by Bob Mayer
Alegre shook his head as he considered the larger picture. He truly believed the drugs were the Americans' fault. It was their organized crime that controlled the overseas market, and the American people who created the demand. Alegre felt his people were just trying to make a living. Unfortunately, the use of drugs among Colombians was growing at an alarming rate. The international political fallout was also damaging. The Americans had never stopped putting the pressure on his administration to do something. Alegre knew he could have ignored the American pressure and nothing significant would have happened, but he had other factors to consider.
In four days the United Nations was going to vote on the border dispute with Venezuela over the Gulf of Venezuela. Although the gulf was almost entirely enclosed by Venezuelan land, Colombia still maintained a claim on a third of it by nature of Colombian territory on La Guajira peninsula. The potential oil and mineral rights from the ocean bottom there were forecast to be in the billions. With the backing of the United States, Colombia might be able to ram its claim through the United Nations.
With the economic boom that claim would bring, Alegre felt that Colombia could finally throw off the money leash the drug cartel held on the people. Without the carrot of mining rights in the Gulf of Venezuela to offer the economy, he knew he would never be able to fully destroy the cartel.
Another factor, of a more personal nature, was the fact that if the cartel was willing to gun down schoolchildren in America, they wouldn't hesitate to kill a president in Colombia. Alegre knew he was in office only at the tolerance of the drug cartel. He didn't like that setup. He believed the best defense was a good offense. Since being elected, he had bided his time until the situation was right, placating the cartel. The time to fight back appeared to be now.
For the present, Alegre would work with the Ring Man. Their immediate goals were the same. Alegre shivered briefly. If the Ring Man knew Alegre's ultimate objective, there would be blood spilled in the presidential palace.
Alegre sighed. It was all so complicated. Playing people against each other. Trying to manipulate the situation for the country's good. There was a price to be paid for everything.
FORT BELVOIR, VIRGINIA
8:30 P.M.
Alone in the small, two-man room they shared, Powers sat on his bunk unperturbed by his friend's agitation. "It's his neck. Let him hang himself."
Riley shook his head in exasperation. "Come on, compadre. That isn't the way it's supposed to work."
Powers leaned back on his bunk contentedly. "Listen, Dave. Stop worrying about everyone else's problems for a minute. If the little Napoleon wants to split the team up into the new and old guys, that makes sense to me. I'd rather go in with you than with him."
Riley had had a feeling that Powers wasn't going to be too upset with Vaughn's proclamation on the makeup of the split teams. Vaughn had split the twelve-man team in half. The six old members of 055 would go together under Riley's command on the first mission. The six new additions would assume the second mission under the captain's command. What really irked Riley was that the captain hadn't even consulted him. He thought they had had an understanding after their conversation earlier this afternoon. Obviously, he'd been wrong about that.
Riley knew that Powers was also less than pleased with the captain's leadership technique, or rather lack of it. In Special Forces the team sergeant as a minimum should have been consulted before such a decision was made. Riley and Powers had always worked together, bouncing ideas off of each other, consulting the rest of the team where feasible. The idea was to maximize the considerable brainpower every team possessed. With his solo decision Vaughn had acted as though he was still in the 82d Airborne.
Powers continued. "It splits the MOSs exactly. Each split team got one medic, one commo man, one engineer, and one weapons man." Powers sat up and looked at his old friend. "And one officer."
"You know that the team sergeant is supposed to go with the team leader," Riley retorted.
Powers began getting irritated. "Bullshit. That's not written anywhere. Technically, the team sergeant always takes the other half of the team from the captain."
"That's before we had warrants, and the XO was just a lieutenant who couldn't find his ass with both hands."
Powers slammed his hand on the desk next to his bed. "Goddamnit, Dave! Listen. Alexander is a good man. He can take care of the captain. This gives our split team a much better survival chance. We got the guys we worked with all year. Everyone knows the SOPs."
"What about the other guys going with the captain?"
"So what do you want to do? Reduce the survivability of both split teams?"
Riley paused and reconsidered. Powers did have a point there. Riley sighed. What was he getting so worked up about? Deep inside he was happy to have people he knew and trusted on his part of the split team. Plus it opened up more possibilities for infiltration.
Powers wasn't through and was obviously thinking along the same lines. "The bottom line on it is the infiltration. You seem to be forgetting that. Alexander's the only free-fall parachutist out of all the new guys. And he's not free-fall jumpmaster qualified. I'm the only free-fall jumpmaster you got and, since we're thinking of going in from thirty thousand feet on the first mission, I think you're going to need me. The second mission just about calls for going in by Combat Talon with their ass in the grass at two hundred fifty feet. All the new guys can handle that, but they sure as hell ain't going to be able to HAHO in on the first one. Anyway, you ain't got no choice, partner. It's got to be the way the captain set it up."
Powers reconsidered. "Well, maybe it doesn't have to be that way and I don't like the way he did it either, but the end result would have been the same even if he did consult with you or me."
Riley nodded reluctantly. Looking at it from that perspective he realized he was more pissed at the lack of respect the captain had shown him than at the actual decision. He decided to put this one in the past and drive on.
