Oceans of Fire

by Don Pendleton

  “Into the IESHEN Group’s central headquarters.”

  “That is where are all current data threads leads. As I said, CIA and NSA assets are working up a solution to get Able inside the building undetected. Once inside, Gadgets overcomes their internal security and Akira overcomes their computers. We extract the data that can tie this all together. With luck we find the nukes either on site or at least information that can lead us to their location. Phoenix Force is sitting tight and can be anywhere on the planet in twelve hours or less. Able extracts the info and Phoenix moves. All we need is word go from the President.”

  “So how are you going to get Able in?”

  Huntington “Hunt” Wethers walked into the conference room. The black man moved and spoke with the dignity of the university professor he was. He held a computer disk in his hand. “I believe I’ve found the in we need at IESHEN Group headquarters.”

  Kurtzman nodded. “You ran a survey on the IESHEN Group board of directors?”

  “I did.” Wethers slid in the disk and pictures of old men began to flash upon the screen. Some were obviously newspaper and magazine photos. Others were taken from ID cards and file photos. “Twelve men sit on the IESHEN Group board of directors, and a more uptight group of German industrialists you’ve never seen. However, what any of these men would want with thirty thermonuclear devices is hard to imagine, other than sheer greed for the profit they could make with them.”

  Brognola grimaced as he looked at twelve of the wealthiest men in Germany arrayed on the screen. “That was the CIA’s assessment, as well.”

  “Well, we’re not the CIA.” Wethers allowed himself a smile. “So I called in some favors.”

  “My initial hypothesis is this. Looking at the members of the IESHEN Group board, I find it unlikely that any of them would want to traffic in nuclear weapons, much less desire access to them for ‘personal’ reasons. This leads us back to the rogue element scenario. It is not unlikely that some lower level element of the corporation has gone rogue and blackmailed one of the directors into assisting them. These are some very greedy German multimillionaires. They didn’t get where they were without getting their hands dirty.”

  Brognola scratched his chin. “You dug up dirt on some of the directors.”

  Wethers frowned with distaste. “On the contrary, I found the one man of honor among them. The one man among them, who, if shown our findings and Able and Phoenix’s after-action reports, redacted of course, would be suitably appalled and possibly willing to assist us.”

  Brognola raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “So who is this iron man of honor?”

  Wethers pressed a couple of keys and one man’s face came to dominate the screen.

  Both of Hal’s eyebrows rose as personal data began scrolling down the screen. “German Naval Combat Swimmer, 1955-65…Jesus! He was GSG-9?”

  Wethers nodded. The GSG-9 was the German equivalent of Delta Force, formed after the massacre of Israeli athletes at the 1972 Olympic Games in Munich. They were some of the most highly capable operatives in the world. The Farm had worked closely with GSG-9 on a number of occasions. “A lot of his file is sealed on the German side, but according to NSA files he worked very closely with United States operatives on several missions in East Germany during the cold war. He’s a patriot and his bravery, his loyalty and his mission record are impeccable.”

  Brognola nodded. “Bear, this is the break we’ve been looking for. I’m taking a meeting with the President in half an hour. Barbara, put everything in place, assume Able is a go. Get a hold of the NSA’s best German liaison officer and get me a flight to Berlin.”

  For once things seemed to be going right. “Laurentius Deyn is our ticket in.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Berlin, Germany

  “Skorpion machine pistol.” Carl Lyons stood at the ten-meter line of the German border patrol’s indoor firing range. He held up a short, stubby, brutal-looking implement that was too big to be a handgun and too small to be a submachine gun. Lyons and Tokaido had the range to themselves. “The Cowboy sent it out special, just for you, kid. It’s .32-caliber, just like the PPK he gave you, but this bad boy rocks and rolls at 850 rounds per minute and has a 20-round magazine.”

