Jack Branigan was questioned about Charlie’s murder by the Sydney police department and the Military CID for hours. Finally a phone call was placed from the U.S. Embassy and the military attaché vouched for his integrity and innocence. They let him go while they continued their investigation. Jack could not comprehend what had happened to Charlie. The lovable Charlie had no enemies that he knew of and was always an outgoing, likeable kind of guy.
The next day, Jack was flown on a military cargo transport plane along with a load of lumber, radar gear, desks, and portable field stations. Four hours later, he landed in some of the most desolate looking country he’d ever seen. It was at a temporary airport, located outside the city of Darwin, Australia in the Northern Territories.
Twenty convoy vehicles awaited his arrival. Jack boarded the rear of one of the military transport trucks. Joining him in the back of the truck were two Aussies, also heading to the Camp Alpha. For the next two hours they bounced along some of the bumpiest roads Jack had ever been on.
There was no view from the rear of the windowless, dust-covered truck, and the only cool air the three of them felt was from the occasional whiff coming through the small open flap in the front of the truck. It was hot and getting hotter. Sweat drenched his shirt. He didn’t know what was worse, the heat or the dust. Not the way he had planned to spend his time in Australia.
Finally, the truck came to a bouncing, grinding halt. The flap was flipped open, and a cloud of dust rose up and engulfed them. Jack couldn’t wait any longer to get out of this hell on wheels. He jumped out of the back of the truck and was confronted by two armed Marines. Behind them stood a large wooden sign that read:
WELCOME TO THE OTHER SIDE OF HELL
–
CAMP ALPHA
ALL PHOTOGRAPHY IS ABSOLUTELY FORBIDDEN
PICTURE IDS MUST BE WORN AT ALL TIMES
PLEASE SURRENDER ALL COMMUNICATION DEVICES TO SECURITY
CAUTION:
USE OF DEADLY FORCE IS AUTHORIZED IN ALL RED ZONE AREAS!
A U.S. Marine, dressed in a desert camouflage uniform, rushed to Jack. “Mr. Branigan, welcome to forward base, Camp Alpha, sir. I’m your adjutant, Lieutenant Matthew Silverstone, sir,” he said, saluting. He grabbed Jack’s luggage in the process and then led him toward a similarly camouflaged Humvee.
It was hot and steamy, and Jack couldn’t wait to have a hot shower and a cold beer along with a thick, juicy steak. Dream on. He knew it was really going to be hot dogs, beans, corn, or other canned rations. Anything would taste good at this point in his journey.
Opening the rear of the Humvee, he tossed Jack’s luggage and rolls of drawings into the back of the vehicle, along with the plans Jack had reviewed at the hotel in Sydney.
“Your ride, sir,” said the young officer. They both hopped in and soon they were on their way.
The camp was laid out like every other U.S. Army base Jack had ever visited. It had one main street, with numerous one-story, wooden office buildings. There were barracks at the very end of the broad avenue behind the flag poles, which were flying the stars and stripes and the Australian southern cross.
The buildings they passed along the main avenue all looked the same—vintage U.S. Army issue. The area had a surreal look to it, covered in a thick layer of tan dust, which made everything appear the same color.
“Sir, this is your office coming up on the right, down that street there, sir,” said the eager young lieutenant. “I hope you will find it satisfactory, sir.”
“Where are you from, soldier?”
“Pine Bluff, Arkansas, sir. It’s a small town just outside of Little Rock, sir. Your living quarters are here, sir.”
“Lieutenant? You said your first name was Matt, didn’t you?” Jack shook his hand as he drove with one hand.
“Yes, sir.”
“Matt, you can call me Jack. I’m a civilian, not a commander in the military, understand?”
“No, sir. I was told that we were going to have a new commander here and that would be you, sir. I understand, sir, you will take over the direction of the next phase of construction on the new runway and support the operations center here, sir.”
“Lieutenant, I am the new site commander, but Matt, I am a civilian, understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Matt, when it is just the two of us, you can call me Jack, okay? And Lieutenant, that’s an order.”
The young marine smiled, the tension now broken, and he said, “Yes, sir. Jack, sir. Would the commander… umm… care for a cold beer and thick steak? We may be stuck here in hell, sir, but we Marines still love our steaks and our beer, sir. Since I get off detail in fifteen minutes I would be happy to join you and introduce you to some of the men, sir.”
“Gyrene, we’re going to get along just fine,” Jack exclaimed, using the common name for all Marines. “That is exactly what I had an appetite for today. Let me drop off my gear in my barracks, grab a quick shower, and then I’m good to go.”
