Flight of the Angel and the Conquest of the Conquistadors Part 1 and 2

Flight of the Angel and The Conquest of the Conquistadors Part 1

A North Korean physicist wanting to defect to the United States, seeks out CIA agent Commander Charles Garrity at a National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration meeting in Bonn Germany. She has valuable information about a plot by several rogue countries to launch an attack into the United States from an al Qaeda training base in Northern Mexico. The trail of weapons and terrorists across the globe from Libya to North Korea, through Venezuela and into Mexico is a tale of intrigue and deception, all the while being pursued by the high flying U-2 Spy Planes and Military Forces throughout the world.

Part 2

The plan to attack the infrastructure of the country with SA24 shoulder held missiles, and Sarin Gas bombs, smuggled into the United States from Northern Mexico with North Korean drones continues. But something even more sinister is circumvented from happening by an astute Military Force with countermeasures that cripple the enemy and set up a chain of events that forces the American Presidency to rethink foreign policy objectives and the dangerous implications of launching an attack on an adversary.

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Flight of the Angel and The Wrath of Chang

FLIGHT OF THE ANGEL 4 “Flight of the Angel and The Wrath of Chang”

 

 

 

EXCERPT….

 

 

 

 

 

CAM RANH BAY FISH MARKET

 

Trini and Charlie enter a pawn shop in the giant fish and flea market. Sitting behind the desk is Tiki Koon, a 300 pound Vietnamese barterer…perspiration flows off his squat face as Trini and Charlie enter his store. Trini speaks in Vietnamese at first…then turns to Charlie.

Commander…you have a picture?”

Charlie flips his phone open and scrolls down to an image of Sophie and Sui Lin. He hands it to Trini who then shows it to Tiki Koon. He glances at the image then Charlie…then starts speaking rapidly in Vietnamese and shaking his head. Charlie glances at Trini. This guy knows something…he’s not talking about it…hes talking about everything else. Trini pushes him more. He speaks very rapidly and is sweating profusely. He eyes are bulging at… Charlie then….Trini…

He is frightened of you Commander. He thinks you are from the government…”

Charlie moves around the desk to him and leans in close.

….Listen I know you can speak English…so I want you to understand something, okay? I know that you are lying and what I am about to tell you is true…I will cut off your ears and feed them to the sharks in the Bay if you don’t come clean…did you understand that?”

Tiki begins spewing Vietnamese rapidly and looks at Trini for help.

Trini…

He is afraid of you Commander….”

Charlie pushes him back in his chair and as he does so….the desk drawer slides open….exposing a lighter with an inlaid diamond Cobra…Charlies eyes grow wide. He reaches in and grabs the lighter and holds it up for Trini to see…

This is Sui Lin’s…I’ll wager my life on it….I want answers…!”

Charlie places his knee on Tikis chest, and pulls his Desert Eagle and places it in Tiki’s ear. Tiki begins screeching in Vietnamese….Trini isn’t sure whether or not Charlie will blow a hole in this fat fraud. Charlie places his hand in front of his face in a defensive mode so as to block any blow back from the shot that is about to take out Tiki’s ear and beyond. Tiki starts crying and begging. Trini…speaking more virulently now as well to Tiki…perhaps warning him of his impending doom. Charlie takes the safety off the 45…Tiki begins speaking rapidly and holding up his hands…Trini pleads with Charlie.

He wants to give us some information Commander.”

Charlie pulls the Desert Eagle away from his ear and pulls Tiki forward.

Tell him Trini…he has one minute to come clean…where did he get Sui Lin’s lighter?”

Trini asks him in Vietnamese. Tiki Answers in Vietnamese. Charlie puts the Desert Eagle closer to his nose.

Tell him to speak in English.”

Tiki starts speaking in broken English.

…..Two men came in…they always come in here…they are from Kepulauan Riau Island in Indonesia…they are pirates…they come here to abduct wealthy American and European women tourists…for the slave trade…to Arabs and wealthy businessmen in Singapore and other parts of Asia. They came into the shop and wanted to trade items for money for fuel for their boat. He gave them a few hundred dollars for a few items….a cell phone and a lighter….were among the things…”

Charlie…

Let me see the cell phone…”

Tiki pulls it out of a lower drawer in his desk and hands it to Charlie. It is Sophies. Charlie flips it open to pictures…there is a video of the last entry….the one that she had sent to Charlie during the abduction. He plays it with Trini looking on….it is in the fish market….and two goons are stalking Sophie and Sui Lin….then it goes to still shots…three taken during the struggle…one of them shows the face of one of the assailants…Charlie puts the image in front of Tiki Koon….

