Dark Coup (30 page)

The Corporal who had stopped him looked indecisive, but the Sergeant who had made the call nodded.  “Let’s go,” he said, “you first.”

“I may just get out of here,”
Diego thought to himself.

…

Diego walked onto the tarmac as a prisoner, just as the first two Hawks were lifting off.  His second in command had taken him at his word and done exactly as he’d asked.  As he stepped into the open he saw the heads of the co-pilots in the other five birds turn his way.  He made a face that looked resigned and held up his arm like he was going to give a signal and then twirled his hand counter-clockwise.

Two of the remaining three Hawks took off within seconds of each other.

The fifth Black Hawk only had a co-pilot and a Flight Engineer, it was his bird.  The side door was open, waiting for him.

“What did you do,” the Sergeant guard yelled over the engine noise.

“I told them to get out of here,” Diego yelled back.

The guard pulled his side-arm and put it to Diego’s head.  “Tell them to power down and exit the helicopter,” he said.

Unlike the raid on Fort Campbell, the Black Hawks were armed with an anti-personnel weapon for this trip…technically.  A .50 machine gun really is overkill on a human being, and at less than one-hundred feet, it’s like turning out the light with a sledge-hammer…powered by a stick of dynamite.

Diego noticed that his flight engineer was no longer visible through the cockpit window and wondered for half-a-second where he’d gone.

The .50 swiveled up, with his flight engineer manning the trigger, and leveled at the three of them–the two guards and Diego.  After all, one of the flight engineer’s jobs was door gunner.

“I have a feeling that won’t be happening,” Diego said.

Slowly, Diego turned around to face the two guards, and the muzzle of the 9mm.

“If you shoot me,” he said, “he lets loose and you will both be torn apart.  If I drop to the ground, he lets loose and you will both be torn apart.  Either way,” Diego nodded his head back towards his helicopter, “they
are
taking off and
you
are dead.”

“
Or
,” Diego said after a second, “I walk to the helicopter, get in, tell my man to stand down, and I leave.  In that case, they still take off but you are very definitely not dead.”

“How do we know you won’t,” the Sergeant started, still aiming at Diego’s head.

“Because I didn’t have to tell you anything,” Diego said.  “All I had to do was drop and we’d already be in the air.  I’ve seen him shoot.  I trust him with my life.  I have no doubt that he could hit you,” Diego looked at the Corporal who was now off to his left, “right now, with a two or three-round burst, without touching me.  That’s why.”

Emotions warred on the Sergeant’s face, but eventually prudence won out and he lowered the gun.  Diego started walking backwards.

When he felt the prop wash hitting him just right, he ducked out of instinct and put his hands out behind him until he felt the side of the helicopter, and hopped in.

“They let me go,” Diego said.  “Close the door and let’s get out of here.”

Diego yelled up front, “Peck, you’re flying, my nerves are shot.”

Chapter Thirty

August 1, 2013 - Fort Rucker, Alabama

“Sir,” Sanford said as he came into Olsen’s office and shut the door.

Colonel Olsen looked up in annoyance at both the breach of protocol and at being interrupted, but stopped short of reprimanding his Major at the look on Sanford’s face.  “Can I help you, Major,” he asked.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner,” Sanford asked.  “Sir, I’m closer to the men than West is, I’ve even been trying to diffuse the situation with them as much as possible, but you chose not to trust me.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, son,” Olsen said.  “But you need to start making sense, and quick.”

“Denver, Sir,” Sanford said.  “I’ve worked out some of what’s really going on and I want in.”

Olsen’s eyes narrowed a bit but he gave no other outward indication of what was going on inside.  As soon as Sanford said Denver, however, his heart-rate almost doubled, the hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he could feel the adrenaline start coursing through his system.  Instead of jumping up or yelling, though, Olsen leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.

“What,” Olsen said, “are you talking about?”

Sanford looked to the side slightly, as though he couldn’t believe the Colonel was denying what he’d been working towards for the last year.  “Sir, with all due respect,” he said, “cut the crap.  We both know where the orders are coming from and it isn’t the C-in-C.” 