Jack dropped his luggage in his room and surveyed his new surroundings. His barracks had a small sitting area, with a broken television set and a radio, which played canned music, sat on an old wooden mantel. There was a large drafting table taking up most of the space in what appeared to be the living room. This was the general’s doing, Jack could tell. Suited him fine, he wanted to get his job done as quick as he could and get the hell out of here.
Toweling off after his shower, he noticed a telephone on a small metal desk by his table. When Jack lifted the handset, a male voice on the other end responded immediately, “Yes, sir, who on the base can I connect you to, sir?”
“Can you get me a number on the Greek island of Petros? A place called the Hotel Petros?”
“Sorry, sir, but all communications from this site are limited to military protocol numbers, sir.”
Disappointment sank in deep. Ravenna would worry over why he wasn’t calling her. He missed her voice. Two months was a hell of a long time to go with no word. “Thank you, soldier.”
“Yes, sir. Anything else, sir?”
“No, that will be about it.”
Returning to the Humvee, he told Matt about his strange phone call.
“Yes, sir, this is a restricted military post and all communications, whether written, verbal, and especially telecommunications are severely restricted, sir.”
“Why?”
“Sir, off the record, if I may, sir?”
“Go ahead, Matt.”
“The Aussies love us here and we love them, but they are extremely touchy when it comes to the subject of our military having a base on their soil. There’s a lot of folks who would love to create a stink about us being here and embarrass the Aussies. But they are great allies, and that is the last thing we would ever want to have happen, sir.”
“Just like people tried to do with the Saudis and the Kuwaitis when we built bases there?”
“Exactly, sir, but even more so. This base is just outside the range of the new Chinese XRN-28 missiles and they are monitoring everything that we do here. They sent us a message that they don’t like us here one bit.”
“How did they do that?”
“Our intelligence guys tell us it was the Chinese who were responsible for the death of Charlie Hickson in Sydney, sir. That is why we have an office set up in your barracks to make it easier to protect you here. We have perimeter guards everywhere, but until we get this project done we are treating it as a forward hostile base, sir. This is still like the Wild West out here, sir. Anything goes.”
As Jack surveyed his new surroundings, it was beginning to feel more like a prison then a job site. The next two months could not go by fast enough. All he wanted was to get done and return to Ravenna, to touch her, to kiss her, to caress her… He had better stop there. He missed her. It seemed like forever since he had seen her last, he thought, as he fingered the Saint George’s medallion she had given him. The next two months were going to feel like forever.
Jack threw himself into his work as never before. He was on a mission, working day and night. The weeks stretched into months.
He tried to call Ravenna many times but was stopped cold. Jack even went so far as to file a grievance with the Inspector General’s office, but to no avail. He could only get through to his own office in Chicago and to the Department of Defense in Washington, D.C.
A few weeks later, when talking to his partner, Mike Stannis, in Chicago, Jack asked his partner to contact Ravenna to let her know what was going on. He gave Mike Ravenna’s phone number and address to contact her on the island. A few days later, his home office in Chicago was visited by two rather ominous-looking U.S. Army CID Officers. They called a conference meeting of all employees and ordered everyone in the office not to divulge anything to anyone about where Jack was working. They went on to order them to refrain from discussing what he was doing or anything about their company’s work in Australia, saying it was a matter of national security.
Jack was devastated when he heard the news. “Make it happen,” he told Mike. “Get word to her somehow, I don’t care how you do it, just do it.” Now he could not wait to leave.
He began to write letters to Ravenna, long letters where he told her about everything he thought and did. His heart ached for just one more sight of her.
He paid one of the duty sergeants in the mess hall to smuggle the letters out and mail them for him from Sydney. The sergeant made regular trips off the base and was a logical choice. That was the only way he could keep in touch with her.
He wrote to her every day, sometimes twice a day, pouring out his heart and the feelings he had for her. He thought the letter-writing would help, but it only made him miss her more.
Finally in August, after two months working nonstop, the new runway and repair facilities and operations center were up and running, and completed in record time. But still no word from the general, even as Jack began packing up his bags to leave.
When the general finally did call, he told Jack that since they had done so well on this assignment, completed it on time and under budget, the general had expanded and renewed the contract for another two months to complete the final expansion of the base. When Jack got the news, he was devastated, and he immediately called the Pentagon and demanded to speak with Buck. His call was intercepted by his senior adjutant, Lt. Colonel Terry Bridgewater.
“Mr. Branigan, this is not a good time for the general. He is very busy. Let me ask him to call you back later, because…”
Jack was not about to be denied, “I need to speak to him—now.”
