Duplicity: Book Two of the One World Government Series

By George Walley

Initially set in 2001, the elite group, known as the Hochsterbergs, continue to work towards their eventual aim of a fairer society for the whole planet and run by a singular government.
The Salazar crime family, headed by Josie Salazar, continue to expand their influence to such an extent that both the American and Russian Governments are forced to enlist the Salazar family in it's war against terrorism.
Whilst on the surface the relationship between the Salazars and the major governments is one of cooperation, there are constant plans to destabilize the Salazars and end their influence.
Into this scenario are dropped the four friends, Edward (MI6 Management), Tom (ex MI6 operative, still recovering from his ordeals in Book One), Dday (a good-timer with little roots) and Martin (who is recently married to Tom's sister, Mary-Lou and who wants to afford her a life that he can't afford).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9781667192147

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Duplicity

Book 2 of the One World Government Series

Duplicity – Book Two in the One World Government Series

First Edition

Copyright © 2021 George Walley

All rights reserved

ISBN 978-1-6671-9214-7

2001

Chapter 1 – 10th August 2001

The five MH47E Chinook helicopters descended on the complex of buildings that were perched on the shoreline of the Argentinian lake called Dique de las Piedras. They were on schedule for the 5.30am time-target to commence the attack.

This was the result of months of undercover work by three different American Security Agencies following the previous years’ demand by the Joint Chiefs of Staff for the attack; they wanted the headquarters of the Salazar Crime Family hit. Their leader, Josie Salazar, was to be captured and brought back to America to face justice.

The fact that this attack would involve American soldiers in a military operation on Argentine soil without the permission or knowledge of the government of Argentina was uncomfortable to the Joint Chiefs of Staff, but was absolutely necessary. To involve the Argentinian government would have, in their opinion, guaranteed that the Salazar family would have become aware of the attack and that would have been a further threat to the American soldier’s lives. It was agreed that the White House would cope with the Argentinian grievances once Josie Salazar was in an American prison cell.

Satellite photographs had suggested an occupancy of between fifty and ninety people. The operations team back at the Delta Squad’s HQ in Kentucky had estimated that there was a maximum of forty fighting personnel, the rest were likely to be cooks, waiters, housekeeping staff and other ancillaries to the Salazar headquarters. It was on that basis that each of the five helicopters contained a ten-man squad. Five squads, fifty highly trained Delta Force operators, was what their commander, Major Mason Dinsmore, considered an ample force to deal with such an enemy.

The satellite images of the terrain had been scrutinised and the Chinook helicopters each had their designated landing areas. Each of the five squads had a plan of exactly where they were to attack; the plan drilling down so that each man knew where he was to run on leaving the helicopter and what, in order, were his objectives. The planning had been precise. The last training session, back in Kentucky, had been like the dress rehearsal for a ballet.

As the helicopters approached, the attached cameras sent constant live footage both back to Delta HQ and to the White House conference room, the camaras suggested minimal activity on the ground. They had chosen that time in the day to minimise the amount of people awake and to capitalise on the element of surprise. Of course, helicopters could not be silenced in their approach, so the American’s were expecting an increase in activity as they neared their destination. That didn’t materialise, just a few people going from building to building.

Had the mission been to eliminate the hierarchy of the Salazar family, then they might have either blanket bombed the site prior to the Delta Force going in, or they would have sent infiltrators in to laser mark the buildings that contained the significant targets. Those markings would have directed the missiles to ensure clean and fully effective hits.

That wasn’t the mission, the Salazar family was an international crime organisation, the most important crime family in the northern hemisphere and constantly expanding, it wouldn’t just cease to be by losing its top tier of authority. The mission was to capture the two principles, they being, Josie Salazar and her deputy, Sanchez Fernandez, once caught they would be used in the deconstruction of the family and its influence.

To accomplish this, they needed to be discriminatory with who got killed, each of the fifty operatives had memorised the look and stature of the two targets. If it was necessary to incapacitate one or both, it would be done in the least life damaging manner, body areas had been identified that were permissible as targets and the men of the Delta force were all well enough trained to ensure that only those body parts would be hit.

As the helicopters prepared to land, there were still a few people scurrying between the buildings – that was to be expected. They landed in a rough semi-circle around the buildings. The out buildings being situated in a protective circle around the more imposing building that ring had extensive gardens down to the shores of the lake.

As they touched down the operatives poured out of each side, running for their first objective, initial cover. Their carefully co-ordinated uniform and equipment quickly blurred into the Argentine landscape, the black gas masks becoming the most identifying feature of each soldier.

