Chapter Four
It took Sybil four cutouts to reach the subject of her
next conversation, and that took almost a full twenty-four hours.
“Garcia’s Uyuni Bar and Grill,” was the answer when
Sybil was finally able to make telephone contact.
Her secure room monitor identified the location as the
Salt Block Hotel in the town of Uyuni in the Salar de Uyuni [Salted Earth] Bolivia.
The place was an extremely important but flat, desolate, and dangerous, corner
of the highly contested lithium triangle of South America, and the world’s
largest salt flat. The Lithium Triangle is located at the corner where Chile,
Bolivia, and Argentina, meet. Chile owns the largest part of the lithium rich
area, with its boundaries where the Salar de Atacamba and the Salar de Uyuni
link up with the northern ends of Argentina and Bolivia. Salar de Uyuni is in
the Daniel Campos Province in Potosí in southwest Bolivia, near the crest of
the Andes.
“May I speak to Mr. Howard?”
“I will see if the jefe is here.”
“Please do, it is important.”
“Yo entiendo—muy importante.”
Ten minutes later a gruff male voice picked up, “Code,”
it said without further civilities
.
Sybil gave her most secret coded PIN, known only to
POTUS and the DNI [Director, National Intelligence].
“What’s so important that the ODNI gave you my
location, Sybil? On second thought, this is not a secure line. I’m afraid
you’ll need to come and see me under cover as a tourist; so, we can talk. Is it
worth that?”
“Yes.”
“Then, I’ll make myself available. Nice to talk to you,
Boss. ETA?”
“Tomorrow early. I will fly into Sucre or La Paz on the
Firm’s jet, then hire a private plane to get to Uyuni.”
“Copy that.”
The receiver at his end clicked off the conversation.
Lincoln Howard, as Sybil knew him, was on assignment for the ODNI, and reported
only to the director himself. He had a Coded Q Clearance, the highest clearance
shared only with the very most senior intelligence officers. His clearance
allowed access to Classified information up to and including TOP SECRET data
with the special designation: Restricted Data (TS//RD)
Before making the call, Sybil had gotten clearance from
POTUS and the Office of the Director National Intelligence. If she could
persuade him with her high office and not insignificant charms, he would be on
loan for the duration.
One of the great perks of her office is that she had
access to the same customized Boeing 757-200 and Boeing 737 aircraft which
carry the military designation C-32A and C-40B as POTUS, VPOTUS, the
Secretaries of State and Defense and the DNI.
It only took a call to the White House Military Office
for arrangements, and Sybil was able to board a better plane than the one the
Firm could supply. She boarded the plane at Andrews Air Force Base the
following day and traveled in airconditioned comfort to high altitude La
Paz without anyone else--even her top
aides--knowing where she was.
The jet landed in the diplomatic section El Alto
International Airport in La Paz, Estado Plurinacional de Bolivia. The capital
is Sucre, but the financial, executive, and legislative center is La Paz.
Company agents quickly saw to it that the official American airplane was
secretly and securely ensconced in a hangar well out of the high traffic areas
of the airport.
The ODNI had prearranged a flight on an old--no longer
in regular service--Fairchild Swearingen Metroliner--a sixteen passenger
pressurized, twin-turboprop, airliner produced at a plant in San Antonio, Texas
and currently owned by an Air America subsidiary. The flight from La Paz to
Salar de Uyuni on the small Línea Aérea Amaszonas plane was a bit bumpy and
altogether devoid of amenities, but it served Sybil’s strict time schedule very
well. There was a total of twelve other tourists on the flight.
Three attractive young women met the passengers as they
deplaned and walked into the tiny waiting room/waiting center of the airport,
which barely lived up to the appellation. They each carried a placard
advertising their three separate touring companies. Those tour groups accounted
for everyone but Sybil, who took a trip to the ladies’ room to avoid standing
out alone and stayed there for as long as she could hold her breath.
A tall, wiry, sun-bronzed man with prematurely white
hair stood by the cigarette vending machine. His face had the topographical
permanent lines of a man who had spent long days in the bright sun. It was not
the look of a country-club tennis player, rather it was the hard face of a man
who had only serious intentions and did not sanction nonsense. He wore light
colored cotton Bermuda shorts, a loose-fitting SPF shirt, white cotton socks,
and scuffed rubber soled hiking shoes. She recognized him immediately but did
not acknowledge his presence, nor did he give her so much as a nod.
He turned and walked out the back entrance of the
building. She waited until he was going through the door before moving to
follow him. He moved swiftly to a beat-up old jeep and got into the driver’s
seat. Sybil checked all around then moved directly to the jeep and got into the
shotgun seat.
