El Rey del Tiempo: It's Not What You Think

Project Inception

November 2002...

Death approaches quickly.  Falling at 120 m.p.h. from an altitude of five miles high, the Special Forces Major signals to his troops to stay tight.

He receives thumbs-up signs from each member.

After this H.A.L.O. (high altitude - low opening) jump, they reach their designated altitude and deploy their chutes.

They land in a discrete area about one-half mile from the target-area, as planned.

Once on the ground, as they remove their jump gear, including oxygen masks and mini-tanks, they converse to relieve the stress, yet they remain focused on the goal of the mission.

Major, There’s nothing like dropping in unexpectedly for dinner!  Is there, ladies?

You ought to know, Major.  Was that Billy Bob who came home too soon to find his wife and you after that last mission?

Now, don’t be gettin’ insubordinate with me. I can rattle off 100 stories for every one of you girlie-boys, the Major protests with a smile.

Just another assignment earmarked by the Commander-In-Chief, they carry out their missions, no matter the task. What’s a guy or a gal got to do for lunch money these days?

We don’t get paid nothing, Major. But, look at all the fun we have!

Who we gonna kill this time, Major? asks one of the free-falling soldiers.

Depends on what they do, Sergeant. Might have to kill ours and theirs, the Major replies, frankly.

Twelve hundred feet before they reach their target, they adjust their weapons and ditty bags containing the heavier equipment.  Preparedness is the order of the day.

That’s the life of soldiers in Special Operations, especially those assigned to Delta Force and to the Company.

On the wall above their barracks door, a sign reads, It’s not ours to reason why. It’s ours just to do or die!

This hybrid mix of military branches and C.I.A. agents drop onto a glacial area about three miles east of a military and civilian operation of agents from their own and other countries. This Spec-Ops team prepares to surround the base camp of this Antarctic unit. If the crew and team do not follow proper protocol, the Spec-Op team will eliminate the unit... all of them.

Ten months earlier –

El Rey del Tiempo, the King of Time, a determined man, contemplated world unrest and knew that it was vulnerable in ways that others neglected to consider. He had a plan to bring international governments to the brink of disaster and hold them hostage.  His ransom was beyond thought.  His ultimatum was unimaginable.

Robert Seachain, a former military officer and now a GS-15 supervisory agent of the CIA’s counter-terrorist network, is pondering intel with his right-hand-man, Henry Clayton, in their Hulbert Field office.  Building 921 is part of the command headquarters intelligence unit of the AFSOC, Air Force Special Operations Command, adjacent to Eglin Air Force Base in Mary Esther, Florida. In The Company, it is referred as ‘Langley South.’ Its location in the northwest panhandle of Florida makes it beneficial for gathering information from Central and South America. Also it is a key spot for military and civilian intelligence units.

Seachain, a passionate man of Irish decent, grew up in Cleveland, Ohio. Due to their bravery in battle, the family surname was one given to them by the bonnie Prince Charles during the Gaelic wars of the 17th century. Seachain is Gaelic for beware. His family lost its accent two generations ago.

Seachain, dressed in blue jeans, tan hiking boots and a khaki shirt with military type button-down epaulets, Hank, get your fat claws out of that refrigerator and on this computer!  I need some answers! shouts Seachain to his right-hand-man and confidante, Henry Hank Clayton.

Mumbling with his mouth full, Okay, boss.  I’m comin’, Hank acknowledges as he wipes a mustard stain from his checked-patterned oxford shirt with the button-down collars.

Do you have to eat so much?  You know that crap’s not good for you.  Why don’t you have a nagging wife like most people to keep you fit, the boss pokes fun at Hank.

Hank retorts, I don’t have time for a wife; what would my girlfriends say?  Besides, I've got you to nag me.

Alright, alright!  Clog your freaking arteries! Seachain admonishments him.

Blah, blah, blah! Hank shoots back. You think I’m gonna be dead before this project is done?

Do you think all those high-falutin’ degrees will scare Death away?

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Death is just another progression in Life.

Henry Clayton is a graduate of M.I.T. He works for the Central Intelligence Agency as a crack computer analyst and cryptographer. He’s one of the best in the business. Life is much more interesting since Hank joined Robert Seachain’s side, some ten years ago.

Did you run that list that I gave you? Seachain asks.

Yeah..., you sure know how to pick’em.  The world’s worst scumbags.  But, I gotta say, they do know what they’re doin.

For what I have in mind, Hank, they’ve got to be the best.  We’re going into some serious crap.

Looking about the room while subconsciously running his right hand through his hair, Seachain asks, Hank, do you have the info on the finance minister and the geek?

Yeah, that Hanasu knows his stuff!  He’s wired most of his equipment from scratch, taught himself more languages, human and computer, than a college professor’ll ever know and stealths himself into more networks than anyone I’ve ever encountered, Hank replies while shoving his index fingernail into his mouth to extract the remaining turkey shreds clinging to his fillings.

