by S. Burke
“Cassie, dear? I think I know this woman here on the cover, do you recognize her?”
Cassie walked over and took a good look at the magazine. “Nope, I read the article though. He looks like he wants to eat her for breakfast, don’t he?”
Lana Allworth laughed at that. “Yes, he surely does. Damn it, I know that face from someplace. It’ll come to me. Can I take this home with me, hon? Maybe Frank will know who she is.”
“No sweat, you can bring in some others when you get them.” Cassie gave her a smile, and hurried across to take another client out from under the dryer before she cooked.
Lana Allworth said her thanks and slipped the magazine in her bag; she would ask Frank later. Maybe he knew where she had seen the woman before.
Lana arrived home in time to cook supper, the magazine forgotten in her rush to get dinner ready before Frank got home. He expected his meal to be waiting when he got in.
Chapter 40
Four Years Earlier
Miami, Florida
The Avianca Airlines flight from Bogotá touched down thirty minutes late at Miami International.
By the time the passengers had cleared customs, Miguel Hernandez was one hour and forty minutes behind schedule. The man wiped the sweat from his brow; temperatures here in Miami were not that different to Bogotá. The cab was air-conditioned, and he sat back and allowed himself to enjoy the respite from the sweltering outside temperature.
He checked in to his suite at the Ritz-Carlton in Key Biscayne. Once in his room, he walked out to the balcony and made a call on his new cell phone.
“Sí.”
“I have arrived. Are my guests still on schedule?”
“Sí. When will we catch up for that drink?”
“At the Marina at 8:30 a.m. tomorrow. We shall do some good fishing, yes?”
“Sí.” The man on the other end laughed. “Good fishing indeed.”
“Hasta mañana.”
“Mañana.”
Miguel flipped the phone shut and walked back into his suite, enjoying the luxury. His casa was more beautiful, but he may have to give some thought to redecorating the place; he liked these colours. Cool greens and blues … yes, he made a mental note to organize someone to attend to that.
He divested himself of his suit, and showered. He then wrapped the bath sheet around his trim body and fixed a drink from the bar, seating himself in the shade of the balcony umbrellas and sipping on his white rum and coke. He marvelled again at the expanse of blue water; Miami was a long favoured destination for him and his friends.
Tomorrow should prove interesting; he smiled at the understatement of his thoughts. The process was in place, this would be the last opportunity to clarify the conditions of the agreement.
His bodyguards were in the rooms on either side of his. An annoyance, but a necessary one. He punched in the number for the room to his left.
“Sí.”
“English! English!”
“Yes.”
“Organize me some good company for this evening. Blonde. You know what I like.”
“Yes. For dinner as well?”
“Yes. I will provide the dessert.” He laughed at his own innuendo.
The man on the other end of the phone laughed on cue. He hung up hoping this ‘company’ survived the evening. His boss was not known for his gentle treatment of his little diversions, or perversions, as he personally thought of them.
No rules said he had to like the man he protected. His own life would end with a certainty if he failed to provide what was demanded of him. He wondered with a swift and dangerous thought just how long this one would survive his own manipulations.
8:30 a.m.
Miami, Florida
The deep-sea launch ‘Key Largo’ was ready. Her precious human cargo had boarded and she made her way out of the Miami Keys to her fishing destination.
The invited guests, Michelson - CIA, Prendergast - FBI, Daniels - DEA, and Elizabeth Shea, the President of the United States of America, and another man, sat comfortably shaded on deck. Opposite them also seated were Miguel Hernandez, Jose Ortega, and Federico Menderes, the three leaders of the most powerful drug cartels in existence.
They sat, each suspicious of the other, yet equally determined to finalize what had begun so many months before. The President’s Secret Service detail was at the front of the huge yacht. They stood alert, unhappy that they had been ordered by the ‘Boss’ to remove themselves from earshot. They waited for trouble, as did the heavily armed security men for Miguel Hernandez and his cohorts.
“So, gentleman and, of course, lady. We are agreed, yes?” Miguel asked.
The men and the woman nodded in affirmation.
“You are absolutely certain your vaccine is sufficient to halt this … item … if it spreads beyond the borders?” The question came from the woman.
“Of course. Is that not what we said? Your own people have tested this, to your satisfaction, yes?”
“Yes, of course. We have your assurance that the item to be delivered is the one we have tested?”
“Do you have doubts at this late stage, Madame?” Miguel was unaccustomed at having questions such as this directed at him, especially from a woman. Even this woman.
One of her countrymen spoke up. “My colleague is a little nervous, my friend. Understandably, you must agree. We are committing ourselves at great risk to this endeavour.” The only man on the United States guest list without an agency at his command offered this in way of tempering the sudden tension.
