Chapter 13

"I'm not sure what is going on."

Tank was met by a subpoena as he walked into Rangeman after the Canadian journey. As he entered his 5th-floor office, Lester knocked on the door, "I got one as well. I've called our attorney."

"That's why he gets the big bucks." As he sat down, Tank said to himself, "Dig fast, Vassi, and stay safe."

Stephanie blew into Tank's office. She looked frightened and exasperated, "I've been served! I don't know what to do."

"Les and I also got served. He has already called our attorney," he said touching his ear reminding her Rangeman is bugged. She understood.

"Tank is this about Ranger? I don't know where he is. He leaves so often and I never know where he's gone. He never tells me."

"Just tell them that, keep it simple. If you get flustered they will turn your words back on themselves and you won't recognize what you just said."

She nodded her head in understanding. Changing thoughts she said, "I noticed VC wasn't in the gym today."

"Something has come up, she's with her doctors. Perhaps there's more testing. It may be a while before she gets back." He went around the desk and pulled her close to his body. Whispering, he said, "Stay strong. You will have an important mission later."

-0-

VC POV

It had been a long time since I was down this tunnel. The last time I walked its length, today I rolled. I much preferred walking. The security identification involved multiple different body identifications including a retinal scan. My Israeli guards offered to lift me to the scanner. I growled. Pierre is a good instructor. Pushing up, I forced my face to the eye plate. Once I was cleared, I had to change chairs before going through the door. Apparently they didn't trust my wheelchair wasn't bugged either. The new wheeled chair was a secretary office chair, no arm rests.

"At least it's not a Radio Flyer," I quipped. The Israeli solider gave me a cold stare. I held my tongue. My red wagon comment was my own attempt at trying to add a bit of humor to a very insulting situation. If they were so worried about my chair, why didn't they get me one for inside? How was I going to get myself around?

I was pushed to a cubicle where the forensic accountant was busy digging. "Colonel, I'm Ariel. Welcome to 'hide and seek.' There's the second terminal if you want to join the hunt."

"What have you found?" I rumbled. I was still pissed. Being pushed around in a secretary chair was dehumanizing, something you'd do to a colleague at a drunken Christmas party.

"I've been through the Caymans' banking system so many times I've undermined their security. We also need to look at banks in Austria, Switzerland and several ports of call in Asia."

"Oh, wonderful, a world cruise."

"Look on the bright side, we won't get seasick."

I shook my head, "No, just migraines and crossed eyes."

She looked at me as if to ask, "What's your problem?" I stopped her, "Ariel, my work deals with words more than numbers. It will take me time to adjust."

She nodded. "Do you have any thoughts on passwords to begin the search?"

I had several leads, "How many tries will we get?"

"At the most, three."

"Use the descrambler."

Ariel was surprised I knew about the descrambler. "I've used it before," was all I was going to tell her. I'll let her continue to believe it was developed solely by the Israelis. As the machine hummed, I wrote down an idea for the password.

Ariel eyes opened wide, "You betting against the machine?"

"No, but I had a brilliant moment getting into one area. Maybe it is the same gold nugget."

Less than an hour later we had two passwords. When Ariel showed them to me, I unwrapped my piece of paper and showed her what I wrote. "You could have saved us time," she hissed.

"If I was wrong, we would have been down to one chance before the files erased."

She nodded agreement and went to work. I crumbled the piece of paper where I had written Triste and Presa.

After five hours, I needed a break. "Is the loo still down the left hall?"

Never raising her eyes from the computer screen she mumbled, "Yes, ma'am."

I reached down and didn't feel my wheels. I forgot I was in a secretary chair. The only thing to do was to push off from the desk and push my way down by using the walls. I felt like a ball inside the pinball machine.

"I'm sorry, Colonel, I forgot you don't walk," came Ariel. We made it to the restroom and washed and back out into an open area, but Ariel was distracted. I was afloat at sea without a sail, paddle or wheelchair wheels. Since I was able to move a bit back in Trenton, maybe I could pivot my right foot from the heel. Yes, I gained an inch or two; I could move on my own! I looked back to see Ariel and my soldier escort watching my slow pace.