"Screw it. Get the guys on our split team together. I want to do a practice briefback."
Powers grinned. "Now you're getting smart."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
TUESDAY, 27 AUGUST
FORT BELVOIR, VIRGINIA
1:00 P.M.
General Pike gestured toward the maps on the wall of the isolation room. "Give us an update, Captain Vaughn."
Riley half expected Vaughn to tell him to get up and do it. But the captain stood up and walked over to the maps. He turned and faced the general and the two civilians.
Riley glanced over at the two agents. Stevens was slouched in his chair trying to pay attention. Probably couldn't wait for the briefing to be over so he could sneak his afternoon pick-me-up, Riley thought. His original suspicion about the DEA agent's drinking had been confirmed the previous afternoon when he had detected the unmistakable scent of alcohol on the man's breath. He had complained to the general about the agent's drinking, but the general had been unwilling to rock the boat too far with the DEA. Besides, Pike had reluctantly admitted, it was too close to the first mission to replace Stevens now.
Westland was sitting straight in her chair, a notepad on her legs. She was wearing a goretex running suit and looked as though she had just finished a hard workout, which Riley knew she had. The previous hour he had occasionally glanced out the back window at the woman working out. He'd been surprised that she apparently had some martial arts background as she did some basic kicks in her calisthenics. Riley idly wondered if she had done that to prove to the team that she could hold her own physically. He shrugged. He didn't care. Just as long as she gave them good intelligence. It wasn't as if she was going on the ground with them.
Vaughn cleared his throat and Riley shifted his attention to the front of the room. "Sir, our analysis of the data we've been provided has led us to the following tentative plan. We have two potential targets that were provided to the CIA by a source representing President Alegre. Checking both against satellite imagery provid
ed by the National Security Agency indicates that there appear to be buildings and materials in both areas that conform to what a processing laboratory would have. Most particularly important is the presence of large numbers of steel barrels in both areas. As you know, they are used to hold the vast amount of chemicals that are used in cocaine processing.
"We have designated this one here," pointing at the map, "as Nail One and this one here as Nail Two." Riley smiled wanly. The captain had come up with the code names. After all, they had decided to call themselves Task Force Hammer.
"We propose sending in a surveillance team, Eyes One, Thursday evening to verify Nail One. Once verification is radioed back, we propose that the target site be hit the same evening, or actually early in the morning on Friday. That's pending coordination of the actual hit force this afternoon by you, sir.
"We propose the split team be pulled out the same morning. Then the second team, Eyes Two, be sent in against Nail Two on Friday night, with that target hit occurring early Saturday morning and that team being pulled out the same morning."
Vaughn paused to check the reactions. Pike was nodding in affirmation. The general knew all of this already. He'd spent most of the morning coordinating aircraft and firepower to support the proposed missions. This update was for the benefit of the civilians.
Westland raised her hand. "Can you mount the first mission that quickly and still be safe? That doesn't give you much time."
Vaughn glanced at Riley, who stood up as the captain yielded the floor to the leader of the first mission. "Yes, ma'am. It's not much time but the mission is pretty straightforward. We'll fly direct from here to Colombia and jump in almost on top of the target. Scope it out. If it's a valid target we'll call in the firepower to level it. Once we verify destruction, we'll get pulled out by a helicopter coming in from Panama.
"It will fly us back to Panama, where we cross-load back onto a C-130. We'll be back here hopefully within twenty-four hours.
"The only things we're waiting for now are confirmation of the Hammer force and exfiltration and infiltration aircraft. Also, we're still waiting for the sterile equipment the agency is supposed to provide us."
Westland fielded the implied question. "The equipment will be here this afternoon."
Riley continued. "We'll be spending the rest of today and tomorrow finalizing our plans and familiarizing ourselves with the equipment. Also, we'll be doing contingency planning for any unexpected occurrences."
General Pike turned toward the DEA agent. "Everything good to go on your end?"
Stevens sat up. "I'll be flying down to Bogota tomorrow. I've got the codes to talk back to you all here at the agreed upon time every day. I'll also be set to monitor the SATCOM from the embassy for all the missions. Like we discussed, I think I can do you all a lot more good down there. Get an idea of what the reaction to the raids is and also let you know the scope of the damage and who you hit."
Pike nodded. "All right. Sounds like everything is rolling. I'll be getting confirmation of our Department of Defense support later this afternoon from General Linders."
Riley was impressed in spite of his misgivings about the mission. They were definitely getting fast action on requests for support for this operation. That was a rare event, based on his experience in past dealings with military bureaucracy.
Pike continued. "You'll be briefing the chairman tomorrow morning to get his approval. Once we have that, Task Force Hammer will be ready to go."
5:00 P.M.
Kate Westland sat in the small office they had given her just off the isolation area. She leafed listlessly through the documents she had brought with her on the drug cartel. She knew that the Special Forces people were still planning in the main room. The equipment had been delivered two hours ago from Langley. Some of those Green Berets had acted like little kids at Christmas, oohing and aahing over the weapons and other gear.
