Chapter 24: The Director Orders Action

If the Director was not a ‘happy camper’ the day he’d sent Max Saunders and two men into Chile to intercept and arrest the elusive agent Steve Barringer and his companions, he was raving in frustration this day. Half the Administration wanted his ass, and the Chilean government wanted his head on a platter. The President refused to take his calls; the White House chief of staff coldly informed the Director, “We will call you when we’ve something to say to you; please do not call us.”

Word from his mole in the Santiago, Chile embassy was that they had received the “severest protests” from the Chilean government, whose President was outraged that three armed agency men had been caught as ‘thieves’ during an attempted kidnapping attempt of U.S. citizens on Chilean soil. He demanded to know if this was a ‘sanctioned action’ of the United States government. He insisted on nothing less than a personal response and apology from the American president.

The only bright spot in his entire week, actually, was the sheer pleasure of assigning Max Saunders to a winter’s assignment in Point Barrow, Alaska.

Other than that, things were going rather poorly. The weather at McMurdo Sound was bad; it was hard to move anything in and out by ship or air. There was nothing further about alien life activity. And he didn’t have the slightest clue where Barringer and the others had gotten to, or what they planned to do. He suspected it was something subversive, something involving the aliens, but he could only guess what that might be.

I’d better get something moving while I’m still able; no telling what that socialist idiot in the White House might do. I think it’s time for some contract help...

He flipped through his little black book, tucked away in his encrypted iPhone, and dialed a number:

Werner, could we meet at the usual place? I’ve got a rush job for you!

Werner Schmidt, director and principal stockholder of “SeaVire Services,” a maritime and coastal contracting firm, was a convenient resource for the Director. SeaVire frequently engaged in covert or black operations, and maintained a large contingent of armed mercenaries.

The “not bad” weather that Corky had expected for the first few days of their voyage to Siple Island had turned simply “bad,” but they were making way, plunging into the building seas and rolling troughs at a steady ten knots. Their course took them southward out through the Magellanic islands to emerge west of Cape Horn. They would pass west of Drake Passage and sail a southwesterly course through the Bellingshausen Sea, well away from the west coast of Palmer Peninsula, that huge northwest-pointing arm of the Antarctic continent. At approximately 125 degrees west longitude by 75 degrees south latitude on a westward course they’d be far into the Amundsen Sea, approaching the north side of Siple Island.

At the moment, the Ocean Endeavor plunged into the on-coming waves, taking an occasional wash of green water over her bow that swept her decks. Marie clutched at a handhold in the pilot house, standing beside Steve while Corky’s bosun and chief helmsman steered the ship. She’d never in her life imagined such a scene as the angry sea before her.

Steve glanced at her pale, sickly face.

“Still feeling a little queasy, huh?” he asked.

“Just a bit. Being up here helps. I nearly lost it down in our cabin. I thought I was going to roll out of my bunk; then I got up and nearly got thrown through the cabin door.”

“Don’t be upset, Missy,” Corky interjected. “Everyone takes a few days to get their sea legs. I do admire how fast you’re gettin’ yours, though. Some of my crew are pretty queasy the first day or two, even after all their years aboard. You’ve got a real stout stomach, I’d say. Be proud of yerself. A couple more days and you’ll be an old salt!”

Steve chuckled; Marie blanched but she did smile, after a moment.

“Thanks, Corky, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather be a bit more steady and a little less salty. Is this, these waves and wind, what we can expect on this trip?”

“Oh, no, Miss Marie ... I expect it could get somewhat worse, with a good chance of ice and bergs. But it’s nothing we haven’t seen before. The Endeavor is a grand old girl; she can handle a lot more than we can. Have faith; we’ll take it all as it comes, and if it gets a bit more than we want to handle, we’ll just slow down and come at it a bit differently.”

“So we’re still looking at a five-day passage? That will put us at the ice shelf off the island about Friday, mid-day?” Steve asked.

“If we hold this speed, possibly. But like I said, it could get somewhat worse, or if we come into bergs and such, we’d have to slow down or swing wide. It all depends on the weather,” Corky answered. “Figure that we’ll lose a day and get there Saturday.”

“Sure, no problem, it all depends on the weather,” Steve acknowledged.

“Have you folks given any thought to where you want us to make port after our drop?” Corky asked.

“We actually haven’t,” Steve answered. “We’ve been a bit distracted, with the diversion at the airport, and all. Have you any preference? It’s your ship.”

