controlling the locking mechanism, on the inside.  Anyone happening upon it from the outside would be greeted by an almost featureless steel plate, slightly inset to be flush with the concrete bordering it.  The slightly smaller steel plate which made up the outer face of the locking mechanism had bolt heads studded an inch in around the outer edge.  The impression was of an access plate that, upon removal of the bolts, would allow for access.  In reality the bolt heads were welded on to frustrate unwanted visitors.  Time wasted trying to loosen a welded bolt head was valuable time for those folks in harm’s way from the intruders.

The larger inside surface of the hatch was, again, flush to the inside of the concrete opening.  The difference here was the thick length of thick steel which would drop across the hatch once it was closed.  Beside the hatch was, what appeared to be, a set of welders goggles attached face first to the concrete.  It was to these goggles Juan walked up and leaned into.  A second later he leaned back and declared, “All clear.”

Matias explained how he and Juan had caught wind of a World War II submarine periscope being scrapped.  Juan took the skeleton of it and fashioned a static version from the parts which only gave them a view of the outside from the hatch out about ten meters, enough to be pretty certain no one was waiting on the outside. The lens on the outside was camouflaged at the top of the concrete conduit so you couldn’t see it without looking for it.  The ‘periscope’ had been anchored to the iron rebar prior to the concrete being poured and now it was a permanent part of the structure

Matias had everyone step to one side as Juan turned the wheel and unlocked the hatch.  Matias held the old M-16 he’d taken from the entrance and put it to his shoulder.  He saw the look from Elke and explained, “Just in case.”

Juan swung the hatch inward and Matias flinched and squinted, fighting the urge to bring his hand up to shield his eyes again the bright sunlight flooding in.  Matias cursed 

“Aye! Muy brilliante!”  Matias finally succumbed to the light and fumbled with a pair of sunglasses in his shirt pocket.

Already armed with polarized sunglasses, Juan leveled the muzzle of his confiscated MP-5 and stepped in front of the captain, checking the gun left and right as he stepped through the hatch into the open.  He continued panning the gun around in a more thorough sweep of the hill which tunnel let them out on.  He could just see the roof and upper half of the hacienda’s second level over the tops of tall bunches of nopal cactus used as a natural security fence around the property.  Known for their edible prickly pears, and fleshy leaves with a green bean flavor when cooked, it is also used as natural corrals for livestock and a security barrier, due to the long sharp needles covering the leaves, that is not easily breached except by a long, sharp, machete.  Generally, no one messed with a mature growth of nopal cactus.

The mouth of the tunnel was forty-five meters and slightly downhill from the hacienda.  It ended inside what was to become a corral for some goats Juan was shopping, hoping to try his hand at some cheese making.  To this end he had been nurturing another shorter line of nopal about twenty meters further downhill, just before the mango grove which grew between the cactus and the main road.

Matias assisted everyone else out of the hatch before he climbed out, sunglasses now in place and M-16 raised to waist level.  He saw Juan and Hilda in firing positions; Juan kneeling and Hilda lying prone.  He took a knee as well, noting that Elke was sliding to her butt in a sitting position against the concrete.  With some help from Larkin she also brought her weapon to her shoulder causing her face to grimace in pain from her wound. 

The pain was mirrored on Larkin’s face.  He whispered to her, “I am sorry Baroness.”

Elke sighted down her barrel, resting it on her knee.  “Do not be concerned Herr Larkin.  You might like to join me, ja?” 

Larkin used the base of the hatch opening to brace him as he lowered his large frame to a kneeling position in the sand next to her.  He was puffing at the exertion.  “I really need to get out of this line of work.”

“We are, none of us, as young as we used to be.”

Larkin smiled as he brought his weapon up.  “Yes, but I am at least two of whom I was.”

Juan lowered his weapon and hung his head a bit.  Matias called to him in a low voice.  “Qué pasa, amigo mío? What is it?  Anything wrong?”  Everyone continued to scan the low hedge of nopal down the hill.  Matias looked over both his shoulders up the hill behind them as he waited for Juan’s answer..

Juan looked over and whispered back to him, “They know too much, too much.”  He pointed the muzzle of his weapon to a patch of nopal between two mango trees.  Chewed up pieces of the succulent leaves littered the sandy soil where a narrow opening was almost completed.  He continued his explanation, “This was not done by Mexicans.  A child would make less mess of the nopal.”

A voice called from beyond the nopals, in the small orchard, “Attention, bitte!  Tenemos Waffen, guns, aimed hacia usted.  Verstehen Sie?”

Larkin scrunched up his face.  “Understand?  Did anybody catch any of that?”

Elke spit to one side, probably the most un-lady like thing she does in moments of displeasure, especially when dealing with shortcomings in her own countrymen.  “He is an idiot, but yes, I caught the gist of it.”  She cupped a hand to her mouth and called back in German, “Pick a language you imbécil.  Why butcher more than one?”  She lowered her hand and said in a normal voice, “Now you will probably only butcher your own, you moron.”

There was silence for a few seconds then another voice called out in English, “Attention!  Do not move or you will die.  We have many guns aimed at you.  Understand?”

Elke yelled back, “Ja, ja.  You have said this already.  Is there more to your script, or is this it?”

“Surrender or die!”

Matias called out this time, “We will die in any event, yes?”

“That is very likely.  However, perhaps we can strike a bargain if you turn over the Baroness and her Jew bitch.”

“Jude Hundin?”  Hilda reacted to the slur aimed directly at her.  She yelled back, “This Jew bitch will rip your Nazi testicles off and then we’ll see who the bitch is.  You want me?  Come take me like a real man you coward.  Not one of you Nazis has ever been a real man!”

Gunfire erupted immediately from several different targets down the hillside.  Matias’ group tried to melt into the sand failed.  Matias over to Hilda with his face flat to the sand.  “Very diplomatic and tactful.  Would you mind if I handle international relations from here out?”

The fusillade ended after a minute, and several hundred rounds.  The miracle no one was hit, probably due to no clean shot through the nopals which were now chewed low enough to simply step over.  This probably being their primary intent.  Matias raised his head in time to see something fly through the air over the line of mango trees. 

Before the object hit, Hilda jumped up like an outfielder and yelled, “Grenade!”

She caught it while performing a perfect in-air pirouette, threw the grenade up the escape tunnel as hard as she could without her feet firmly planted, and managed to drop before the event horizon of the hatch just before the grenade detonated.

The steel door was not latched open and had swung almost to the balance point for the drop latch.  When the grenade detonated the initial force blew the door closed, thereby containing force inside the thick, hardened, concrete and the meters of sand covering greater length of it.  Matias and Juan would talk about a great amount of money well spent, at Juan’s insistence, on a later date.

The sound of the explosion was muted by the hatch and it became deathly quiet, for a few seconds.  The German contingent had spread themselves out in the Mango grove.  When the gunfire resumed it seemed to come from everywhere in front of them at the same time, but only for a few seconds.  Under this kind of automatic weapons fire a few seconds seemed like eternity, especially for target of Larkin’s size.  He felt very vulnerable, and it was pissing him off.

For Larkin, melting into the sand was no longer an option in his later years.  He waited with the knowledge that, in almost every battle not well thought out, everyone firing together multiplies the risk of having to reload at the same time.  The gunfire suddenly dribbled to nothing and Larkin got as quickly to his feet as he could, and he came up shooting, his pistol in one hand and the MP5 machine pistol in the other.  He had well calculated when he thought the firefight subside and where the most vulnerable enemy targets were located.

A low yell began from deep in his throat, and even through the roar of his weapons fire everyone heard it grow in intensity.  All eyes turned to Larkin, and saw a man possessed, no longer resembling the fat hippo from Fantasia. 

On May 10, 1963, Sgt. Fury and his Howling Commandos exploded onto the comic book scene and young boys would be digging foxholes and fighting the Nazi scourge for many issues and years to come.  Larkin was Sgt. Fury incarnate, with modern weapons taking the place of the trusty M1 Thompson sub-machine gun, the “Tommy” gun from the bygone war.  Gone also were the bandoliers of bullets for the Browning M2 heavy machine gun that would adorn a heroes chest like suspenders. 

Here stood a modern hero who long considered himself a man out of time, on so many levels, making a final stand against insurmountable odds. 

Matias saw Larkin rise to fill the front of the tunnel hatch, looking like a soldier protecting a bunker, and he knew the man had made a life decision - enough was enough.  Before the assault team could regroup and reload, Matias, Juan, and Hilda joined Larkin as his squad of Howling Commandos.  Even Elke, managing to use the rifle as a crutch to regain her feet, braced her back to the concrete tunnel and fired the weapon from her hip with teeth gritted against the pain in her side. 