"Either get me a proper wheelchair or give me a shove."

Things started happening fast and I don't mean my legs. After forty-eight hours, El Falcon's financial enterprise was known. It led us down a road nobody expected. Arturo's surface accounts were modest but there was background action I could only sense. Ariel called in other forensic accountants and they went on the prowl.

"Colonel, have you ever heard of Adelante?" Ariel asked after several hours.

I remembered Manoso mentioned it when he was getting "tingles" in South America. "Personally, no, but someone helping us mentioned the name in passing in reference to South America."

"This is Africa," an accountant named Noam replied.

"Curious it has come up on two continents. I'm not a numbers person. Let me research Adelante while you continue with the numbers." I settled into my keyboard and called up my own very well hidden system. Almost immediately, security firewalls blocked my passage. While the accountants were playing in their field, I was now in mine. I knew this game. As I once told Manoso, "It's what I do."

"Bingo! I've got you by the short hairs, you bloody…" I paused and looked up. Every accountant in our area was looking at me.

I was embarrassed and excited, "You aren't going to believe this," I said as corporate names started rolling down my screen.

Suddenly our little cubicle was crowded as people wanted to see what was happening. Adelante wasn't a company or simple corporation. It was a web of interlocking corporations including known names and many unknown throughout the world. The forensic accountants began drooling in excitement.

Activity was worldwide: Central and South America, Africa, Asia, Russia, and, of course, the Middle East. Money was everywhere! I began to wonder how many banks were dependent on Adelante and Arturo for their solvency. I turned back to the number crunching and began to see a pattern in accounts, corporations, and names. The web was worthy of a finely-knotted, intricate, Persian rug. I sat and studied for several hours and then smiled.

"Colonel, you look like the Cheshire Cat," Ariel said.

"I think I found a loose thread in this rug." When I explained it to Ariel and several other forensic accountants, they, too, began smiling. "Somebody forgot to tie a few knots and has been slipping a few stitches," Noam said.

The first thing we noticed was someone was siphoning off money and trying to conceal the theft. To do so, they had compromised security which is how I got in. In comparing accounts and names, I recognized Arturo's offspring but also others who couldn't be part of the clad. Calling up my government lists, I crosschecked the names and found leaders in the FBI, CIA, NSA, Justice Department, Homeland Security, and other less important agencies. Mitchell Jenkins and Steve Hampton were in the FBI and Arturo's sons. Sharon Carmichael was number three at the CIA. Robert Blass was recently made director of DHS, Department of Homeland Security. Montgomery Plumber was Assistant Secretary of State. The fearsome-foursome had full access to Arturo's Adelante accounts. Still more clad making an appearance were Santiago Blanco-Ruiz, Colombian Justice Department director and his half-brother, Javier Oliveriera-Sousa in Peru. Both were directors in a corporation named La Comunidad. The Community was a very well hidden movement which laundered money for many wealthy individuals in South and Central America. Manoso had tuned into the group in several of his "assignments." This alone would be worth Arturo's interest to erase from Martha, the Rangeman system.

Not only did we have the higher ranking clad, offspring, we also had those non-family members who had received payoffs dating back forty years. After what Ari told me in Newfoundland, I was surprised to see former US Senator, Carlton Simpson. The only notations given for the transactions included such nebulous terms as "for services rendered," "consultations," and "contracted employee." I wondered if my illegal court-martial years ago fell under "services rendered".

In addition to Carlton Simpson, the political names receiving payments were impressive, those currently in power and those who had retired but still held political pull. The number of US military associated names was few, the Simpson scandal must have cleaned out most of those vermin years ago, but the names of big businesses and foreign government and military throughout the world was disheartening.

Sizeable payments went to Gregory Simpson's financial management company. A quick search of Simpson's company showed he had only one client, Adelante. Ari was right. Simpson had a limited clientele.

One name caught us by surprise: Aries Pretturo, a recluse multi-billionaire who never appeared in public. It took me seconds to rearrange Arturo Estripe into Aries Pretturo. Was Arturo's alter-ego Aries? Lee had mentioned Arturo had to give up the name Addams, Daniel Addams. Was Aries his new cover?