He walked the couple of steps towards Olsen’s desk and leaned on it with both hands.  “The insanely wealthy are the powerful and they
will
win, every time,” Sanford said.  “They always have and they always will.  I have to admit, it took me awhile to figure out something was going on.  But I definitely want in. There is going to be a whole new world, eventually, and I want to be on the winning side. Unfortunately, you didn’t trust me soon enough and now everything’s gotten out of hand.”

“What do you mean,” Olsen asked.

“The men are about to revolt,” Sanford said.  “They don’t see any reason to keep doing what they’ve been doing.  They’re good men, but without an enemy or a cause, keeping them at this constant level of readiness is wearing them down.  They can’t, and won’t, keep it up any longer.  We have to go…now.”

Things
had
been getting worse and Olsen
had
been hearing more and more rumors of complaints from the men.  Still, he couldn’t just admit everything–or even anything–to Sanford.  What did he really
know
?  How could he actually know
anything
?

“If we have a problem brewing,” Olsen said, “it’s your job to deal with it.  If there is dissention in the ranks, take care of it.”

“Unless I shoot every third man,” Sanford said, “that’s not going to work, Sir.”

“There is no
way
it’s gotten that bad,” Olsen snapped as he stood up and slapped his desk, finally letting his emotions get the better of him.  “If it was, I would know.”

“No, Sir,” Sanford said, not backing down, “you wouldn’t.  Not until they stormed your office and you were escorted past West’s and my dead bodies to be hung or shot.  Like I said, I’m close to these men.  It’s my job.”

Olsen glared at Sanford, but was impressed with both the man’s conviction and his determination.  He’d apparently underestimated him for the last couple of years, this last year specifically.

Without admitting anything, Olsen asked, “What do you propose to do about it?”

“I already told you,” Sanford said.  “We need to leave, now.”

“And just where do you propose we go,” Olsen demanded.

“Hunter,” Sanford said.  “They’re already expecting me.”

“What,” Olsen said.

“Sir, you aren’t listening.  This base is a powder keg,” Sanford pointed out the Colonel’s window.  “Take a look around and
see
what’s going on.  Poor discipline, sloppy uniforms, open disrespect for their superiors.”

Outside Olsen’s window they could see two of those very same sloppily dressed troops of unknown rank, due to the fact that they were wearing untucked white tee-shirts and fatigue pants, engaged in a yelling match with a Sergeant First Class.

“Those two should be brought up on charges,” Olsen said.

“And who would do it, Sir,” Sanford asked.  “Look carefully, both of them have fully automatic weapons slung across their backs and bulges on their hips.”

Olsen considered for a few seconds.  “When can we leave,” he asked.

“Sir,” Sanford said.  “I’ve been saying
now
for the last five minutes because I have a bird on the tarmac ready to go.  I came in here to
get
you.”

“I’ll meet you there in ten minutes,” Olsen said.

“I need to know a few things first,” Sanford said.

“No,” Olsen said and shook his head.

“Then find your own ride and good luck not getting shot down,” Sanford said and turned to leave.  He heard Olsen move and assumed he was reaching for his side arm.

“Don’t bother,” Sanford said and reached for the door handle.  “They won’t go with just you and you’ll be dead in a day if you stay here.”

“What do you want to know,” Olsen asked.

“I want to know who they are,” Sanford said.  “I want to know who they are, really, and what they promised, and what I can look forward to.”

…

“What if we don’t pacify the general population,” Sanford asked.

“Then anyone who didn’t get with the program dies,” Olsen said.

“The men won’t do it,” Sanford said.  “We don’t have a big enough stick to drive them to wholesale slaughter of the remaining citizens or their fellow brothers-in-arms.”

“I never said
we
would do it,” Olsen said.  “It’s biological, and I haven’t been vaccinated yet and neither have you.  It would take a while, but these people are incredibly patient.  Even without international travel they have it figured out.  They will distribute the vaccine to those who will be allowed to survive–somehow, they haven’t told me exactly how–just before this super bug is released, and then a couple of months later they would come out of hiding and take over what’s left, because there would simply be no resistance.”