As with their opponents, they also had to reload, and enemy fire picked up where theirs left off.  The Germans had learned from their mistake.  Sporadic fire came in alternating spurts from different spots around the grove of trees.  The gunfirefire seemed to increase, and yet, something was different.

Matias and Juan looked at each other and then around at the others.  No sand was being kicked up by incoming rounds, nor was concrete being chipped away from the tunnel face or ricochets buzzing away overhead.  Larkin noticed several of the men jumping to their side of the trees as though they group up the hill was of lesser threat than whoever they were shooting at toward the road.  Larkin lowered the muzzle of his rifle and leaned back against the tunnel.

“Who the hell are they shooting at?”

“It matters little, jefe,” Juan laid down in a prone firing position after he slammed his last magazine of ammo into the MP-5, “as long as they are not shooting this way.”  He saw a worried look on Matias’ face.  “Last of my ammo, Capitan.  You?”

Matias let the useless M16 drop to the sand.  “Out.”  He drew his pistol and saw Elke drop her weapon as well, her side now soaked with wet blood, he wondered if she would pass out from that or exhaustion first.

Juan pointed as several men broke from the trees in an effort to escape back around the hill to the beach.  The others were still picking away at targets down by the road.

Larkin dropped to one fat knee, this time with little effort as his body bled off excess adrenalin. In a seemingly fluid motion he tossed the now empty MP-5 to one side while ejecting the empty magazine from his pistol, inserting a new one, and charging the weapon as he brought the pistol up in both hands to aim and fire, one round each, as he panned to each runner, lowering the muzzle when the last one dropped.  He let out the breath he’d been holding and nodded his head with satisfaction.

“One shot, one kill.  That’s how we roll in the CIA, assholes.”

Spanish replaced German as a voice echoed up from the road beyond the Mangoes.  A familiar woman’s voiced yelled out, “Capitan Matias, State Security would frown on losing several good agents to friendly fire.  May we approach?”

Matias called down, “Si!  Watch yourself, however.  Several more of our unwanted guests may still occupy the hacienda.  They are like cockroaches; you would do well to stay alert.”

The voice was getting closer.  “We have some pest control on the way to assist.”

“Gracias!”  He looked at Elke and yelled down.  “Do you have medical with you?”

“Field first aid only.  Do you require more?”

Elke was being attended by Hilda who nodded, affirmative.  He called back down, “Si, we have one wounded.”  He saw a hole blown out the back of Larkin’s shirt, high on his shoulder.  Larkin turned around, looking at the blood on his hand.  Shock set in and the hero of the moment went to his knees.  “Make that two!”

Several people, dressed in black battle outfits, made best time up the hill with weapons trained on the hacienda.  They were followed closely by an attractive young woman with raven black hair in a ponytail, carrying a pistol in each hand.  She saw Matias and called up, “What more would you now like to share with me?”

Matias turned from Elke and spoke in an even voice, “They are on the beach with the Mi-26 from the gasification plant.  There is also a freighter on station, in international waters, awaiting the cargo.”

Seconds went by as Sanchez climbed the last few meters to stand in front of Matias one of her security team.  She pointed out the wounded to her man who was already pulling off a medical pack.  Hilda was now assisting Larkin in removing his shirt enough to at least bear the shoulder.

Sanchez was catching her breath when she arrived, but still managed to talk.  “The freighter will not get far.  There is a destroyer leaving port en route to intercept.  If they try to run we will accidentally sink them.  Accidents happen.”  She took another breath.  “The Mi-26 is another issue.  Do we need to be concerned about it?”

Matias looked from Juan down to Larkin, who was regaining some color.  Larkin smiled up at Matias and lightly shook his head.  “The more things change, the more they stay the same.  This has become such a fucked up mess I think the agency would simply walk away if there was no reason to be involved.  Donde no hay humo, no hay fuego. Eh, senor?”  With that last, Larkin winked, then winced as the medic applied a compress and bandage to his through and through.

Matias felt tired.  “Si, Agente Larkin.  I, too, believe this is so.”

The medic finished up and reported to Sanchez, “They will both live, but hospital is required as soon as possible.”  He nodded to Matias gave the captain a relaxed salute before retrieving his weapon leaning against the tunnel to go in search of his unit at the hacienda.

Matias looked at Juan and repeated what Larkin said, “Where there is no smoke, there is no fire.”  Juan’s brow furrowed as he considered the line and looked at his own scars.

“Depends on what is being burned, Capitan.”  With that said he walked into the surrounding brush and back toward the top of the hill.  Matias gave a concerned smile to Elke and quickly followed with Sanchez in tow.

The pain meds were kicking in and, with Matias gone, Elke’s brave face disappeared and she relaxed against the concrete.  She turned her head toward a roar of engines at the base of the drive and she noted two diesel troop carriers grind into lower gears as they turned onto the drive and muscled their way up the hill to the hacienda, the lead truck sporting a manned .50 caliber mounted behind the cab.  Twelve Marinas in full camo battle gear jogged alongside until the trucks gained momentum, at which time they fanned out into the palms and mango trees.  The lead truck no sooner hit the parking area than the .50 cal. opened up on activity down on the dunes and beach.  It became obvious that the German “Werwolf” assault team was in full retreat.

Hilda was looking up the trail Juan, Matias and Sanchez had taken only moments before.  Elke told her, “Go, Hilda.”  Hilda turned.  “Go be of some help.  There is nothing to do here.  I will be fine.”

“Are you still in much pain?”

Elke attempted a laugh and winced.  “Only when I try to laugh.”  The .50 cal. was still pumping out massive amounts of chain fed rounds.  “I sincerely hope Matias wanted to redecorate.”

Hilda nodded agreement.  “Ja, if they’re shooting the .50 at the house there won’t be much plaster left.  It is will be quite a mess.”

“Come, my dear.”  Larkin got unsteadily to his feet.  “Let’s go see if we can back up the boys, eh?”  He was still holding his pistol in a weak grip.

Hilda’s eyes were full of concern, but Elke insisted, “Go, go.  Give them hell for me as well!”  With that, Hilda preceded Larkin up the trail assisting him as needed.

Juan took more time getting to the top of the hill than was probably needed.  He picked his way carefully through the brush stopping occasionally to ensure no threat was about before continuing.  Because of this care, when he finally came to the end of the brush which marked the hacienda’s perimeter, he could hear Matias and Sanchez immediately behind him with Hilda and Larkin only several meters behind. 

As he waited for them to catch up he took a moment to survey the open area between them and the low rise that was across the yard and in line with the hacienda sidewalk onto which Juan had thrown the German to his death.  The area looked secure so Juan moved quickly to the rise, hunched over to make a smaller target.  The others followed his lead with Hilda and Larkin bringing up the rear and checking windows overlooking their route.

Juan reached the rise and continued to the sidewalk, placing his back against the building and looking down at the beach.  The threat was gone, along with the saucer. 

When Matias drew himself up next to Juan he saw they had ripped the patio out and seemed to have dragged the saucer out the back side of the dune leaving a wide gash of a ramp that now accessed the beach like an upward sloping corridor. 

He pointed out the wound to the others. “Probably in too big of a hurry due to the fighting and didn’t bother trying to gain altitude prior to leaving.”

Juan pointed to a very small dot just on the horizon that was closing on another dot in the water.  “They are almost to the ship.”

Matias nodded agreement.  “Yes.  It looks like they contacted the ship and had it come in to meet them.”

Hilda gave a frustrated sigh of disappointment as she squinted toward the dots, barely making out the large helicopter as it approached the freighter.  “Verdammt!  Wir sind zu spat.  We are too late!” 

Sanchez had a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun’s glare.  She was confused, exasperated, and angry that no information had been forthcoming.  She lowered her hand after hearing Hilda’s comment and turned to face Matias, Juan, and the rest of the party.  The anger in her voice was controlled but evident.

“Too late for what, Capitan?  I want answers, senor!  What is going on and what are you involved in?”

Matias glanced at Sanchez as he watched Juan fumble inside a fanny pack he had donned just prior to entering the dark tunnel.  The pack had gone unnoticed around his waist.  Matais held up his index finger as Juan peeled a satellite phone from the zippered pouch.

“Momento, senora.  I will explain everything in a moment.”  He returned his attention to Juan and asked, “Juan? Are we too late?”

Juan’s knitted forehead was in disagreement with his smile.  “In one respect, si.  In another, we shall see.  La suerte favorece a la mente preparada.”

Hilda asked, “What did he say?”  A new voice answered her from behind them, “Chance favors the prepared mind, my dear.  Louis Pasteur, I believe.”  Elke stepped slowly forward to lean against the building next to Matias and put a hand his shoulder for support.