He’s a bright kid, Hank.  What about the finance minister from Palestine? Got his file?

Yep, he’s accustomed to high tier and high dollar environments.  He might be a big problem, control-wise.  He knows lotsa people, places and loopholes in the world of finance.

I’m aware of that, Hank! Seachain snapped. Jeez, if you provide a big enough carrot, the bigger rabbits are sure to follow.  Keep an eye on them.  I need to know what they’re up to and where they are at all times. Okay? The boss seems finished.

Hank waits a moment, while looking at a profile on his twenty-four inch ViewSonic monitor, then mumbles, Okay boss....

Seachain cuts Hank off with, I’m more concerned about this Polanisky butt-wipe.  This character is a loner. Alpha personality.  He pulled some big heists. He’s got a nasty disposition.  Hmmm.... He’s like nitro-glycerin. You never know when he’ll go off.  Seachain ponders, then adds, They all exhibit alpha personalities; but Gregóri is the one to watch. Maverick. Independent bastard.  He endured extremely cold temperatures in the Siberian mines. Gregóri served a sentence for fraud against the empire. That alone makes him perfect for the mission.

What’s his charge, boss? Hank inquires.

The s.o.b. dug a tunnel into the Oil Ministry’s vault room and emptied it. Got about forty million rubles (1.79 million U.S. dollars). Sure burned a few bureaucrats a new one! Seachain chuckles...

Oh, don’t forget to get me Jeanfreaux’s personnel jacket. I want all of the details that you can get on him, Hank.  I like what I know about him so far.  But, I need details, lots of details about him before I can trust him to do what I want.

On it, boss.

El Rey del Tiempo thinks, It was a world of calamity, a decade of upheaval.  9-11 was but another event to turn world peace into a faint dream.  World leaders were thrown a curve ball that they believed would not happen with such consequence.  Yet, here they are, faced with unpredictable circumstances caused by people who had a differing set of values:  multicultural challenges and ideological conflicts.

It was a time of high stakes risks.  Al Quaeda and other terrorists groups put the world on its ear.  Everything was skewed. International unrest was at its highest levels.  Israel and Lebanon warred constantly, not news. Iraq was a hotbed of terrorist training and activity. Iran built nuclear power plants to cover their proliferation of plutonium enriched fuel for dirty bombs and worse. North Korea constructed its own nuclear facilities and tested long-range missiles. China launched their own satellite systems into orbit to spy on the world’s military and political seats. Putin turned Russia around and back peddled once again into the cold war.

The time was one of many distractions. It was a ripe orb for terrorist activity and rebelliously ambitious groups. 

El Rey del Tiempo was a man determined to make his own mark on the world.  Would he keep his arrow straight for the mark; or would he succumb to the bribes of big moneyed terrorists? Money, power, and corruption: the three most compelling aspects that make crime and greed thrive – the demise of humanity certain.

(Table of Contents)

Team Introductions

Copyright Spy vs. Spy

Seachain gathers the team members into an old ammunitions bunker. 

What’s that smell? Bubba asks.

That’s the salt water coming from the Gulf of Mexico, mixing with the chemical laden drain waters of the Mississippi River, Seachain responds. 

The sound of a ship’s fog horn is heard cutting through the thick fog. Fort Jackson is located in Plaquemines Parish, Louisiana, not far from the mouth of the river.  The old, red brick fort was originally constructed to protect the delta from the invading British before the Battle of New Orleans. It was used again during the Spanish American War, World War I and World War II.  Now, the fortress, with the moat surrounding it, is a state museum.

It not only contains moats and fortified walls, it also has gun emplacements mounted with a mixture of artillery at strategic points about the fortress.  Near where the old citadel stood, there is an eight inch Rodman smooth bore canon, reminiscent of the War of 1812. Below the parapet walls are the marksmen’s apertures used for sniping at enemy troops and ships.  The barracks, mess hall and the ammunition bunkers are beneath the heavily fortified walls for protection of the forts’ best assets.

Seachain gathers his thoughts before he addresses the group, This team contains some of the best skilled and talented people in the world.  They are alpha personalities like no other.  Compare them to an All Pro football team going to the Pro Bowl.  All of them are conditioned and are disciplined towards only one thing... winning!  Every year a new team is chosen from the best of the best. Yet, the individuals have played, in most cases, against each other, not with each other.  It is up to the best coach of the year to motivate them not only to play well, but to play the best that they can be - together.

The boss, as he is known by this group, must earn their confidence and their respect in order to do this.  Also, he must acquaint them with each other to develop their trust in completing their respective assignments.  No tough order.  Yeah. Right!

