Eclipse: A Charlie Reinhart Novel

Table of Contents

Prologue

Part One

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

Part Two

28

29

30

31

32

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

The Protagonist Charlie Reinhart is modeled after the affirmative leadership, values and dedication to country demonstrated by Charles Thurber Jr.

Prologue

Monday, 2 June 2008, 6:00amBBC News, London

The war on terror again claimed innocent lives today when an American Predator aircraft mistakenly struck a wedding party in the mountainous region of West Pakistan.

Sadly, six civilians were killed and four were seriously wounded. Most of the dead were woman and children.

According to US sources the attack was intended for Marif el Quari, Taliban Chief Planner.

Informed sources said the intended target was some two miles north of the wedding site.

The deadly strike is under investigation by both US and Pakistan authorities.

Tuesday, 3 June 2008, 6:00amBBC News, London

Today, Pakistan’s Minister of Defense, General Buko, accused the US CIA of reckless behavior in the errant strike that killed six women and children yesterday in Western Pakistan.

General Buko has been an outspoken critic of the US war on terror. He has vowed to launch a full investigation. He further threatened to curtail further Predator flights over Pakistan.

Pakistan released the names of the victims this morning. Two of those killed were the wife and young son of Ukrainian Industrialist Peter Vanko.

Mr. Vanko’s daughter was seriously wounded in the attack.

Part One

1

Tuesday, 3 June 2008, 8:00am Intertel Inc, Headquarters Odessa, Ukraine

"I still can’t believe what has happened. My world has come apart. I don’t how to react, I feel like I’m in a trance. I didn’t know I knew how to cry. Now it is all I do. All that I loved is either dead or terribly injured. I want to be strong but I don’t think I can.

One idiotic act by the West and all that I love is ripped apart," Peter Vanko said to his best friend Victor Taras.

I can’t imagine what you’re going through. I do know that Nika needs you and that you’ll find the strength, Victor said.

"You’re right as usual. I’ve got to pull myself together, but I’m literally exhausted. I’ve never felt so helpless.

Tuesday, 3 June 2008, 4:15pm Children’s House of Mercy Hospital Islamabad, Pakistan

"Mr Vanko I’m here to drive you to the hospital. We’ll arrive in the underground parking garage to avoid the press.

The press has been camped out on the front lawn since your daughter arrived," The escort explained.

Thank you, I appreciate the courtesy, Peter said as he and Victor were driven to the underground garage.

"Mr. Vanko, I’m Dr. Gangy. I’ll take you to see Nika, but before I do I would like to explain her condition.

I want to take her home as soon as possible. She needs to be in familiar surroundings. I have arranged for an air ambulance.

It is difficult to tell you this, but her wounds are deep and disfiguring. She is kept alive by medical means, She’ll never live on her own. I’m sorry to say this but I can’t give you any hope for her future.

May I see her now?

Yes, I’ll take you to her.

Peter entered the room while Victor stood outside in the hall.

It was heart wrenching to hear Peter sob uncontrollably.

Victor eavesdropped through the slightly opened door to observe Peter crying while resting his head on Nika’s shoulder.

He promised her he would avenge her pain and horror.

Peter then stood, wiped the tears from his eyes, and walked out of the room with a blank stare on his face. He gave no notice of Victor.

Victor entered Nika’s room and could not believe his eyes.

Her face was missing. What was once a beautiful young girl with large calf eyes and an up turned nose was now a burnt mass of charred meat. She no longer looked human. It was a sight he wished he had never witnessed.

On the way out of the room he noticed that both her arms were badly mangled.

No father should ever see such a sight. Victor met up with Peter outside the doctor’s office.

Peter was in a state of shock.

"I just signed papers to let her go. I will not allow her to spend the rest of her time in a comma and kept alive by a machine.

Did you see what the Americans did to my baby girl. They made her into a vegetable. They have killed everything I loved.

I’m going back to see her and say my final goodbyes," Peter said between sobs and tears as he walked off.

Victor took Peter by the arm to stop him. Don’t go back in there. Try to remember only how she lived.

No I want to have a vivid record of what those American bastards did to her, Peter replied as he shook free of Victor’s hold and headed for Nika’s room.

Wednesday, 25 June 2008, 9:00am Corporate Headquarters Intertel Inc. Odessa, Ukraine.

Victor Taras briefed the inner-circle on Peter’s condition, or more exactly, his possible mental state.

It had been three weeks since Peter and Victor had talked.

Yesterday Peter called and announced he was returning to work. He asked Victor to talk to the staff and direct them not to ever mention his family in his presence.

True to his highly pragmatic nature, Peter had turned himself into a mental health spa in Switzerland. The facility specializes in depression and personal grief.

From the moment he said good-bye to Nika, Peter was almost in complete paralysis. Luckily for him he had the money and smarts to seek the best help available.

Peter, welcome back, you’re looking fit. I’ve ordered us coffee.

Thank you old friend, you’ve been my anchor through this very trying period, Peter said as he eased into an overstuffed chair in Victor’s office.