Matias wrapped his arm around her waist, realizing she was weak from the effort of catching up to them.

Everyone watched Juan carefully punch in a number on the phone’s small keypad.

********************

The Mi-26 slowed as it approached the freighter from the stern.  The saucer dangled, securely, from the thirty meter tether attached to the bottom of the large helicopter.  On the ship, several crewmen stood ready to receive the cargo as it is lowered onto the aft deck.  The deck had been cleared in preparation for the delivery.

The freighter was relatively small and only a few years old.  On the hull a meter of red waterline could be seen, evidence the ship was riding high in the water due to lack of any other cargo onboard.  Although this made it more visible from shore, being empty would also increase its cruising speed, if needed. 

When the ship first arrived on station, a little more than nineteen kilometers out, the freighter sat just over the limit of Mexico’s territorial waters.  The captain had brought the ship up the coast from the Panama Canal, only moving out to international waters for this pickup in case of trouble. 

Even though nations claim the sea floor of the continental shelf off their coastline for oil drilling and such, territorial waters generally only extend out about nineteen kilometers.  The ship was to hold station over the continental shelf just in case it sank under “mysterious” circumstances, in which case international salvage law would supersede Mexico’s claim, unless they mounted a salvage operation first.  Inside the territorial limit, salvage would fall under the purview of Mexico.

Needless to say, encroaching into Mexican waters was not what the captain was very happy about, but he was being paid well and the passenger holding an automatic weapon on his bridge crew was added incentive for cooperation.

The aircrew maneuvered the helicopter into position for their final approach to the aft deck, made more difficult as the ship cane about and continued to move back out to sea. The weight of the cargo hanging beneath in no way approached the helicopter’s max load capacity of twenty metric tons, but landing the load on a moving ship was not something the aircrew was trained for.

Three freighter’s crewmen were guiding them forward with signal paddles, one man on either side and one directly in front.  The roar of the helicopter engine was deafening without hearing protection. 

The saucer was almost over the deck.  In the cockpit, wedged up under the instrument panel, was a package, about the size of a loaf of bread, wrapped in old oiled tarpaulin.  To the casual observer it resembled something left on board since the helicopter was first introduced in 1983.  From inside the package came the distinct ringtone a satellite phone playing the first few bars of the ‘Himno Nacianal Mexicano.’  Flight helmets, headphones, and the roar of the helicopter, all contributed to drowning out the National Anthem of Mexico, and the musical tone was replaced by a blinding flash as the three bricks of Semtex reacted to detonators set off by the cell phone.

On the ship, below, crewmen on either side of the approaching saucer were blown into the air and over the side of the ship.  Both would die in the water.  The one crewman standing directly in front of the helicopter, guiding in the cargo, was blown backward five meters.  The rest of the deck crew were knocked from their feet, but still far enough away to immediately regain their senses in time be blasted back one more time by a secondary explosion that all but vaporized the metal disc.

Unknown to everyone involved, including Flugkapitan Aloisia Henke, Oberfuhrer Stifle had beat Juan and Matias to the punch about the middle of the last century.  Heir Stifle also had worries that an assault team might board a similar freighter back in 1945, an allied assault team that would steal the future of the next Reich out from under him. 

While German soldiers were prepping the saucer to be loaded by crane onto that freighter’s weather deck, he had two of his most trusted SS officers pack a small compartment, an undiscovered compartment beneath the tool kit which Matias and Juan had removed from under the pilot’s seat.  The compartment was full of Nobel 808, a plastic explosive captured from a British Special Operations unit and originally intended to sabotage the Nazi experimental station where the saucer was constructed.  Stifle and his SS colleagues had fashioned the explosive into a command detonated device requiring only the receipt of a proper radio frequency to detonate; a radio frequency he would alert his loyal SS officers to send.  All he had to do was blow on a simple, brass, signal whistle.  Age had made the material extremely unstable.

This secondary explosion, along with vaporizing the cargo, also reached the helicopter with enough force to kill the spotter leaning out the door and lift the end of the Mi-26 up into the air until it was almost vertical.  Pilot and co-pilot, both in shock from the explosions, were thrown forward by the sudden lift of the rear of their aircraft and forced, by gravity, down onto their controls.  Too low to ever have a chance of recovering they could only watch in horror as the deck got rapidly closer. 

The last thing the pilot saw in this life was the helpless guide he had been watching on the deck in front of them, still in shock and lying on his injured back on deck.  The injured man looked up and screamed in unison with the pilot the nose of the helicopter crushed him prior to exploding with virtually full fuel tanks, tanks which ruptured on impact spreading the contained aviation fuel burning across the aft deck.

The sounds of the explosions were replaced by fire klaxons going off all over the ship.  The entire aft of the vessel was set ablaze by the spread of burning aviation fuel and emergency crews immediately began losing a battle against a disaster they were not equipped to win.  It wasn’t long before the ship’s captain ordered everyone to make ready to abandoned ship should the blaze not burn itself out.

********************

Matias and crew witnessed the explosions as a momentary flash followed by a secondary explosion, the sounds of which came rumbling across the ocean, seconds later, like distant thunder. 

Soon, they could see a widening column of black smoke rising into the sky above the ship, a marker not missed by the destroyer coming around the western peninsula of land at full speed.  The destroyer radioed the freighter, notifying them they were en route to assist.  The destroyer went to general quarters, manning their close in weapons for when they came along side, just in case there were suicidal idiots on board who might opt to fight and die in lieu of rescue.  With the size of the blaze the destroyer’s commander figured the crew would probably be very happy to surrender.

Juan stared out to sea at the smoke, dumbfounded with eyes wide in surprise as he mumbled, “Funciono?  It worked?”  He turned to Matias, with a big grin spread and exclaimed, “It worked!”

Matias slapped him on the back and laughed.  “It did indeed, my friend! It did indeed.  Enhorabuena, amigo mio!  Congratulations!”

Hilda stood by them shaking her head incredulously at both.  “Einfach unglaublich.  Incredible.” She asked Juan, “You rigged a remote detonator to a satellite phone?  You will have to show me how.” 

Matias reached over and relieved Juan of the satellite phone.  “Perdone, but you won’t mind if I use this until we get my cell phone replaced, si?”  Juan, now smiling again, put up his hands with a small shrug of silent compliance which made Matias smile. “Gracias, mi amigo, job well done.”

Juan broke into a wider grin.  “De nada, Capitan.  De nada!”

Hilda gave Juan a playful smile and hooked her arm through his.  “This adds yet more mystery to you, senor.  An interesting man of mystery that, perhaps, requires additional research, ja?”

Knowing he was old enough to be her father all Juan could do in front of everyone was blush.  Hilda laughed at his embarrassment pulled him toward the hacienda while questioning him about construction of the explosive device.

Matias turned around and came face to face with Sanchez, hands sternly on her hips and handcuffs dangling from her fingers.  “Senor Capitan Matias!  You have much explaining to do to State Security… and to me!”  All of a sudden Matias felt the urge to relieve his bladder.

“Excuse me.”  Larkin saved him before the rant Sanchez was launching gain momentum.  Larkin looked like a man in desperate need of vacation as he addressed Matias, “Witnessing the events of the past few minutes, can I rest assured that the ‘item’ of concern has been removed from my agenda?”

Matias nodded.  “Si, senor.  Judging from the explosion caused by the kilo of Semtex used, I think we can safely assume the item was destroyed.”

Larkin let out a short laugh.  “Semtex!  Holy crap, my friend, I don’t even want to know.”  He continued after wiping his brow, “No chance of anything being recovered from the bottom?”

Juan gestured over his shoulder with a thumb at the burning freighter, still churning its way slowly toward the open sea.  “The freighter, they were sitting over a submarine trench.  It is well known amongst the locals for strange happenings.  The trench starts a kilometer or so out, and then dives to the ocean floor as a steep canyon through the continental shelf.  Even if a piece were big enough to find, you would probably not find it.”

Larkin looked to Sanchez, “Then, if you have no business with me, madam, I will take my leave.”

Sanchez looked about to implode.  Her frustration made her loud.  “Oh, Dios mio!  You piss me off, you old spy!  Aye, pendejo…Si, I have much business with you, you, you… viejo culo estupido!” 

As she continued her frustrated rant continued its assent, Larkin handed her a business card and in a calm voice advised her, “Call this number, my dear.  A woman will answer.  Identify yourself and ask for Mr. Wilson, his name and number are on the back.  Explain to her that it concerns Mr. Larkin’s agency in Mexico and tell her you’d like to lodge a complaint.  I’m certain they will be most accommodating.”