The meeting is in the early morning hours.  It is foggy throughout the area.  In the morning sunrise, the gray, misty clouds make the red brick fort look like a dark, discreetly colored shadow in a cloud.  The dry, cracked mud on the river’s batture (ground between the levee system and the river) is indicative of the intense heat from the day before.

The members look about the musty room constructed of old red brick, with water and mold stains upon the walls.  It is not a comfortable place; but it has history.  For some of the team members, this room is a luxury.  For others, it is no better than what they left behind in their country.

Good morning.  I’m Howard Douglas Hughes.  Some of you have researched my background and found nothing about me.  Some of you already know that my name is not Howard Douglas Hughes.  You will call me Boss.  I might forget to respond to Howard or to Mr. Hughes.  I do answer to Boss.  Just remember that I am the man who signs your paycheck.

Seachain listens to the mumbling and grumbling about the room.

Today, we begin to learn about each other.  We start the bonding process.

Gregóri chimes in, Yeah.  Right.  You expect us to trust other and you.  We don’t know each or you.

My point exactly, Gregóri.  First we get to know each other. That is the beginning of trust.  I don’t care if you are a thief, a crook, a murderer or a saint.  In order for us to function properly, we must trust each other.  Honor amongst thieves, right?

There is no honor with thieves, barks Gregóri.

Aarif proclaims arrogantly, He is correct, Howard or whatever your name is. How can one trust a liar, a cheat, a thief?  Why should we trust you? You already confessed that your name is not Howard Hughes.  You brought us here under false pretense.

You can trust that I honestly respond to Boss, and that my name is not Howard Hughes.

There is a brief silence as they look at him and one another.

If you wish rewards beyond your imagination, you will learn to trust one another, the boss replies.

Now, let’s get started....

(Table of Contents)

Who’s Who

––––––––

The boss starts the introductions with, "I cannot expect you to trust me unless I earn it.  You already know something about me.  I am the man who has the money and the resources capable of tracking each and every one of you; and, also, I have a portfolio on each of you. I know where you were born and when. I know your parents and siblings. I know your professions, hobbies and curricular activities. Each of you lives in various locations around the world. I know those locations.  And..., I know your enemies.

"How many people have that kind of information and the capabilities to collect it?  Not many.  You are certain that a person with those resources and funding has to be someone with superior abilities to gather a group such as yourselves.  You are the best in your respective fields.  This unit depends on your skills and talents. I will show you how to use them to our best interests.

I’m confused, Duck...

Duck?  Who’s named Duck here, Henry John Parker? the boss asks.

Don’t call me that! I hate that name. I’m Bubba!

Well, Bubba, who’s Duck?

You said your name was Howard something-or-other. The first thing that came to me was Howard the Duck.

Chuckles break out in the room from those familiar with that movie.

Oh. I get it, Bubba, the boss replies with a smile.  When you grow up, just call me Boss, alright?

Sure. When you quit wetting your pants, I’ll call you boss; but, you ain’t my boss yet...  Boss.

Fair enough, Bubba.  Let’s proceed, the boss replies.

GREGÓRI POLANISKY

Gregóri, tell us about yourself, would you?

You already know. Why should I tell you again?

I know about you; but the others are curious. He looks to the others in the group, Aren’t you?  Several nods come from bobbing heads about the room.

There are several hesitant but responsive affirmations about the room, Si. Hai. Yeah. Na.

Good. Good. See, Gregóri. They do want to know about you.

I am miner.  I know geology and oil related business, Gregóri states matter-of-factly. I honest business man.  I not a crook like you piss ants.

Yes and you’re quite the creative businessman, too.  You broke into the Oil Ministry Department’s bank account and took a large sum of money, also....  Didn’t you?

He looks around the room and frowns, Me? Take money? You got wrong person.

I guess I’m wrong by forty million rubles. Right? the boss asks him.

Unable to deny the facts, Gregóri responds with a proud smile, That is lots of money, da?

A round of chuckles breaks out.

How did you perform this feat, Gregóri? asks Aarif.

I tunneled under the ministry’s building. Once I broke into the vault, it was nothing, Gregóri spouted in a pleased manner.

Do you wish to know how I would have done it? Aarif condescendingly asks.

You used your little manhood, your penis, to bore through lock and keyway? Gregóri pokes him metaphorically.

No!  I would use my bigger than normal brains, you dog-brained sheep herder!  I smoothly would ask the minister for his account username and password.  That’s how I would do it! Aarif shot back.

He would not give it to you. You think he stupid like mountain goat?

Oh. You do not know the polish that I have with the high tier socialites and the upper level government officials, responds Aarif condescendingly.

You bed the wives then extort them? Gregóri continues his snide remarks.

No. I win their favor and trust..., just like Boss is doing to us. He is a smart man.

Okay, Aarif, the boss interrupts.  "You’ve made your point about your ability to con people. You’re a