I’ve prepared a folder of events to bring you up to date on front burner issues.

"I appreciate that but I won’t have any need for the information. I plan to be here only long enough to appoint you Co-Chairman and CEO of Intertel Inc. There is no room for discussion, so don’t even try to argue. You’re the best man for the job.

I need you to draw up the papers and prepare a press release.

I will seldom be here at work and as far as anyone is concerned, I’m at the compound.

Please don’t ask me any questions. You don’t want to know my plans and I don’t want you to know them."

I know better than to push back, but there is no one as capable as you at running this corporation.

"Nonsense, you’ve been running this place for the last five years. I’m just the glad hander.

I plan to fade away in two weeks. In that two weeks I will work to ensure a complete transition.

I will remain Co-Chair in name only.

I will stay in touch with you on a weekly basis."

Since I have no part to play in your future plans, is there anything I can do to help you in any personal way?

"You know Victor, with the loss of my family I’m not the person I used to be. I feel my life is over, I can only focus on one thing and I can’t discuss that with you.

It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just don’t want you burdened with the new me.

I must sound terribly melodramatic, but until I achieve my goals, which are only mine to know I can no longer be Peter Vanko."

I want to help.

There is one favor.

Anything!

I know about your brother-in-law and his dark world. I want to meet with him in private.

"He is somewhat of a shady character, but he has a big heart and would not hurt a fly.

Some of his childhood friends, on the other hand, are what the West refers to as the Russian Mob. They are as bad as we hear they are and more."

"If you’ll arrange a meeting for me I’ll take everything from there.

I would like your word as my best friend that you will not ask your brother-in-law about the meeting and forget it even occurred.

Can I have your word on that?"

You can.

2

Sunday, 7 Sept 2008, 6:30pm Broken Rail Café, Taos Mesa, New Mexico

Hey Charlie.

Oh, sorry Megan, I didn’t see you standing there.

No problem, I didn’t want to disturb you – you seemed to be totally entranced. Or, better yet, totally relaxed. How’s the fishing business?

Great – can there be such a thing as bad fishing?

How’s your band coming along?

It’s okay, but the nights can be long. We played down in Santa Fe till early this morning.

Would you like the usual? Four sliders, lightly salted corn chips, guacamole, and a house blend margarita, to wash it all down.

You got it.

It’ll be right up.

Before I could get the first bite down, the cell started vibrating, a drawback of a growing business.

I got up from the table, and went out to the parking lot.

One of my newly adopted rules, since retiring from the Army last year, is to never talk on the phone where I eat, sleep, or drink coffee.

The day I stepped out of uniform I decided from that day forward I would own my environment.

Hello, Mountain Fly-this is Charlie Reinhart.

Charlie, are you the one I contact for fly fishing reservations.

Yes, you’re at the right place.

The client was Tyler Weston and three associates.

He booked for two days the following week.

He needed the full package, all the equipment and lessons.

He explained that none in his party were fly fishermen.

Before we hung up, I found out that Tyler was none other than the son of Tyler Weston, Chairman and CEO of Weston Inc., one of the largest multinational corporations in the US.

I was flattered he would pick my service out of all those available.

All that money for advertising is paying off.

The phone went dead, and I returned to the table.

To my pleasant surprise, while I was standing in the parking lot, the folks at the Broken Rail had policed up my food and drink and replaced it with fresh servings. You can’t help but love this place.

The Broken Rail is all about atmosphere. The food is average, but the people and the surroundings are hard to beat. It’s one of those rare places where just being there makes you feel good.

It sets atop a high desert mesa with abundant pinion trees and scrub brush. In every direction there are towering mountains.

The combination of great service and the desert environment gives one a feeling of isolation in a good way, as though you’re sheltered from the real world.

Needless to say, I went back to staring at the mountains.

Monday, 22 Sept 2008, 7:30am Shiloh Inn, Taos, New Mexico

I met up with Tyler Weston at the Shiloh Inn Coffee Shop. He was easily identifiable by the hat I provided him in the welcome package.

Charlie, I’m Tyler. The rest of the motley crew should be here shortly. They all agreed to wear the hats you left for us. By the way, Charlie, the hats are a nice touch.

It’s something I enjoy doing. I want folks to go home with a smile on their face.

Let’s get a table for five shall we.

Here’s the group, let me introduce you: Allison Beck, Ike Newman, and, Pete Conlon.

That’s easy enough to remember, Allison, Ike, and Pete.

Welcome to New Mexico. Will this place do for breakfast? Charlie asked.

Allison answered for the group that they had not eaten, and in fact had missed the last two meals.

Well maybe that’s not exactly right, She offered. We did have some sort of bagged lunch and dinner on the plane. It was the kind of food that drives you to eat fast food, She explained.

Allison is obviously a take charge person, a full package woman. She didn’t have one great feature, but in total she was striking.

Not someone I would easily forget.

Allison you look vaguely familiar, have you ever spent time in North Carolina? Charlie asked.

I’ve passed through the area. Allison replied.

