Chapter 79

79
THE WATERGATE HOTEL, WASHINGTON, D.C.

The house phone rang at seven thirty in the morning. It was General Tower, as usual.

"Good morning, Sir. I was hoping to come up to see You. Will that be alright?" the General asked. "Good, good. I'll be right there."

A few moments later, the three men were sitting down for coffee in the penthouse. "General Veemer suggested something to me yesterday that seems like a very good idea. I'm a little embarrassed that I didn't think of it myself." the General began.

"Oh, please don't be embarrassed, General. Juan and I both think you are doing a great job with this difficult assignment. Just what has General Veemer thought of now?" Jesus reassured the soldier.

"Well, he thought I should ask You if You would like to spend the day in the country. Perhaps You would enjoy getting out of here for a few hours. Does that interest You?" Tower asked. "It wouldn't be simple, but we could do it."

Juan's face lit up as Jesus translated the proposal. The atmosphere in the great living room was electric with excitement. The first powerful rays of the morning sun accentuated the feeling.

"A day in the sunshine and fresh air would be good for you both. Me too probably. This place is nice, but living here without getting out would make me a little cramped." the General went on.

"I'm paying good money for contingency planning. Let's find out if there isn't already a scheme to accomplish this." Tower thumbed his portable phone. Almost instantly an aide, a Lieutenant Colonel appeared at the door with two fat notebooks in his hand. "Colonel, our guests want to spend the day outside, without being mobbed, someplace where they can hike and relax without attracting any visitors. What have you got?"

'We have a site in the Appalachians just across the Pennsylvania border. Insertion requires two squads of Marines, two Sea Stallion choppers, a doctor and a chef. I can have the choppers here in a quarter of an hour. Travel time is under an hour and we can land on site. The area is described as a large meadow surrounded by thick forest at about 2,200 feet. Plan safety limits prohibit making a return trip after sun down. Shall I order this plan, Sir?" The Colonel waited for the decision.

"What about people? Is there any traffic on site?" General Tower asked, turning to see the Colonel scrambling with his cell phone. A pregnant moment passed before the answer came back from the operations room.

"We have had thirty infrared tell-tales on site for two months. They transpond to operations. The site is empty. Last traffic was two teenagers and that was three weeks ago. It's hard to get there overland, probably six hours of hard climb from the nearest road and no chance for motorized approach. Too rough. That site is clear for this mission, General." The officer snapped, then repeated his earlier question. "Are we go on this plan, Sir?"

Jesus was translating the conversation to Juan when the General interrupted Him. "Sir, contingency planning has a fairly nice area where we can take You. I think You will find it to be very pleasant. It is eighty-eight degrees and clear in there today, plenty of fresh air. We can have both of you there in a little over an hour."

Jesus motioned to Juan to join Him as He translated the plan. "We're ready now, General."

"I'm sorry but Beatrice won't be able to handle the compression of the big choppers. She will have to stay behind today. The two of you might consider what you want for lunch. I'll meet You at the helipad in ten minutes." General Tower turned and left the conference room.

The Sea Stallions were immense. The nearest chopper cast a shadow in the morning sun which engulfed the two as they stood at the roof top doorway of the hotel. A platoon of Marines stood at rest, fully armed, on the other side of the pad. They were boarding the more distant of the two helicopters as the two stepped outside. Four more Marines joined Jesus and Juan at the side of the nearer of the two Sea Stallions.

Once boarded and underway, the helicopters easily delivered on the General's promise of an hour's flight time.

Juan and Jesus engaged in animated conversation in Portuguese during the whole trip. It was an excellent opportunity for the two to see the countryside, at least as much as the developed areas outside Washington D.C. could be called country. But by the time the great machines reached the southern state line of Pennsylvania they were traveling over largely uninhabited Federal lands and parks. The area northwest, past the foothills of the Allegheny Mountains, has a surprising degree of relief. Although even the tallest of the mountains was no higher than two or three thousand feet, the landscape below them was set off by sharp cliffs and rocky summits.

The landing zone was well up the side of such a mountain. It was a sheltered valley with tall grass and flowers surrounded by a dense forest of oaks and other hardwoods. A fair sized stream ran through the grassy area to fill a pond which in turn emptied on down the steeper slope to the south.

