PARADOX - Chapter 42

Chapter 42

May 9, 2012 – La Cascada Hotel San Carlos de Bariloche – Argentina





Within hours after Monday contacted Special Operations Command, they were extracted from the mountains via V22 Tilt Rotor Osprey from the Super Carrier, USS Theodore Roosevelt, stationed off the coast of Chile. They flew to the airport in San Carlos de Bariloche where they rented ground transportation to the La Cascada Hotel, about twelve miles from the small International Airport. Through Operations Headquarters reservations for them had been made for six adjoining rooms.

In addition, the bodies of Taco Bender and Chewey were taken to the carrier so arrangements could be made for notification of family and burial. Despite the urgency of his mission, Monday demanded that he be notified of the funeral arrangements so he and the remainder of his team could attend. The team members unanimously decided that their families should have a share of the money from the gold.

The bodies of Dorbec’s men were also loaded onto the Osprey and taken to the International Airport, where Dorbec made arrangements with the French military to send them back to Europe. Dorbec also made reservations in the same hotel along with his two remaining mercenaries. He and Monday had had little communication between each other, but Dorbec was determined to find the men who double crossed him and extract revenge on both Hans and Wilhelm.

“I didn’t tell you to tangle with one of the best fighters in the world,” Bones muttered, attempting to clean and dress Monday’s badly scraped knuckles and facial lacerations. “What a fight though. You guys must have used just about every kind of martial arts fighting ever invented and dirty street fighting on top of that. Haven’t lost your touch either.”

“Ouch!” Monday flinched. “The least you could do is cut me some slack with that stingy stuff.”

“Now that we have doctored your little boo-boo’s, can we get back to serious business?” Chester demanded, pouring over several maps lying on the dining area table. “By the way, Special Operations Command and DOD activated our reserve commissions so we’ll have access to the real good stuff. I have my Lieutenant Colonel status and you, my friend, have been upgraded. We’re back on the payroll.”

“Upgraded?” Monday winced over a split lip. “Dumb ass? That’s just about all the upgrading I deserve.”

“Full Bull.” Chester smiled. “Reckon me being a Lieutenant Colonel you had to be upped to full Colonel so you’d still be running the show.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you’ve been running the show all along. Every time I’ve tried to do something, I screwed the pooch. Send them a message, Geek, tell them I prefer the rank of Doctor, since I actually earned it. I bailed out of the Army as a Captain, remember. Chester could use a promotion, tell them I insist they deck him with the full eagles.”

The Geek smiled and headed for his communications set. Halfway there, a knock sounded at the door.

“Doctor Prestano, I presume,” Monday chuckled, with his proverbial bottle of vino.”

It was not Prestano.

Standing in the doorway with his foot braced against the door was Colonel Dorbec. His face and hands didn’t look much better than Monday’s. His left eye was swollen, which practically cut off his vision, but he displayed a wide grin on his face.

“What the hell do you want!” Monday jumped up from his chair. Chester stood and stationed himself between the two men fearing that another altercation might be brewing.

“I come to, bury the hatchet, as you Americans say.” Dorbec lifted a bottle of brandy and several glasses.

“You already buried the damn hatchet, in my head,” Monday sat back down in his seat.

He was aware that Dorbec was as close to his men as he was to his Team. Ten of those men, close friends all, were in body bags on their way back to Europe. Yet, there was something about Dorbec that he admired, had liked ever since their conversation at Flint Kaserne. The man was working for the wrong people, or had been working for the wrong people, but, he was a gentleman at all times and he did go out of his way to prevent bloodshed as much as possible.

“Sit down Dorbec, and pour me a glass of that French piss.” Monday signaled for Chester to back down.

“The nectar of the gods,” Dorbec replied with pouting lips. He poured two full glasses of the excellent cognac and passed one to Monday. “Salut.”

“Down the hatch.” Monday drained the contents of the glass and winced as the alcohol hit his split lip. “You want to join us in the search,” he remarked, casually sipping the second glass. Dorbec shook his head in the affirmative.

“Despite our past differences, we could use you.” Monday slid his hands across the rough whiskers on his face. “Not only are you very good at what you do, you have information we don’t have.”

Dorbec gingerly removed some papers from his breast pocket and passed them over. Monday’s French was not particularly good so he handed the papers to Chester, the French linguist of the Team.

“Looks like Dorbec beat us to the punch again.” Chester grinned. “According to these documents the French government activated his regular army commission and promoted him to, Général de Brigade. That’s Brigadier General to us. In addition, they requested that our Special Operations Command accept his temporary detachment to the United States Army as military attaché and assign him to our mission. All legal, with clearances, and counter signed by the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.” Chester handed the papers back to Dorbec.

“I wanted to see if you would accept me before I handed you those papers.” Dorbec smiled. “The rank means nothing to me, but I want a chance to settle the score with Wilhelm von Liegntz and Hans-Ulrich Rudel II.”

