Page 22 of Clive Cussler's Quantum Tempest
The third largest group were Haitians, currently under the murderous sway of men like Jimmy Chérizier, a former police officer turned “revolutionary” whose nickname, “Barbecue,” referenced his treatment of his political opponents, not his culinary expertise.
Raven and Linc also passed by clusters of Peruvians, Ecuadorans, and a surprisingly large number of Africans.
The well-heeled Chinese arriving in Necoclí opted to take a shorter “VIP” route in exchange for much higher fees.
Just before dawn, a series of whistles blew, and the gates were opened. The crowds surged through the openings. The young bucks raced ahead like kids rushing into a rock concert arena. The families burdened with children and worldly goods shuffled forward uneasily like cattle negotiating a stock alley on the way to the slaughterhouse.
Linc knew that, in short order, the mass of people would sort themselves out, forming a long line pouring toward the border. The elderly, weak, and young would drift to the back of the ragged line and join the unfortunate who broke their ankles or succumbed to the polluted waters. These stragglers would become like the weakest animals on the savanna, and most likely to fall prey to the predators waiting to snatch them away.
Raven and Linc shared a furtive glance beneath their poncho hoods. TheOregonoperators had just begun a marathon.
A marathon through hell.
?
Initially, Linc and Raven kept to themselves, staying in the middle of the pack, fully aware of the very real challenges ahead. Despite the hazards they were about to face, neither felt particularly brave. Both were highly trained operators with years of armed combat and fieldcraft experience under their belts. Linc had been a Navy SEAL sniper and Raven a highly decorated military police officer before joining theOregoncrew.
The truly heroic among them were the young families and grandmothers carrying small children, all risking their lives, bodies, and sanity on a long trek through the Darién Gap in hopes of finding a better life up north.
What broke Lincoln’s heart was the realization that most of these people had been sold a false dream of America’s golden riches by the very people now putting them in harm’s way for a fee. The criminal gang running this operation was a La Liga subsidiary, and earned over eight hundred million dollars each year from this humanitarian nightmare.
But Linc wasn’t a social worker, and his mission wasn’t to save these people. The mission he and Raven had been assigned was crystal clear: find the Iranian Quds Force base rumored to be operating in the Darién Gap. Once fully trained, the Iranian unit would head north to stab across the soft underbelly of the American southern border to wage war on the Great Satan. Tens of thousands of American lives could be at risk. Maybe more.
Their only responsibility was to find and geolocate the Quds Force base and report back. If possible, they were to determine the nature of the planned attack, and if the Iranian fighters intended to deploy weapons of mass destruction. It was strictly an intelligence-gathering assignment—no combat.
Raven and Linc paid special attention to three separate groups of approximately fifty combat-aged Middle Eastern men, origins unknown. They didn’t seem to be in communication with each other, and the few innocuous Arabic conversations Raven managed to catch were inconclusive. The Iranians weren’t stupid. Speaking Farsi would have given them away.
There was plenty of time to suss them out in the days and nights ahead. With any luck, one or more of those groups were Iranian and would lead them directly to the Quds Force camp they sought. If not, Linc and Raven would cut their own trail through the unforgiving jungle when the time was right.
Raven was the perfect fit for the mission, being fluent in Farsi, Arabic, and Spanish. Linc volunteered to provide her security. They had to go in unarmed if they wanted to remain undercover. He would need every ounce of his massive wall of muscle to protect his partner. Their DEA contact warned them they would be searched, and if guns, knives, or even radios were discovered they would be turned away, at best, but more likely killed before they could board the boat in Necoclí.
The two operators posed as a couple. Raven’s carefully doctored paperwork indicated she was a Tunisian woman and Linc played as Senegalese, generally the tallest men in West Africa. Both nationalities were poorly represented on the migrant trail, which meant the twoOregonoperators were unlikely to be questioned or challenged by natives.
Linc had considered posing as a Haitian, but he had never been to the country and didn’t know the language. He had a passing familiarity with Creole patois after spending countless hours with his fellowOregonGundog, a Cajun named Marion MacDougal “MacD” Lawless. But Louisiana Creole was vastly different than the Haitian variety.
However, Linc could hold a decent conversation in French. Though he never studied language while in the SEAL teams, one of Dr.Huxley’s lectures on the connection between improved brain health and language acquisition drove him into French. He chose the language because of theOregon’s record of operations in Francophone Africa. He wasn’t ready for graduate studies at the Sorbonne, but he couldhold his own in casual conversation and, better still, listen in on at least some Haitian conversations if needed. Since Raven didn’t speak French, Linc took the extra precaution of wearing a neck bandage, feigning a throat injury, and his only verbal communication with her was a low, gravelly whisper in English that only she could hear.
In the last two days, their covers had worked. In order to complete their assignment and to blend in with the other members of the group, Raven and Linc had acquired second- and even thirdhand clothing and shoes, just like all the other refugees. On a hazardous overland route like this one, both operators would have preferred mil-spec equipment, or at the very least, high-end performance gear and Salomon hiking boots. They also couldn’t bring proper medical kits. They were posing as desperate, ill-prepared refugees, not yuppie American tourists.
The other challenge they faced was that the trek would take at least ten days, according to the reports they had studied. Many of the migrants had been told by their gangster handlers on social media that the hike was easy and only lasted a few days. Because of these lies, most of the migrants carried only two or three days of water and food. It was clear to theOregonoperators that many would run out of supplies long before they reached their destination.
Lincoln and Raven had acquired the same overpriced, low-quality food supplies at the port city as had most of the other refugees. They couldn’t pack enough for ten days without revealing they had prior knowledge of what lay before them. They would just have to go hungry like the rest if it came to that.
Two special provisions they had brought along were sewn inside the straps of their packs. These included a string of antibiotic and water-purification tablets, and the micro components of a single-band emergency radio secreted throughout their clothing. The radio parts would be quickly assembled and comms established with theOregononce the Quds Force camp was located.
A third provision was attached to Linc’s thick wrist, a scratched-up, raggedy-banded Timex wristwatch—the kind of thing you’d pick up at a thrift store for a couple of bucks. The watch was designed by Kevin Nixon, and besides the fact that it kept pretty good time it wasalso a GPS device that helped them navigate as well as to record the Quds Force camp location with precision.
Perhaps the brightest light they encountered was the Brazos Abiertos open tent just outside Acandí swarmed by hundreds of chattering migrants. “Open Arms” was a nongovernmental organization, its tent staffed by a few local nurses and aid workers, who handed out liters of water, cheap plastic ponchos, mosquito repellent, and packets of aspirin. They didn’t bother trying to dissuade the weakest and most vulnerable from making the trip—nobody was there for a holiday adventure. But few migrants really understood the risks. The Brazos Abiertos people promised legal and financial help once anyone crossed the American border.
What the harried aid workers couldn’t promise was that any of them would actually make it there alive.
12
The Pacific Ocean
The one-hundred-ten-meterBaktunappeared to be a Global-class research vessel with its advanced sonar and radar domes, at-sea laboratories, two moon pools, a one-hundred-fifty-ton crane, and a helipad on the high foredeck. Registered to a nonprofit oceanographic institute, theBaktuntraveled unmolested under a protective banner of international goodwill.
But in actuality, the hybrid warship had other purposes. TheBaktun’s high-tech weapons systems were carefully hidden from prying eyes on the sea or in the sky, but easily and quickly deployed. The belowdecks combat information center was bathed in the faint blue glow of LED displays and the low hum of cooling fans.
