Date: Mon, 14 Aug 2006 19:49:45 EDT
From: Jetjt@aol.com
Subject: Super Jeff, Chapter 30

The following story is a work of gay fiction. If you are offended by the
subject matter or are too young, please exit now. This story is the
property of the author and may not be reproduced without his
permission. John Tucker, JETjt@aol.com


				SUPER JEFF

			      Chapter Thirty

DR. JEFF RICHARD'S POV

The door opened and my escort to Bin Laden indicated for me to follow
him. I grabbed my bag and followed. After winding down a couple of
hallways, I saw two guards outside a door and knew that Bin Laden was
there. It was a different room than he was in the previous day. When the
guide stopped and turned toward the door I walked past him, pushed open the
door and entered.

"Ah Dr. Richards," Osama said with a smile. "Here for your daily visit, I
see."

"It's not like there's much choice Sir," I replied picking up his
chart. Everything on the chart appeared normal. The small fever which had
appeared the day after the surgery, a not unusual occurrence, was gone and
the patient appeared comfortable."

"Are you feeling any pain?" I asked, seeing on the chart that he'd refused
his pain medication.

"I've scratched myself worse," he replied. "I can only feel the incision
when I need to get up to go to the facilities."

"That's normal," I acceded. "Are you having normal bowel movements?"

"Yes, I guess you could say that," he said. "Although the food I've been
getting has practically been all liquid. You can imagine what that does to
emptying my bowels."

I smiled.  "I can authorize a more normal diet now. I'd suggest that the
serving quantities remain small for two or three more days and that all
solid food be chewed thoroughly before swallowing. We don't want to put any
strain on the incision before it's completely healed."

"I understand," he said, "I'd like to start the treatment for the Hepatitis
as soon as possible. I'm at great risk here in this hospital."

"I'd rather wait for your surgery to heal, but under the circumstances,
I'll agree to start the treatment tomorrow, if you insist."

"The medications arrived this morning," Ben Laden reported. "The doctor
that will be treating me will arrive in about a half-hour. I'd like you to
consult with him and be with him tomorrow to begin the treatment."

"Of course," I replied. "Have you changed your mind about murdering my wife
and me?" I asked grimly.

"I'm still thinking about it," he offered, hoping to make me squirm a bit
with his power over life or death. I wasn't sure if he was hedging to keep
me cooperative or was sincere. I suspected the former.

Continuing he said, "It's a very difficult decision for me. I'm sure you
know I have a great hatred of Americans. It's no secret that I wish all of
you dead. On the other hand you've been very professional and have done a
noteworthy job at diagnosing and treating me in spite of being brought here
against your will. That service should have some reward. I hope you
understand my dilemma."

"I understand Sir," I said. "I hope you understand that I won't plead for
our lives. You of all people can appreciate the fervor created with
martyrdom. The American people look at all of your victims of 9/11 as
martyrs and will not rest until you're brought to justice. Two more will
only reinforce their anger."

"I've done all I've done for my beliefs," Bin Laden countered.

"Then Sir, I pity the followers of Allah that believe as you do. To believe
in the murder of innocents as a righteous cause is sick. If your God is as
you believe, a God of hate and murder, then he is unworthy to be followed."

"I will not listen to more of your blasphemy!" Ben Laden shouted angrily.

The door opened quickly and two guards rushed in.

"Get out you sons of camels!" Bin Laden screamed at his guards. "If I need
you I'll call you!"

The guards beat a hasty exit as Bin Laden's rage began to quickly
disappear.

"Enough of that discussion," the patient ordered when his calm demeanor
again had returned. "You just came very close to your own execution."

"Murder is a more accurate word," I repeated stubbornly. "I am ready to die
if that is the will of God."

"You keep using inflammatory words," he sharply warned. "It makes it
impossible for me to show mercy."

I'd pushed him as far as he was willing to be pushed.

"Now, if you're done with me Sir, your guards can return me to my room."

"I was really hoping that we could talk," he said in a rather quiet voice.