My last military assignment was Commander of the Special Weapons School, at Ft. Bragg, NC.

The school is the most likely place we would have met, Charlie thought to himself.

I needed to change the subject.

I take it you didn’t fly commercial, Charlie said stating the obvious.

"That’s right. We had the corporate plane. Pete is the pilot, and Ike is qualified to fly second seat.

Allison and I served as flight attendants. No passengers," Tyler said.

I believe we’re ready to order, Allison suggested.

Charlie, is there anything special you would recommend? Tyler asked.

Well I order the same thing every time I eat breakfast here. It’s not everyone’s idea of good eating. I like two English muffins, with a side order of hash browns, and a glass of OJ, Charlie explained in a very matter of fact manner.

Well I’m game, Tyler said. What about you Allison?

I’ll have that, but hold the hash browns, Allison answered with some trepidation.

Almost in unison Pete and Ike agreed to the Charlie special.

"While we wait for breakfast, let me tell you a bit about where we’re going to fish today.

At present there is a good hatch underway on parts of the Cimarron. I believe this will offer us the best action. The Cimarron is some forty miles from here in hill country. Where we will be fishing, is all catch and release.

That’s one of the artistic aspects of fly fishing. We want to catch fish for the sheer sport of it.

We’re not out there to harvest trout. I hope not to sound like I’m lecturing, but when you think about fly fishing as an art, it takes on a whole new meaning" Charlie explained like a true fly fishing advocate.

You sound much like my father, when it comes to fly fishing, Tyler interrupted. He loves it for the artistry. He has often told me fly fishing is a total environment. It’s the stream, the fish, the weather, and the scenery.

Do you guys get water side much? Charlie asked.

Actually I’ve never been that involved. When I’ve gotten out it’s been for deep sea fishing. Fly fishing has always been my Dad’s thing. I thought it was something I might like, so I decided to bite the bullet. I don’t think I’ll ever have my father’s passion. My father has traveled throughout the world to fly fish, Tyler explained.

Monday, 22 Sept 2008, 9:30am Cimarron River (Northeast of Taos, New Mexico)

The ride to the river was uneventful. There was the normal chit-chat, with one exception. No one ever talked about work, where they lived, or their personal lives. They were all focused on the moment. It was a very interesting group.

After gearing up, I placed everyone on the river and fishing was underway.

Except for Tyler, the group immediately took to the casting routine. Tyler’s athletic ability needed some work. You can’t help but like a guy who won’t quit.

As with many of my outings, the person you least expect to catch a fish got a fish on with the first cast.

Actually it was not quite a cast, but more like a big over handed throw. Whatever, it worked for him.

You would have thought Tyler had won the lotto. Hell, he got me excited.

I took the fishing net from around my neck, and as I got up beside Tyler, I stepped into a hole lost my footing, and ended up getting the fish in the net while on my knees in two feet of water.

Needless to say, I was soaked. Waders are not designed for floating. The good news is the trout didn’t get away.

Allison got it all on film. And then she couldn’t hold back any longer, and started laughing uncontrollably. That laugh brought Pete and Ike out of the water to join in.

There we were, Tyler was in complete paralysis. I was trying to gain my footing and the only one with a plan was the fish.

We finally got our act together, and snapped a good picture of the fish, before we sent him on his way down stream.

This certainly will be the most memorable part of the trip.

It wasn’t long before everything returned to normal, and by lunch everyone had caught their share of fish. In fact, it was a fishing guide’s dream.

After fixing lunch, I changed socks and underwear, and was ready to restart.

During lunch it became clear that there was little interest in the group for the world before arriving in Taos, which was fine with me. Clearly Tyler and Allison had some sort of friendship but Pete and Ike, while social, were somewhat remote. I couldn’t help but notice the pecking order.

When I mentioned to Pete that I had recognized him running along one of the back roads he seemed caught off guard. He acted almost embarrassed. Another odd moment!

I guess my past is catching up with me. Being involved with intelligence drives me to read expressions. It’s like the cop who can spot ex-cons.

Maybe I was just being an ass. I need to keep the wheels from turning.

I’m in a new life and must get on with it. This realization kept me from perusing the subject with Allison about having met before.

As my more cultured friends might say, the day went splendidly.

There were no dull moments, the weather was typical New Mexico, and the fish cooperated.

Everyone agreed to break camp about 4:00pm and we headed back to the Shiloh.

We arrived at the Shiloh about an hour later, and arranged to meet at the Broken Rail around 6:00pm for dinner.

Monday, 22 Sept 2008, 6:30pm Broken Rail Café, Taos Mesa, New Mexico

Any problems finding the place? Charlie asked.

No. As you described we turned left out of the Hotel and drove three miles, Tyler replied.

Allison did the driving. You know the personality, just follow me and let your mind go blank. That’s how I control her I just do what she says, Tyler said referring indirectly to Allison’s take charge manner.

I recommend the veranda, there are great views of the mountains, and the food seems to taste better outside, Charlie said with conviction.

"Sounds