Is that him?”

Tiki nods.

He’s the leader.”

Charlie…

Okay….where are they?”

Tiki…

I don’t know….they stay at a village on the Island of Dao Bing Hung….on the west end of the mouth of Cam Ranh Bay….they left to go back to the island…”

Charlie…

Which Island….Bing Hung?”

Tiki nods….

Charlie…

The island in Indonesia…there is a village…what is it?”

Tiki…

….I think it is called Natuna….there is a small airport on the island…near the village…that is where they dock their pirate vessel…I don’t know anymore…..”

Trini signals they should go out in the bay and look…

Charlie waves the 45 at Tiki tapping the barrel on his stubby nose.

If I find out you are lying…I will come back Tiki and I will blow a hole right through your ears…do you understand…”

Tiki nods. Charlie holsters the Desert Eagle and follows Trini out the door. He turns and glances back at Tiki. The guy is frightened out of his wits…there is a foul odor in the room….he may have had a bowel movement in the process of his cross examination….Charlie moves off into the night with Trini….

 

Excerpt from “Flight of the Angel and The Winds of Allah”

DIRECTOR CIA’S OFFICE

2230 ZULU MARCH 11

Director Adams walks into his office, sits down, takes a long breath and picks up his phone and dials a number.
“Chappy?”

The crusty voice of Chappy Carson answers. Chappy is a cowboy turned U-2 pilot, to a CIA Station Chief and back to cowboy. It’s hard to read Chappy. One minute he’s like your pet Schnauzer, the next he’s like a raging bull. A hard guy to read in the best of circumstances…and there are some in the agency that have gotten the blunt end of Chappy’s temperament more than once.

“It’s Ross, Chappy. Got a minute?”

There is a long moment of silence.
“Well I dunno Ross…this is my happy hour. Do you have good news? They boost my retirement benefits? That asshole of a deputy director get run over by a double decker?”

Ross smiles. Same old Chappy.
“No…he’s still with us. And I don’t know about your benefits. But I would offer you a consultation fee if you
can give us a hand on a delicate situation we are having in the Strait of Hormuz.”

“Can you e-file it to me?”

“I am doing a transmission as we speak. Look it over, let me know your thoughts.”

A moment of silence.
“Might be good for you to come down to Langley in the morning?”

“I’ll think on it, Ross.”

“Thanks Chappy.”

Ross hangs up. Hell this could be over by morning.
The phone rings again. It’s Chappy.

CHAPPY CARSON’S FARM IN VERMONT

Chappy is a strapping 65 year old rugged cowboy type who can straddle a horse as good as anyone. He had spent most of his early years on a west Texas cattle ranch, reclaiming his father’s brand of cattle that somehow got lost on the Mexican side of the Rio Grande.

He sits at his wooden desk, a computer in the
background. He is holding the file from Ross. A fire crackles in the fireplace, a tall drink in his hand and a cigar poking out the edge of his smile. Chappy was a member of the Air Force Thunderbird Team and a U-2 Pilot in the early days. By the time he reached the top of the U-2 Squadron Headquarters Command, he was known as somewhat of a maverick. He then made a career move to the CIA and became a Station Chief for a few years. He knows all the tricks of the trade, and he also knows where all the skeletons are buried.

“Hey look Ross. This is a bluff by the Iranians, but you better play it smart. But that Israeli sub in the Persian Gulf is a problem. There are three things that could happen. They could fire on the surfaced sub hoping to sink it before it could get a missile off, but the odds are the Leviathan is equipped with anti missile technology to thwart that idea. The second postulation is that the Israeli’s decide to put a missile into the Goldono or Lytm facility that are the core of the Iranian enrichment program. The distance from where the Leviathan is parked to those sites is about 600 miles…that’s within the classified range of that particular cruise missile. That could be a serious international problem for all parties. Then there is the third scenario….they try and sink the sub on its way out of the Strait by luring it into the mine field. Your problem is to outguess two parties that don’t particularly like each other and would like to see each other interred!”