He gave her a slight nod, and the rest of the team a curt salute, then moved off toward the drive down the hill in search of an old, blue Nissan that would take him to the airport and a long overdue retirement.  He stopped by a mango tree halfway down the hill to relieve himself.  “God, I hate my prostate.”  He smiled and then started to laugh as he thought of Matias probably needing to step away from Sanchez to accomplish the same.  He zipped up while starting to whistle the Mexican national anthem and continued down the drive.

Watching all this, as they moved to the upper patio at Matias recommendation, Sanchez shook her head more in frustration and surrender than anger.  She pointed at Larkin as he stopped by the tree.  “Asshole stops to pee.  He knows I am watching.  He treats me like iguana crap.  No respect!”

Matias smiled and tried to explain, “I’m sure no disrespect is intended senora, his bladder is not that of a younger man.”

She spun on him with fire.  “Do not test me, senor!  Capitan de Navio, I think you also show little respect and I have, momentarily lost my professionalism.”  She folded her arms at her self-admonishment.

Matias moved toward the shredded screen door as the others found seats in the much less destroyed patio area, more than willing for allow Matias to handle Sanchez alone. 

Sanchez calmly asked him, “Where are you off to now, senor?”

Matias turned, “I do so respect you, senora Sanchez, and the office you represent.  However, you must excuse me as I, too, must take a personal moment.  The excitement is too much I fear for an old man with a weak bladder and failing prostate.  You understand.”  Elke made an audible giggle.

Sanchez looked at the patio tile and reiterated, in a calmer tone, “I get no respect.  I do not understand any of this,” she looked up as Matias continued to walk into the house, “but I will before any of you leave.”  Matias kept walking.

Sanchez came over to where the others were and took a seat on a wicker settee off to the side.  She took her hair out of the pony tail as Hilda got up and moved over to sit beside her.  “Maybe I can fill you in a little, senora, ja?”

Sanchez looked at the young woman and sighed.  “Ja?  You think you can?  I have dead Russians, an American spy, my own Mexicanos involved in who knows what with you German women, and a dead German assault force littering my countryside.”  She scoffed, “Si, por favor.  Please, enlighten me.”

“Oh,” Hilda grinned, not wanting to tell her, but seeing no way around it, “I’m not German, senora.  I just speak German more fluently than the several other languages I know.”

“What are you, then?”  Wait for it…

“I’m Israeli.  Jewish to be more precise.”

Sanchez bowed her head, put the palms of her hands on her eyes and simply stated, “No shit?”

********************

Over the next several days of inquiry, debriefing, phone calls of agencies talking to agencies, and reminders of who owes whom favors, as it always is in the intelligence community, everything was made right with the world… until next time.

Hilda and Juan found a few days to enjoy the pool and relax while Juan brought Hilda up to date on his early life, military career, and retirement as still the captain’s right arm.

Elke was on the mend and did not want to be bedridden for the rest of her stay.  She and Matias also found time to relax and visit a long missed restaurant for their long delayed romantic dinner.

Sanchez was called to meetings with her superiors, ad nauseam. She was finally called from her apartment, by the head of the CISEN, to a waiting limousine and a long ride to the capital where she had an unexpected impromptu discussion with el Presidente.  The discussion continued over the course of several days and included several other agencies. 

She talked with Matias confidentially and often.  They became fast friends as the weeks turned into months.  There was rumor of a promotion.  Then, one morning, she didn’t report for duty.  Her apartment was as if no one had ever lived there.  When inquiries were begun, a phone call was received by the head of State Security and the inquiry forgotten.  The matter was simply dropped.  It was Mexico after all. 

Rumors spread that she was either silenced or disappeared.  Neither was considered good news for Sanchez.  Matias made numerous phone calls, as well.  He was not without friends in high places.  He could find out nothing.

He pulled in many favors to save his own ass, and Juan’s, from any real problems concerning the events surrounding the craft.  He was finally advised, by a high government official, to let the subject drop. Then, one evening, he found himself invited to a meeting with the head of State Security.  Upon entering the office he found the President had actually set the meeting. 

The President shook his hand with a warm greeting and invited him to sit as he asked Matias, “I understand you have been asking many questions?” 

Matias laid his cards on the table concerning Sanchez, the incident, and a seeming cover-up.  The whereabouts of Agent Sanchez had remained a mystery with any information concerning her ‘final disposition’ being so much unconfirmed rumor.

Before the meeting ended several things became apparent to Matias.  Most importantly, Sanchez was alive and in “protective” custody; another way of saying permanent house arrest. 

The second was a feeling the President gave of having pressure brought to bear on his office from multiple sources within the military, government, business, as well as several foreign governments. 

The third was a clincher for Matias, when the President mention a phone call from the State Department of the United States, and someone named Senor Sam Wilson, who mentioned he would consider it a personal favor, and in the best interest of Mexico, if el Presidente would meet with the good Capitan Matais, and ask what he has held back; what he has to offer. 

This current president of Mexico was very different than his predecessors.  He wanted Mexico to be more than a joke on the world stage.  He surrounded himself with loyal military and security.  He was going after the cartels like none before him, but Mexico would remain Mexico unless something changed her balance of power, both in country and internationally.  Matias knew this and had, in fact, held his trump card in reserve, waiting for the appropriate time to play.

Matias opened his briefcase and removed an old, yellowed and large envelope.  He opened it and gently dumped the contents on the table in front of the President.  The youngest President in the modern history of his country, he reached out and stirred through the pile of small, delicate pieces of paper with the eraser end of a pencil.  Aa a man of science himself, he recognized much of what he saw.  When he came to the largest piece he studied it for a moment before looking over his reading glasses at Matias. 

Matias began to speak, but the President held a hand up and put a finger to his lips.  He stood, shook hands with the captain while thanking him for an informative meeting, and assured him they would be meeting again very soon.  The President smiled, winked, and Matias left. 

The President sat back down at the conference table as a side door opened and his most trusted staff took seats around the table.  Across from him sat a young, very pretty Mexican woman with striking black hair pulled back in a ponytail.  He pushed the mound of paper across the narrow table to her.  She looked at the largest one on top and turned it over.  A number of very tiny equations covered a diagram of the saucer shaped craft which filled the paper.

The President spoke in a quiet tone.  “Your thoughts, Elena?”

She looked up from the drawing and the other papers.  “Matias is bored, senor.  He does not enjoy retirement.”

“But,” the President continued, “can he be trusted?”

She looked deep into the President’s eyes, interlocked her fingers and rested them on the desk as she leaned forward.  “As much as we trust you… or you us, yes, he can be trusted, and perhaps moreso.  He is, and always shall be, Matias Ortiz de Avendano, a Navy Capitan of the Republic of Mexico.  With all due respect, Mr. President, when does even that start to mean something again?”

The President tightened his lips and looked away, as his jaw tightened.

Elena Sanchez pushed the papers back across the table. 

Chapter VI

“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places.  Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.”

-- Roald Dahl (1916-1990), bestselling author

Manzanillo, Colima, Mexico

They all utilized the pool and showered upon their arrival.  A few sizes of spare suits are kept on hand for the rare occasion when a guest came unprepared, as were shorts and assorted tank tops which the ladies had made use of.  Juan had disappeared for an hour to handle a task Matias asked that he do immediately.  After completing his task and a quick shower, he invited Hilda to tour the Hacienda, taking pride in pointing out his security arrangements, hidden throughout, of which she took great interest.  She particularly liked the forethought of adding an escape tunnel during construction.  Matias had Elke, not far behind, on her own tour, not that she required one, but it was a moment of privacy they had been lacking on this unscheduled visit.  

Hilda praised Juan’s measures when they were finished.  “Danke, Juan.  You seem to have everything covered, except for the personnel to make all of the preparations viable.  More here than two can handle?”

Juan gave her a mock look of confusion.  “But, senora, there are now four.  So, it would seem I have the personnel issues covered as well.”  He gave her a sly grin.

She took his hand in a firm grip and giving a curt bow of the head.  “Ja.  Si.  Indeed you do, senor.  A point well made.”  She smiled and Juan beamed at the praise, giving her a slight bow in return.

They eventually all retired to the great room to review the digital slideshow Juan had put together while the others were swimming. Matias made a side trip into the kitchen for another round of Scotch.

Elke made herself comfortable in the center of the couch with the tablet computer on her lap and Hilda took a position close to her so she could see the screen.  Matias entered with a tray of glasses filled with the peaty, amber liquid and ice.  Elke accepted her scotch with a smile, Hilda with a quiet, “Gracias Matias.”

