Bogotá, Colombia, February, 2078, Friday…

Four top-of-the-line American sedans pulled up to the Colombian presidential palace. All were bullet proof and had the tinted windows that said "DAS" to the casual passers-by on the narrow Bogotá street. They had been stopped east and west of the palace by ordinary uniformed police. They watched with disdain as Luis German Palacios, two of his ministers, and the Archbishop of Bogotá split up between the second and third limos, Palacios and the Archbishop in the second, the two ministers in the third. The rest of the seats in the cars were filled with DAS agents.

The entourage snaked through the older streets around the palace, then west along Avenida Jimenez, and finally began heading north along Avenida Caracas. At the intersection of Avenida Caracas with Avenida 19 all hell broke loose. One RPG left all the DAS agents except the driver dead in the first car. Another hit the second, wounding Palacios while killing the driver, an agent, and the archbishop. The RPGs intended for the third and fourth cars missed their mark and left gaping holes in two buildings across the street.

The agents in the third and fourth cars poured out to cover their president and the two ministers. They were already calling for backup. After taking stock of the situation in the second car, they hustled Palacios into the third. Some agents jumped in around the president and the ministers, yelling to them to keep their heads down. A police light and siren assembly was slapped on top of the car and it took off full speed down Avenida Caracas with lights flashing and full siren.

Traffic is never light on that Bogotá thoroughfare. All through the day and night it is loaded with buses, taxis, and those few private cars which are courageous enough to venture into the melee. It was 3:37 in the afternoon, though, so the heavy five o'clock rush hour traffic had not yet started. And the driver was skillful.

Forty-three minutes later Luis German Palacios was on a gurney being wheeled into the emergency room of the Hospital Militar. He was not a happy caballero and was still screaming at his two ministers and the DAS agents to find the terrorists. Fortunately for him his wounds were not life threatening. Within the hour he was resting in a hospital bed sipping a Chivas.

Hernando Vega was the DAS agent in charge. After getting the doctor's permission, he approached the president.

"Doctor Palacios, we are doing our best to find out who your attackers were and capture them."