The Land of the Free (15 page)

Luis was the boat operator José had
arranged for Lyle and Jess, and he came to the beach bar at the Hotel Contadora
at 4:00, as agreed.  “Josh Feldstein, and my wife Rachel,” said Lyle, with
palpable awkwardness.

Whether Luis noticed or not, he did
not let on, but he motioned for them to take a short walk on the beach while
they spoke.  He started the discussion.  “Why San Marcos?”

“I heard the reefs were pristine
there,” replied Lyle.

“You want to snoop around on the
operations there, that’s obvious.  The reefs are pristine lots of places. 
There’s nothing special about the ones at San Marcos.”

“I want to get a read on the
effects of all that activity on the health of the reef,” said Jess, fresh from
her environmental science degree.  “It’s best to monitor it from the beginning,
before the serious damage has been done.  Josh is just doing this for my
benefit.”

Luis looked unsure for a moment and
said
,
“I can’t
just take you to the harbor at San Marcos
.  It’s too
dangerous. 
A
lso, there’s
no reef in there.  To see reefs
,
you’re better
off
looking at the south side of the
island and making your way as close to the harbor mouth as you dare.  I can
take you close, but you’ll have to dive the reefs yourselves.  I can pick you
up after three hours.  If you’re there
,
you come back with me.  If not, you’re out of luck.  And
it’s $1,500, all
upfront
.  If you get caught
,
I don’t want to be out the money.”

“Deal
,
” replied
Lyle.  They agreed to meet at eight the following morning and Luis left.

“Do you
trust him?” asked Jess.

“There’s no
reason not to.  We’re just a couple of stupid tourists in his mind, a chance to
make a buck.  I don’t think he’d abandon us there or anything like that.  He
has a reputation to maintain.  I think he’s just trying to cover his own tracks
with his comments.  And I think he may have bought your line about
environmental monitoring.  That probably means there’s really something to it.

…

After a light
breakfast the following day, they met Luis at the marina where his boat was
moored.  It was an old 30 foot deep hull boat that was fine for ferrying
passengers for fishing or diving, but it
did not look
like something they would want in rough waters for extended trips.  “She’s
faster than she looks
,” smiled Luis.  “I’ve made quite
a few modifications myself.”

Jess was
skeptical that this heap would be anything like “fast” but she had other things
on her mind right now.  “Luis, have you noticed environmental problems with the
San Marcos operations?”

Luis
thought for a moment, as though deciding whether to speak or not
, then
said
,
“I thought you already knew.  With all the people they
have there, sewage gets in the water and kills the reefs.  It’s worst at the
mouth of the harbor
,
but
as I said, I
can’t
take you there.  I’ll take
you to
the
south side of the
island and a rock outcrop that was once part of the reef.  I can’t get any
closer on that side of the island or I would hit the reef.”

“Can you
tell us about the people there?” asked Lyle.

“There sure
are lots of them, getting off big ships that look like cruise ships painted
over in gray.  Around here they say they’re North Korean.  And there’s no music
or dancing.  They’re all young men, like soldiers, but they don’t wear
uniforms.  Are you here to call the Americans on them?  Are you the CIA or
something?”

“No, far
from it
,
” said Lyle.  “And it’s
more complicated than just calling the Americans, but we do need to learn who
they are.  And
if it turns out that they’re Chinese
instead of Korean, then it will become even more complicated.”

“But we
need to have the story ready if we get a chance to make our case
,
” added Jess.  “And I don’t want
to see the reefs killed off.”

Before they
left for their trip to San Marcos, Lyle decided to call John to update him
on the large numbers of possible North Koreans
on the island
.  He dialed
John’s phone and listened to the “hello.”  It
wasn’t
John’s voice
that answered
.  He paused for a
moment, then disconnected.  “John and Frank may be in trouble, Jess.”

“Then it’s
all up to us
,
” said Jess,
trying to sound brave
in the face of this troubling development.

…

Panama Bay
is a shallow tropical body of water known for excellent fishing and unspoiled
reefs.  The short trip to San Marcos was a delightful cruise in a pristine
environment amid colorful waters and abundant sea life.  Before they knew it,
Luis
had
stopped at a rock
outcrop about 300 feet from
shore.  There was just
enough exposed rock where they would be able to
wait for
Luis’ return.  Luis reminded them to
be
back
in three hours.
  Both divers nodded
in agreement
and then tipped
backwards
overboard.