  Lyons suddenly shoved the Skorpion out at arm’s length. Tokaido jumped as the little weapon ripped into life. A diagonal line of twenty ragged holes buzz-sawed up from the crotch of the silhouette target to the head. Lyons reloaded and slapped the twin wire struts along the top of the weapon, and the folding stock snapped down into place. “This is your shoulder stock. You get better accuracy and control with it deployed.” He shouldered the weapon and pulsed off three quick 5-round bursts to the belly, heart and head of the ravaged target. “Use it whenever possible.”

  “Shoulder stock,” Tokaido noted. “Got it.”

  The Able Team leader handed over the weapon. “It’s a little underpowered for my tastes, but I’ve bet my life on Czech steel before. They know something about gun design. It’s lightweight, concealable, and its gonna fit in one of your laptop cases. Like I said, a little underpowered, but it’s going to send out those little .32s in swarms. You burn a burst into somebody’s chest with this bad boy and you might as well have caught them with a pattern of double-aught buck.”

  Tokaido held the smoking Skorpion machine pistol. Again he felt conflicting emotions. But after burning through two mags of ammo under Lyon’s tutelage, he’d achieved a solid degree of accuracy. He was ready.

  “SO, HERR…BROGNOLA?” Laurentius Deyn sat back in his chair. “You wish me to betray my company and quite possibly give away technological secrets important to German national security.”

  Brognola measured the man in front of him. In person his body language and bearing read like his résumé. “Mr. Deyn, national security is exactly what we’re talking about.”

  “Ja.” Deyn shook his head slowly at the file Brognola had given him. “It is bad enough that you tell me Circulado Corp is hiring assassins and Treibstoff-Chemikalie von Bonn is in bed with known supporters of terrorists, but Herr Brognola, twenty-five nuclear bombs? This I find hard to swallow.”

  “Thermonuclear demolition charges,” Brognola corrected.

  “Ja, nuclear devices, not bombs. I do understand the difference, I assure you, and I do realize, as well, that potentially millions of people could die if these devices fall into the wrong hands.” Deyn sighed. “But this still leaves the question of why. Many of my fellow directors are ruthless men, Herr Brognola. The activities of the Circulado Corp proves that, and while I find this disturbing, and I give you my word, it shall be rectified, it does not lead me to conclude that any member or members of the board are nuclear terrorists.”

  “You’re forgetting Sheikh Jaspari.” Brognola countered.

  “I forget nothing.” Deyn locked eyes with Brognola and neither man flinched. “But Sheikh Jaspari is a member of the Saudi royal family. You will find a member of the royal family sitting on the board of every foreign company conducting business in the kingdom. It is the way business is done.”

  “What if it’s not one of the board member’s personal agenda? What if it’s being forced upon them?”

  “You mean, blackmail.”

  The big Fed let it hang between them.

  “Herr Brognola, every member of the board is personally worth tens of millions of Euros, some of us vastly more than that. That kind of money can make blackmail go away. I know for a fact that two of the members of the board are homosexuals. They are ‘closeted,’ as you Americans put it, and would be embarrassed if such information were to be revealed, but again, I know both men and simply do not believe the threat of disclosure could drive them to acts of nuclear terrorism.”

  “What about a threat, a credible one, to them or their families?”

  “That is a much more logical line of thought.” Deyn smiled slightly. “However, I assure you, if any of the members of the board felt they or their families were in danger, they would come to
me. The fact that you are here means you have investigated my background. I still have the kind of connections that could make a threat to a board member disappear.”

  “Your satellite.”

  Deyn blinked. “Which satellite?”

  “IESHEN-SAT-135, your North Star high-intensity imaging/ground-mapping satellite, currently in geosynchronous orbit. Mr. Deyn, there was an operation in Moscow three days ago. The operators involved were almost instantly counterattacked. Intelligence shows that there were no observers in the air or within range on the ground. We believe your satellite guided the ambush.”

  Deyn steepled his fingers. “Herr Brognola, the North Star satellite is part of a satellite ‘constellation.’ As its name implies, it is the dominant satellite in the group and directs and coordinates the activities of the others in lower orbit. North Star 135, as you have pointed out, is in a high, geosynchronous orbit. It is looking at the entire northeastern hemisphere.”