"I'm afraid you wouldn't like what I have to say," I responded, "but if you
wish to take that risk, I am your prisoner."

"Please have a seat," he said. "This should take only a moment."

"As you wish," I said sitting down on a chair beside his bed.

"I'm interested in the reaction of the American people to our holy
attacks," he said. "Of course I have agents in your country and can get the
news from them and from radio and the newspapers, but I've never really
talked to an American. I'm sure that my perspective is distorted."

"Let me say that the people of the United States are far stronger than you
give them credit for," I began. "I'm not talking about the military might
of the government; I'm talking about our people. The Japanese made a
disastrous error when they attacked Pearl Harbor in 1941. The Japanese
Admiral Yamamoto, who years before had spent considerable time in our
country, commented after the strike that he was afraid the attack had
awakened a sleeping giant. That proved to be the case.  I don't think Sir
that you understand what you've done with your attacks. You Sir have
awakened him again. The American people have now declared war on
terrorists, but they're not deluding themselves. They know that the safety
they have become accustomed to is no more. They know that terrorist attacks
are difficult if not impossible to stop. Yet the war they've declared will
not stop either. You are not safe anywhere in the world. The rules have
changed. Perhaps we will not get you with tanks or jets, but we will get
you. We and the other free nations will root out you and your followers and
will continue to do so as long as it takes."

"I guess that the most perplexing thing to us is why?" I continued with a
question. "What is there to achieve?  Your people have so much more to gain
with peace than with war. All you're doing is prolonging their suffering. I
guess the only comment I have to add is that it doesn't really matter that
the Americans understand why, in spite of the question being
unanswered. They know that you've attacked us, and they know you will
continue to do so. That only stiffens their resolve. You should not delude
yourself and think otherwise."

"An interesting perspective," Bin Laden commented. "I guess we'll see who's
right."

"I think that that neither you nor I will ever live to see the end of the
conflict nor ever know that answer," I said.

"That I can agree with," he said with a grim smile. "Thank you doctor for
your candid opinion. You may return to your room until you are called to
meet my new doctor."

I stood and walked to the door and knocked for the guards to open
it. Looking back at the tall man lying prone on the bed it seems hard for
me to believe that he was the most hated man on the planet. I nodded to him
in farewell as the door opened and I stepped though the doorway into the
hall to return to Mel, my wife.

			* * *

JEFF'S POV

"Where are you Tyler?" I asked after he identified himself on the phone.

"I can't say, Jeff. Are you in Scotland?"

"Yes we played St. Andrews today. It was interesting to say the least. Is
there any news?"

"None that I can talk about on the phone," Tyler said. "The reason that I
called is that I wanted to know your plans for the next couple of days."

"Our plans are to travel by car around Scotland tomorrow and return to
London the day after."

"I'd like you to return to London tomorrow," Tyler requested in a voice
that sounded like an order.

"I'm sure everyone will be disappointed, but we'll do as you ask," I
agreed.

"Are Rick and Amanda with you?" he asked.

"No, they went to Paris. I think they were returning to London the day
after tomorrow too."

"Can you reach them?" Tyler asked.

"I'm sure I can," I said. "Amanda calls me daily but I have her number
too."

"Ask them to return tomorrow as well," Tyler requested.

"Sure, I can handle that," I agreed.

"Thank you. I'll be in touch in the next day or so," Tyler
committed. "Goodbye."

"Uh^Å. Goodbye," I barely got out before the line went dead.

"What did Tyler say?" Chris asked as I snapped my phone shut and placed it
again in my pocket.

"He wants us to return to London tomorrow," I reported. "I got the distinct
impression that something will be happening very soon."

"I'm sure that Tyler knows what he's doing," Chris said. "We'd better do as
he asks. He wouldn't have called unless it was important."

I turned to Kayden and Terry.

"I'm sorry but we need to go back to London in the morning," I said. "You
can keep the car and stay if you'd like."

"We wouldn't think of it chaps," Terry responded. "If you have time we'll
show you some more of our city. Of course then, you'll have to invite us to
America."

