Jordan and Maria got the clearance to go to Panama City, but not without great resistance from both of their department heads. It took a call from Jim Webb, who let their section chiefs know the two were among the most knowledgeable law enforcement agents in the world concerning the situation at the Panama Canal. Once they got the go-ahead, their offices made reservations on Air France going from Le Havre to Paris, and then set them on a fourteen-hour trip to Central America.
First, they had to go shopping for tropical vacation clothing. It would be their first shopping trip together and a chance to test their budding relationship. They only had a couple of hours to shop since their flight left at 1:00 p.m. from Le Havre airport and then 3:30 p.m. from Charles De Gaulle Airport in Paris. With the time difference being eight hours earlier in Central America, the flight would get them to Panama City at about 10:00 p.m. the same day.
They googled shops in the area and found one called Printemps, which carried both men’s and women’s sportswear. It didn’t take them long to find it.
“I think I’ll get a couple pairs of walking shorts, a tropical shirt or two, and sneakers. Sound okay?” Jordan asked Maria nervously. He didn’t want to expose his total inability to be comfortable in comfortable clothes.
“Do you think we’ll be able to go swimming while we’re there? I need a new swimsuit anyway. I’ll get tropical—maybe linen blouses, shorts and flip flops. How’s that sound?” She was confident with her clothing needs, but hadn’t thought everything through.
“Can’t do flip-flops. We may have to run, and I don’t want you killed over your choice of footwear.”
You’re right, Jordan—no sandals or flip-flops.”
Both headed in different directions but agreed to try on their selections for each other before they bought them.
Maria was first to show off an outfit. Even though she had put on an open-fronted, flimsy beach cover-up, there was no preparing Jordan for the orange micro-bikini beneath it. He gasped when he saw it.
“My god! Won’t you get arrested in that thing? I’ll say this—you’re totally rocking it. I knew you had a great bod—but this—this is amazing.”
There was no doubt in Jordan’s mind that Maria could be a swimsuit model. She was beautiful, tall, and slender, with great breasts and gorgeous legs. He was beginning to realize how lucky he was to have her in his life. Now, if he could just not screw it up like he had numerous times before in relationships. Historically, he didn’t bypass opportunities when they drifted by, but he needed to rein in his lustful ways.
They modeled clothes for each other and came out once with matching colors. They quickly changed out the twin look and selected non-matching outfits.
Their final choices would brand them as tourists in most any country. Pleased with their selections of palm-tree-plastered apparel, they drove the car to the rental agency at the airport, dropped it off, and headed for the terminal. They were shocked when they found first class seats all the way to Panama City were purchased for them. They felt important and wondered what kind of deadly mission warranted this special treatment. It had a Last Supper feeling to it.
*****
The runway lighting could be seen a couple miles out, and although it wasn’t completely dark yet, it would be in a matter of minutes. Gus had instructed the entire crew on their individual jobs and how to complete the mission with the least chance of getting shot.
As the plane landed and taxied to the secluded and dark part of the fenced property, the door opened, and the boarding ladder was engaged. The helicopters were there in the dark at the end of the runway. Gus let them out, pulled the ladder back in, and taxied towards the main terminal, which was opened to the elements at both ends. It resembled a World War II metal hangar converted to a terminal, and that’s exactly what it was.
Gus deplaned and checked in at the pilot’s desk. He paid to have tie-down space and was told to go near the helicopters and tie down there. First, he would gas up and grab a bite to eat. The terminal only had prepared sandwiches and cold drinks and beer. Very few people were around, and at first, he couldn’t find a single Muslim pilot. However, after he walked outside the terminal to the street, eating his sandwich and drinking his beer, he spotted two men with dark complexions sitting beneath a palm tree with AK-47s over their laps. Gus slowly walked over to them and tried to strike up a conversation but got a response of head-shaking and “No English.”