Jesus and Juan could see the chopper filled with Marines make an assault type landing with troops running off in every direction to secure the perimeter of the site. The Sea Stallion with Jesus and Juan simply hovered at the other end of the meadow, waiting for the all clear from the ground troops. One of the Marines traveling with them opened a small window near the aft door. The smell of the green field, now buffeted by the blades of the chopper, drifted into the cabin of the craft. The incredible noise of the helicopter also penetrated what had been a more or less quiet cabin during the trip. After what seemed to be endless weeks trapped in the Watergate, the sensation was startling.

Although speech was impossible with the noise, Juan and Jesus looked at each other with excited anticipation. As the helicopter hovered a few hundred feet over the place it seemed that a certain energy was reaching up to embrace them. Juan, who turned out to be very capable at getting things through channels other than those officially approved by their military hosts, pulled a bright red Frisbee from his back pack. Handing it to Jesus, he said "I've seen the young boys play with these in the parking lot across the street from the hotel. I bought this used one from Pablo the pool attendant for a hundred dollars."

Suddenly, the roar inside the cabin of the craft once again diminished as the small window was closed. The effect was surreal. The windows of the chopper seemed to be television sets causing a suspicion that somehow the pair were still in the Watergate.

"That seems to be a reasonable price for it. So far we have bought two things, the Frisbee and the parrot. Are we running out of money yet?" Jesus asked.

Juan reached into the bag again, withdrawing a full fistful of hundred dollar bills. "Mr. Santos said ten thousand dollars a week was enough for us to learn how to shop carefully, but he promised that he would bring more when we asked. I paid Pablo one hundred dollars for the Frisbee, but only because he had no money at all and hundreds were the smallest Mr. Santos gave me. He was going to bring me part of the hundred dollars back, but I've talked to him before and his family is having a very difficult time, so I just told him to keep it. We certainly don't need it."

"That's good. Keep some for Me. I think it is time for us to go shopping one day soon. The Marine Corps is going to love that." Jesus smiled.

The Sea Stallion settled into the grassy field which proved to be everything it promised from the air. Two young Marines were unloading several pieces of equipment from the back of the helicopter. As was His custom, Jesus approached them and introduced Himself.

"I am Jesus Robeles. This is My friend Juan Gemarro. What are your names?" Jesus said with disarming confidence.

"Corporal Vasquez and PFC Stentson, Sir. We are Your mess detail. Would You like for me to call General Tower, Sir?" The Marine answered breathlessly as if he felt incompetent to continue the conversation.

"No, that won't be necessary. What's for lunch?" Jesus bantered.

"You will be having cracked crab and trout with chef's salad and dessert of crepes, strawberries and sweet cream. An alternate menu is available if those items are not suitable." Corporal Vasquez was becoming more uncomfortable the longer the conversation went on.

"And what will all the Marines be having for lunch? Will you two have to prepare a meal for everyone here?" Jesus asked.

"No, Sir. The Marines eat MRE's. All of those meals are already prepared and hot in the compartments in the other helicopter." Vasquez was somewhat awed by the conversation. His evaluation of the Man standing before him had nothing to do with the verity of the claims made about Him. He was simply a caught in a conversation with the ultimate V.I.P. and it was a conversation that was clearly going someplace. The problem was that there was not a clue as to where that someplace was.

"MRE?" Jesus queried.

"Meal Ready To Eat, Sir. They're pretty good, probably more filling than what we were going to make for You." the Corporal had finally offered discretionary information in one of his replies.

Jesus turned to Juan, standing a foot or two behind Him turning his bare feet in the grass. "Show him the Frisbee, Juan."

As Juan drew the toy from his backpack, Jesus once again turned to the Corporal. "Do you two know how to throw this?"

At this point Corporal Vasquez was actively looking for a superior officer. Everyone besides the two cooks had deserted the helicopter and gone to the field operations tent on the other side of the second chopper. Vasquez glanced desperately at his helper. "I've thrown one plenty. How about you?"

"Sure, I mean I guess I threw one a lot when I was younger." The PFC was actually stuttering from uncertainty on how to proceed.

"That settles it then. Juan and I will enjoy an MRE with everyone else -- will there be enough to feed everyone you planned on and us, too?" Jesus asked.