"We'd love to have you as our guests," I said with sincerity. "Consider the
invitation given."

"I'll call good old dad and have him send the plane," Kayden offered.

"Thanks Kay, we'd appreciate that," I said automatically, my mind jumping
to the danger that I knew Tyler and my parents were facing.

Kayden pulled out his cellular phone and pushed the speed dial button.

		* * *

RICK'S POV

I wish I would have let Amanda come to Paris on her own. It's not that
we've both not been there before, but it was her friends that attracted her
to join them. She'd offered to let me go with the guys to Scotland, but I
knew that five is an odd number for golfing and I loved being with
Amanda. I originally thought we'd just go to Southampton then tour around
the English countryside for a couple of days.  Of course that was before
Linda Swarthmore called. She was one of Mandy's rich-bitch friends, not the
theater friends that I really liked. I'm not sure how Linda found us, but
she did. Amanda seemed at first reluctant to go and had even asked if it
was alright. Like a fool I had agreed that it was fine and in a real act of
insanity, I agreed to go with her to Paris.

Linda and the girls in Paris were the epitome of the worthless offspring
that the captains of industry often spawn. They were so far removed from
the need to earn anything, their existence swirls only around their own
need to feel important and the need to convince themselves and their
friends that they are better than others around them. When I met Amanda she
seemed to be in that mindset, but her involvement in the theater arts
convinced me that there was more to her than what appeared on the
surface. It proved to be prophetic as Amanda dropped all the pretenses,
particularly when her parents were kidnapped and we had returned to her
home. Now here we were again with those mindless women! Yuck!

Having arrived yesterday, our train had been met by Linda and a couple more
of the girls and we were rushed to a waiting taxi to be whisked away to the
George Sanc Hotel where the others were waiting. Since that time, the crazy
women didn't let us out of their sights. Finally after having been dragged
around by them all yesterday and through this morning, Linda let slip that
they'd spent three hours at the Eiffel Tower the day before we
arrived. After lunch Mandy announced that she wanted to see the tower
too. Most of the rich bitches didn't want to go again, so we were able to
shake them, but only by promising to meet them for dinner. At last we were
really alone. We did go to the Tower but only stayed an hour, spending the
rest of the afternoon roaming the streets of Paris. It was delightful

When we arrived back at the hotel, we slipped through the lobby and
immediately went to our room, purposely sneaking past a couple of her
friends who were there. Once alone in the elevator to our room, my romantic
ardor began to show itself. I looked forward to a couple of hours of mad
passionate loving.

Once inside our room, I pulled Mandy into my arms and we locked lips like
we'd not seen each other for a month. Finally as my motor began to race,
she pushed me away.

"First things first Lover Boy," she insisted. "I need to call Jeff, then
I'm all yours."

I wasn't pleased at the delay, but I understood her anxiety about their
parents.

"Okay Babe," I agreed grinning, "but it's gonna cost ya."

"I hope so," she said with a wink, walking to the side table next to the
bed where she'd left her things. As she retrieved her small phone book from
her purse, she saw a light blinking on the bedside telephone, indicating
that a message had been left with the hotel operator. She picked up the
handset, and dialed the desk. I watched as she announced her name and room
number, telling the operator that she had a message light.

Listening to the message, she simply said `thank you' and hung up the
receiver.

"Who was it?" I asked, hoping it wasn't Linda wanting to get back together
with us early.

"It was from Jeff," she replied. "I'm to call him as soon as we get in."

Using her satellite phone instead of the desk set on the table she found
Jeff's number to his identical phone on the speed dial menu. Pushing the
button we heard the phone begin to do its thing.

"Hi Jeff," she said after the phone had rung a few times then been
answered. "You called?"

I again watched her expression as she listened to her brother. Though his
message took a couple of minutes, her face didn't reveal much.

"We'll catch the earliest flight we can from Orly," I heard her promise
Jeff. "I think Rick will be glad to get away from all these women anyway so
it's no great sacrifice. I'll call you when we arrive and get checked into
the hotel. See you tomorrow."