Thanks to the person siphoning the money, in this case Gregory Simpson, we also had pathways into all of Adelante's accounts throughout the world. I didn't know if Gregory or one of his employees was the thief. No wonder the forensic accountants had such big smiles on their faces. We had business names, attorneys' names, locations, and best of all, account numbers.

I asked a simple question, though I knew the answer was anything but simple, "How much damage can we do?"

Ariel shook her head, "First of all we need approval. We will have to be very careful what we can undermine or just plain steal without setting off global repercussions."

Repercussions. My mind went back months before when others had no qualms about destroying a country with thermonuclear devices. Just how often had the world tittered up to the end and either backed off or was forced to retreat? What madness consumed Arturo Estripe? He needed to be stopped.

Ariel was still talking, "…what we divert immediately will result in cash flow problems which will eventually result in businesses failing."

I thought of Ari's example: "An airplane won't fly without fuel." A better example would have been without ready capital or collateral, the business fails.

I sat with Ari, sipping tea after dinner, "Reading through all of Arturo's offspring, their jobs, and the decades of payoffs, I get the feeling, Ari, it's a quagmire in Washington."

"Washington, Jefferson, and Madison are probably rolling over in their graves," he chuckled. "But this does explain a lot."

"With regards to Israel?"

"Arturo/El Falcon/Aries/Adelante has funneled trillions into weapons for our enemies throughout the world. I don't mean to single us out, there are other groups also under attack: religious organizations, secular and social groups…the list is almost endless.

Then my mind cracked open and I groaned out loud.

"Vassi, are you ill?" Ari asked with concern.

"Arturo Estripe was born in New York City. His surname is his mother's, like all his offspring. His mother was born in New York City. There was a father listed on one document. He was Henri Faucon, a 1945 Argentinian immigrant. I'm wondering if the father might not have come from France, but rather from Germany and his real name might have been Heinrich Falke. Faucon and Falke are French and German for the falcon. How did I miss that?"

"You only confirmed Arturo was El Falcon from Lee Sebring in Newfoundland. Since then, you've been looking for money. You found Aries Pretturo. Now his empire must be dismantled immediately and suddenly before his heirs can take control."

"Ari, what is Adelante's ultimate goal? Is it to cause civil unrest and revolution? Or is it to eliminate the undesirables? Is he seeking revenge for his father's country's defeat? Is he starting his own New World Oder?"

"My dear daughter, it will take time to deduce the purpose. He might be using a Utopia argument to keep his people energized when in reality he might want to start the largest smuggling cartel in the world. Drugs are more profitable than oil. Or maybe he wants there to be an Estripe family to rival the House of Saud in Saudi Arabia? There are many reasons, none of which are good."

"To bring light to the mess in Washington, we need a Diogenes and his lantern to find the one honest person in Washington to plow through this mess. Or perhaps I should say, slash through this mess," I said with a sigh.

"Trim your wicks," he said, looking directly into my eyes.

Oh, hell. He wanted me to be Diogenes. Or was I to fall on the sword? "What about Papa and Niko?"

"You will have to keep them safe."

"I can't endanger you and your country."

"We have the resources to check on the Faucon and Falke angle. If your suspicions are correct, we have to be involved."

"The organization is too complicated. He's been building his army for decades. You think we can dismantle it overnight?"

"No, but we can stop the money. As I said initially, the aircraft won't fly without fuel. But this is far larger than an aircraft; this is a major high-rise building. The World Trade Towers fell when just a few floors were compromised."

I'm sitting in this damn chair because some building was compromised thanks to an underground nuclear explosion. I finally have happiness in my life with Pierre and I'm looking at Leavenworth or worse. Manoso worried about his enemies. What was I collecting? Maybe Pierre and I can live in obscurity somewhere in the world.

"Time to talk to the President," he said.

"Yours or ours?"

"Yours. Your father has his ear."

"How do we know if the President is trustworthy?"

Ari looked at me and smiled. It was the smile of a parent letting his child figure things out on their own.