“Your pardon, Madame. I am a simple man, unused to dealing with people in such exalted positions.” Miguel smiled at the woman and the other men present. “You, Madame President, can almost be assured of re-election. Your campaign funds were sufficiently bolstered to see you take office. The funding will double in the upcoming campaign. A win-win situation. Yes? You have agreed to this. We all stand to gain from its implementation. You will have no recourse but to withdraw your people after it is established they stand to become infected by this … what did you call it, Madame? Item, yes? Item. In return, we gain control of the largest fields of poppies on the planet. We have outlaid an enormous amount of money to fund this little operation; therefore we expect to recoup that money. Mutually beneficial, yes?”
“You are agreed that our Drug Enforcement Agency will have a minimum of five large busts in the first year?” This question came not unexpectedly from the head of that Agency.
Miguel barely held his temper in check. ”Your DEA will be made to look good. Is that not what we agreed? Your government will look good on all fronts. Yes? You bring home your service people at the same time as the forces of the enemy are brought to their knees. You become the heroes of the free world when you ‘discover’ and offer the vaccine. Then, as a bonus, your war on drugs shows significant improvement within a space of just one year. We have been told that this is ready to go. Is that not the case? Have we been misled?”
The man sitting to the rear of the group hurried to pacify the speaker. “Misled? No, we all understand exactly what’s at stake here. The Black Ops team is trained and ready to go. The weather will be ideal in the coming four weeks.”
“We are agreed, then. You leaders of the ‘alphabet agencies’ have also something in place to ensure that none of this is able to be linked and verified. Of course,” and he smiled as he continued, “you each stand to lose far too much if this gets out, yes? I believe that treason in your country carries the maximum penalty, does it not?”
“We have no need of reminders, Miguel. We are agreed. The training is complete. The method of delivery, you have no need to know. It will be done, and no loose ends will remain. You have my word on that.”
“Ah, but of course … yes. Your word as always is beyond doubt, amigo. Let us share a drink to seal our commonality of interest. Yes?”
The assembled people nodded in agreement. A toast was drunk. Then they were returned to port to enjoy their little vacation weekend in M
iami, one of them nervously concealing the mini-cam that had taken video footage of the entire meeting; insurance should any of their colleagues suddenly have an attack of conscience.
Miguel was a satisfied man. His personal fortune would grow beyond even his wildest dreams if this plan went as it should. It was an ego inflating exercise having such powerful new … friends.
The footage his bodyguards had surreptitiously taken brought to two the number of incriminating movies of a simple fishing expedition in Miami.
Chapter 41
Pale Horse Operational Centre
Quentin awoke shaking. This had become a regular occurrence and one that the cameras picked up in most of the team residences. Two of his room-mates awoke the same way. The third, Charles- or Chuck- slept deeply, and had to be awoken by his team members every morning. This was duly noted and filmed. Charles was unaware that his ability to sleep so well was the topic of much discussion elsewhere in the underground complex.
He underwent exactly the same levels of training. The psychological response he showed was unusual, but not all that worrisome at this point.
“The last of the conditioning will be conducted over the next seventy-two hours. Correct?” Ranger asked.
The two men instantly identifiable by their white coats nodded assent. “I doubt the subject Charles Underwood will make it through,” said one of the men.
“Why is that?” asked Ranger.
“He begins to seek comfort in withdrawing more and more into himself. Our concern is that he could reach a vegetative state, and become totally unresponsive.”
“I need all my teams intact. Make certain he survives this. You are the experts, adjust his frequency of exposure.”
“But, Ranger …”
“No buts! Just do it. They must begin the second level of training in seventy-two hours, not one hour more.” Ranger left them sitting there, both weary and troubled by his orders.
“What happens if he doesn’t make it? I mean, we can’t change that outcome. Can we?” The white coated man asked his colleague.
“No, we can, however, see to it that we adjust the sessions with him. To ensure a more … predictable response.”
“Jesus! What if he breaks down at a later point? He could be totally erratic.”
“Then that wouldn’t be our concern. Would it?”
His companion nodded. By then it would be too damned late.
Underground Facility
Operation Pale Horse
“Quinn?” said Brad.
“Yeah, what?”
“What is this shit they’re doin’ with us, man?”
“Some sort of conditioned response crap. I don’t know exactly what. I do know I’m havin’ a hell of a time remembering anything much from before- you know, before we came here.”
“I can’t remember much stuff at all, man. Not before the plane trip, you know?”
“I figure none of us had much worth remembering. Don’t matter none. The money is gonna set us up for life.”
“You got that right. I wonder what’s on the list of freaky shit today,” muttered Brad.
“Doesn’t matter. We ain’t goin’ nowhere else.”
“Those guns they trained us on. I mean what the hell, man? I understand the assault rifles, makes sense, but what’s with those fancified air rifles? And the moving targets?”
“You sure are full of questions this mornin’. I wouldn’t be asking too much stuff. You just keep up those high scores. You are doin’ real fine with the rifles. Anyways, Ranger said we’d be doin’ real targets today,” said Quentin.