Once Luis had
left,
Lyle motioned to the shoreline.  They
quickly covered the distance
to
the beach
,
and within
minutes
,
they
had
stashed their scuba gear in a cluster of coral boulders
out of sight of any passersby
. 
The island was small
.  The
beach where they landed was on the south side
, faced by
a hill that extended as a ridge to the northeast. 
They would need to cross it to get to the port, which lay to
the north. 
At least
they
were not likely to be seen making their approach, thought Jess.

They began
the hike up the hill in the sun and humidity,
an
uncomfortable undertaking.  They reached the top after about 20 minutes
, and the vegetation had some breaks just below the ridge
line
where
they could
look down on
the port.  The harbor
was directly in front of them at the base of the hill
,
and several ships were in port, including one that
appeared as Luis described,
a converted cruise ship
that had been painted battleship-gray.

Across the
harbor to the west and
to
their
left sat a cargo ship in the process of being loaded with shipping containers
that looked like they had some extra attachments, as suggested by the memo
Robbie had sent to Jess.  Farther back on the west shore was a large warehouse
surrounded by shipping containers.  Trucks were taking containers into and out
of the warehouse through various doors.  “
Whatever
modifications they’re making to the containers, it’s happening right in that
warehouse
,
” said Lyle.

On the east
shore to their right, there were many small buildings that seemed to resemble
army barracks.  They
couldn’t
see all of the facility because the ridge they were standing on projected to
the east of the harbor before descending towards the low land near the shore. 
It appeared the facility extended around the ridge to the east side, along the
shore.  Of what they could see, it was enormous.

“I wonder
why they need two water towers
,
” asked Jess.  There was one on either side of the harbor,
each large enough to support a small town.

The
questions raced through Lyle’s head.  Soldiers and barracks on one side,
shipping containers and a large warehouse on the other, each with its own water
tower.  But there were no missiles that they could see.  “Jess, we don’t have
that much time.  I need you to follow the ridge to the right, far enough that
you can see how many of those buildings there are in total.  A hard count is
what we need.  If these are soldiers, we need an estimate of how many can be
housed here.  Armies seldom construct vast excesses of housing capacity.  While
you’re doing that, I’m going down to that warehouse to have a look inside.  The
purpose for this facility is to modify shipping containers for some purpose,
and I need clues for what that might be
.”

“I get it
,
” she replied.  “We meet back at the outcrop, okay.  No
hanging out on the beach to let them find us
,
” she added.

“Absolutely,”
agreed Lyle.  “And don’t wait for me if I’m not there.  There’s no point in
both of us being caught because one was.”

Jess
didn’t
answer, but hugged Lyle and
said
,
“Just
you worry about getting back, alright?”

Lyle
returned her hug and said
,
“You
be careful too.  Knowing you’re safe will help keep me focused.”

Cam Burrows’ cell door only opened
when they brought him his food and when they took him to the shower to attend
to his hygiene.  There was an armed guard present on both occasions, as well as
the “room service guy,” as Burrows called him.  The food delivery was too quick
to allow any attempt at an escape.  It would have to happen in the shower.  The
shower was part of the bath complex and was in no way hardened for prison or
brig use.  He had worked out the routine.  He would throw his white pajama-like
clothes in the hamper in the changing area, and would then be given some
privacy to conduct his business.  He would receive fresh clothes upon
completion.  There was a window in the bath complex, and it opened.  It was high
up on the wall and Burrows thought it might be possible to climb through it. 
He accentuated his limp well beyond how much discomfort it still caused him,
hoping they would underestimate his recovery.

Burrows helped himself to two sets
of clothes that evening, wearing both pairs back to his cell.  When they
brought his evening meal, he took it and then knocked on the door again to
complain that they had not given him a knife.  As he had hoped, the room
service guy was not paying close attention and simply gave him a second dinner
knife.  He returned one set of cutlery with his dishes that night, arousing no
suspicions.

The following evening, Burrows
walked to the shower wearing both sets of clothing, ducked behind the
partition, and tossed one set of clothes into the hamper that was in full view
of the attendants.  He turned on the shower to drown out any noise, and moved a
wood bench to the window.  Standing on the bench, he tried opening the window
but quickly determined that it didn’t swing out wide enough.  With the blunt
end of his dinner knife, he broke the window and knocked out as much loose
glass as he could.  He took a towel and laid it on the bottom of the frame,
then jumped up and pulled himself through the hole.  It was a tight fit, and he
scraped his stomach on small bits of glass that still protruded through the
towel.  But these injuries were minor.  More concerning was that his leg was
still not completely healed, and while he could walk well, he did not think he
could run far if he was pursued.