She disconnected the call and turned to me.

"Well?" I asked.

"Jeff got a call from Tyler asking that we be in London tomorrow. Jeff
seems to think that the rescue is about to happen. Either that or it's bad
news. In any case, we need to get back there."

"I'll get reservations," I said. "If they're all booked up we'll take the
train."

"Thanks Sweet, you'd better call the Hotel too^Å.oh and let Charlie know,."
she said with a smile.

"I got it covered," I replied before changing the subject. Charlie was one
of our security men. They'd need to know if we were leaving.

She stepped into the bathroom and was gone for the 15 minutes that it took
for me to make the calls.

"When she returned she'd removed her outer clothing and was wearing just a
bra and panties. It was planned to turn me on, and it was working.

Before I lost all reason, I said, "I've got all the arrangements made. Now,
what's this about me wanting to get away from women?"

"You can't fool me, Sweet Guy," she said moving in on me and depositing a
little peck on the lips. "I know you're miserable around Linda and the
bitch bunch."

"I guess you caught me with that," I stammered, my mind on other things
than our conversation. "I don't know what it is, but those girls just drive
me up the wall."

"I agree and understand," she said. "At first I thought I wanted to be like
them, you know: high society. Now I see they're all smoke and mirrors. Not
one of them has had an original thought in years. I much prefer my theater
friends^Åand you of course."

"I agree with you about the theater bunch. At least those people are real,"
I said, trying with difficulty to keep up a conversation. "I'm a little
surprised that you even hang out with Linda and her friends any more."

"I wasn't sure I wanted to come to Paris to be with them, but I thought I'd
give them one more chance. I thought maybe I was `pointing the finger,'
judging them unfairly. Now I'm pretty sure that I wasn't. It's not that
they're bad people or anything like that; it's just that their idea of
accomplishment is just to take their place in high society. That seems
somehow to just be pointless to me."

"I knew there was a reason that I loved you," I said with a leer. "You're
not only gorgeous but you have brains too."

"I've got a body attached," she said temptingly. "Wanna see it?"

"Yeah, and I wanna do more than just look," I said responding to her
invitation by pressing my body against hers. My lengthening rod was
demonstrating a passion that was greater than just the verbal lust that was
coming out of my throat. We abandoned our conversation as we let our desire
for each other take over. Our clothing was frantically discarded on the
floor, leaving a trail as we hastily moved to the bed."

			* * *

CHRIS' POV

Tyler's call certainly put the bug in my boyfriend. He was nervous as a
whore in church. We all ordered another round of beers as he and Kayden
made arrangements for our travel back to London in the morning. I thought
the strong brew might calm him down, but it wasn't to be. Since we had a
car we decided to take a drive to finish off the afternoon before coming
back to dinner. I'm glad Kay was driving. I can't imagine Jeff or me
driving, knowing that our trained reactions were backward for driving on
the left side of the road. Fortunately, we weren't in a hurry and just
drove along the coast. We did find an old ruin of a castle that we explored
a bit, but it couldn't have been too significant as there were no signs or
markings that told about what it was.

Arriving back at our quaint hotel, we decided to shower and clean up before
meeting again for dinner in a couple of hours. I had an idea how I could
relieve some of the tension that Jeff was feeling. I'm not sure it was
completely successful, but it sure brought a big smile to Jeff's face,
before, during and afterward. I can assure you that I wasn't stoic during
the exercise. I hope I didn't squeal and groan too loud. (blush).

We fell in love with Kayden and Terry. They are such neat guys. I wished
they lived in California so we could be around them more. Somehow a fast
friendship was building between us two couples that we'd never even
contemplated before meeting them. I knew I'd be sad when we returned home
and left them in England. I sure hope they can visit us soon. I'm sure Jeff
feels the same way.