Matias took the other side of Elke and Juan drew a ladder-back chair up to the back of the couch to look over Elke’s shoulder as they slowly examined the digital pictures of the mystery craft, the cryogenic system under the hood, and the mummified remains of the young female pilot.  Occasionally they would pause to enlarge an image at which point hushed conversation would ensue for several minutes before the show would commence again.  Their minds had run the gamut from incredulous to interested, and finally to awe with questions no one in their group could answer.  They finally sat back and took a breather, digesting all they had seen from the file. 

Elke took a sip and broke the silence as she pointed with her tumbler toward the window overlooking the ocean and the dunes.  “You say this craft is the reason for the construction on the dune?  And it actually fit underneath?”

Matias got up and moved to the armchair across from the ladies and Juan.  “Si, the new patio, and the footprint of the patio is larger than it seems from up here.  Juan designed the bottom to mimic a storage area with double doors we can open wide enough to easily remove the sand from atop and around the disc or to, eventually, remove the disc when it becomes necessary.”

Hilda asked, “Necessary for what?”

Matias shrugged his shoulders and smiled.  “I do not know.  Juan and I have not had time to think that far ahead.”

Hilda pressed, “Money, publicity?  Fame and fortune?”

Elke laughed and gently squeezed Hilda’s arm.  “Oh, my dear Hilda! Matias is no Indiana Jones.  And, besides, he turned his back on my fortune and glory, and it was not at all this complicated.”

Matias laughed as well.  “Juan once brought one of those movies for us to watch of this, Indiana Jones. I remember the words, let’s see, um…”  He reached for a straw hat on a wall hook and placed it at a rakish angle on his head then lifted the front of it up on his forehead with one finger reciting, “Fortune and glory, kid, fortune and glory.”  They all laughed at Matias’ attempt to mimic Harrison Ford’s character with a Spanish accent.  They were finding it nice to relax and let off a bit of stress from the day’s adventure.

Elke continued her questions when their laughter subsided; backing the images up until the pilot filled the screen.  “And what arrangements have you made for this mummy?”

“Juan has it stored; safe and dry for now, in the wine cellar, but we will need to make other arrangements, in short order, before this humidity begins to do its work.”

Elke turned off the tablet and leaned forward to place it on the coffee table.  “Ja, I agree.  The cool, humid atmosphere of a wine cellar is not conducive to mummified tissue.  It should be in a controlled environment, I wish we had our staff from the Archives here.  They are very knowledgeable about this preservation stuff.”  She drew her bare feet and legs under her and leaned back into the couch again.  “It is amazing, this Nazi saucer program.  This brings most of our puzzle together, but, you say State Security mentioned ‘foreign intelligence’ and not criminals.  I would consider Werwolf a criminal organization, not government.”

Hilda leaned forward.  “Yes, but I think we can agree, if they can be firmly linked to the National Democratic Party, they will have completed the evolution of their political/criminal nexus in Germany, and have transitioned from a transnational organized crime group into a truly hybrid ‘poli-crime’ organization.  All they lack is governmental control, and if what we know about Werwolf is true, they have more than enough money to purchase this, especially in today’s world of greedy political corruption.”

Elke nodded agreement.  “A mouthful my dear, but very much to the point, and, if we accept what you say, then we could then consider any Werwolf and NPD alliance as ‘foreign government’ intelligence.

Matias shook his head, frustrated.  “This entire issue of intelligence involvement, in any case, confuses me.  You made an inquiry, fine.  An innocent inquiry from the German Archives Society.  Acronym notwithstanding, the worldwide reputation of the GAS is beyond reproach.  So, why go through the effort of chasing you half way around the world?  Why not confront you in Germany and ask a few simple questions?  Why are they willing to die for, well… what?”

Everyone was quiet as they considered his points.

Juan returned to the window during their exchange and was staring down at the dune with a concerned look.  Matias noted his expression and joined him.  They sipped their drinks and looked down at the dune and the almost completed patio camouflage.  The early evening breeze was whipping up the freshly loosened sand and removing all signs of the workers and their labors. 

Matias placed a hand on Juan’s shoulder.  “Much was accomplished today old friend.  You brought together a good team for this task.”

Juan continued to stare at the dune.  “Loyal friends to me, and to the Capitan, senor.”

Matias squeezed the shoulder and reassured him, “Loyalty that is not in question my friend.  If they have your trust, they have mine, as it has always been.”

“Gracias, mi Capitan.  This I know,” and he added in confirmation to Matias, “as it has always been.”  His expression had not changed from one of concern.  His demeanor had now put Matias on edge.  Juan never concerned himself over trivial matters; matters over which he had no control.  He lived his life with an ‘it is what it is’ philosophy.  Matias turned to look at his old companion.

“What concerns you so, Juan?”

Juan gave a slight shrug.  “I’m not sure, Matias.”  He reached up and dragged fingers through his short hair, the burn scars evident on the fleshy part of his upper arm.

Matias noted the first name familiarity which Juan never showed toward him.  Even though Matias had pressed him several times to loosen up, Juan would have no part of it.  Juan’s reasoning was that Matias was a Ship’s Captain, and Juan would always be his trusted man.  Juan would firmly state that, “This is as it should be, a matter of respect,” and it was the end of discussion.

Juan took a sip from his tumbler of Scotch, also something he rarely imbibed in, as he continued, “They found you quickly.”

“They were following the Baroness.”

“Perhaps, but it seems too coincidental that they show up at literally the same time.”  He now turned to look at Matias.  “Scheduling a flight to arrive so close to theirs?  Finding their hotel, and even to finding Maximillian washing cars in front of the tequila bar?  Max was only watching our vehicles, senor, which we had not planned on him doing.  How would they know to look for our vehicles if they were tailing the Baroness?  They know much too much more than we do, not to mention your visitor from State Security which seemed to start all of the dominos falling.” 

Juan turned his gaze back to the dunes and ocean with a final statement, “I do not like sucking at the last nipple on the sow, senor.  It leaves a slow piglet wanting.” 

Matias sighed.  “I know the feeling, my friend.  I would also like full sails, for once.”

The sun was setting over the hills to the west, and a chill finally came in off the ocean to cool down the last of the day’s heat.  Matias and Juan went to prepare sleeping arrangements after they saw the ladies yawn in unison.  Everyone was tired.  Before turning in, Matias addressed the group.

“Manana, we will remove sand from the top portion of the saucer so you can see the cockpit and the cryogenic compartment.  Maybe we can arrive at some idea of what to do.  I feel as though this little adventure of ours has gone beyond me,” he looked at the ladies, “and after today’s excitement, I fear for your safety.”  Elke made to speak and Matias held up a hand to stay her.  “Perhaps bringing State Security on board at this point is not such a bad idea.” 

He looked deflated and tired as he addressed Hilda, “We joked about fortune and glory.  I have no need of it.  I hoped for a mystery to solve; some interest in my life.  Turning it over to my government, eventually, was never really in question.  I simply wanted…first shot at it, if you will.  Tomorrow we will all have a look at ‘fortune and glory’ and then I will make the call, before someone else gets hurt.” 

Silence invaded the room.  He pulled a business card from his shirt pocket and ran his thumb over the embossed emblem of the CISEN as he scratched at his beard, which badly needed attention.  He would make the call, first thing in the morning. 

Elke came over and gave him a hug, her arms around his neck.  She looked into his brown eyes, still smitten with how handsome he continued to get with age.  “Nothing is beyond you my love, nor has it ever been.  Today I have felt younger than in many years, and tonight I am paying the price for living those years in too damned much comfort.”  She gave him a small kiss and whispered, “Let us retire and try not to disturb the children.” 

She could still make him smile, and blush.

********************

Matias checked his watch; eight o’clock.  It took the better part of an hour for the four of them to remove enough sand for Juan to be able to grip the brown poly tarp covering the shattered bubble canopy and cryogenic chamber and carefully pull it to the ground so a minimum of sand fell back into the cockpit area.  Juan asked that they attempt to trample as little as possible around the base of the piled sand around the craft, but it was to no avail.  Even with great care taken he grimaced at the amount of sand that cascaded away from the vehicle.  It would take much longer to cover it back up before the crew returned to finish the top of the patio tomorrow, then he remembered, covering it back up might be a moot point.

The women knelt down at the canopy as Matias reached in to unlatch it, careful not to cut himself on the ragged edges.  He pulled the damaged canopy section to the side as the women leaned further into the cockpit.  Even though there was morning light coming through the unfinished flooring above, Elke flicked on a small LED flashlight Juan had brought from the from the workshop.  She slowly panned the light around the interior.  “Oh mein Gott…what a discovery, Matias.”