The lack of response was surprising, but welcome. The Delta Force operatives, following instructions from each of the squads’ leaders, advanced to their next objective as they slowly tightened the curtain of men around the group of buildings, the lake at the back of the buildings ensured that they had their prey enclosed.

Each of the five out-buildings were approximately twenty metres by ten metres, low one-storey buildings. Major Dinsmore and the Operations team back in Kentucky had assumed they were barracks or living quarters for those protecting or attending to the main building that was assumed to be the headquarters and control centre of the Salazar crime family.

Two operatives from each of the squads detached themselves and positioned themselves by the doors of each of the out buildings.

‘Let’s do it.’ Major Dinsmore barked over the radio. In perfect synchronicity, the  handheld battering rams slammed into the doors close to the hinges and the doors quickly gave, where the door resisted the first blow a follow up kick from the Delta force operative ensured that the door collapsed. Stun grenades were thrown in followed by a momentary pause and then an explosion and plumes of gas poured back through the broken doors. The operatives dashed into the house, the one covering the other, each ten-man squad had their own radio channel, the operatives updating their operational status as each objective was achieved.

Within the White House the five different channels conjoined to create a babble of updates.

Two further operatives rushed to position themselves either side of the door frame. Meanwhile, other operatives took up positions by the windows. It was all going as per the previous day’s training session, the only thing that wasn’t happening to plan was the fact that gas-distraught enemy soldiers weren’t pouring out of the doors and windows. None of the Delta Force operatives had time to question this fact more than momentarily before they heard the whine of missiles.

Initially two Chinooks leapt off the ground as the missiles ploughed into the centres of their fuselages, they had barely re-landed on the ground as crumpled knots of metal before other missiles ripped into the remaining three helicopters.

‘We’ve got ourselves a fire fight, guys.’ Major Mason Dinsmore transmitted to all the operative’s intercoms. ‘Let’s do our jobs and leave our extraction back to the Ops Guys. Let’s do it, guys.’

Simultaneously the two buildings on the extremity of the semi-circle, the two out buildings closest to the lake, exploded. The intercom was crammed with injured men screaming, the call for medics.

Major Dinsmore shouted, ‘‘A’ Squad, status?’ 

‘Two down, medic required for one, Allman doesn’t need one, Sir.’ Major Dinsmore asked for similar reports from the other squad, it was a similar story, Major Dinsmore was losing men and he couldn’t see an enemy, this was going to go down in Delta Force history for all the wrong reasons. ‘Minimal operatives in remaining objectives, all but operative 1 and 2 to retire, immediately.’ It was too late, the remaining three out-buildings exploded.

More losses, Major Dinsmore had the alternative either to go back or go forward. ‘Let’s jump to the final objective. I’m thinking that we’re in need of some payback.’

Machine gun fire erupted from behind the Americans, it was coming from emplacements dug into the ground and previously invisible to the American forces. There were also further missiles screeching in, it was becoming obvious that there were enemy positions in the surrounding hills and that there was a considerable force in the immediate area.

‘Get some cover, guys. Advance on the final objective at will, let’s not rush this. They got it wrong back at base and now we’re expecting them to dig us out of this mess, but it won’t be in the next thirty minutes, so let’s focus on our job and minimise casualties.’

It was a message that everyone knew was not only going to be heard by the surviving Delta Force Operatives but back in the Kentucky Headquarters, the back-room boys had cocked up in a big way and they needed to resolve the situation.

‘What the hell is happening down there?’ The White House General insisted of Delta Forces’ Headquarters in Kentucky. ‘The Argentinians are going crazy; they’ve been told we’re invading them. We need to be told what happening, just hearing this radio crap is informing us of nothing – I want concise up to date overviews of the situation by someone who knows what they’re talking about – now make that happen Godby.’

____. ____

‘Get air transport down there, get them airborne now, code purple.’ Lieutenant General Godby barked from the Operations Room in the Kentucky headquarters. ‘I also want an air-strike; I want the surrounding area flattened.’

‘That’s an air-strike on a foreign country, Sir. I’m going to need this sanctioned by Washington, who should I ask for?’

‘Who sanctioned the Delta strike?’ It had been approved by the Secretary of Defence. ‘Then ask him to sanction it and tell him to do it bloody quickly, I’ve got fifty men under heavy gunfire down there. Update me when they’re airborne, I want a strike time, local Argentinian time.