  “But it is still powerful enough to pinpoint and track men moving on the ground.”

  “How do you know this?”

  Brognola didn’t, for sure, but kept his poker face. “We know, and as part of a satellite constellation whose main functions are exploring for signs of underground deposits of oil and natural gas, both North Star and in particular two of its lower orbit constellation satellites would have been in excellent position to track movements and direct an ambush in Saudi Arabia.”

  “Herr Brognola, literally hundreds of satellites owned by dozens of countries could have done the same.”

  “Herr Deyn, every scrap of evidence we have leads to Germany and all of it points to at least some aspect of the IESHEN Group being involved.”

  “The political rumor is that Sheikh Jaspari was kidnapped by Israeli commandoes.” Deyn arched an eyebrow. “I gather you have him.”

  Brognola said nothing.

  “What I find particularly troubling about these allegations is that satellite tasking is part of my purview at IESHEN Group.”

  “We know that,” Brognola acknowledged. “We also know that during the timetable of our operations you were on a hunting trip in the Black Forest.”

  Deyn’s features went cold with anger. “You are implying that IESHEN Group security and satellite assets could be tasked and used in illegal, indeed, terrorist operations behind my back.”

  “Herr Deyn, I have seen elements of U.S. Intelligence go rogue, with the assistance of powerful corporations and even high-ranking members of the United States government. If our suspicions are correct, then of all the board members you would be most likely to take swift and decisive action if such a plot were discovered. There is a saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

  “You are implying such activities would be easier to perpetrate under my nose rather than at a distance.”

  “That is how I would do it, Herr Deyn.”

  “You realize if your suspicions are confirmed, IESHEN Group is finished. Untold billions of dollars and thousands of jobs lost. Many smaller nations will reel from the loss of our investiture.”

  “I believe the same losses will be incurred at a thousand-fold, not counting the loss of human life, if twenty-five thermonuclear devices are detonated.”

  “You wish me to give you access to the IESHEN Group data core.”

  “I want an in into the building,” Brognola told him. “Friends will do the rest. Any further assistance would be considered a bonus.”

  Deyn regarded Brognola dryly. “I assume if I do not assist you, you will attempt to break into the data core by other means.”

  “Most assuredly.” Brognola shook his head. “One other thing you should think about, Herr Deyn. The Russians are aware that they are missing twenty-five thermonuclear devices.”

  Deyn’s face lost all traces of amusement. “Are you threatening me, Herr Brognola?”

  “I’m stating fact, Herr Deyn. The Russians do not know that the trail leads to IESHEN Group. The U.S. hasn’t shared that information with them, nor do we intend to. But you must assume that Russian intelligence is working feverishly on the problem. As you well know, the Russians still have extensive intelligence assets left over from former Eastern German Democratic Republic. They are fully capable of carrying out clandestine operations in your country. Should it come to their attention that the IESHEN Group has the devices or was involved in their theft and transfer, you can only assume they’ll move with total ruthlessness against the board. I can quite easily foresee the kidnap and torture of the board members and their families. You were a member of GSG-9, Herr Deyn. You know the Russians will stop at nothing to retrieve the devices and prevent the knowledge of their theft from becoming public.”

  “And if no evidence is found?”

  Brognola shrugged. “Then I will owe you an apology.”

  “And if your ‘friends’ are caught and my collusion with your efforts at breaking into the IESHEN Group data corps discovered?”

  “I suspect you’ll be ruined.” Brognola regarded the German frankly. “As I said, any further assistance would be considered a bonus.”

  Deyn’s shoulder slumped. For a moment he lost the veneer of an ageless corporate giant and looked very much like weary man on the razor’s edge of seventy.

  Brognola drove the dagger home. “Everything I read about you leads me to believe you are a man of honor, and a patriot.”

  “Very well.” Deyn gave Brognola a wry smile. “I will assist you.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Should be simple.” Lyons stared down at the building schematic. “For once it looks like we caught a break.”

  Schwarz looked at the plans askance. “Simple makes me nervous.”

