The Doctrine of Presence. Benjamin Vance

the way the company works.”

      I said, “What the hell … are you with the CIA now?”

      Andy slapped the arm of his lush chair lightly and laughed, “Not really, Jim, this is the way Metrid does business. He had a good laugh, and then sobered some. “We need to talk about some shit that’s going on in South America I think you and your team might be able to help with. I’m sure you have many questions by now; shoot.”

      “Damn rights I do. You inferred you’re retired. Why all the secrecy; what kind of international shit does Metrid get involved in; how do you know about our team; what happened to your far-north accent?”

      “Is that the total of your questions?”

      “Hell no, I might think of a dozen more, but for now, how about it?”

      Andy started slowly, “Well, as you probably know everything Metrid, is made in the good old US of A. We fight a constant battle to prevent other companies and countries from pirating our technology. Some countries actually purchase an item of equipment and reverse engineer it within a year or so. There are absolute copies of our equipment running in several countries right now. China has imitated everything of ours that has landed on its shores, and it has purchased our equipment and parts from other countries as well.

      “That’s why we stopped selling to China. It cost us a lot, but at least we know we’re hindering the process. As you can guess, we’ve concentrated on patented metallurgy for years, as have many other American companies. Metallurgy is one process which is very hard to decipher in reverse engineering. Now, a firm in Venezuela has received equipment and funding from China to deduce our metallic combinations and processes. They have no regard for intellectual properties; never have.

      “I know about your team because Leo Dykehouse and I were in Bosnia together. He called me about two weeks ago for a chat and we talked a bit about you guys. He’s proud to be on your team and said so. He’s excited in his own way. I know Leo well and know he’s still a hard guy to figure; honest to a fault. He said you guys possess certain skills that may become synergistic when combined. So, here I am.

      “The northern lingo can be turned off and on as you know. I find it advantageous to use it in the U.P. I can also talk like a cracker when in Florida. Do you have any more questions … yet?”

      “Soooo, I take it the company down in Venezuela needs to be flushed, and you want us to pull the handle?”

      “Precisely, it is Venezuela after all. The manufacturing unit or reverse engineering unit is on the outskirts of Maracay; fairly hidden in a small valley. Fortunately, it’s not well guarded. What we want you to do is fry their plasma generators, electron microscope and mass spectrometer. It will take them at least a year to get new equipment, let alone get it operational. We don’t want any killing, just destroy that equipment.”

      I said, “Andy, I don’t know where you got the audacity to request something like this from a bunch of amateurs, but I think you might be sawing on the limb between you and your tree. I cannot imagine how a bunch of old misfits like us could pull off an operation like you suggest. We’re all has-beens. Well, Gimp is still a young man, but he’s constrained by his wheelchair, or thinks he is. What you ask is not what we want to do, or are capable of doing.”

      “Jim, did you get some gold coin from Leo?”

      “Yeah, quite a few actually. We were able to purchase a lot of our equipment because of it.”

      “Did you look at the dates on the coins?”

      “Yeah, 1993, why? Did he pick up a few in Bosnia, Kosovo or Herzegovina that was lying on the street?”

      “No Jim, he and I and three other U.N. troops stole 2.2 metric tons of gold from a bank in Srebrenica. We were sent there to report on the ethnic cleansing, genocide and rape. We found the town all but deserted and constantly being bombarded from almost every direction. We took shelter during a somewhat fierce shelling and found ourselves in a burnt-out office building which had housed a division of the economics ministry.

      “Leo did a routine sweep and found a large walk-in safe in one of the alcoves of the building. It didn’t appear to have been compromised. Leo inspected it and found that the damn thing opened after he turned the wheel on the front ‘til it stopped. He came to get me in his common, nonchalant way. We all saw what was there and could not believe our good fortune. One of the men, there were six of us still alive at the time, wanted to turn the gold in to the proper authorities. I off handedly asked him who that would be. He responded with General Milosevic’s name. We talked it over for a while and Leo asked if he and the gentleman shouldn’t go somewhere high and observe what was going on around the town so we could find a way out with the gold. They left; only Leo returned.

      “In any case we loaded about half of the gold, which consisted of bars and guilders, into our U.N. truck and left the next morning. We shut and locked the safe when we left. There were many more bars of gold in it; we just couldn’t get it safely into our two and a half ton truck. By some stroke of luck and pure guts, we made it to our headquarters the next day. We reported on the ethnic cleansing and left the gold, hidden in our truck. We flattened two tires so no one would want it, and when we were ready, we made our move to Montenegro. There was so much chaos where we were and so much calm in Montenegro, it was like a Sunday outing. We made it to Kotor on the Adriatic and from there it was easy.

      “The bullion is buried somewhere safe and the coins are in seven safety deposit boxes in Manhattan. At today’s prices we think we’re worth about 1.2 billion dollars. One of our cohorts died of natural causes, so that makes the remaining four of us very wealthy. I flaunt mine, Leo doesn’t.

      “We, who are left, have a meeting about once a quarter and talk about old times, but we never mention the gold. We’ve learned to talk around it. We have been looking forward to doing something meaningful with our lives and liked your story, or at least Leo’s version. If you guys take this offer, you’ll be paid handsomely by my employer and it will serve to hone your skills as a team.”

      I could have said something different, but I sat forward in my chair and blurted out, “We’re amateurs Andy! We’re old farts and one of us is a Gimp. I don’t know what Leo told you, but we are not up for this kind of thing. What if someone gets killed? I don’t want that on my conscience, I’ve seen enough killing.”

      “Funny … Leo says you guys could do almost anything. What the hell makes you think you’re amateurs anyway? You were all trained the best our government could train you. So, you might be a little rusty or even creaky, but you’re all experts in your fields and putting you together; who on this earth would be better … okay, okay maybe a SEAL team, but who else? SEAL teams are all a bunch of young bucks and almost always overstep their mission anyway. Shit, with this added training you guys are it.”

      “You … are out of your mind Andy; you and Leo both. Just for shits and giggles, how much would your company be willing to pay for this fiasco?”

      Andy looked at me and smiled with hooded eyes. He said, “Five million dollars when the deed is done.”

      Not wanting to seem too irreverent or stunned, I said, “Five hundred thousand up front. Five million split equally to whoever is left when the job is done.”

      Andy casually said, “Done!” shook my hand and smiled. “You won’t be sorry Jim. You guys will pull this off without a hitch. I know it.”

      Then Andy directed the pilot to head back to Phoenix. Apparently we were just over Albuquerque, New Mexico.

      7

      When I briefed the gentlemen, everyone was quiet and thoughtful except Fredo, who blurted out, “No fucking way man. I been a poor Chicano all my life and I’m gonna die that way. You can’t buy me man, no way.”

      He was straight faced and blank, while we all looked at him with equal degrees of suspicion and disbelief.