‘And who the hell checked out the location of the Dique de les Piedras?’ Lieutenant General Godby, at the age of fifty-two years old had been employed within the United States army for thirty-one years, he had considered his position as a Lieutenant General and responsible for the Delta Force to be very nearly the peak of his career, his next promotion would have likely been to Washington – but that looked suddenly very unlikely, he was now looking at a possibly disastrous end to his military career. Someone else, other than him, had to be responsible…

____ . ____

Gunfire was not only coming from the main lakeside building, but shells were falling with pinpoint accuracy, the Delta Force Operatives were hemmed in. They had a choice to either sit there and wait for an exit strategy or they could continue the attack on the main building, their main and final objective. The type of person to train and qualify as a Delta Force Operative, was not the sort of person to sit tight and await rescue, they launched an attack on the main house.

It took the remaining force fifteen long minutes to advance and break into the main house, teams advanced upon the machine gun posts that were on the second floor of the building. One Operator burst into the room, his gun splaying the far wall with bullets. He looked in bewilderment at the Kuka robot that was operating the machine gun and then the main building started to explode.

____ . ____

Fifteen operatives from Delta Force made it back to their Kentucky Headquarters intact, a further eight were hospitalised. Twenty-seven operatives had died under Major Mason Dinsmore’s command.

Chapter 2 – 10th – 12th August 2001

There wasn't any reason for the get together, it was just a get together.

Edward Yardley had been really looking forward to this weekend, with his three best school buddies, the weekend had been planned months earlier. It had been fifteen years since they had all left the Oratory School. Their friendship had survived those years and he’d been looking forward to not only seeing them but also their partners, all of which he’d come to know well, except Dday's girlfriend, which changed every time they got together.

The four school friends were all in their early thirties, it was a time in their lives that were crammed with things to do both in their social lives and their professional. That was why this weekend had been planned for months and why everyone had promised not to cancel unless it was absolutely life-threatening. The result was that they were all descending on Jerry and Ester Newbold’s farmhouse just outside Hornton, in Oxfordshire. Their son, Tom Newbold was one of Edward’s three old school friends and their daughter, Mary-Lou, was married to Martin Hollinrake, who was another.

Mary-Lou had offered to look after the farm for a week whilst her parents got some winter sun. Being farmers, they’d never had many holidays and the prospect of having a look around some of the ancient digs in Egypt had appealed to them. Mary-Lou, Martin and their three-year-old son, Mikey, lived in the Paddington area of London, quite close to Warwick Avenue Underground station, Martin working in computer software development. Edward knew that Mary-Lou hated living in London, she was a close friend to his wife, Barbara and was the godmother of their eldest child, Charlie. Mary-Lou was a regular visitor to their house in High Wycombe at which time she would invariably bemoan living where she did. Mary-Lou had mentioned that she took Mikey down to the canal basin at Little Venice which was as close as she could get to the country. So, a week looking after her parent’s farm was something that Edward knew that she was going to enjoy.

He and his wife, Barbara arrived at the farm just before five pm. It was all action. Mary-Lou and Fiona, Tom Newbold’s wife, were busily cooking, Martin and Tom were chopping wood. There was, outside the backdoor, a long stack of wood that would have taken a couple of years to get through but Tom was insistent that they were not to deplete his parent’s log pile and so had taken a number of large rings of a previously felled tree, from one of the other sheds bordering the farmyard, and attacked them with an axe.

When Edward approached it was evident that they were taking turns in breaking down the fifteen-inch rings. Tom was taking it in his stride swinging the axe in long, graceful strokes that cracked and split the wood in one blow, Martin was watching, by the state of the perspiration on his forehead he had not been chopping the wood quite so effortlessly.

Juno, Jerry and Ester’s chocolate Labrador was behaving as if she was seven years younger, the farm wasn’t used to so many people and the excitement of old friends re-uniting had transferred to the dog that bounded up to greet Edward and Barbara. Mikey, Mary-Lou and Martin’s three-year-old son, had not only known Juno all of his life, Juno was the only dog that he had ever had a good relationship with, so wherever Juno went, Mikey followed and Juno gently pulled herself away when he grabbed her ear, her neck or her tail.

The six o'clock embargo on alcohol had quickly been brought forward to five, it had been Edward that had heralded that it was six o’clock somewhere! Edward, Tom and Martin soon each had a bottle of beer. The others too were offered a drink; Barbara said she would wait until six o’clock, Mary-Lou said yes to a small glass of white wine, everyone knew not to take her seriously, she would say the same thing all the way through the evening. Fiona declined.