"Oh yeah, you had a complete work up on his heritage and beliefs before he received the nomination. OK, but what about his advisors?"

"Ariel has already found one White House suspect. There may be more. You'll have to assume everyone is questionable. The President is coming to Israel in two weeks. I can arrange for him to meet with you privately. We'll use the guise of a US Army Colonel receiving cutting-edge medical care in Israel."

"Thanks loads, Ari. Give me two weeks to prepare a 5-minute talk where I tell him one of the most trusted men in the FBI and a multi-billionaire are one and the same and have been planning a coup with his own illegitimate children four of whom are on the Security Council."

"My dear, I know you can do this. I've watched you many times giving our Prime Ministers briefings. Keep your talking points sharp."

Sharp. My mind flashed back to falling on the sword.

-0-

I sat in the small room with two Israeli security guards. I had been searched by so many people my skin microbiome organisms were going to sue me for harassment. I was stuck on a hardwood chair without any wheels. My wheelchair was exiled down the hall. What is it with Israelis and wheelchairs?

Both guards stiffened. The voices in their earbuds must have informed them it is show time. The door opened and a man stuck his head in and nodded. My two guards backed out the other door. The front door man backed out and stood back as the POTUS, President of the US, stepped in. My eyes looked to his eyes, but I saw a hand drop something into his pocket, a listening device.

He stepped forward, "VC, it is a pleasure to meet George's daughter."

"Thank you, Mr. President. Excuse me for not standing."

He laughed while I put my finger to my lips indicating he should be silent.

He complied but with confusion and anger. You don't hush up the President. Keeping my finger to my lips I pointed to the pocket with the listening device and then pointed to my ear. Thankfully he understood and reached into his pocket. He was surprised to find the device. I put my hand out in the "give me" sign while I casually said, "It is indeed a pleasure to meet you, sir. I don't know if you find this room as warm as I. If you are uncomfortable, you can hang your coat over there." He mumbled something and removed his jacket as he handed me the listening device. I put it under my thigh.

"Sir, thank you for using VC as my full name is a mouthful: Vas-si-li-ki-Christo-fondo-doulous. Why my family hasn't shortened their name to something simple I don't know, but then what would it be? Fodo?"

He chuckled. "That's why most people call your father General George," he said. He bent over and searched his pant cuffs. For a moment I thought POTUS was bowing to me.

"Sir, I have but a few minutes to tell you a coup has been in the making for forty years to take over the US." He jerked up and I wondered about his back muscles. He didn't speak, he nodded to proceed.

I expected the expression of disbelief I received but having the evidence under my thigh helped convince him. My mind flashed. Who planted the bug? Arturo or Ari? I gave Arturo the odds at 99-01. Ari would have bugged the room, probably the wood chair, or implanted a listening device on or in my body.

After completing my spiel and as I returned the listening device to the President's hand, I finished up, "Sir, thank you for this visit. I hope this experimental treatment will get me out of this chair."

He made some platitude in return but his mind was already racing far ahead. He put his suit jacket back on and left. After a few moments, my two security guards returned. I decided I would not ask Ari if he listened in. It didn't matter as he'd probably lie to me anyway.

-0-

I had given POTUS names of the Security Council clad members, other well-placed government offspring as well as those who he had been paying off for years. I also dropped the name of the White House mole. Of course, he thought I was nuts until I asked him who was close enough to him to drop a listening device into his pocket. I knew what it was like to be isolated, not knowing who to trust, but I imagined being POTUS and knowing your main advisor was suspect, your cabinet was infested, Capitol Hill, including the Supreme Court, was verminous was far worse. The only person he could trust was my father who, fortunately, was familiar with the situation.

-0-

It was my first day back from Israel and I was spending it in my usual haunt, the gym. Hector came into the gym and watched me for a few minutes. I was waiting for a message so I wasn't surprised Hector would be the carrier. I noticed Thomas was working on the weights, no doubt keeping an eye on me.

"Ah, Hector, ayúdame, toma mis piernas." I hoped asking him to hold him my legs down while I did sit-ups would get us close enough to be able to speak but avoid Thomas and the listening devices. To reduce the strain on my lower back, I slid a rolled towel under my knees and leaned forward. I responded "Por favor, cuenta, please count. Give me… dos minutos."

