Sabotage (18 page)

The first hit was a right blow that caught him across the cheek. Top had gauged the timing and the distance, and thus he had gone with it, snapping his head right to go with the swing. It stung, but he had suffered much worse. Then, just like he had forecast, a second later, the jab came from the opposite side. Again, he went with the move. He could see that the guy had tried to surprise him. However, Top had been involved in too many fights and trained countless fighters to be bamboozled by this man’s mediocre talent.

Next came a quick one-two jab to the nose. There was really no avoiding that one, and tears sprang involuntarily into Top’s eyes. Blood gushed from his nose a moment later.

“You’re not looking so pretty now, huh, big man?” The punk took a couple more slaps at empty air. “Yeah, real tough guy!”

Top blinked away the tears, clearing his vision. Classic. The guy was setting up for some Kong Fu Karate finale, like he was planning to reenact Bruce Lee in
Enter the Dragon.
The guy planted his weight on his left foot, using his hips to pivot into the momentum of the punch, a vicious uppercut that had just as much of a chance of breaking the man’s hand as possibly breaking a normal man’s jaw.

But Top was no normal man, and he watched with adrenaline heightening his senses as the man’s body came up, hips turning, feet, arms, and legs pressing skyward. Top had been leaning forward on purpose, and in one quick movement, he sat back, and whipped his head down. When the man’s hand connected, it wasn’t with Top’s chin but instead with his forehead. Top felt the man’s bones crunch, and wished he could have seen the defeated and surprised look in the man’s eyes.

After the initial blow, Top didn’t hesitate. Grabbing the chair with both hands, Top planted his feet and pushed up with all his might. The CIA man was falling back now, holding his crushed hand, completely unaware of what was unfolding in front of him. One pop became two, and two became four, and MSgt Trent, still shackled to the chair was no longer bolted to the floor but charging forward.

The man looked up just in time to see that same vicious forehead slam into his nose, and his eyes rolled back. Top’s momentum was so great that the guy flew the remaining distance headfirst into the door he had entered a minute earlier. He hit the door with a sickening thump before flopping unconscious to the ground.

That was all well and good, but how the hell would they get out of the room? Sure, the Marine’s titanic strength had released the chair from the bolts, but he had no idea how he would release the shackles. 

There was a knock at the door. Top looked back at Gaucho, who pointed back to where Top’s chair had been bolted with his eyes, as if to say, “
Get back there now!”
But the Marine had a better idea. Using the legs of the chair, he was somehow able to move the unconscious man’s sandbag body out of the way, so the door could swing inward. Then Top took a position behind the door as well.

The knock repeated with still no reply. There was a jingle of keys and something was inserted in the lock, and the doorknob turned. MSgt Trent prepared to spring himself against the door, trapping the next target, but he happened to look right, and saw Gaucho shaking his head. He wasn’t looking at whoever was in the doorway. He was looking at Top.

“Marsten?” a familiar voice sounded from the doorway.

Top backed away, and three Marines strolled in, weapons ready. They came in cautiously, and when Gunny Whitaker found Top, standing over the body of the CIA man, he actually laughed.

“At least you took care of Marsten,” Gunny Whitaker declared, pointing to the body laid out on the floor. He took out a set of keys, and he unlocked Top’s wrist and ankle cuffs. “You really look like crap, Top. Did Marsten do that?”

Top nodded as he untied the gag. The other Marines were taking care of Gaucho.

“Geez, Gunny, I was about to kick your ass, too!” Top said.

“Now, why would you want to do that? We’re here to save you. You want me to fix that nose for you?”

Top touched his nose and winced.

“I don’t know; I was thinking about keeping it. Maybe the ladies would like it.”

“I guess if you know any women who like the Wicked Witch of the West look, sure. Seriously, let me take a look at that.”

After a cursory examination, Whitaker declared, “Yeah, I can fix it.”

“Maybe I should see a doctor for this,” Top said, retreating a step.

“Of course I’m sure. My first platoon commander gave us a five-minute hip-pocket class for resetting noses.”

Top gave him a wry look. “Are you serious?”

Gunny put his hands up and smiled. “All right, you got me. No more messing around. One of my best friends is a corpsman. He showed me how to do a lot of things, like inserting IVs, setting shoulders, and fixing noses like yours. Now, would you mind if I get down to business? We really need to get out of here.”

Top nodded and took one step forward. Once Top’s nose was almost as good as new, and they had shackled the CIA man to Gaucho’s chair, Top asked “How did you know we were down here?”

“Top, I know it’s been a long time since you’ve been a gunny, but when you held my current rank, didn’t you have little birdies that told you exactly what was going on in your unit?”

“I did.”

“Well, it’s no different here. Between you and me, Wiley’s a real prick.”

“You’re really sticking your neck out for us. How come?”

“Marines take care of Marines, right?”

“Come on, Gunny. It’s gotta be more than that.”

“You’re right. I made a couple calls, and my friends told me that, if I had to make the choice between you and Mr. Wiley, I should choose you every time.”

“I’d love to know who your friends are.”

“Well, the first I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you. The second—let’s just say he wears a few stars on his collar and he lives at 8th and I streets.”

“The commandant?” Gaucho asked. “How do you know him?”

“Well, I don’t, really, I just called Headquarters Marine Corps to see if they could pull your file, and wouldn’t you know it, instead of getting some junior officer on duty, the commandant himself picked up. When I asked him if I could talk to the duty officer, he said that was him. He sent the captain home because his wife was having a baby. Can you believe that?”

Top and Gaucho both nodded.

“We’re well acquainted with General McMillan.”

“So anyway, he asked me what I needed, and I told him that there was a former Marine in CIA custody here in Djibouti. You can imagine that he was pretty interested about that. Then he really blew me away. When I told him that I had made the acquaintance of MSgt William Trent, he knew exactly who I was talking about.”