It was an hour and a half later that Dday turned up with his new German girlfriend, Elsa. Dday had rechristened Elsa as El and within minutes all the others were calling her by that name. El was in her mid-twenties, which was at least five years younger than any of the others and nearly ten years younger than Dday. The age gap showed, El was different in that she wasn't ready for children, she was ready to enjoy herself, see the world and experience as much as possible, unlike Barbara, Mary-Lou and Fiona, who were at various stages of either trying to be a mother or being a multiple one.

Dday had brought along a crate of South American beers and El had prised the top off one of them and stuck a wedge of lime down its neck; she sucked on the bottle whilst following Dday out into the yard to be introduced to Martin, Edward and Tom.

The meal, which was ready on the table at seven-thirty, was a lamb shank tagine with couscous and roasted peppers and was enjoyed by all. The beers had been replaced by a Chianti, which everyone had other than Mary-Lou, who had decided to stick to the white wine. El was paid extra attention to, the others recognising that it must be a bit daunting for her, as the rest of them knew each other so well. All noticed that Fiona hadn’t touched her Chianti, but no one mentioned it.

After supper, they all went through to the sitting room. It wasn't a huge room and with three on each sofa and Tom and Edward in armchairs, the room seemed cramped. The fire was at full strength, Juno stretched out in front of it and the Chianti continued to flow. The wine enhanced the bonhomie and everyone just relaxed and enjoyed the company of their friends.

At about eleven o'clock Fiona got up and said that she would tidy up the kitchen and then get off to bed, Mary-Lou agreed to help her.

‘I'll help, we'll get it done in no time with a third pair of hands.’ Barbara suggested.

‘Absolutely not,’ Mary-Lou insisted, ‘you're on a night off.’

Barbara was taking the ‘night off’ quite seriously keeping up glass for glass with Edward, who was downing the red wine faster than the other three men. It was fifteen minutes later that Mary-Lou re-entered the sitting room and walking behind the sofa leant over and kissed Dday on the cheek, ‘I'm off to bed, don't be too long, darling.’

‘Mary-Lou! Are you drunk?’ Martin said, nearly spitting out his Chianti.

‘Give me five mins, Lou-babe.’ Dday said winking to El.

‘You two look very similar from the back,’ Mary-Lou said, pretending it was a genuine mistake.

‘Rubbish,’ Martin guffawed, ‘I'm a ginger and Dday’s blond.’

‘I haven't upset you have I, El?’ Mary-Lou said ignoring her husband's comment.

‘Have him Mary-Lou, he's a shyster.’ Dday’s girlfriend retorted.

‘Am I? I think you and I need to discuss this in private.’ Dday said getting up.

‘I think he's going to spank me.’ El said with a look of comic shocked horror. ‘Will no gallant Britisher protect me?’ She got up off the sofa and started to make her way to the door. She looked over her shoulder. ‘Chase me, big boy!’

‘I think that's my cue, gentlemen.’ Dday said following El.

‘Are you sure Dday, I was just about to pour a whisky?’ Tom asked. Dday declined and followed El out of the room.

‘Just a small one for me.’ Martin said and Tom went over to the walnut dresser that stood at one side of the room. There were three different decanters on it, Tom poured the golden liquid into three tumblers. He didn't bother to ask either Edward or Martin if they wanted it straight or on the rocks, he knew that Edward took his whisky either with just with a splash of water or neat if he was under stress, never with ice and woe betide the person if he drowned it by putting in more than a splash. Martin was a fifty-fifty man.

‘How’s business?’ Edward asked of Martin, keeping the question as generic as possible, none of them could really keep up with what Martin was up to when it came to earning money.

‘Lots of irons in the fire, some very interesting possibilities, but nothing I feel that I can expand on at the moment. But as I said, not looking bad at the moment.’ Martin was notorious at saying as little as possible and both Edward and Tom translated Martin’s statement as not much happening.

Edward looked at Martin, he had known him a long-time, he was Mary-Lou’s husband, Mikey’s father, Edward really wished that something would turn out right for him, he needed a bit of luck and he needed it soon.

‘Anyway, time for bed for me,’ Martin said, getting up, ‘you two stay up and put the world to rights? It was a good evening, thanks Tom for organising it.’

‘It was mostly Mary-Lou and you know it. Night, Mart.’ Martin stood up and left the room. Tom looked at Edward, ‘Another?’

‘It would be foolish not to.’ Edward said. ‘Great news that Martin’s so positive. He could do with some luck.’

‘What do you mean by that, Edward, he’s married to my sister and they’ve got Mikey, in my book he’s had his fair share of luck.’

‘Yes, we’re