Lieutenant Colonel Parker's eyes went wide. "How is that possible? The Portuguese Army moved that fast?!"
The fleet commander waved a hand. "Of course it wasn't the Portuguese. Do you know why the main fleet was sent to Maracaibo?"
"Because it's closer to Bogota?"
"Yes, very close. But that side is merely a feint, meant to draw the Spaniards' attention." Colonel Beresford said smugly, "If nothing goes wrong, a large-scale riot will break out in Caracas within the next few days.
"The main force of the Spanish Royal Army is now gathered at Maracaibo and Altagracia. No one will be able to stop the rioters from taking Caracas. Once they control the city, they will attack the harbor fortresses from inland."
Lieutenant Colonel Parker asked, "So the riot in Caracas has something to do with us?"
"That's right. It was planned by the Office of the Quartermaster General. The secrecy level of this matter is extremely high; I myself was only notified last week." The Office of the Quartermaster General was currently the nerve center of the British Army's intelligence system.
Delight appeared on Parker's face. "Oh, God, I thought we'd be facing a hard battle. Now it looks more like a vacation in Venezuela." "A vacation that will earn you merit and promotion."
Three days later, Beresford's squadron arrived at Caracas and stopped fifteen nautical miles off the coast. At that distance, they could ensure they would not alert the spanish defenders in the harbor.
Lieutenant Colonel Parker inspected the preparations of the four Portuguese infantry battalions aboard several transport ships that were responsible for storming the beach—the United Kingdom had committed only three companies to this battle, fewer than three hundred soldiers—then came onto the deck of the Admiral Frederis and gazed out over the calm sea, his