Once outside, Burrows surveyed the
landscape in the fading light.  At the northeast end of the complex where the
runways ended was a crude road that ran out between the runways to a locked
gate.  There were not many ground exits, as everything was supplied by air.  No
importance seemed attached to the gate, and there were no guards stationed
there.  Burrows walked to the gate and found a gap in the razor wire where the
doors of the gate met. 
It might just be big enough to squeeze through.
 
He wished he had kept the towel he used earlier.  He was also aware he probably
had only about another minute before they came into the shower looking for
him.  He climbed the chain link fence and reached the top in short order. 
Now
what, Cam?
he rebuked himself.  He could not swing his leg over the fence. 
There simply wasn’t enough room between the banks of razor wire.  He was no
gymnast, but he remembered a move he’d seen done on the high bar.  Behind him
he heard commotion coming from the common building, so it was now or never.  He
threw his head forward, spinning his body over top the bars, his feet following
behind and spinning upwards into the gap in the razor wire.  His feet followed
over his head and he let go of the gates to fall to the ground outside the complex. 
His leg had grazed the razor wire, which cut through his pants.  He felt
nothing, so he assumed he wasn’t injured.

Burrows made his way into the dark
desert, walking barefoot and trying to avoid stepping on any of the jagged
rocks that were scattered throughout the desert.  He took a direction he
believed to be east, or at least close to it.  If he was not mistaken, the
Texas border was about 20 miles in that direction.  He walked for most of the
night, until near morning he found a gully with some tall bushes where he could
hide.  He crawled in among the bushes and tried to get some sleep.  As the sun
came up, he realized east was not where he thought it was, and he’d gone
further south than he had planned.  He’d correct that after nightfall, but he had
to hide during the day.

“Havenstein admitted the whole
thing,” said Torres to Carson Stahl as they rode in their golf cart, with
Secret Service now close behind them.  “When I pushed him hard enough, he
admitted all the money printing, and by extension all the bailouts, are to
preserve the privileges of the powerful.  If we were to let things collapse,
there would be new owners who owed nothing to the old order and might just
decide to prosecute us.”

“The old order likes to take care
of itself first,” said Stahl.  “To the extent they admit new members, it’s
after they’ve beaten the system, and made it impossible to ignore them.  And as
you can guess, there aren’t too many who fit that bill.  But it’s pretty
remarkable that you got such a frank admission from him.  You’re starting to
show the first signs of quality leadership.”

“I just don’t see it, Carson.  I’m
still trapped doing someone else’s bidding.  How can I exert any leadership?”

“You have options Jackson.  That’s what
I’ve been trying to get across.  For instance, you’ve managed to get Havenstein
to declare the game openly.  Now you have something to leverage.  You’re within
your rights to draw lines, and not let the owners push you beyond them.  You
should be the mediator between the owners and the masses, not simply the
servant of the owners.  But it requires pushing back when they want too much.”

“You have to understand the masses
to be their mediator.  I don’t think I ever did.  When I think of standing up
to the owners, all that comes to mind is JFK.”

“JFK became their enemy,” said
Stahl.  “He stopped talking to them and just did his own thing.  Had he
negotiated with them instead, he might have been okay.  There’s a big
difference between standing up to them and being their enemy.  Whether it’s Havenstein
or your Cobra, the trick to dealing with them is to get their game out in the
open, then stand firm with them, making it clear which parts of that game are
simply asking for too much.”

“Stand up to the Cobra?  That would
be something.”

“If she comes away understanding
that her people will lose worse if they lose the support of the masses, you
would succeed in pushing the influence back the other way.  But you have to
have a strong case and be able to mount a powerful argument.  They don’t put
pipsqueaks into those roles.”

“Can I decline to start new wars? 
The Cobra’s trying to launch a covert war against a budding Chinese missile
defense system.”

“You don’t have
that
much
power,” said Stahl.  “But you can constrain how the war is fought.  In a
regular war, don’t let them bomb civilians because there might be militants
hiding among them.  If they disobey, insist on courts-martial.  Use blockades
instead of bombs.  Let medicine and food get through.  I don’t know how you
fight a covert war against a defensive system, but you’ll have to get creative
when the details come down.”

Torres nodded in agreement as the
cart stopped for his next shot.