On the way back to the hotel, Jeff's satellite phone rang. It was Mandy
calling from Paris. Jeff told her of Tyler's call and speculated a bit with
her on what it could mean. When he hung up he told us that she'd promised
they would take the first plane they could get back to London in the
morning. He then chuckled a little to himself.  I asked what was so funny,
and he said that Amanda had indicated that poor Rick had been a bit
overwhelmed by being around all of Amanda's rich-bitch friends and would be
glad to be back with us. Jeff and I talked a bit about how well suited to
each other Rick and Amanda were.

"I could tell you stories about her that would make your hair stand on
end," Jeff said. "She had a very rebellious, yet snooty childhood. I must
say that I didn't like her at all and avoided her as much as possible. It's
to Rick's credit that she's turned into a human being."

"Really?" I said as we rode in the back seat on our way back to our
hotel. "It's hard to imagine her like that."

"Before she came home with Rick, I would have told you some of those
stories," Jeff continued. "Now, I'd rather bury the unpleasantness that I
felt about her. She's turned into someone I can really admire, and it would
be unkind to have you think badly of her."

"That's fine with me," I agreed.

			* * *

I must say that the vicinity around St. Andrews is hardly a gay Mecca. We
ended up having a quiet dinner with Kayden and Terry, then finding a fairly
small pub where they had a rather cute young guy playing the guitar. We
took a table close to the small platform where he was playing so we could
hear better over the din of the other bar patrons who had no interest in
the entertainment. He had a great voice and played and sang many songs we
requested. We in turn tipped him shamelessly. He was wearing a nice casual
outfit with an open shirt and Docker pants with his feet in sockless
loafers. One thing that was hard to miss was the tube that ran from his
crotch down the inside of his right leg. Damn, it had to be twelve inches
long! Soft! I'm pretty sure he played for our team too `cause the looks he
gave us sure led us to believe that he'd accept an invitation to get better
acquainted. The four of us just looked at each other with knowing eye
contact and big grins. It was fun, but no matter how cute he was, we each
were with the one we wanted, but I have to admit that I was tempted.

Around 10:30 we decided that it was time to retire. I suspect that Kayden
and Terry weren't really all that tired, but just wanted plenty of time for
another round of sexual gymnastics. I know that I was, but my sitter was a
little tender from the round earlier. I shouldn't have worried though. When
we got back to the room Jeff made it clear that he wanted to reverse our
roles in bed. He was his usual considerate self. You can see why I love him
so.


DR. JEFF RICHARDS' POV

As ordered by Bin Laden, I had met the doctor who would be taking over his
Hepatitis C treatment. He seemed a nice enough person, though obviously not
delighted with his task. I was pleased that he appeared to be competent
medically and spoke reasonably good English. He brought with him the
medical file of Bin Laden. After discussing the surgery I'd performed and
the patient's current condition, I reviewed the test reports and scanned
the information with him, explaining the information that led to my
diagnosis of Hepatitis C. He concurred with my findings and asked about the
treatment I'd prepared. I explained the latest in techniques for battling
the disease and the drugs that were used for its treatment. I reviewed the
kind of results he could expect and the periodic testing that would show
progress during treatment. I knew that continued testing would be the most
difficult aspect to accomplish, particularly if Bin Laden returned to the
mountains of Afghanistan or Pakistan where the U.S. suspected he was in
hiding. Fortunately that was not my problem. Finally, I explained the signs
of remission he could expect to see, and the timing. It would probably take
around six months to accomplish, but I stressed that continued monitoring
would be necessary afterward, on a periodic basis, to insure that the
patient did not come out of remission and suffer more liver damage before
it was discovered by external symptoms. I felt comfortable that the doctor
would be able to handle the case adequately. Now there was only Mel's and
my fate to worry about.

I was returned to my room and was pleased to find our `custodian' friend on
his customary cleaning round. Once finished he looked over the room, and
seeing that a pillow was left crooked, stepped to the bed. I watched as his
hand disappeared beneath the pillow and was quickly withdrawn as the pillow
was straightened. He turned, looked into my eyes without expression, then
stepping to his cleaning cart, he pushed it to the door and knocked. The
guards outside opened the door and he disappeared.