Sanford nodded.  “And a land, if not a whole world,” he said, “fresh, clean, empty and ready to inherit.  Ruthless in its efficiency, but,” he shook his head, “brilliant nonetheless.”

“We need to go,” Sanford said.

“Give me a few minutes,” Olsen said.  “I have to get a few things.”

As Sanford left the office, Olsen heard him on the radio giving an obscure code to someone.  Hopefully the Black Hawk they were taking just needed a thru-flight and not a full pre-flight.  They ran enough flights that one more bird taking off shouldn’t raise any suspicion.

Olsen closed the blinds, disconnected the radio and encryption unit he had in the drawer of his desk, and put them in a locked and padded ammo can.  Then he closed the door of his office.  The antenna would have to stay, and getting a new one installed would be a bridge he’d cross when he came to it.  Nothing else in the office or his quarters needed to come with him.

As he left the office he thought he noticed more than a few hostile looks.  Sanford was right, it was time to go.

…

Sanford already had a bag loaded and strapped into one of the rear-facing seats behind where they would be sitting.  Apparently, Sanford hadn’t taken the time to strip out the extra seats from the Black Hawk before the flight.  The Pilot, co-Pilot, and Crew Chief were busy readying for take-off and none of them so much as glanced Olsen’s way as he approached the bird.  Not that it mattered, he couldn’t tell who they were with their helmets on and visors down.  He was sure Sanford had chosen his flight crew wisely, as his own life was in their hands as well.

Sanford held the door for Olsen and climbed in behind him.  It was a little darker than he remembered it being inside since the last time he’d been in one, but he’d just been out in the bright sun and Olsen figured he just needed a second for his eyes to adjust.  He strapped himself in and in less than a minute they were airborne.

Sanford handed him a headset so that they could talk during the two-and-a-half hour flight to Savannah, Georgia.

“Nothing else to bring,” Sanford asked, pointing to the ammo can.

“Nothing else worth bringing,” Olsen replied.  “Believe me, that’s the only thing worth taking.  Everything else can be replaced.”

Sanford nodded.

…

Every five or ten minutes, Sanford would ask a question or say something to break the silence and they would talk for a couple of minutes.  After almost two hours and forty-five minutes Olsen initiated the conversation for the first time.

“Shouldn’t we be there by now,” he asked.

Instead of answering immediately, Sanford looked over his right shoulder, looked at Olsen, and then undid his harness.

“No, Sir,” Sanford said.

Olsen felt hands grab both of his biceps as a tug at his waist removed his side arm.  Belatedly, Olsen realized that although his eyes had adjusted somewhat to the dimness in the back of the Black Hawk, it was still very dark.  He’d also not gotten a very good look into the back because of Sanford’s bag, and now he knew why it had been there–to
block
the view.  How many people had been back there all this time?

“No,” Sanford said.  “Change of plans.  We aren’t going to Savannah, to Hunter Army Air Base; we’re going to Hanahan, South Carolina.”

At the look of confusion on Olsen’s face, Sanford continued as two black-clad figures came around the seats to secure the Colonel.  “Colonel Spencer Donald Olsen.  You are under arrest subject to Articles 81, 92, 94, 104, 106a, 109, 118, 119 and not the least of which, 133.  You are being delivered to the Naval Consolidated Brig in Charleston, where you will be detained until such time as a full court-martial can be convened.  You have the right to remain silent…”

…

“Diego,” Sanford said over the intercom, “how much longer?”

“About fifteen minutes, Sir,” Diego said.  “We just made radio contact and they have us on radar.”

Sanford nodded to himself and reached over to start bringing up the lights in the cabin.  Olsen was handcuffed and had leg restraints which held his ankles to the floor mounts for the seat.  They had also duct-taped the handcuff chain to the seat, so he couldn’t open his harness.

For his part, Olsen had remained silent since he’d received his Miranda warning, which was fine with Sanford.  He’d heard all he needed to, twice over now, to convict the Colonel and condemn him to death on at least a half-a-dozen counts.  It would be too good for him.  He was grateful for the two MPs that Hodges had provided, who had now come around to sit in the jump seats facing them, to keep an eye on the Colonel.  Sanford just wanted to be done with all of this.

…