Hilda remained speechless as she took it all in.  She then moved to the seam of the panel covering the cryogenic system and felt along it while asking Matias, “Offnen Sie?  How does it open?”

He reached beneath the control panel and pulled a lever popping open the smaller panel nearer the outer ring.  Juan made a face as a salting of sand, not brushed away after the tarp was pulled, fell into the opening.  He admonished the captain, “Aye!”

Matias grimaced at the overthought.  “Lo siento.  Apologies, my error.”

Juan reached into the panel and pulled the hood release with both hands.  The larger panel popped up with a loud clack as the latch released.  Matias reached down and easily hinged it back.  They could all feel the immediate coolness in the air from the tank inside.  Matias took a gloved hand and brushed away the frost still evident from the previous viewing when He and Juan had taken the photos.  He instructed, “Look quickly but do not touch,” he warned, “I think this is a Helium-3 containment tank.  Your flesh would freeze to the metal, see?” He pointed to the hoary frost already reforming over the freshly brushed off metal.  “Well, what do you think?”

“Amazing!” Elke commented as she sat back on her heels. 

Hilda was next to her.  “Ja, sehr amazing!”

“Yes, indeed!  Very amazing!”  They all spun around toward the jovial voice from behind them at the opened double doors of the new storage area.  The large man had silently moved in all the stealthy assistance soft, fine sand could offer.  His overweight frame filled one side of the opening and his outline was all they could make out with the bright morning sun glaring off the dune behind him.  He was like a moon eclipsing the sun.  About all they were certain of was that he held a weapon, and he held it like a pistol. 

He nodded the gun downward.  “Ladies, down off the craft, if you please.  Gentlemen, close everything up and put the tarp back in place.”  Matias and Juan looked at each other a second too long.  “Now, unless the safety of the women is really of little concern.”  He pointed the gun at Elke.  They did as instructed.  He reached down and took Juan’s weapon from where he had left it on the tarp as the women moved to hand the tan poly material up to the men.  He put the Juan’s pistol in his waistband, with some difficulty due to his overhanging spare tire of pudge.

Another fifteen minutes found the tarp back in place and weighted down with sand around the edges, Larkin motioned everyone out and Juan padlocked the doors.  The large man snapped his fingers and held out his hand.  “I’ll take that key, por favor.”  Juan handed it to him.  “Gracias, mi amigo.  Now, let us go up to the hacienda and get out of this morning heat.”  He waved the pistol up the hill.  “Rapidamente!  Move it!”

The man brought up the rear and made them slow down several times so he could keep up.  By the time they reached sidewalk around the house his billowing, short sleeved, pink sport shirt was plastered to his sweaty skin.  He was continuously mopping his brow with a, now soaked, white handkerchief. 

When they gained the upper patio, Elke and Hilda made to sit on the divan under covered portion in the cooler shade but the man stopped them.  “No.  Inside where it is much cooler and we can get some cold refreshment while I watch you.”

They filed inside and took seats on the couch and side chairs.  Larkin moved between them and the kitchen where an oscillating fan was blasting a hurricane of air into the great room.  With his back to the kitchen he looked at the two men and began introductions.  “I know who the Captain and his man are,” he turned to the women, “but, who are these lovely ladies?”

Elke stuck her chin out and took a regal bearing with him.  “I am Baronin Mechtilde, and this is my personal assistant Hilda.  I am Senior Chair of the German Archives Society Board of Governors, and I do not appreciate having guns pointed at me.”

Matias rolled his eyes and let out a low cough which drew her attention to him.  He slowly shook his head, silently pleading she not antagonize the gunman.  She took the hint, crossed her arms and sat back into the couch as if sulking.  He now addressed the stranger, “And you would be?”

Larkin smiled which made his cheeks puff out and his face chubbier.  He reached into his shirt pocket and brought out a business card.  “Name is Larkin.”

Matias looked at the card then back at Larkin, while handing the card to Elke.  “He is an agent.”

Elke looked at the card and laughed at the absurdity.  “He is a travel agent?” 

Juan looked confused and Larkin looked like she’d hurt his pride.  “I perform necessary services.  I transport people and material from here to there.”  He added, as if in explanation, “We all have to keep busy at something.”

Hilda glanced at the card Elke turned toward her.  She shot a knowing smile at Larkin.  “And their idea of keeping you busy was to relegate you to a backwater travel agency?  Just what kind of people and material do you transport from here to there, Herr Larkin?”

She caught movement in the kitchen, behind Larkin, and a voice stated, “People like us, and material like what you have hidden in the dune, fraulein.” 

Larkin did not turn at the sound of the voice, but the look on his face said this person wasn’t with him.  “The gun, if you please, Herr Larkin?  Jetzt! Now, bitte!”  Larkin still did not turn around.  As he raised his hands he held his pistol by the handle between thumb and finger as he handed it over his shoulder to the newcomer.  “Danke.”  The young blonde German took the pistol and passed it over to one of the two men that suddenly emerged from the study, along with the Beretta 12 gauge from the kitchen.  He took off his black soccer cap and the snap on sunglasses that covered his round prescription glasses, handing these to the man as well.  “Herr Larkin, you may move across and stand by der Kapitan.”

Larkin moved forward with the unmistakable look of a man about to do something stupid.  Hilda and Matias recognized it at the same moment they also realized he still had Juan’s pistol tucked in his waist band under his untucked shirt.  Matias tried to slowly shake his head no, while Hilda slowly tapped her cheek with three fingers to remind him he was outnumbered.  Larkin saw the fingers and relaxed, but it wasn’t the finger count that stopped him, it was the look on Hilda’s face.

As Larkin moved forward she could now see each man was carrying an old Heckler & Koch MP5 machine pistol.  The long banana clip evidenced a 30 round magazine that would empty in two seconds given the listed rate of fire.  They would cut him to pieces, not to mention several hostages with the collateral damage of sweeping fire.  Larkin moved behind Matias’ chair, placing his hands in plain sight on the top of the back which easily hid any bulge of Juan’s weapon from their view.

With Larkin in place the young German explained, “My associates and I will not take much of your time, several hours perhaps.  My apologies for not utilizing your services Herr Larkin, but I’m sure you understand why we had to arrange for transportation through another agency capable of handling very large vehicles.”  He nodded to one of his men, “Niklas, make the call.”  The man holding the shotgun pulled out a cell phone.  While he placed the call, the young German continued.

“While you were inspecting our property, we were reviewing some interesting images in your study, Kapitan.  We see there es eine Leiche…ach, my Englisch is worse than my Spanisch, if this is possible.  Eine corpse?  Ja?  The pilot of the vehicle, I believe.  We will need to make arrangements for it, as well.  Who, of you, will be so kind as to show one of my men to this item?”  He leveled his automatic weapon at the couch and Juan stood.

“I will take you.”

The man smiled, “Sehr gut!  Very good!  A volunteer.”  He turned to see the man, Niklas, had connected with his number.  The leader addressed his other associate, “Stefan, bekommen die Mumie.  Sei schnell.”  Stefan moved toward Juan and motioned with his MP5.  Juan started toward the screen door and the young German added to Juan, “Do not be long, ja?”

Juan did not look back as he answered, “Si, this will not take long.”

Elke addressed her captor, “Would you kindly point that thing elsewhere?”  She was eyeing the weapon he still held on the couch.  “We can do little against you while sitting.”

He gave her a polite nod and lowered the muzzle a bit.  Niklas, finished the phone call and spoke quietly to his younger leader. 

The German spent several minutes looking out the window, squinting out at the ocean as if he was trying to see far away through the glaring sunlight.  He faced Matias and the ladies. 

“Our helicopter will be here in a few minutes and it looks as though our ‘ship has come in’ so to speak.  A little humor to lighten the mood, ja?  Our freighter is holding station several miles off shore to accept both cargo and passengers.”  Matias looked at the women and back to the German, who was now smiling.  “Ja, ja, you will be our guests for a short cruise.”  He grinning grew at his own poor humor. 

They could just make out the “whup-whup” of helicopter blades and Matias could tell it was a big one even at the great distance,  He also noted it wasn’t coming off the ocean; it was coming from… the gasification plant?  He considered this group would need to have contacts in the Mexican Army to be able to swing the use of military assets, especially the Russian built Mi-26 heavy-lift helicopter stationed at the plant.  He looked passed the German’s and saw movement at the top of the patio steps.

********************

Sanchez was getting up from kneeling next to the body when the first of two State Security vehicles pulled into the dirt parking area near the canal, the other one following in its dust wake.  The first one was a black van and the second was the same as her own motor pool SUV.  None had markings denoting their agency. 