He asked, Estás listo?

I nodded, yes, I was ready.

Tres, dos, uno...go!

I'm not 22 anymore, but I gave it my all. Like a piston, up and down, I concentrated on getting oxygen into my lungs as my abs burned in protest. My back ached, but more so my tailbone. Where did my fanny cushion go?

Tres, dos, uno...alto!

Others in the gym had also been counting and gave me an ovation and hoots. During the noise, Hector leaned over and whispered, "Dix commissary 14:00 today." Then loudly said,"Ochenta y uno (81).

I nodded and rolled onto my side to rest. "Solo disparame, mi amigo." (Just shoot me, my friend) I huffed and puffed and reminded myself, I'm definitely not 22 years old anymore and needed more muscle or fat on my behind.

Joint Base McGuire-Dix-Lakehurst is a sprawling affair through the Pine Barrens of New Jersey, southeast of Trenton and stretching east almost to the Atlantic Ocean. Lakehurst Naval Air Station remains in history as the place the rigid airship Hindenburg, exploded in May 1936. The base commissary is a holdover from when military bases were out in the boonies and access to regular stores was impossible. Today, they exist as a discount shopping mecca for retired and on-duty service personnel.

Today's driver was Hal, the 6'3" muscle-bound former Ranger I had originally met in Billabong years ago. He had the IDs to get on base with me. I grabbed a hand basket and set myself off down the aisles suspecting I knew who was waiting. Hal remained behind but in true Rangeman fashion, stayed vigilant but not obtrusive. Difficult for a man nicknamed the Halosaurus.

With several items in my basket, I glanced at Hal who nodded 'all clear' and headed towards the candy aisle. It was always my favorite place in the commissary and where my parents would find me drooling at the offerings. In addition to American candy, there was Belgian, German, English, Argentinean, Japanese, and Swiss. Just as I did as a child, I found my mouth getting juicy. A man in tan slacks and a polo shirt carrying a basket came near. I didn't need to look, I recognized the aftershave. It comforted me throughout my childhood.

"Excuse me, sir, would you hand me the nonpareils on the top shelf?" I asked kindly.

A quiet chuckle erupted, "You hate these."

As the box came to my hand, flash drives were exchanged. Looking at the box, "You ought to read the ingredients label. The big scandal over preservatives years before hasn't entirely removed the questionable products," I said. I was telling Papa there were a few top-ranking military names as well.

He turned and moved further down the aisle and I moved to the next aisle.

I had done my part. My lists were headed to the President. Now it was up to higher powers to rein in Arturo Estripe and his plot.

I felt the small piece of paper Papa had passed into my pocket. I didn't look at it until I was safe with Hal in the Rangeman vehicle. "GTHOD 5." I cringed. Get the hell out of Dodge in five days. To where could I escape? I wondered if Lee Sebring could use a companion wherever he ended up. My mind flashed on the Batman comics. This would require super-human effort.

Pierre met us at a diner instead of Rangeman, being ever mindful of listening devices. "Pierre, I need to get the hell out of Dodge in five days. Do you think Batman could help?"

He looked at me strangely. He didn't know if I was referring to Ranger or the fictional superhero.

"Don't you have a beacon you shine into the sky to contact him? He comes swinging through town and grabs me and carries me off."

"I think you have your superheroes mixed up," he chuckled.

"You are my only superhero," I said as I grabbed his hand under the table. "Papa's warning. Things are about to get ugly."

"You can't go back to...?" He hesitated to say Israel with Hal sitting at the table.

I shook my head no.

"Five days?" Tank asked. "Can your father help?"

"I've put him into a difficult situation. He and Niko have to keep their distance. As we discussed earlier, we are going to need your best person in distractions."

Hal looked at Pierre but knew not to say anything. Pierre nodded, "She knows she'll be called up. You can trust her. It will be something different for her, but with training she will do fine." Hal's eyes showed he agreed.

A/N: Chapter names and characters are fictionalized. They do not represent current or past political situations in South America or Europe.