There is a long pause. Ross knows there will be more…

“The Iranians may try to block the Strait. My bet would be they will back down quickly, although they are easy to anger and aren’t too far from the trigger on those guns they have on the coast. I would expect them to also dog tail you guys in the strait, maybe with a few fighters. Don’t let your cool down, or this could blow up into a major event. You need me…call me. I’m not in the mood to deal with those suits at the CIA. But I will advise you.”

Another long pause…
“Are you hearing me Ross?”

Ross sighs. There is only one Chappy. You have to hand it to him, though.
“I’m hearing ya Chappy.”

Another long moment… Here comes the closer.
“First of all you are surrounded by assholes….that dumb ass senator from Georgia is a pain. The President’s National Security Adviser was an ACLU thumper and doesn’t have the foggiest idea of what his job is about. In fact, this President may not be equipped to deal with this kind of situation, because I think he is soft on the war on terror. I like Mercer and Emrick is a good man. You have your work cut out for you. Keep me posted Ross.”

You have to respect the man. He says it like it is.
“You always put things so delicately Chappy…part of your nature I guess. I admire that about you my friend. We’ll talk soon.”

Chappy hangs up the phone, takes a long drink, shuffles the papers together and walks over to the fireplace and dumps them in, takes a long puff on his cigar and throws it into the fire. A scroungy sheepdog dog lies at the foot of the fireplace. Chappy looks down at him…the dog raises his head and yawns.

“My sentiments exactly Burl.”

Excerpt from Flight of the Angel and The Winds of Allah

DIRECTOR CIA’S OFFICE

 

2230 ZULU MARCH 11

 

Director Adams walks into his office, sits down, takes a long breath and picks up his phone and dials a number.

Chappy?”

 

The crusty voice of Chappy Carson answers. Chappy is a cowboy turned U-2 pilot, to a CIA Station Chief and back to cowboy. It’s hard to read Chappy. One minute he’s like your pet Schnauzer, the next he’s like a raging bull. A hard guy to read in the best of circumstances…and there are some in the agency that have gotten the blunt end of Chappy’s temperament more than once.

 

It’s Ross, Chappy. Got a minute?”

 

There is a long moment of silence.

Well I dunno Ross…this is my happy hour. Do you have good news? They boost my retirement benefits? That asshole of a deputy director get run over by a double decker?”

 

Ross smiles. Same old Chappy.

No…he’s still with us. And I don’t know about your benefits. But I would offer you a consultation fee if you

can give us a hand on a delicate situation we are having in the Strait of Hormuz.”

 

Can you e-file it to me?”

 

I am doing a transmission as we speak. Look it over, let me know your thoughts.”

 

A moment of silence.

Might be good for you to come down to Langley in the morning?”

 

I’ll think on it, Ross.”

 

Thanks Chappy.”

 

Ross hangs up. Hell this could be over by morning.

The phone rings again. It’s Chappy.

 

 

CHAPPY CARSON’S FARM IN VERMONT

 

Chappy is a strapping 65 year old rugged cowboy type who can straddle a horse as good as anyone. He had spent most of his early years on a west Texas cattle ranch, reclaiming his father’s brand of cattle that somehow got lost on the Mexican side of the Rio Grande.

 

He sits at his wooden desk, a computer in the

background. He is holding the file from Ross. A fire crackles in the fireplace, a tall drink in his hand and a cigar poking out the edge of his smile. Chappy was a member of the Air Force Thunderbird Team and a U-2 Pilot in the early days. By the time he reached the top of the U-2 Squadron Headquarters Command, he was known as somewhat of a maverick. He then made a career move to the CIA and became a Station Chief for a few years. He knows all the tricks of the trade, and he also knows where all the skeletons are buried.

 

Hey look Ross. This is a bluff by the Iranians, but you better play it smart. But that Israeli sub in the Persian Gulf is a problem. There are three things that could happen. They could fire on the surfaced sub hoping to sink it before it could get a missile off, but the odds are the Leviathan is equipped with anti missile technology to thwart that idea. The second postulation is that the Israeli’s decide to put a missile into the Goldono or Lytm facility that are the core of the Iranian enrichment program. The distance from where the Leviathan is parked to those sites is about 600 miles…that’s within the classified range of that particular cruise missile. That could be a serious international problem for all parties. Then there is the third scenario….they try and sink the sub on its way out of the Strait by luring it into the mine field. Your problem is to outguess two parties that don’t particularly like each other and would like to see each other interred!”

