M
montycrusto
Guest
Action and adventure and really wild things!22.
“Goddamn it, Fred!” the Senator was shouting. “How the fuck could you allow an American Ambassador to be kidnapped? What kind of useless security do you have in that shithole country of yours?” His face on the screen looked beet red. The boss could only recall a similar level of anger once-when young Barbara Moore had refused to give him the blow job that he considered his due.
“Well, if my country is such a shithole, Senator,” a very insulted looking Prime Minister, Sir Frederick Bascome replied, “What does that say about you that you’ve visited here almost a dozen times in the past year? I think you owe me, and, more importantly, the good people of Providencia, an apology.”
“Okay, Fred, I’m sorry,” the Senator said, not looking particularly sorry. “But you got to admit this is a really fucked up situation. You assured us that these rebels were just malcontents who were no threat. I’d say they’re a pretty big threat to all of us.”
“Gentlemen,” the Master of Pirate Cay interjected. “This is a serious situation. We aren’t going to help things by fighting amongst ourselves. We need a plan. What did the President say, Mo?”
“He wants to see proof that they have her and what their demands are. He’s stalling for time. The man is useless.”
“Actually, Mo, that seems very reasonable,” the billionaire said. “It’s what any sensible person would do in this situation.”
“We haven’t heard from the rebels yet,” Fred said, “But I have no doubt we will and probably sooner, rather than later.”
“I see two serious risks to us here,” the boss said, “Either of which could land us in grave trouble.”
The Senator and the Prime Minister paused, waiting for words of wisdom.
“The first,” the boss expounded, “is that Ambassador Moore decides to trade info about what she saw on Pirate Cay for her freedom.”
“But we have the video,” Fred objected. “We can show her to be an active participant.”
“She’ll have public sympathy on her side as a kidnapping victim. Especially if the rebels have tortured her to get her to talk, which is certainly possible. Either way, it will get the FBI and the IRS and all kinds of other agencies with three initials swarming all over Pirate Cay, and that’s the end of our fun and games and the beginning of life in the slammer. Oh, yeah, I can get in the yacht and head for somewhere, but they’ll find me eventually. And you gentlemen will be even easier to find.”
“I’m the head of a Sovereign country!” Big Fred objected.
“So were Saddam and Noriega,” the boss said. “You’ve conspired to traffic UIS citizens for sex, my friend.”
“They were all your willing employees!”
“Let’s see if a jury believes that,” the boss said.
“You mentioned two serious risks,” the Senator pointed out.
“Yes, what if the President sends Seal Team Six to rescue the Ambassador? The press will be all over the story and some nosy reporter will want to know her whereabouts for the days before she was kidnapped.”
“So, we’re fucked,” the Senator said.
“Unless we rescue her,” the boss said.
“Us?” the Senator and the Prime Minister said in unison.
“Well, I didn’t necessarily mean us personally,” the boss replied. “I happen to employ someone who was the pride of the Royal Providencia Marines.”
“Robert!” They both exclaimed.
“Yes, Robert. And he can discretely, which is the key here, assemble a crack team of his former squad mates. It will cost me plenty, but making sure that we, not the rebels and not the US Government have Ambassador Moore safely in custody, is the key to our getting out of this jam. They will bring her here to Pirate Cay, where we can watch over her. We can have her give a video statement that she’s recuperating from her ordeal among friends.”
“I’d be happy to watch over her tight little ass,” the Senator said.
“They’ll be time for that later if things work out,” the boss said. “For now, I need to make a detailed plan with Robert. But it would help if you can give us some idea where these rebels might be holed up.”
“I’ll talk to my Chief of Security,” the Prime Minister said.
“And we need you to keep a lid on the story.”
“I’ll issue a gag order in the name of national security. It won’t hold forever, but it may buy us some time.”
“And, Mo, no more going to see the President. Some sharp aide at the White House is going to start wondering why you’re mixing into this. Maybe it’s best if you come down here and see if you can make yourself useful. You’re from Texas; surely you know how to shoot.”
“I’ve never fired a gun in my life,” the Senator admitted. “Except in that campaign commercial and it was loaded with blanks.”
“Well, young Barbara Moore, the Ambassador’s cousin, is getting pretty good at a certain task that she wasted a lot of effort refusing to do when she first got here.”
“Now that’s some shooting I could go for!” the Senator exclaimed. “The tax bill is more or less done; staff can fill in the details. When can you send the plane?”
“First thing in the morning,” the boss said.
“Gentlemen, this all may fall apart and we may have to run for the hills, but it’s our best chance to avoid disaster. I’ve got to get with Robert now. Fred, we need that info ASAP. Senator, until tomorrow.” The screen faded to black.
Seems like we’ve gone from “The West Wing” to “Rambo” (not to be confused with 19th century French poet Rimbaud)
Or was it on mediation of his pal "Big Boris"?