He decided to move his plane down next to the helicopters. After he taxied there, he put quick release bungees on both wings, then reached into his plane and came out with a M4A1 rifle with a long, thirty-cartridge magazine. It would fire singles, three round bursts, or fully automatic. It was a shorter version of the well-known M16A1 and very popular with pilots. Gus took a position behind the back fuselage of his plane.
Breathing hard, the four-man team hunkered behind the farthest of the five helicopters from the terminal. Monte found the fuel intake, unscrewed the cap, and poured in half of the windshield washer fluid. Lester held the pistol next to the fuselage that everyone hoped housed the gas tank. He started to pull the trigger as he placed the FRAM oil filter directly against the aluminum skin of the aircraft. Debi said, “Not yet,” and collected Simone’s sweater and Lester’s windbreaker, and donated her sweatshirt. She wrapped them around the gun and filter. Only then did Lester pull the trigger.
The gun made more noise than they had hoped for, but it was definitely muted. The Sig Sauer P226 held fifteen rounds, and now eight were left. Lester had used a couple of rounds on the first two terrorists on the ship, and Salama, the former gun owner, had fired five rounds at the government men who tried to arrest him on the ship. Lester had a full magazine in his pocket and eight rounds left in the weapon. He didn’t have enough to put five rounds in each helicopter. To be safe, he decided on four in each aircraft, twenty rounds total with three left over.
Gus watched carefully from behind his plane and noted that no one was stirring in the almost-empty terminal. He had seen only three people working there when he walked through to the street side. The gunshot sounded like a muffled firecracker at his position and probably less to the two armed guards out front. Someone in the terminal was playing Latino music but only at a low volume.
Lester placed three more rounds in the chopper, one towards the motor, one behind the control panel in front, and one in the rotor assembly at the rear of the aircraft. This was repeated on the next two helicopters. The filter was then changed to the STP model. It seemed quieter than the FRAM, but then everyone’s ears were compromised. They worked in teams of two. Monte and Simone took care of finding the fuel caps and putting in the soapy fluid, Lester and Debi picked out the spots to fire a round into the plane, and Gus guarded them from his plane with the M4.
They reached the fifth helicopter and found they had used up most of the washer fluid. Gus yelled at them to hurry up because the guards had come out of the terminal and were looking around.
“Look, we need more fluid for the gas tank. I suggest we all pee in the plastic jug and stuff our under wear down in the neck of the gas tank,” Lester said as he started cutting the top from the plastic jug. He and Monte went first but it wasn’t easy to urinate in such a tense situation. The girls went next with the men holding them steady while they helped fill the jug to about half full. When it was Debi’s turn, she reached in her shorts and pulled out a small oblong box and removed a flat plastic object about five inches long. As she was peeing into the jug, being steadied by Lester and Simone, she stuck the object into her stream of urine.
“Is that what I think it is?” Simone asked.
“Got to see if Lester’s powerful sperm hit pay dirt,” Debi said, laughing.
“You are unbelievable,” Lester said, as he watched her insert the pregnancy test stick into the shorts she was holding in her hand. “I don’t think you would be far enough along to detect it if you are pregnant, would you?”
“Thought I’d try anyway, dear,” she said, smiling. “We started trying a week or two before this trip, as you recall, and we only need a few days before a missed period to detect it.”
It was a strange sight to see everyone holding their shorts in their hands, naked from the waist down, as they handed over underwear to be stuffed down the neck of the fuel intake after the now-smelly fluid was poured down the tank.
Before anyone could get their shorts back on or place more pistol rounds in the helicopter, bullets started buzzing over their heads. Then they heard the reports from firearms coming from outside the terminal. Everyone hit the ground, except for Lester, who quickly ran between his shooting placement zones and fired off the four rounds into the fifth helicopter. More bullets flew overhead. Shorts in hand and bare rears glistening in the moonlight, all four ran towards Gus’s plane. Three times they had to fall to the ground to avoid incoming rounds from the two guards.