As was my usual procedure, I waited a few minutes passing the time talking
to Mel, then announcing that I was tired, moved to the bed and laid
down. My hand snaked under the pillow and was touching the note that had
been left when the door opened.

As the door swung wide, I saw a hospital dinner cart parked in the
hallway. A steward entered the room with our meals and placed them on the
table which Mel had quickly cleared. After two trips into the room with the
unusually large meal, he left and the door again closed. I slipped the note
from under the pillow and as I got out of bed slid it into my pants pocket
before I joined Mel at the table. Under the corner of my plate a note had
been left in an envelope with my name on it. I pulled the note out from its
envelope. I read it aloud so that Mel could hear it.

"Dr. Richards, thank you for your expert treatment of my conditions and for
our enlightening conversation. I am forever in your debt. Enjoy your
meal. Goodbye, Osama Bin Laden."

"What do you think it means as far as his releasing us?" she asked.

"I haven't a clue," I replied. "I don't think we can count on it though."

Pushing my chair away from the table, I excused myself to wash my hands,
asking Mel to wait for me before beginning. I stepped into the small
bathroom and slipping the note from my pocket cupped it in my palm, reading
it while I turned on the faucet with the other hand. The note
said. "Tonight. Be ready." I reached over with the hand that had the note
in it, pulled a few squares of toilet paper from the roll on the wall and
blew my nose into the folded up squares, slipping the small note inside the
folds. I then threw the paper into the toilet and flushed it. The note and
T.P. swirled and disappeared. Quickly washing my hands and drying them I
pulled a small plastic bag from the few toiletries we had stored in the
bathroom and after dumping the contents into the goodie bag, stuck the bag
into my pocket where I'd hidden the note. Turning I opened the door and
returned to the table. I saw that Mel had disregarded my request to wait
for me before eating and had already started.

I quickly sat down and said. "I'd like to return thanks. I think it's time
to renew our contact with God."

Mel stopped eating and looked at me strangely. Although we often prayed
together at mealtime, we didn't make a big issue of it if we neglected to
do so particularly now when we felt it might antagonize our captors.

I bowed my head and she followed suit.

"Lord," I began. "We have finished our work here and now we face an
uncertain fate. We leave our future in Your merciful hands. We ask that You
remove the poison of hate from the hearts of our captors so that we might
be delivered tonight from their hands. That poison that has taken so many
innocent lives is contrary to Your message to Your chosen people who only
wish to escape from oppression. Now we thank You for this meal that has
been prepared for us by our captors. We thank You for it and those who have
toiled on our behalf. Amen."

Mel looked at me with knowing eyes.

"You know," she said. "Suddenly I'm not very hungry."

"I'm not either," I replied. "I'll just have a little to take the edge off
so I don't become too hungry before breakfast.

Mel pushed away from the table but remained seated while I took a few bites
of the offered banquet. Pulling the bag from my pocket while blocking the
view from the door, I placed it, without looking down on my
lap. Fortunately my back was to the door while I separated a few small bits
of the meal and moved them into a small pile on my plate. Taking a spoon I
scooped up the pile and deposited it in the bag before sealing it closed
and slipping it again into my pocket. After another small bite or two of
the dinner, I too pushed myself away from the table.

Looking at Mel I could see that her eyes were starting to glaze over.

"You look ill, my dear," I said. "Let me help you splash some water on your
face. Maybe that will help."

I began to feel a slight warmness moving over me as I stood and took Mel by
the hand pulling her up and taking her into the small bathroom.

"Stick your fingers down your throat and throw up," I ordered, pushing her
head down toward the open toilet. She did as I asked, emptying the contents
of her stomach into the bowl before flushing it. I pulled her back to her
feet and taking a small washcloth, I quickly wet it in the sink and pulling
the door open wiped her mouth and brow as we exited back into the view of
our captors. My legs were feeling wobbly as I led her to her bed and helped
her lie down. I prayed that the small quantity of food I'd actually
swallowed was too little to kill me because I knew I'd never make it back
to the bathroom and then back to my bed. Accepting my destiny whatever it
might be I staggered to the bed and fell onto it, immediately losing
consciousness.