"There's plenty of MRE's, Sir, but what..." Vasquez began to ask. This was the kind of situation that could cause a stripe to disappear.

Jesus laughed. "Juan and I need specialized training to learn how to run this thing. I can tell that you two are just the right men for the job. Its two hours until lunch time. If you'll show us instead of wasting time cracking crab legs, then we'll come back and help you with the MRE's for everyone else. Game to go, Juan?"

Juan was in total joyous agreement. Here was not only a beautiful open meadow but two new friends, and a new game. "Do I call him Corporal, Jesus?" the young man asked in Portuguese.

"That is a good thought. Corporal Vasqez, PFC Stentson, may we call you by your first names? Jesus was still talking to two very nervous, perplexed young Marines.

"Of course, Sir. I can't imagine anyone more entitled to call us by our Christian names, Marine Corps or not. My name is Peter and his name is Mark. But, Sir..." Vasquez answered haltingly.

"Not 'Sir'. My name is Jesus. When you say 'Jesus' I will answer. In fact that will be nice. Fewer and fewer people are calling Me Jesus. It will be nice to hear My name the way it was meant to be spoken." Jesus was pleased with the way things were developing.

"Not to offend, Sir, I mean Jesus, but, ah, Mark and I need orders or we are really going to get into trouble. I need to call our CO." Peter Vasquez thumbed his field radio uncertainly. He began to explain to some reluctant officer in the operations tent. "But they've changed lunch menus, Sir. Well, they want us to play Frisbee instead of mess detail. No, Sir. What should we do? No Sir. No, Sir. No, Sir. Yes, Sir."

Jesus took the radio from Peter's hand. "May I please speak to General Tower?" The pause was not too bad for the chain of command involved. "General, Juan and I would really like to do this, but not if Peter and Mark will get into trouble about it. Yes, General. Yes, General. Of course. Thank you very much."

"General Tower would like to speak to you, Peter." Jesus said, handing back the radio.

The Corporal was now in a state of collapse. "Yes, Sir. That is because He asked us what our names were. Yes, Sir. PFC Stentson, Sir. Yes, Sir."

Peter Vasquez turned to Mark Stentson, "We have direct orders to play Frisbee and have a good time, direct orders from General Tower. He said not to worry about the mess detail."

"Can General Tower cook?" Jesus asked.

"Probably not, but believe me, General Tower can get anything cooked he wants cooked." laughed Mark Stentson.

Hearing the young man's laughter, Jesus and Juan began to have a better feeling. Things were getting off on the right foot after all. "That's great!! This is going to be a very good day away from the hotel." He said almost to Himself. "You two must remember that Juan understands almost no English. I'll be glad to translate."

Mark hesitated with Jesus after the other two started running for the center of the meadow. "Is it true that You both grew up on a island where there were no women? I mean, what was that like?"

"Well, both of our mothers were there and Juan's little sister Victoria, but in general it was like what you said. It would have been a lot worse if either of us had ever been around women and then gone to the island. As it was we didn't miss them quite as much as you would have." Jesus tried to answer in terms of the experience of the young soldier. "Both of us would like to meet some women here, but with things the way they are, we've just about given up hope. Half of the people on the street would like to kill Me. The other half want to worship Me like some kind of idol. Neither type makes for very good company. Let's play Frisbee before they get impatient with us."

With Jesus and Juan still wearing the fatigues given them by the Brazilian Navy, the four of them in the middle of the field would have been indistinguishable, had it not been for the haircuts. Juan and Jesus both had long black hair halfway down their backs, Juan the straight black shock of his Indian blood and Jesus the curly black hair of His Middle Eastern 'roots'. Both had taken to tying their hair back with red bandannas, another of Juan's clandestine 'purchases' and an additional source of frustration and concern to General Tower and the Secret Service.

Now, in the middle of the field in every apparent way quite alone, the four young men became engrossed in a game of catch. The Brazilians were already barefoot and very shortly the Marines were, too. As the heat of the day built up, the Brazilians removed their heavy fatigue tunics. The Marines followed suit. What had started as a game of catch rapidly developed into a game of tag, then a game of football. Everyone was tackling everyone. Jesus' ascendant nature afforded Him no protection whatever on those occasions when He was carrying the Frisbee.