“Yeah, okay. I guess we’ll learn more soon, eh? I kinda like bein’ part of somethin’, you know.”
“No matter what that something is?”
“I don’t think about that.”
“Keep it that way.”
Ranger and the man he called Tonto paced the kill zone. The horses were of the size and breed the teams could expect to find in the area of interest.
“They will be un-tethered in the corrals?”
“Our intel says yes. They are usually kept free inside a low brush enclosure,” Ranger said.
“It will be interesting to see how they respond. The science boys say it will only be a very minor irritation, one that shouldn’t generate much movement and no signs of distress. Yeah?”
“That’s my understanding. Unless one of the team misses the targeted area and hits them in an eye. Mostly the animal will just turn its head and rub its muzzle against the site of the irritation. That has been shown to rub in the toxin more effectively, and dislodge the small burr from the projectile.”
“You know where they’ll be deployed, don’t you,” said Tonto.
“I do; you have no need to have that information.”
“Whoa, I don’t want to know, Ranger. That was a statement, man, not a question. Not in my pay scale. When?”
“Four weeks.”
“Shit! That’s not long enough, surely?”
“It has to be.”
“Are you going in?”
“Yes.”
“They are all good shots, Ranger. That shouldn’t present a problem.”
“I’ll comment on that when they have had three days of training on live animals.”
“The levels of co-operation are almost perfect.”
“Almost won’t cut it.”
“I …”
“What?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Tonto rubbed his face. He knew better than to question Ranger. He’d learned that the first night this Black-op began. He could only hope that none of the remaining sixteen failed. The body count was already high.
Pale Horse Kill Zone One
Team Alpha
“Listen up, people. You have become accustomed to using these rifles on moving targets. Now you need to adjust slightly to living ones. The specific area or hit zone is marked on the animals you see in front of you. The projectile must hit in that zone only. Understood?”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Team Alpha responded in unison.
“You will be shooting wearing latex gloves as practiced. This is not an optional extra. Caution must be observed during the loading process. Team Alpha, a hundred yards distance. Two of you up, now. Fire left to right. Six shots apiece, twelve targets.”
The two men moved quickly and took positions at the hundred yard range.
“Fire.”
The soundless air rifle shots were made.
Ranger and Tonto checked the animals.
The horses had barely moved, apart from one or two that danced a little sideways. Eleven targets were hit inside the marked zone on the animal’s shoulder. One animal had two of the dyed marks inside the zone, one had been missed entirely.
“Not good enough, people.”
Fresh animals were led into the brush enclosure. The eleven already hit were removed and the temporary dye sponged from their coats; these animals would not be used again. The thinking was that they may respond differently to further shots. Complacency was a luxury they could not afford.
Ranger was pleased that the tests had progressed so well. These animals would never know how fortunate they were not to have been amongst the hundreds of test animals infected with equine toxin; they suffered badly under the assault.
The virus was administered in a projectile the size of a bee-sting. It affected the target’s central nervous system. The beauty of it was that it took between three and four days to become an obvious sign of illness in the host; precious time that enabled the extraction of the teams. The saliva and all body fluids from the infected horses would pass on to their human carers well before any visible sign of illness presented itself. Horrific suffering and ultimately death was the final outcome, for both the horses and the humans. The perfect weapon. Silent, deadly, untraceable, and immoral.
Ranger knew any link whatsoever to the origins of the operation would bring about the downfall of himself, and his country. He was worried about the former, and had long
since given up any loyalty to the latter.
Chapter 42
Afghanistan
Spring
Abdul-Saboor looked at the sky and sniffed the air; yes, he could taste the change in the weather. It would soon be time.
His sons Majeed and Jaabir were already excited about the coming trip. Their youthful enthusiasm made him smile; they were the sun in his life.
The winter had been a harsh one and he praised Allah for the benefits his horsemanship had provided for his family. His wife and his nine children lived well. The wealthy merchants whose horses he rode to victory in the Buzkashi were generous, extremely so.
His one sadness in life was that he had only been blessed with two male children. His focus must now be on the coming games and the mounts he and his sons would take to the spring pasture. His sons were becoming accomplished horsemen; soon they would take their places proudly in the team their father headed.
All the riders, the ‘Chapandraz’ would soon move the horses in their control to their spring camps. Green fresh grass was plentiful only in the spring months when the snows had melted and the chance of avalanche on the passes was diminished. In Afghanistan, these animals were highly prized; both to their owners and to the best of the Chapandraz who rode them in Buzkashi. The screaming crowds and happy owners showered the best of the best riders with money and luxury items they could never have experienced any other way.
The spring season would begin in April, in celebration of Nauruz. The beginning of the New Year would see teams of riders and fine horses competing at the Buzkashi fields in Dasht-e-Shadian south of Mazir-e-Sharif.