		* * *




TYLER'S POV

It was midnight when my alarm went off. My body was still tired, but my
mind became instantly alert as I realized the reason for my waking in the
middle of the night. After a quick shower and taking care of my morning
ablutions, I dressed in the combat uniform I'd been furnished with the day
before. As instructed, I placed the personal items I usually carried in my
pockets in a small plastic bag and tucked them into a leg pouch of the
uniform to be checked in and left at the airport from where we were to
leave.

As I stepped out of the small room where I'd been billeted, I saw Gary
Franklin exit from his own room down the hallway. He was dressed
identically to me. Looking my way, he gave a wave of his hand and moved
toward me.

"You ready for this?" he asked.

"Yeah, about a ready as I'll ever be," I said. "I'm a still a bit tired
from all the traveling, but I really want to get this over with."

As we talked, another soldier dressed as we were entered the hallway from
the end doorway. He approached us.

"Mr. Franklin, Mr. Turner?" he asked, though I'm sure he knew the answer.

"That's us," I replied with a smile.

"If you gentlemen will follow me, I'll take you to the final briefing. I'm
Corporal Dyan."

"Lead on Corporal," I said.

He turned smartly and headed for the doorway where he'd only a moment
before entered. Outside was an olive-drab light personnel carrier. He
indicated that we should enter while he circled to take the driver's
seat. Starting the engine, he engaged the gears and the vehicle began to
move. In less than 5 minutes we were parking outside the hangar
building. Leading us inside, we found ourselves taken to a large room where
the helicopter and assault crews had assembled. The Corporal pulled a piece
of paper from his pocket.

"Mr. Turner," he said as he glanced at the paper, "you're assigned to
Troopship four and Mr. Franklin, you're on ship five. He then led us to our
groups and introduced us to our pilots. Wishing us luck, he then left
us. The pilot for my chopper was Captain Schofield.

"I see you got the short straw, you got me," I said with a grin at the
handsome but weathered man who would take us to our destination and back.

"I saw your scores from the firing range," Schofield said. "I was impressed
or you wouldn't be along, at least on my ship."

"Thanks, I'll do my job and just try to keep out of the way," I said.

"I'm sure my crew will appreciate that," he replied. "I know the special
forces men will. Is that your weapon?" he asked looking at the case in my
hand.

"Yes it is," I replied, "and the ammunition for it too."

"Let's get you a side arm, then I'll introduce you to the rest of the
crew."

"I'd appreciate that," I replied.

He took me to a weapons locker room and handed me a Glock 9 mm pistol with
holster and belt. I told him that I was proficient with the weapon as he
handed me a small box of ammunition for it. I loaded it, leaving the
chamber empty, but the magazine full. He then led me back to the crew and
introduced me to them. As I shook the last hand, Colonel Krackenhauer's
aide appeared at the end of the room and called us back to the briefing
room. Once we were seated, everyone rose to attention as the Colonel strode
into the room.

"Seats!" he ordered as he mounted the dais. After a brief review of the
purpose of the mission he went over each step of the rescue plan. The
Special Forces attack crew had been previously assigned to their ships and
had rehearsed their roles. After reviewing the plan, the Colonel ordered a
final rehearsal with the mockups of the target site that had been marked
out on the floor of the hangar. The choppers were all in their landed
positions around the mockups. I boarded the chopper I was assigned to and
took my position beside the boarding ramp at the rear where the crew would
enter and exit. My job was to remain seated while the assault team exited
then move to the opening to provide cover. At the chopper side doorway
behind the pilots' area, a 50 mm machine gun had been placed to give
automated fire. The opening would be facing the hospital building when we
landed.

After the final practice, we reassembled in the briefing room where the
Colonel expressed satisfaction with the preparations. "That is all," he
concluded. "Good luck."

A sergeant shouted, "Attention!" and everyone leaped to their feet and
stood rigidly at attention as the colonel exited the room.

A major stepped to the podium. "At ease," he ordered. "Load up!"

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