“Come to the plane! I’ll cover you!” Gus yelled. He then fired off about 20 rounds with the assault rifle towards the shooters.
As the four rose from the ground and covered the distance to the plane, Gus finally realized they were half naked.
“What the fuck?” Gus murmured in shock, seeing the collection of penises and vaginas headed to his plane.
“No time to explain,” Lester said. “We need to take these two guys out before we take off.”
“I’ll get the plane ready. Should I take off my clothes first?” Gus quipped.
“No need at this time. We’ll let you know when. Can I use your M4 and the extra clip?”
Gus took the steps into the King Air with the bare asses of Simone and Monte right behind him. Gus made the preparations for takeoff as his two passengers pulled on their shorts. Lester and Debi crawled under the airplane’s fuselage. The two could see the guards in a prone position. Debi pulled the homemade STP silencer off the end of her pistol but left the tape on the barrel.
“How many rounds are left?” she asked.
Lester only took seconds to answer as rounds started coming in around them, hitting the grass and throwing up tuffs of grass. A few were striking the rear of the fuselage, but so far hadn’t struck anything critical.
“You have three rounds from the Sig—I am guessing that I have about ten left in this M4 magazine and thirty in the extra one Gus gave me. They’re about fifty or sixty yards out. If you get a shot, aim at the head and just move down from there a little bit. I’m going to see if I can get them to stand up and retreat. Once I get them up, you take aim and fire two taps at a time.”
Just then dirt flew all around them and Lester noticed the look on Debi’s face again—no fear, just anger. She did not like being fired upon.
“Get ready, sweetie. I’m going to finish this mag and start on the other. I think they’ll get up to run for cover.”
“I’m ready!” Debi said.
Lester took aim at the prone objects that appeared as mere bumps in the grass through the sights on his weapon. They were illuminated only by moonlight, since they were too far from the terminal to be caught in the reflection of its lighting. He began to fire in bursts of three rounds with each trigger pull. He could see them squirming around, but they didn’t get up. Lester slammed in a fresh magazine, while the two guards took the opportunity to open fire again. A bullet grazed Lester’s shoulder and cut into the dirt next to Debi’s arm, leaving a small gash in her forearm. Lester looked over at her, and from the expression on her face, she might rip out their guts with her bare hands.
“You ready, my dear?” Lester asked.
“You have no idea!”
Lester took aim and fired ten fully-automatic rounds right into the bump where they lay. He could see they were moving, so ten more rounds hit right on top of them. He heard them scream and both stood up. Before Lester could motion to her, Debi double-tapped both figures, only getting one round out on the second tap as she was out of ammo. The one on the right fell and the one on the left staggered. Lester put his final ten rounds in him.
Gus greeted them as they got on the plane, still holding their shorts in hand. The rest of the crew clapped as Lester and Debi fought to get their shorts back on against the force of the plane moving down the runway to gain position to take off. Both were bleeding from grazed bullets, so Simone and Monte grabbed a first aid kit to patch them up.
“Good shooting, babe! You took down the one on the right and hit the one on the left. If you had been using a forty-five APC, both would have gone down. But you did all right. Proud of you,” Lester said. He hugged her and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.
Gus gunned the King Air, and it lifted up over the airfield, where two terrorists lay dead in the grass next to the tarmac. They could see a group of cars and trucks pulling up at the terminal. Some of the men fired their weapons at the King Air as it left the airport but were too far away to do any damage.
This skirmish was just a small prelude to what they all would face the next day in Panama.
The cruise ship had already sailed, so Gus had no choice but to take them to Panama City to stay in a hotel. Lester’s phone rang during the flight. It was Jim, who had already talked to Gus. He was pleased with the mission.
“You will meet your counterpart from France tonight at the hotel. Tomorrow will be really rough. Congratulations on a job well done.
“Oh, did you guys really pour piss into the helicopters, then fight off a couple of guards half-naked?” Jim asked, chuckling.
“Where did you hear such a tale?” Lester laughed.