“He’s a good man,” Top said.

“The best,” Gaucho added.

Gunny Whitaker nodded solemnly, as if the fact that the current commandant was a Marine’s Marine was holy writ.

“Do you want to know what his exact words were? The commandant told me that if I were a staff noncommissioned officer worth my salt, I should do everything in my power to make sure the two of you were personally delivered to the airport.”

“The airport?” Gaucho asked.

“He said something about a package arriving, and that you should be there when it did. I’ve got the Humvee waiting out back, so we should get out of here before Wiley’s men figure out what’s going on.”

“What about the military roadblock out front?” Top asked.

“Shoot, I forgot you’ve been down here for a while. They all went home. Everything’s returned to a state of normalcy, so it shouldn’t take but ten or fifteen minutes to arrive at the airport.”

“Well, hell! What are we waiting for?” Gaucho exclaimed. “Let’s go!”

Top added, “I sure as heck hope that package turns out to be girls in hula skirts prepared to serve us whatever cocktails we would like. You know what, Gunny? I could sure use one or two right about now.”

Chapter 25

Air Force One touched down at Djibouti-Ambouli International Airport with the same tip-top precision that always amazed MSgt Trent. They'd arrived at the airport as promised and Gunny Whitaker had left them on the tarmac with a company of marines and a handful of Special Forces sent over from Camp Lemonnier. Everyone from the company commander on down had been tight-lipped about what the package hinted at was supposed to be, and so it had come as a complete surprise when Air Force One came into view.

"You think it's smart of him to be here?" Gaucho inquired.

"Come on, man. Whoever took over the Djibouti government might have been crazy, but they're not foolish enough to attempt to take a shot at our president. Do you know the kind of heat that we'd bring down on this place?"

And that was all that was said regarding the matter until they met the president at the bottom of the ramp. Zimmer was wearing an armored vest and combat boots. He was holding a helmet in his right hand which he switched to his left to greet Top and Gaucho.

"Welcome to Djibouti, Mr. President," Top said cheerily. Zimmer's eyes went wide when he saw Top's face. "Ah, it’s nothing to worry about, Mr. President," Top assured him.

One of the Secret Service agents was giving Top a look like he appeared too scruffy and beat up to be seen in the presence of the president. Top ignored him.

"Have you heard from Cal?" Zimmer asked.

"Not a thing. Our phones still aren't working. Do you have any idea how they did that?"

"We've got some people working on communications,” the president said. "They hope to have everything back up and running very soon. Now, I was told to request to speak with Captain Gray."

The Marine captain commanding a company escort stepped forward.

"I'm Captain Gray, Mr. President."

The president offered his hand and said, "The commandant says you're going to give us a ride over to Camp Lemonnier, is that correct?"

“Yes, sir. Bravo company's waiting just outside. I’ll get them in here and get loaded up as soon as you give me the word.”

The president looked at the head of his protective detail who nodded.

"All right then, Captain. Let's go."

The airport was adjacent to Camp Lemonnier. The CO of the base had obviously taken every precaution along the planned route. There were snipers on roofs and armored vehicles blocking every street that could empty in their path. Not only that, the convoy commander was treating the trip like a fly-by in Taliban country.

When they arrived at the command post they were greeted by a Marine general and a Navy captain.

"Mr. President, welcome to the Republic of Djibouti, and to our humble home here at Camp Lemonnier,” the general said, saluting, followed a split second later by the captain.

"Thank you, General, and I hope you don't think I'm being rude when I ask, but I didn’t know that Camp Lemonnier was a flag posting."

The general chuckled. "The president came prepared," he said to a smiling captain.

"Actually, sir, I pinned on my stars three days ago. Captain Chavez here is my replacement. What better time to conduct a turnover than when all hell is breaking loose? Now if I might suggest, gentlemen, let’s step inside. The Djibouti sun hath no fury but for the white-skinned man." Everyone chuckled dutifully except for the Secret Service agents.

"Actually, General, I was wondering if you could do me a favor,” Zimmer said.

"I am at your disposal, sir."

"How long do you think it would take to get all your troops assembled? Say, except for those on duty?”

"Well, Mr. President, this might just be your lucky day. Most of them are assembled over at the “Thunder Dome,” rehearsing for the change of command ceremony."

"Would you allow me five minutes with them?” the president asked, as if he really required permission.

"Yes, sir, I think the troops would be more than happy to see you."

A few minutes later, Trent and Gaucho were standing at the back of what had been dubbed the Thunder Dome. It was an amphitheater of sorts and consisted of a covering that looked like somebody cut off the ends of a Quonset hut. Not exactly like the Mad Max movie set, but the land around it was reminiscent of the film’s geography. The floor was a basketball court covered in folding chairs filled by the troops posted at Camp Lemonnier.

The general took the stage first and in a booming voice amplified by the microphone commanded, "Attention on deck."

The entire assemblage jumped to their feet and stood at attention as the president walked onto the stage.

"At ease. Please take your seats," President Zimmer said. The troops did as they were ordered, and Top could feel the tension in the crowd. They didn't know why their commander in chief was present. They were still in the midst of a crisis, and some of them probably thought the president was crazy for flying in at a time like this.

“What do you think he's going to say?” Gaucho whispered.

"I don't know. Just listen."

The president began, "First, I'd like to thank you men and women who have volunteered to serve so far from home. I respect your sacrifice and America honors you for it." There was a smattering of applause and then silence resumed. "I come to you with a confession. In the coming weeks, you're going to hear more from both sides of the aisle about why I've come, but I wanted you to hear it from me first. You are owed the truth, because if there's anything I've learned from you troops, it's that the truth comes first, politics be damned."