An hour later all were fast friends. Juan spoke to Jesus, "I'm hot and I'm thirsty and I feel great. I think we should go get a drink of water."

"Me, too. Are you guys ready for water?" Jesus yelled to the Marines standing off on the opposing side.

"We have water for You at the chopper. Stentson, go get it on the double." Vasquez ordered, lapsing back into military discipline.

"Wait," responded Jesus, still out of breath, "let's go to the river. It's just over there, beyond the edge of the meadow. In fact, I'll race all of you."

The creek was small, perhaps eight or ten feet across, but it ran fairly deep and quite swiftly. Actually, the Marines arrived first, in particular PFC Mark Stentson who had both the build and the breath of a runner. Corporal Peter Vasquez arrived next. Incredibly fit as a twenty year old Marine, he was wrapped in muscle, but not so well suited to running as his assistant at the mess detail.

Jesus and Juan arrived together moments later, laughing at having been bested. Both were very fit young men from active lives of hard work while living on the island. Juan immediately led the group downstream through some brush. The little brook pooled up there behind a beaver dam, creating a pond large enough to swim a few strokes. As Jesus rounded the corner to see the place, Juan was already naked, poised to jump into the middle of the swiftly moving pool.

Juan's move was infectious. Peter Vasquez began to take off his fatigue trousers, then hesitated, looking over his shoulder around the brush that surrounded the secluded pool. He looked at his squad mate.

Mark Stentson looked back at his Corporal. "You know they're watching. You know they can see everything."

"So what are they going to see that they haven't seen before? I'm going in!" Vasquez responded to the unasked question. A moment later Juan was holding the Marine's head under water, laughing uproariously.

The aquatic version of the Frisbee game rapidly degenerated into a rowdy contest of water polo. The four of them made teams, then changed sides without warning to commit acts of outrageous treason and trickery. Within an hour all had expended every ounce of youthful of energy in them.

"I think we'd better get back to the chopper soon." suggested Mark. Peter Vasquez looked to Jesus for agreement.

"Absolutely. I don't know about the rest of you, but I am ready for two MRE's Myself." Jesus answered good naturedly. "We probably ought to get dressed before we head out into the open, although the idea of running around out in that pasture naked has a strong appeal to Me."

The group, especially the Marines, collected elements of clothing and boots as they headed across the meadow toward the helicopter. Two cultures were apparent in the actions of the four of them. Juan and Jesus, having been raised in a simpler background, walked easily in the moment. They were in a beautiful place after a wonderful, active day. The Marines were furtive in every way, trying to put on socks and boots rapidly, so as not to appear to have stopped at all. When they reached the helicopter, they were once again PFC Stentson and Corporal Vasquez.

A Captain appeared abruptly from the other side of the craft prompting the two of them to instantly stand to attention. This in stark contrast to the two Brazilians still barefoot and dressed in only their fatigue trousers. "You two get moving. Get in the chopper and get food ready for our guests. It's already fourteen thirty. We're way off schedule here."

Jesus approached the officer and smiled, staring pointedly at the man's name tag. "My name is Jesus Robeles, Captain Porter. Have you had a chance to enjoy this beautiful spot today?"

"Not really, Sir. Just been doing my job." then disapprovingly, "That is, I haven't been doing what You all have been doing."

"Well, I don't want to seem to be dropping names, but General Tower assured Me that we would be free to just enjoy the day until our departure time. We have established a very casual, not particularly military atmosphere here on this side of the meadow. In fact we were just getting ready to eat some delicious MRE's and relax until we leave. You may understand that Juan and I don't get out of the hotel very often, so an opportunity like this one is very important to us." Jesus' every word was dripping honey.

"We would be quite pleased if you would join us for a little lunch and conversation. Our only request of you is that you address us by our given names and that you agree that we should, likewise, address you by yours."

"I don't have orders, thank God, to participate in that sort of thing. I decline Your invitation for lunch, regretfully. I will be in the operations tent if needed, and I will see all of you prior to lift off. Good day, Sir." Captain Porter was, so to speak, less than wholly comfortable with Jesus' proposal. He made a point of looking at the two enlisted men with special disdain.