“You have any idea where the villa is located?” Chester asked.

“We were blindfolded the final leg of the trip.” Dorbec walked over to the table and bent down over the maps. “I am certain we landed at the town of El Calafate where we transferred to a helicopter. The helicopter flight was at least two hours in length and, despite being blindfolded, I know we made at least two forty-five degree turns. They were obviously flying a pattern to prevent me from knowing the exact location of the villa. It could be anywhere within two hundred miles of El Calafate. I do know it was east of Mount Fitz Roy with the Cerro and Laguna Torre near by.”

“Must be hundreds of similar villas in that area.” Monday joined them at the table. “We’ll have our satellite geeks scan the area if you provide us with a description of the layout, but, I doubt they’ll be there. All we’ll find there now is an innocent villa.”

“Now that they have both jewels they will be long gone.” Dorbec took another long swig of his cognac to dull the pain in his jaw from one of Monday’s strong right hooks. “The locals they hired to find the jewel must be damn good. I know your men are well trained in hiding traps and weapons stashes. I am very sorry for your loss.”

“I am sorry for your’s also,’ Monday shrugged.

“Nous oublions avec nos peines, La mort qui nous oublie si peu Nous, la Légion,” Dorbec whispered.

Monday glanced at Chester for a translation.

“We forget with our sorrows The death which forgets us if little Us, the Legion. It’s the last line of ‘Le Boudin” the Legion’s marching song.”

Monday gave him a long look. His eyes told Dorbec what was uppermost on his mind.

“They are treating her like royalty,” he replied to Monday’s unasked question. “For some reason they almost worship her. Perhaps it’s the fact that she’s Hitler’s granddaughter and they’re Nazi fanatics. I was never given the reason for her abduction. I was, how do you say, not part of their inner circle.”

“She’s a fighter.” Monday took another belt of his cognac to cover his emotions.

“That she is, mon ami.

“We have two designated targets.” Chester spread out a different set of maps. “Operations Command indicates a significant amount of unusual activity at one isolated location.” He pointed with his finger. “Here, at Isla Wickham, in Chile.”

“Unusual activity?” Monday questioned.

“Heavy water traffic, unidentified flights, magnetic anomalies, and scrambled communications. The locals have even reported a massive amount of UFO’s in the area.”

“UFO’s? Hot shit!” The Geek joined them. “Always did believe in little green men.”

“Don’t mind him.” Monday grinned at Dorbec. “He has a few screws loose.”

“UFO’s have very often turned out to be secret military activity,” Dorbec returned. “Your people at Area 51 have been playing little green man for a long time. All those secret projects have been written off as, UFO activity. You know where those reports are filed.”

“The dumpster.” Monday grinned. “What other location? You mentioned two targets?

“The order does not mention activity, as such, but they want us to interface with the British.” Chester grabbed a glass and poured himself a sip of cognac.

“The Goddams!” Dorbec blurted. “What interest cold they possibly have in this?

Monday looked at Chester’s quizzical expression. “The French have been calling the British, The Goddams, for centuries.

Chester did not comment but shook his head. “It seems that back in 1946, the Brits led an expedition into the Mühlig-Hoffmann Mountains from their base at Maudheim, Antartica. This expedition was in response to alleged Nazi activity in that specific area. Just like our own Operation Highjump, everything was hush-hush, completely covered up. Conspiracy theorist indicate that the British SAS discovered a hidden Nazi base, a massive underground base heated by volcanic activity and full of advanced technological secrets and hundreds of Nazi SS troopers. One retired SAS member, alleged to have been on the expedition, said they destroyed lengthy tunnels with explosives but never discovered what happened to the Nazi base. Headquarters thinks it’s worth a look-see.”

“So now we’re into conspiracy theories and UFO’s.” Henri entered the room with bleary eyes. “This holiday gets more interesting all the time.”

Monday paid no attention to the sleepy eyed bear. “That Delta Force that was heading our way was diverted to an emergency mission, so we’re on our own until further notice. To save time we will have to split up and send one group to each target. I know you can’t stand cold weather, Chester, so I’ll lead the team to the Antarctic target and you take the other to Chile.”

“No picnic either way. The target at Isla Wikham is in the Tierra del Fuego area, some of the most inhospitable terrain on Earth.

Monday leaned back and studied Dorbec. “Your choice General, hot or cold?”

“Simply Dorbec,” he grinned. “That is, unless you want to saddle me with one of those god-awful nicknames you’re so fond of. I have extensive experience in mountainous terrain so I would prefer to accompany the good Colonel to Chile. Lars and Claude will accompany me, they also have a score to settle.”

“You can take Dorbec and his two men, Oddball, and the Geek. You’ll have to hit the Navy up for a Corpsman. I’ll take the rest.” Chester was content to see that he had not been saddled with any of the civilians, although he would have been comfortable with Henri or Lofton riding as shotgun.