The line went silent for what seemed an eternity, until he heard the familiar sound of Buck’s voice. “Hey, cowboy. How ya doing down there?”
“I can’t do this, General,” he told him. “It is September already and I have things I need to do. My company wants to bring in one of my guys, David Turner. He’s top notch. You’ll love him. I would really like to return to Greece. I have waited too long, and now it is time for me to leave.”
“Jack, I’ll pay you and your company whatever you ask. But I need you there to finish this job.”
“It’s not the money, it’s the time I am wasting. I need to go back to Petros. My fiancé is waiting for me and has no idea what’s going on.”
“Jack, you are doing a great service for your country. Trust me. I will make it up to you.”
Jack’s stomach tightened with agitation. “I am working day and night, and the only people I can talk to are at the Pentagon and my office. I have to rely on my office to try to get word to Greece, and they are having a tough time getting through with all the red tape you have us tied up in. General, let me go back to Greece for a week or two, and then I will come back and do whatever you like. I promise.”
“Jack, I like you. I always have, but this project is one of the most important peacetime projects our country has ever undertaken. I wish I could honor your request, but I just can’t. You know national security and all of that nonsense. But I am glad you called. I was getting ready to call you myself. I just signed off on the contract to award your company the planning and architectural support for the next five years for NAVSCOM. And here’s the part you will like the best: your day-to-day involvement is minimal. So you could go back to your Greek paradise and visit. What do you think?”
Jack didn’t speak for a few moments, feeling defeated. The threat of Buck’s white envelope with orders to reenlist him weighed heavily on his mind. He was stuck here and there was nothing he could do about it. He just prayed that Ravenna would understand. “General, that’s great news. I appreciate the trust and the business.”
The general’s voice hushed, and his tone turned serious. “There were a lot of companies vying for this business, but after a thorough review by my staff, we felt your organization was the most suited. And, I might add, with very little prodding on my part. Congratulations! So, all I need from you now is for you to give me six more weeks of your time and then I will personally fly you to your tiny little island. But that’s the best I can do. Six more weeks, okay, Jack?”
“Okay, but I’m not happy about this. I’ll give you six more weeks in this hellhole, but that is it. I’ll walk back home to Petros if I have to. Do we understand one another?”
“Yes, Jack, I hear you loud and clear.”
“Goodbye General.”
Jack’s thoughts returned to Petros and Ravenna. They had not talked since he had come to Camp Alpha. Jack had to get word to her about what was happening. He wondered how she was doing. For a brief moment a thought passed by: Would she wait? Would she think his whole visit was just a passing fling for him? She had to know it was more, much more. He cared deeply for her.
“Bye, Jack, and oh, by the way, thanks for everything.”
“You’re welcome, but just remember, two more months. November 1st, then I’m history.” Jack hung up as the phone went dead on the other end.
Walking back to his quarters, Jack picked up a copy of the local newspaper, The Outback Daily News. He scanned the three-page rag and stopped to read the cover story about the death of the great British war hero, Trevor Harper. Jack mourned with Ravenna because he knew they were close, and now she would be alone. He should be there to comfort her. He wanted so desperately to return to Petros.
By October 28, the new Operations Support Center Project was finally completed. Jack had been in his “prison” for more than four months—two months longer than he was supposed to be there. He couldn’t wait to leave.
Three days later a shiny gold-and-white Gulfstar private jet landed on their newest runway, and the sleek new GS-470M taxied to a nearby enclosed hangar. The waiting jeep took the general to Jack’s office quarters.
When he first saw Jack, the general did not recognize him. He had lost over twenty-five pounds, his frame was lean, his face gaunt, his eyes sunken, and his voice creaked when he said hello.
“Hey, General. Welcome to hell,” he told him, forcing a grin.
“Branigan, you look like shit. Effective immediately, I’m taking over here as site commander. You get a shower, some grub, a shave, and some sleep, and then we will get you on my plane out of here. How does that sound?”
“Sounds great, but if it’s all the same to you, General, I’ll sleep on the plane.”
“I understand but it will take a couple of hours to service the plane. Get cleaned up, get some rest and I’ll wake you when the plane has been refueled and serviced.”
“Thanks, General. That’s music to my ears.”
Jack showered, shaved off the noticeable beard he was sporting, wolfed down a steak and a beer, and fell asleep on his bed. He slept soundly for the first time in six weeks.
Three hours later, he felt a tug on his sleeve; it was the general. “Time to go, Jack. Your plane is ready. Thanks again for everything.”