“Yes, I do have an idea. I need to keep jobs lined up for the Endeavor and her crew, to keep fuel in her bunker and food in her lockers, so if it’s all the same, I’d like to head for New Zealand. Given that the spring season is coming on, there’s a good chance for some contract work down there.”

“Good. I don’t think Mike will have any objections. I’ll tell him later when he finishes napping. Besides, it will be nice to play tourist for awhile, and I’d love the chance to show Marie around. New Zealand is a marvelous place,” Steve replied. “We could be a week there, easily, and love every minute. Mike will need at least a week to get caught up with his mining buddies.”

“Mr. Director, I’d like to say that it’s a pleasure to see you again, but I’m not so sure about that, if the rumors I’m hearing are true. But perhaps you’d rather not discuss that subject, so I’ll simply ask, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”

The Director stared at Werner Schmidt for a cold moment, angered at the man’s rude impertinence. The moment passed, the insult noted for payback some other time. Right now, he needed Schmidt’s services under the most unreasonable schedule.

“First, a question. Does SeaVire still have that fast helicopter ship?”

“Yes, we do. It’s on station off the coast of a troubled continent at the moment. Curious that you should ask; the situation there has been cooling. We may need to recall her soon.”

“I need that ship. And two ASW helicopters. And this list of specialized support craft, equipment, and personnel. I need it yesterday. The only delay I will accept is the time needed in transit. Look over this list and tell me when you can have the ship and everything on this list in McMurdo Sound, mission-ready.”

Schmidt stared at the Director, feeling some shock. But he extended his hand, took the list, and studied the items.

“You don’t want much, do you? Perhaps I should also include the Russian naval fleet as a backup?”

“Spare me your sarcasm. I know you’ll soothe your irritation when you bill us for the service. All I want to hear is Yes, we will provide these things, and the earliest date you will be there, ready to catch what I want caught.”

Schmidt nodded once, affirming a positive answer.

“I will call the captain of our ship. But unless I am greatly mistaken, I anticipate we will be in McMurdo Sound with the ship and everything on this list in three weeks. That would be very early in October, perhaps as early as the second day of October. And do not bother asking: not even a miracle could hasten that arrival by a single day.”

“Very good,” the Director agreed. “Then you and I will have the next three weeks to make arrangements at McMurdo base to render the information I must have from some very unique penguins that SeaVire Services will capture for me.”

Schmidt agreed to the contract on Wednesday, the 14th. By Friday he had their ship, the converted fast freighter Interdictor underway from Cape Town, South Africa enroute at best possible speed to Bahia Blanca, Argentina, a distance of 3,820 nautical miles. At a fast cruise speed of 25 knots, she would make port in seven days. The equipment was being acquired and air-freighted to Bahia Blanca where customs and port officials were sympathetic to SeaVire operations.

Once the Anti-Submarine helicopters and the underwater specialty teams were aboard, and the ship provisioned and fueled within a tight one-day loading schedule, Interdictor would sail south to Cape Horn, turn southwest around the Palmer Peninsula, and go westerly inside the 70th Parallel for McMurdo Sound, a voyage of another three and a half, perhaps four days covering 2,050 nautical miles. The ship’s officers and crew would be exhausted from the grueling loading schedule and the fast voyage of 6,000 sea miles, but that was why they were paid far more than ordinary merchant seamen. After his obscenely-expensive billing to the American agency, Schmidt promised that his men would all receive handsome bonus payments. He had already received his own fat bonus, of course, from the 2.5 million dollar up-front money he’d demanded upon accepting the contract.

Schmidt’s next meeting with the Director was under more pleasant circumstances than the cold and windy park bench where they’d first met. The Director’s private apartment, listed as a safe house on agency books, served as a comfortable residence for the Director’s latest mistress, a former Miss Texas who’d developed an unfortunate addiction with a Mexican drug dealer. The Director’s price for arranging her rescue and rehabilitation was one of a delicate personal nature. She became his mistress. This week, she was home in Texas to visit her mother.

“I’ve informed the base commander that we’ll need a large building made available to us, as far removed from the other buildings as possible, with one end partitioned off for holding cells. I’m having the materials and workers flown in from New Zealand. The facility will be ready to accept your catch when you come in with them. There will also be bunks, eating, and toilet facilities for a squad of your men who will be security. My agency will arrange for the scientific staff to study the captives,” the Director explained. “Have you had a chance to familiarize yourself with the briefing documents?”