 

There is a long pause. Ross knows there will be more…

 

The Iranians may try to block the Strait. My bet would be they will back down quickly, although they are easy to anger and aren’t too far from the trigger on those guns they have on the coast. I would expect them to also dog tail you guys in the strait, maybe with a few fighters. Don’t let your cool down, or this could blow up into a major event. You need me…call me. I’m not in the mood to deal with those suits at the CIA. But I will advise you.”

 

Another long pause…

Are you hearing me Ross?”

 

Ross sighs. There is only one Chappy. You have to hand it to him, though.

I’m hearing ya Chappy.”

 

Another long moment… Here comes the closer.

First of all you are surrounded by assholes….that dumb ass senator from Georgia is a pain. The President’s National Security Adviser was an ACLU thumper and doesn’t have the foggiest idea of what his job is about. In fact, this President may not be equipped to deal with this kind of situation, because I think he is soft on the war on terror. I like Mercer and Emrick is a good man. You have your work cut out for you. Keep me posted Ross.”

 

You have to respect the man. He says it like it is.

You always put things so delicately Chappy…part of your nature I guess. I admire that about you my friend. We’ll talk soon.”

 

Chappy hangs up the phone, takes a long drink, shuffles the papers together and walks over to the fireplace and dumps them in, takes a long puff on his cigar and throws it into the fire. A scroungy sheepdog dog lies at the foot of the fireplace. Chappy looks down at him…the dog raises his head and yawns.

 

My sentiments exactly Burl.”

 Image

Excerpt from “Flight of the Angel and the Winds of Allah”

Image
In the dim light of Senator Percy Canfield’s office; the Chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee is going over images from a recent intelligence report he has received on Iran. The Senator is a 60 year old Georgia fat boy who likes to think that he is in charge of the world. He presses his intercom and instructs his secretary, then glances down at the Top Secret document from Centcom. 
     “Maggie, get me the CIA director on his secure mobile phone.” 
     Moments later… 
     “Adams.” 
     The Senator drawls into the phone. 
     “Ross this is Senator Canfield. I just am reviewing the document from Centcom, and I have several thoughts on this issue.” 
     A beat… 
     “I hope your boys over there don’t do anything provocative to put us into another stupid showdown with those guys. You can’t seem to quite get it clear on how to  disarm that situation. It seems to me that diplomacy would reach farther with radicals then cannon fire and missiles. 
     Adams fires back. 
     “No Senator I don’t quite agree with that. I think at some point it is necessary to pull your pants up and aim a swift kick at their retreating ass!…good day Senator.” 
     The line goes dead. The Senator is fuming. 
     “Why that arrogant asshole….who the hell does he think he is!” 
     The Senator slams the phone down, and presses his intercom again. 
     “Maggie come in here I want you to take a letter….and bring me a double scotch on ice.” 
     The Senator snarls an epitaph. 
     “That son of a bitch!” 
      He swivels his chair and glances out the window at the night sky.  The God damn CIA has gotten to damn powerful! There has to be a way to shut them down. Same damn thing happened with Hoover at the FBI.  Hell you couldn’t move sideways in those days. He had the whole congress by the balls. Everyone was afraid to cut a quick night on the town with a French whore. Jesus. That was a scary time. Sure as hell, hope they don’t have a bug in these offices….! 
     Maggie delivers the scotch…and with pen and pad she waits. He dismisses her.  She leaves.  This is normal behavior for this Georgia boy.   He continues his rant.  Maybe squeeze their budget a little? No, that would just piss them off. Maybe take it up with the President before  he gets too bent over in this skirmish with Iran. He sips the last of his scotch. The Washington Monument looms out of the darkness. Goddamn CIA…the bastards probably are eavesdropping…. 
     He grabs his jacket, glances around the office as if hoping to pinpoint the CIA bug…nothing there…another epitaph. 
     “God damn CIA.” 
     He turns and waddles out the door into the night. 

 

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