“Think this wreck will get us wherever you have in mind
to go, Lincoln?” Sybil asked with winning smile.
“And hello to you, too, Sybil. How’s your day been?”
She laughed.
“It is good to see you. How much do you know about why
I’m here?”
“Not a whole lot. I was left to assume that it was some
top-secret caper or other that you’ve dreamed up.”
“Close. Drive, and I’ll tell you everything I know.”
She filled him in about everything she knew about
Beelzebub, the Magnificent : his zany letters to newspapers, his mass murders,
and his odd changes of things and people to rant about and to attack.
“So this guy…person or entity, is a good old boy
Confederate states born again who hates all people who don’t share his religion
and political ideology. He hates Jews, blacks, browns, Americans, Catholics,
police, military, diplomats, Chinese, Filipinos, the CIA, teachers, and
skin-heads. Did I miss anything or anyone?”
“Both capitalists and communists.”
Lincoln shook his head. He stopped so they could take
in the view. It had rained the previous day, and two or three inches of rain
sat on the gleaming salt flats, making it into a gigantic mirror. Further
ahead, near the center of the great salt flat was a set of several conical
hills poking their heads out of the salt flats--the remains of ancient
volcanoes submerged during the era of Lake Minchin. When they reached the
Lake--enlarged and made deeper by the rain—Sybil was awed by the incredible
mirror spreading out in front of the low volcanic top. The water was absolutely
still and flat as glass. The mirror image of the hill in the water was perfect.
Sybil took five photos on her iPhone and hoped no one would be able to make
anything out of the fact that those pictures were there or would even know
where “there” was.
“I presume you’ve told me everything you know, Sybil.
Not much to go on. I take it that you’ve come a long way to get me involved.
What do you want from me?”
“I know how you work, and how well you work. I remember
how you once told me about a quote from Seneca. He was quoting Hannibal. The
Carthaginian general and his army were plodding their painful way up the
Italian Alps to launch a surprise attack on unsuspecting Romans. It was
approaching winter; it was cold and slippery. Mules, elephants, and men were
falling off the narrow trail to their deaths. The enter effort seemed futile to
the generals. One evening, they took Hannibal aside and shared their doubts.
“How are you going to overcome the terrible obstacles
the gods have put in front of you, General?” they asked.
“He gave a profound answer which Seneca recorded in
Latin: ‘Aut enveniam viam aut faciam.’ In English, that was, ‘I will find a way
or make one.’”
“I liked your work ethic then, and I need it now. I
want you to drop everything and come back to civilization and help me to find
this devil and to deal with him or whatever it is. We can figure out exactly
what to do while we are flying to D.C. What do you say?”
“Did POTUS and DNI order it?”
“Not exactly, but I have full discretion; and I can
make it an order, if I have to. I’d rather we worked as partners to get this
monster away from humans and to cancel the slide into a war as stupid as World
War I and even more terrible.”
“You know that what I’m doing is also crucial. Lithium
is a key ingredient in lightweight batteries and is already powering the modern
world. It is probably the key to getting the world to reduce its reliance on
fossil fuels. Under its dense several centimeter deep salt crust, the Salar de
Uyuni is also the world’s biggest single deposit of lithium, accounting for
maybe half of the world’s resources of the precious alkaline metal. Lithium an
ideal material for light-weight batteries; it is the most energy dense of
battery materials. It stores the most energy for a given weight. It is also crucial for the treatment of
manic-depressive disorder. I have a son with it. It is terrible.
“Right now, there is no mining plant currently at the
best sites, and the Bolivian government won’t allow exploitation by foreign
corporations or governments. It has plenty of suitors. Instead, it intends to
build its own pilot plant with a modest annual production of 1,200 tons of
lithium, and to increase it to 30,000 tons in four years. They hate us and want
to cut us out entirely, make us beg and kneel. We can’t let that happen, even
if we have to start a war. I am making progress, maybe even to get a coup going
that will come out favoring us. I can’t go now, not now!” Lincoln stressed.
“I don’t deny that what you are doing is crucially
important, Lincoln, but it is not an emergency; and this is. The DNI can get
along without you, He can replace you temporarily.”
“Maybe it sounds stupid or arrogant, but I am crucial
here. I won’t leave. You would have to order me officially.”
Sybil was not known as the “Ice Queen” for nothing. Her
countenance became calm, firm, and cold. She spoke quietly, calmly, and in a
small voice that penetrated into Lincoln’s core.
“You are so ordered. Get in the car; we are leaving.”
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