Earlier, she convinced the fishermen to carry the body from the far end of the breakwater, covering it with a plastic sheet she produced from the back of her vehicle, in order to facilitate the removal before more civilian eyes showed up.  A tall man in a black, special ops outfit got out of the passenger door of the SUV and strapped on his gun belt while the driver retrieved a bag from the back seat.

Sanchez was squatting down by the body, studying a small pistol and the man’s passport.  She looked up as the tall man approached.

“Ola, Ignacio.  Not much to do here but get a few photos before you bag and tag it.”

Ignacio reached down and pulled the plastic sheet up so he could examine the corpse.

“You found him floating?  No crime scene?”

“In a way, found him under the water, weighted down at the very end of the breakwater, there.”  She pointed to at the trail and down to the ocean beyond.  “You might send your man down there to get some photos of the blood at the end of the trail on top, just prior to where the boulders drop to the water where I discovered the body.  He won’t be able to miss it.  Nothing more I could find there.”

“Anything else?”  Ignacio nodded and motioned for the two men at the van to come forward with a stretcher.

“No.  I have called in my report.  Can you handle this?”

He looked down at the wet corpse of the Russian, “Si, no hay problema.  But, I have instructions to also act as the backup you requested.”  Ignacio saw her frown as she looked behind him at the vehicles and saw only the driver and the two personnel bringing the stretcher to remove the body.

“Not to worry, another vehicle is not long behind us - two more agents.

“Let’s go then.  We can wave them down on our way.  We are only going to the large hacienda, on the hill above Compos.”

The man’s tilted his head and had a look of concern.  “Capitan Matias’ place?”

“You know of him?”

“Si, my brother brought me in to consult on a security issue when the capitan began construction.  You think he has involvement in this murder?”

She shook her head.  “I have no idea what is going on here, but there are many foreigners involved, and now a dead body of one of them shows up on our watch.  I think the Capitan is over his head and treading water, but I just don’t know why.”

“I will get my pack and meet you at your vehicle.”  He turned to the driver of his own vehicle.  “Did you catch the instructions for photos?”  The man nodded affirmation.  “Then I will meet you at the hacienda when you are done here, unless you get a call otherwise.”

Ignacio headed for his vehicle just as a large engine was heard from the plant, a short distance through the scrub trees.  The engine noise increased in volume before it became recognizable as the “wup-wup” of rotor blades.  The noise increased in volume as the helicopter banked over the trees low enough for them to feel the wash from the blades.  All on the ground watched as it headed in the direction of the hacienda.  It was not gaining altitude. 

She yelled over the dissipating noise, “Rapido!  I have a bad feeling!”

They ran to her vehicle as Ignacio snatched his black equipment pack from his own and sprinted after her.

********************

The group inside the hacienda could hear the sound of the helicopter grow loader it came down the beach.

Everyone was focused on the helicopter and jumped when the screen door to the patio slammed as the handle slipped from Stefan’s fingers while trying to open it while keeping an eye on Juan.  Stefan forgot the door opened outward, and the group inside the hacienda watched as Stefan finally found the handle, again, stepping aside and opening the screen wide as Juan made a great production of trying to pass through with his light load without damaging it. 

The noise and high RPMs of the helicopter blades lowered as the craft came to rest on the beach, a short distance behind the construction site at the dune, where another of the German group had been waiting with two, small, handheld flags to guide them in.

Juan was placing the blanket wrapped mummy on the floor just inside the door, hoping to separate the Germans and from the around the women and create an opportunity for him and Matias to do something to improve their circumstance.  The leader wasn’t buying into it, however.

“Nein, nein.  No, bring it over here and put in on the beistelltisch.”  He pointed with his pistol, “Here, on what you call the coffee table.”

The sound of a sports car engine grew as it climbed up the drive from the road below and settled back as it breached the rise and the driver announced arrival by honking the horn several times. 

Matias muttered, “Max!” and inadvertently jumped up.  Stefan turned toward the sound of the horn as the younger leader raised his weapon up to Matias and quickly glanced toward the sound as well.  The glance was the small distraction Larkin had been waiting for.

Larkin stepped out from behind the chair with a hand full of Juan’s pistol.  Hilda saw the move and pulled Elke to the floor with her as she reached under the coffee table and tried to pry the sawed off double-barrel 12 gauge from its mountings underneath.  Juan let go of the mummy as he was reaching down to pick it back up and, instead, reached up and grabbed a handful of Stefan’s manhood in a steel grip while lifting him with one shoulder and blasting both of them back through the nylon screen door, ripping it from the hinges.

Matias saw the leader’s weapon swing away from him and took the opportunity to push the German off balance while diving to one side.  Larkin quickly double tapped the leader with one round to the young blonde’s chest and one in his forehead.  He was not going to make it back to Niklas. 

There was an explosion as Niklas’ weapon came to bear on the agent.  Hilda didn’t have time to fight the shotgun free from the mounts so she had fired both barrels while it was still attached. 

Everyone flinched when the end of the coffee table exploded outward toward Niklas.  Both rounds from the 12 gauge picked him up and out of the storm’s path just as his finger depressed the trigger of the machine pistol.  Thirty rounds sprayed the room and the ceiling as he died with his finger still twitching the trigger. 

The blast from the shotgun was loud enough to drown out the scream from Stefan after he got to his feet before Juan allowing the strong Mexican to come up with his shoulder, picking the German from his feet and hurling him over the concrete railing.  Juan managed to snatch Stefan’s weapon from his hands as the man fell away from him to die as his head met the sidewalk below.  Snatching the weapon caused Juan to lose his balance, stumbling backward into the hammock which flipped over and deposited him into the pool, still holding the machine pistol.

Back inside the house, Matias stood up and looked around at the damage.  “Is everyone okay?”

Hilda was kneeling by the prone Elke she had covered with her own body as she fired the shotgun.  She spoke to Elke in German and Matias caught the gist of it.  “It is my fault, Baroness.  If I had paid more attention to shielding you from harm…”

Matias took a step toward them and saw that color had drained from Elke’s already milky complexion.  She looked at Hilda through the glassy gaze of a woman shock and put a finger Hilda’s lips, staying further self-rebuke and tried to sooth Hilda’s concern. 

“Shhh…If you hadn’t taken him out, we may all have suffered.  This is just a scratch.”

Matias knelt beside Hilda and took Elke’s hand, his face a mask of concern for the only woman he ever truly loved.  He asked Hilda, “Is it only a scratch?”  He saw the blood on her hand as she removed it from Elke’s side to apply the cloth compress had torn from her own tank top.

“Hardly a scratch, but it is superficial.  She is in better shape than my nerves.”  Matias could tell by the emotion which had replaced the professionalism in her voice, that there was a bond which went beyond the outward relationship.  He thought of his own relationship with Juan.

Matias held the compress firmly against the wound and placed his other hand on Hilda’s shoulder.  “She is right, you know.  If you had not taken him out more of us would be hurt, or dead.  Now, can she be moved?”

Elke answered with the weak wave of a delicate hand, “I can move myself, Matias.”  They helped her to the couch.

Juan climbed from the pool, very happy that he was wearing shorts and a tee-shirt.  He dripped his way back to the railing and looked over to make sure Stefan was still down for good.  He noted the pool of blood under the head as his own neck and face were suddenly sprayed by chips of stinging concrete.  It took Juan only a split second to realize bullets were picking apart the plaster pillars and concrete railing where he stood.  He dropped to the patio and looked out between the concrete balusters to see landing craft, Rigid Inflatable Boats, on the beach which had deposited more than ten very well armed men which were in the process of charging across the dunes toward the hacienda.  He stayed low and crawled back to the shredded screen door mumbling something about living in paradise and how, at times, it really sucked.

Max reached the top of the drive, honked the horn and parked the sports car in time to hear the cacophony of gunfire coming from the top of the patio. He slowly made his way to the steps with a plan of peeking across the patio to the hacienda to see what was happening before he put himself in harm’s way.  He was just getting ready to raise his head when he heard the sound of more gunfire from the beach, below, and turned to see men charging up from the beach while firing automatic weapons at the patio.  The sound of several large bees flew passed his head and he realized several the men were firing at him as well. 

He quickly backed down the steps and out of their view from below and ran back to the car.  He took the low door with one high step into the front seat, dropped back behind the wheel while turning the keys he’d left in the ignition and ground the gears in his excitement, trying to get the transmission into reverse.  Failing that he slammed it back into first and made a U-turn which put the car parallel to the beach and broadside to the incoming fire.  The unfortunate move was awarded with a solid “thunk” to panels on the driver’s side and a shattered windshield. 