  “Why?” Akira Tokaido asked.

  “Because nothing in life is simple.”

  Tino Tenari nodded. “Nothing’s ever been simple that I’ve seen.”

  “Simple, not so simple.” Blancanales shrugged. “Twenty-five nukes, amigos. We don’t have a choice.”

  “Gadgets, go over it again,” Lyons suggested.

  “We go in soft.” Schwarz fanned five plastic ID necklaces and five magnetic key cards like a dealer in Vegas. “The badges get us in as technicians. The key cards get us into places we aren’t supposed to be. Any kind of security we don’t know about, I’ll deal with. The only thing we hit hard is the main security suite. There should be two men inside but with luck they’ll never see us coming. Carl and I hit that and take control of the situation from there. Once we’ve taken over, Pol will bring in the helicopter while Carl, T and Akira head to the main computer network. Akira cracks the data core and goes hunting. According to Hal, we have a four-hour window, which should afford Akira enough time to get some serious digging done. If it looks like a no-go, then we extract exactly the same way we went in.” Schwarz glanced up at the Able Team leader. “Carl?”

  Lyons opened a case containing four black automatic pistols. The SOCOM pistols were big, large even for a .45. The tubes of their sound suppressors were attached and on the accessory rail beneath the slide of each pistol hung a module containing a tactical light, a laser pointer and a cassette holding the twin probes of an X-26 Taser gun. “Like Gadgets said, we’re going in soft. Except for the two men in the security suite, everyone is a friendly, and even the guards we’re handling nice.” Lyons picked up a pistol and tapped the Taser mounted to it. “If you have to shoot, light them up with the juice. Though I’d prefer a nice stalk and hog-tie if you detect someone someplace they shouldn’t be. Anyone we might run into is just some slob working late. The security guys are just doing their jobs, and so are any cops we happen to meet during extraction. We’re at zero tolerance for friendly casualties.”

  Akira looked at his own laptop case full of weapons. “What about me?”

  Lyons shrugged. “Bring the whole candy store if you want, but you don’t shoot anything unless I tell you. You up for this?”

  “I am down with the sickness,” Tokaido declared.

 
; “Jesus.” Tenari snorted. “One bank heist and he thinks he’s Jesse James.”

  Lyons nodded to himself as the rest of Able Team laughed. They were in good humor and ready for the mission. “All right, we’re go in four hours. Check your gear, get some sleep.”

  Landwehrkanal

  HAL BROGNOLA SAT in a communications van by the canal. A block down, the vast glass monolith of IESHEN Group corporate headquarters reflected the lights of the Berlin skyline. Laurentius Deyn sat next to him along with an immense security man named Mahke and two of his men armed with Heckler & Koch MP-5 submachine guns. Two more men stood outside. A woman named Franka was operating the remote security suite. Brognola watched through night-vision binoculars as Able Team pulled past in an unmarked car and headed for the building.

  “I hope you know what you are doing, Herr Brognola.”

  Mahke shifted his bulk. “We could have done this, Herr Deyn.” Brognola could feel the German juggernaut’s eyes burning into his back with hostility. “We did not need to bring in…Americans.”

  “Perhaps.” The big Fed kept his gaze on Able Team as it approached. “But if your own security had gone snooping around, it would most likely be detected by whoever is on the inside in all of this. This way is safest. It will look like corporate espionage.”

  Deyn gazed long upon his place of employment. “You think your men can break through Herr Mahke’s security, Franka’s cybernetic protocols, and then get away undetected?”

  Mahke shifted angrily in his chair again. Franka Marx raised a bemused eyebrow. “Team is descending into underground parking lot.”

  Brognola watched Able Team disappear beneath IESHEN Group corporate headquarters. “Those men are experts, and the very best in their fields. In the event that the unlikely, or God help us, the unthinkable should happen, both those men and their actions will be untraceable to you and the United States government.” The big Fed lowered his binoculars. “Your ass is covered, Mr. Deyn. It’s ours that are hanging out in the breeze.”