WASHINGTON, D.C.

Ambrose had received his marching orders. He didn’t like it and knew the secretary was escalating the situation before he knew for a fact that there was even a need to. He picked up the phone and punched in the numbers he had memorized.

“Yes.”

“General, how are you, my friend?”

The man in Brazil sat up straighter in his chair. He swallowed as he tried to find his voice.

“I am …I am well, señor.”

“Good. Are you prepared on your end to do what is necessary?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Good. You may send your ground element onto the river to follow my countrymen now. If the area in question is found, you may set them loose. There will be no foreign element allowed out of your country, General, is that clear?”

“Sí …uh… yes, I understand.”

“Are ten boats enough, General?”

“They are the best assault force in the private sector, señor. They will do their jobs.”

“Good, good. Your reward will be handsome as we promised, both monetarily and politically. Your air force is ready in case?”

“This is an element I would rather not use—”

“It will only be used if something unforeseen arises; don’t worry, my friend.”

The connection was cut and the general was left holding the phone, aghast that he had gotten himself into this very dangerous game of treason.