Kate put aside the papers and sighed. Her job for the first mission was pretty much done, and now it was in the hands of the men in the next room. She wasn't happy about that. All her seven years with the agency had been spent at Langley as an analyst. She knew she was damn good at it but she wanted to do more. She had never had the chance to go on a field mission. She felt she had to get some experience in the field in order to round out her career. It wasn't just that she wanted to punch her ticket with some time as a field agent. She wanted to do the job she felt she could. She wanted to be out on the cutting edge instead of always back at the hilt. That was the reason she had joined the agency in the first place.
Thinking about her career reminded Kate of her ex-husband. They'd met while going through the basic agents' course at Langley. In retrospect, it was easy to see that she had mistaken his tolerance of her career as acceptance. It had finally come to a head two years ago. He'd received an offer to move to Berlin and do fieldwork. He'd been shocked when she refused to leave her field of expertise, Latin America, in order to follow him. She had been equally shocked to find out how little he thought of her career. He had never seemed to understand when she told him her job was as important to her as his was to him. He'd filed for divorce two weeks after her refusal. She'd picked up the pieces of her life, pouring her passion into her work. Her proficiency at that work had led her to where she was now.
Strom had said this was an important assignment. She knew that from the simple fact that he had personally given her the mission briefing. But it still wasn't really a field assignment. She'd be sitting here on her butt in Virginia while these soldiers went down and did the dirty work. Maybe if this operation turned out well she would get the transfer to a field site that she had been requesting the last five years.
Kate cleared her mind of this cloud of thoughts and went over to the door. She figured she might as well see what was happening, and find out if the soldiers had any problems with the equipment. She opened the door and stopped as she heard voices raised loud in banter.
". . . she could probably kick your butt."
"Yeah, she probably thinks she's hot shit." The soldier's voice went shrill: " 'I'm Agent Westland of the CIA and I'm a bad ass. Do you think you men can do the mission in that short amount of time?' " There was some laughter.
The soldier continued. "Remember those stupid equal opportunity classes we had at Bragg? I wonder if she wants to be called a 'woman CIA agent' or a 'female CIA agent'?"
Westland glanced around the room. They hadn't seen her yet. Three of the soldiers, the ones laughing, were gathered around the maps to her right. She saw the intense-looking Puerto Rican soldier, the warrant officer named Riley, raise his head and stare at them.
"Hey, smackheads. If you don't have anything better to do...," he glanced over at her and paused. The three soldiers turned and noticed her for the first time. One of them blushed under his stringy black hair.
She walked over and stood in front of the soldier who had been doing the talking. She remembered he'd been introduced as Atwaters. "Which would you like to be called?" She paused while the soldier frowned in confusion and then she continued. "Butthole or asshole?"
There was silence in the room as she turned and walked back to her office. She heard a few muffled chuckles break out in the room as she shut her door.
Westland sighed as she sat back behind the desk. She'd had to put up with stuff like that ever since she joined the agency. She was so tired of it. No matter what she did, no matter how good she was, it still happened. But she was damned if she'd put up with it, or turn and run away. That's what they expected women to do.
There was a knock on the door. "Come in."
Riley came in. She sensed he was uncomfortable, as though he didn't know what to say. "What can I do for you, Mister Riley?"
"Listen. I apologize for what was said out there. These guys aren't used to working with a woman. Sometimes they say stupid stuff. They didn't mean anything by what they said." He let a small smile lighten his dark face. "I like the way you handled it."
Kate wa
sn't buying it. "I think they did mean something. You might not understand but I've faced crap like that my entire career."
Riley looked her in the eyes. "Let me tell you something about not understanding. You're right. I don't understand what you've had to face as a woman trying to make it. But I do understand what it's like to have people look at you and judge you on what you look like rather than who you are. I don't know which is worse or harder: being a woman or being half Puerto Rican from the South Bronx. Probably neither. They're just different. But I've had my share of the bullshit, too."
Kate backed off. She didn't need to antagonize the one person who seemed to care. "I'm sorry. It's just that it caught me off guard."
Riley seemed to relax and laughed. "If you're going to deal with these people you can't let your guard down and you can't back off. They respect strength and competence. They're like vultures, though, if they sense any weakness. I don't think you're going to have any problem."
She nodded. She knew she could hold her own. She'd done it for seven years in the male-dominated corridors at Langley. It was just that having to be constantly on guard was draining. She couldn't concentrate on just the job. "Thanks. I appreciate it." She felt slightly uncomfortable talking about herself and decided to change the subject. "All the equipment satisfactory?"
Riley led her back into the planning room. "Yeah. Everything looks good to go. We'll run some more rehearsals and do a couple of internal briefbacks to make sure everybody knows what they need to do, then we'll be ready to go." He looked at his watch. "We're going to do a practice briefback tonight at 1900 after we meet with Pike. You're welcome to sit in on it. Probably learn something."
"I'll do that. See you then."
Kate turned and walked out into the hallway. She wanted to head over to the imagery people at Langley and get the latest satellite photos before the evening meeting with General Pike.