Once the Captain had made his way half-way to the other chopper, Mark climbed into the Sea Stallion. He disappeared for a moment, then came back to the doorway holding a stack of MRE's. "Who's ready for food? I brought seven but there's six more."

The meal was hot, filling and quite delicious. The four of them sat cross-legged in the tall grass and ate eagerly without speaking. Somehow the contents of a field water can had remained refreshingly cold even after a long warm day. By three o'clock in the afternoon the MRE trays had been placed in a garbage bag ready to be stowed back on the helicopter.

"That is an excellent meal! I don't know about You, Jesus, but I've about had it with the food in the hotel. You can't even tell what it is. You sure can't tell what it is from what they call it. I think we should take some of these back with us." Juan said rolling the empty MRE tray over in a slow examination.

Mark Stentson, once again looking over his shoulder to be sure the area was clear, pulled off his fatigue shirt and rolled it into a pillow. He dropped down into the sweet grass and stretched out. Suddenly, it occurred to him to ask if it was alright to rest a while. "Do you guys mind if I kick back here in the shade for a little bit? I don't exactly know if it's in our orders, but I'm figuring that it'll be okay as long as everyone is happy."

Jesus and Juan immediately followed suit. Jesus looked up at Peter Vasquez, still uncertain whether relaxing on duty was within the reach of General Tower's rather open-ended order. "Peter, we're Brazilians. We always take a nap after lunch and we would both feel quite uncomfortable if you didn't join us. I think General Tower would approve."

"Jesus, I don't think he would mind too much if I laid down, but I don't think he'd approve of neglecting my security duties. I'm going to get my rifle, then lay down. Our over riding orders are to be constantly ready." Peter Vasquez was once more becoming Corporal Vasquez, USMC. After a quick foray into the giant helicopter, he emerged with his automatic rifle. rolled his shirt into a pillow and dove into the grass with the rest of them.

Juan asked Jesus a question, and in turn Jesus spoke to Peter Vasquez. "Juan wants to know if you would shoot someone who was trying to hurt us?"

"I would fire without hesitation and with all the ability I have to kill such a person. And I would do it not from my friendship with You nor from my hatred of the person I was shooting. In fact, if I hated You and loved the person I was shooting, I would still do it, I hope, just as efficiently. I would fire because I had been ordered to fire. As a United States Marine I will follow all lawful orders without question."

Jesus gave the answer back to Juan in Portuguese. He added only a single comment. "These soldiers are the same as the one's in Jerusalem all those years ago. Perhaps a little better trained, possibly more ethical, but certainly much more deadly." Juan's face was a little saddened, but when Jesus looked back at the Corporal, holding his rifle close to his body. He was fast asleep. As was the case with all young soldiers throughout the ages in all the world, his sleep revealed the hope and great energy of a strong, handsome young man who was destined to be much more than a killer.

The flight back to Washington was uneventful. Once the great machines had lifted off the helipad, Jesus insisted that the two young Marines accompany Him and Juan to where General Tower and his staff had disembarked from the other helicopter. "General Tower, I wanted to personally thank you again for this outing. Juan and I had the best time today since we came to this city, and we owe this to you. I also want to say how much we appreciated the company of these fine young soldiers. I don't intend to try to tell you how to run the Marines, but I do presently have some concern that their careers might suffer in some way because of the hospitality they extended to us. Your assurance that this will not be the case would be a great comfort to both Juan and Myself."

"Sir, I have no desire to even know why You have this concern, but I assure You, and I am speaking both for myself and also on behalf of all the officers in my staff," General Tower spoke very loudly and clearly as he turned to look directly at all the officers gathered around him -- including Captain Porter, "that Corporal Vasquez and PFC Stentson were under my personal direct orders for the entire day. Further, both Marines performed those orders quite acceptably in my military estimation. I direct any comments or criticism of the performance of their assigned duties today to my personal attention. I will look forward to discussing such comments with their originating officer."

General Tower stepped forward, out of the hearing of the other officers. "Sir, I'm am delighted that this junket met with Your approval. Corporal Vasquez and PFC Stentson, return to your duty stations. Thank you." The two Marines double timed across the pad to rejoin their unit. "I know what is happening to you two is sometimes difficult. When you wish to return to Pennsylvania, just tell me and we'll go. Good night now."