Jack looked around the place that had been his home over the last several months and hoped he never saw it again. One of the general’s aides drove both of them to the waiting jet.
“Jack, I can’t thank you enough for everything you have accomplished here. Your country and I owe you a great debt of gratitude. I won’t forget this. This plane will take you to Sydney, where you can transfer to a civilian plane to take you to Athens, then onto a private jet to fly you to your Greek island.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, and no hard feelings, but just get me the hell out of here.”
“Sure,” said the towering general and new site commander, as he shook his hand and gave him a large brown shoebox tied with string. “This belongs to you. Sorry, Jack.”
The sleek private military jet lifted high into the clear Australian sky. Jack was on his way to Sydney, then to back to Greece. He settled into the soft, comfy leather seats and slowly opened the shoebox the general had given him.
Inside were all of the letters he had written and sent to Ravenna. They were all stamped Unable to Mail – National Security – USC212.34.c. Jack looked through the letters and began to read them, one by one, until he dozed off with the rumbling of the jet engines numbing his brain. Nothing worked out the way he planned. He smirked to himself at the duplicity of the general but was heartened when he thought about being with Ravenna.
After deplaning at a private hangar, he went to the main terminal to transfer to a civilian plane at Sydney Airport. He checked in at the airport counter for his commercial flight to Athens and found it was on time. It was only a matter of an hour or so now. Jack searched for a quiet place to talk as he pulled out his cell phone to call Ravenna.
Jack had been in touch with his office on a regular basis, one of the few places he could contact, and learned from his partner Mike that a new phone system had been installed at the hotel. That had to be Ravenna’s doing, he thought to himself.
He dialed Ravenna’s number at her hotel, and after punching in all the access codes, the international numbers, and the Greek island codes, the phone finally rang.
“Hello,” her sweet voice answered.
Suddenly, the long wait was all worth it, just to hear her voice again. His spirits soared. “Hi, baby, it’s me, I’m coming home,” Jack began to tell her.
“Thank you for calling Hotel Petros on the beautiful, sunny island paradise of Petros. I am away for the moment but I did not want to miss your call. Please leave a message and I will get back to you.” Beeeeeep. It was her new answering machine. Damn!
He left her a message. “Hi, baby, it’s me, I’m coming home soon, the plane leaves Sydney airport in an hour. Then on to Athens, then to Petros. I’ll be there tomorrow. I love you and can’t wait to see…” Beeeeeep. Jack called three more times, just to listen to her voice until he heard his flight being call over the loudspeaker. Time to go.
God, he could hardly wait. The line was forming as they announced his flight again and he impatiently joined the waiting crowd carrying his folded boarding pass in his hand.
“Excuse me, sir, are you Mr. Branigan, Mr. Jack Branigan?”
Jack turned around to see two men dressed in dark suits and ties, accompanied by a uniformed police officer.
“Yes, I’m Jack Branigan. How can I help you?”
“I am sorry, sir, but I am afraid I have to ask you to accompany me to the precinct.”
His heart skipped a beat and a cold sweat formed on his brow. What the hell was going on now? “Excuse me? What is this all about?”
“I’m afraid you will have to come with us, Mr. Branigan. You are under arrest for the murder of Mr. Charlie Hickson. Please come with me, sir. Quietly.”
“There must be some mistake. I was questioned by the police months ago and cleared. I’m not going anywhere with you or anyone else for that matter. I have a plane to catch and it’s boarding right now. I am on my way back to Greece.” He started to walk away and the uniformed officer grabbed his arm.
“Sir, I’m afraid you must come with us.”
“I am not going anywhere with you.” Jack shook free from the officer’s grip.
“Sir, please come quietly.”
He turned to face them. “Gentlemen, if you don’t believe me, call the U.S Embassy or call U.S. Army General Buck Winchester. They will both vouch for my innocence. I had nothing to do with Charlie’s death. Now leave me alone, I have a plane to catch.” He shrugged off their hands and walked to catch up with the other passengers, who had stopped to observe the unfolding scene before them.
“I’m sorry, sir, but that is out of the question. Please come with us. We have been looking for you for months. Please come quietly.”
The two men in suits grabbed him and pulled his hands around behind him and handcuffed him. “Come with us,” they said, as they grabbed him by his arm.
The officials had had enough of this Yank making a scene and resisting arrest. They would sort it all out down at the district police office. This American would now just have to wait, and the police authorities were in no hurry.
Jack’s head lowered to his chest. He had just called Ravenna and now this. So close, yet so far. This was not happening. All he wanted was to go home, to Petros and… Ravenna.