Max yelled his frustration as he finally got the car out of view and sped back toward the drive away from the parking area.  He soundly berated the men who fired upon him as he continued down the hill to find help.  “Pendejos! El capitán estará enojado por el daño que le ha hecho a su bebé!  He will be very pissed when he sees what you have done to his baby!  This is not my fault!”

At that moment, however, Matias had so much more to concern himself with than his precious car.  He and Hilda had managed to get Elke from the couch to her feet with the intent of taking her to the comfort of a bed.  She was looking better and Hilda was securing the compress with another strip of cloth around Elke’s waist when the gunfire erupted outside. 

Juan stepped across the ruined screen back through the ruined doorway into a room chewed up by battle and people scrambling to prepare for the new threat coming up the hill.  Larkin tossed Juan his pistol as he retrieved his own from the dead German.  Matias ran to the study and was able to find his and Hilda’s pistol in the study where Stefan and Niklas had placed them on the desk earlier while they lay in wait.  He tossed the smaller pistol to Hilda who immediately checked the magazine before taking up position beside a window to review the progress of their new threat.  She turned to Matias.

“They are already to the sidewalk.  I cannot tell how many.”

Juan chimed in from the doorway, “More than ten that I could see.  There are two RIBs on the beach that look very much like French Sillinger 1200s.  Very powerful engines; two 300hp motors, each.”

Hilda, raised an eyebrow, impressed by Juan’s accurate assessment.  She nodded her agreement to Matias concerning the inflatable boats on the beach.  “Ja, Sillinger,” then, not to be outdone by Juan’s obvious knowledge, she added, “38 feet long with deep V hulls.  Bad news is they carry up to 25 personnel, each.”  Juan cocked his own eyebrow and smiled at her.

Matias ripped two machetes from their taped hiding place under an end table, tossing one to Juan and offering the other to Larkin who waved it away.  Larkin ejected the magazine from his pistol while asking Matias, “I’m surprised you trust me enough to offer me the blade, senor.”

Matias laid the machete on what was left of the coffee table. “Hilda, for reasons not yet disclosed, has not found a need to kill you… yet.  Besides, you already have a gun and it is not aimed at me.  The enemy of my enemy, I suppose.”

Larkin nodded understanding of the reference.  “Who is this capable young woman who seems to know the working end of a pistol?” Larkin said as he raised his weapon and turn to point it toward Hilda.  He was confronted by her outstretched arm with her pistol already locked on him while she answered and continued to look out the opened window, keeping tabs on their status which was getting worse.  Men were out of sight below an overhang which stretched over a few feet of the wide sidewalk.  The assault force had them surrounded.   

“I am with the Israeli Institute for Intelligence and Special Operations, Agent Larkin.”  She finally turned to look at him.  “But, the CIA should know this, ja?” 

“Ja, we should indeed.”  Larkin responded, lowering his weapon. 

Hilda returned to monitoring their status, a grin forming in the corner of her mouth.  “This is what happens when they keep you out in the cold for too long.”

Larking also smiled, at her comment, and told Matias, “Mossad might serve us well when this all shakes out, if this group is part of what I think they are.”

“Werwolf?”

“What?”  He turned toward Elke who had taken a seat back on the couch as she fiddled with a dead German’s machine pistol.

“Werwolf,” she repeated, “do you not know the name?”  Pushing in a fresh clip of ammo hurt her wounded side making her wince.

Larkin looked slightly stunned at the revelation.  He was assuming the Nazi connection, but… this?  “From years ago, when I was a young field researcher in Germany, there were rumors…bur surely you can’t be serious… after all these years?”

Juan noticed Matias tilt his head as though he caught movement at the steps to patio.  Matias started to open his mouth but his eyes revealed the warning first.  Juan rotated his arm in an underarm pitching movement as he spun to face the patio.

********************

The man was the most physically fit, and the fastest runner of the assault team, to hit the beach.  Seeing no obvious threat, he had taken the initiative to continue up to the hacienda, taking the extreme slope of the hill with little effort.  He saw a man get thrown from the upper patio and assumed their forward recon team was in serious trouble.  This was confirmed now that he gained the patio and could see only strangers moving inside the large front room.  Two windows either side of the door and a shredded screen between them gave him a fairly clear field of fire.  He took a knee and brought up his MP-5 as the first target, just inside the door, turned in his direction.  He squeezed the trigger.

********************

Juan saw the man kneeling with an MP-5, sighting him in. He made a small adjustment to his underarm pitch as the machete reached the bottom of the arc.  He released it and continued to spin his body out of harm’s way.

The shooter pressed his trigger but was late to realize what was in Juan’s hand, registering only that the arm did not hold a gun.  He did not see the thin blade coming at him until it hit.  The machete was thrown with enough force to bury itself up to the hilt in the man’s neck.  Juan saw the man’s eyes wide with surprise as he dropped the machine pistol and he tried grabbing the handle.  He wanted to pull it out, only his hands never moved from his sides.  His spine shattered by the blade as it exited the back of his neck.  He fell to the hard tile of the patio, paralyzed and choking on his own blood.

A few more of the assault team reached the top of the steps and were taking up firing positions through the concrete balusters.  Juan rotated his torso back to Matias who tossed his pistol.  Juan caught it in time to unload the magazine at the new arrivals while he danced backwards toward his own group.  The assault team returned fire with multiple automatic weapons causing Matias to urge his own team, now plus one, into the back hall where Juan had already opened what looked like a closet.  He pushed on the back which hinged out of the way to reveal steps leading down to the cool storage room, and the hatch of the escape tunnel. 

Matias looked longingly at the toilet as he assisted Elke passed it and down the narrow hall.  Elke saw the look and gave him a nudge with her elbow.  The movements made her wince from the pain of her wound.  She gritted her teeth. 

“Not now, Matias.”

They continued down the hall as he responded, “I hate my prostate.”

Larkin sympathized from behind them, “I hate mine too, senor.  It is an annoyance of growing old, eh?  We to have something in common.”

Elke, also trying to lighten the situation, called forward to Juan and Hilda, “Anyone else want to hear about prostates?”

Hilda, in front opening the door, called back a resounding, “No!”

Juan waited for them to pass so he could bring up the rear and keep an eye on Larkin.  He answered Elke with a slight shake of his head, and Matias saw it as they squeezed by, “Oh, shut up.  It was rhetorical.”  Juan forced a smile.

******************************

 

When the return fire from inside the hacienda ceased, the deafening roar of weapons fire from outside on the steps to the pool patio began to lessen as well.  It sounds of gunfire now replaced with the sound of the heavy lift helicopter, down by the dunes, revving the rotors back to liftoff speed. 

The waiting load team had laced sturdy cargo lifting straps through the new patio lid.  Two of the men were already atop the structure waiting to attach the ends of the multiple straps to hook on the main lifting cable being lowered from the Mi-26 as it roared to overhead and hovered into position.  In less than a minute the Mi-26 was slowly climbing and seconds later the entire patio was cleanly lifted in one piece from the dune and placed off to the side. 

The cargo straps were quickly removed as a small army of other men immediately converged on the tarp and the craft it covered, removing enough sand in just minutes to enable positioning two straps under the leading edge disc so it could be raised the mere inches needed to thread two more of the heavy duty straps in a crisscross pattern underneath.  The two men still on top attached the ends of these straps to the lifting hook as well.  With this accomplished the helicopter could securely lift the saucer and ferry it to the waiting freighter.

******************************

Hilda unlocked steel ‘hatch’ of the escape tunnel and spun the small wheel which withdrew locking bolts from the concrete ring which formed the entrance.  She was surprised at how easily it swung open.  The tunnel was as small as the door, about a meter and a half tall and one meter wide.  Matias flipped a light switch beside the hatch and low wattage red bulbs gave the tunnel an eerie glow.  The red light was used to minimize detection from the outside if the tunnel’s exit was opened in the dark of night.

Hilda commented, “Amsterdam Rotlichtviertel,” then she gave a low derisive snort as she entered.

Matias said to Elke as he turned to assist her, “That did not sound very complementary.  What about Amsterdam?”

Elke patted his cheek as he helped her squeeze passed in the crowded space.  “It reminds her of the red light district, dear.”

Larkin came next, grinning.  “She is right you know.  I remember it from my first years with the agency.”

Juan pulled the door closed, spun the locking wheel, and jammed his machete into it so they couldn’t be easily followed if, by some miracle, they were able to find the closet stairway.  Matias turned to follow Elke and called back to him, “Juan, let us make a mental note to find an alternate color for the tunnel lighting.”  He could almost fee Juan’s grin.  “And, yes, you were right once again.” 

Juan’s grin was lost in the dim red glow.