Eyes of the Hammer (The Green Beret Series)

by Bob Mayer

  "Two here. Roger. Over."

  "Three here. Roger. Over."

  "Four here. Why do you get all the fun? Over."

  Straker smiled briefly at the gibe. He could see the inbound helicopter now through his night-vision equipment. It was also displayed on his forward-looking infrared radar, coming out of the northwest, to his left front. The Apaches were hovering in a valley five kilometers to the south of the target. Straker's was peaking just over the edge; the other three were below the crest of the ridgeline. Not that anyone from the camp could see or hear them at this distance, but it didn't pay to be careless.

  He watched the collision lights of the inbound helicopter settle down into the lit landing field. They could have easily spotted this camp without the aid of the ground surveillance. But it was a good thing the surveillance had been there or else they would have hit the camp too late.

  The four attack helicopters had lifted off on schedule from the Raleigh thirty kilometers off the west coast of Colombia. But when the ground surveillance had called Moonbeam—the AWACS surveillance plane circling off the coast—with the report of unusual activity, they had opened their throttles wide. Straker had pushed the Apaches in his strike force to almost maximum speed, arriving only three minutes ago. Just in time it now appeared.

  Whatever and whomever the Colombians were going to load onto the helicopter were probably on board, Straker decided. Time to party. He pulled in collective and leaned the cyclic forward. The other three Apaches spread out on either side of him.

  Straker talked over his intercom to his gunner in the front seat. "Like I told the other guys, Martin: You take out the chopper first, then our designated sector."

  "Roger that. This is working out real well. That bird will cover up the noise of us approaching."

  Straker nodded to himself and concentrated on flying. They were less than three kilometers away. He keyed the mike. "Open up on my firing. I'm waiting till one klick."

  The formation spread farther apart as each gunship gave itself room to fire and maneuver. At a thousand meters from the camp, Straker flared his aircraft into a hover just over the treetops. The helicopter from the camp was just lifting off. "Now," he hissed over the intercom.

  A flame exploded on the right side of the gunship as a Hellfire missile leapt forward. Martin had locked in the Apache's laser target designator, and the beam of invisible light was automatically tracking the helicopter, aiming the Hellfire. As the missile roared away, the 30mm cannon under the nose of the helicopter started spitting death into the camp.

  The Hellfire impacted on the hapless helicopter, tearing halfway through the aircraft's turbine engine before exploding. The charge, designed to penetrate a tank's armor, devastated the fragile helicopter. Flaming pieces littered the trees below.

  Straker rocked in his seat as the aircraft shuddered with the recoil of the automatic cannon. Pencils of light streaked from the pods on the side of the helicopter. Martin had started firing the 2.5-inch rockets.

  Flanking Viper One, the other three Apaches were releasing their loads. Through his optics, Straker could see bodies littering the camp, and the buildings in ruin. An explosion sent a tongue of flame curling into the night sky. That explosion initiated a rapid sequence of smaller, secondary detonations. Straker blinked for a second as his night-vision equipment strained to adjust to the light differences.

  Death reigned in the camp. Straker knew that the Special Forces team was somewhere off to the east watching this destruction. He heard the radio crackle. "Viper One, this is Eyes Two. Over."

  "Viper One. Over."

  "You've got everything in the camp as far as we can see. One of the vans made it to the road and is heading south. We think it's carrying some of the cocaine. We're ready to move forward and verify the kill and get picked up. Over."

  "Roger that, Eyes Two. Break. Viper Three and Four, go after that van and take it out. Two, move forward with me and cover the pickup zone. Break. Moonbeam, did you copy Eyes Two? Over."

  "This is Moonbeam. Roger that." The voice continued. "Stork is two minutes out coming in from the west, to your left front."

  Straker edged his aircraft forward as he watched Three and Four break off his right and head for the trail out of the camp. Straker took up a position covering the camp from the northwest, while Two covered it from the northeast. He watched as an infrared strobe light started flashing in his night sight.

  "One, you got Eyes Two in sight? Over."

  "Roger that. Over."

  "Eyes Two, this is Viper One. We have you in sight." Straker could see five men moving through the wreckage of the camp. They appeared to be carrying a sixth man on some sort of stretcher. As Straker watched, one man turned and fired into a body lying on the ground. Straker spotted a seventh figure skulking toward the tree line. Apparently, Martin spotted the target at the same time: The 30mm cannon erupted and the figure was obliterated. A burst of light to the immediate south caught Straker's attention.

  "This is Three. Scratch one van full of scum. Over."

  Straker reoriented as the HH-53 Pave Low passed between his aircraft and Viper Two, settling into the landing zone. The five men ran on board the ramp with their stretcher. The Pave Low lifted.

  Straker pulled in cyclic and keyed his mike. "Let's circle round the wagon, guys."

  With the lift helicopter safely in the center, the five aircraft sped northwest just a hundred feet above the terrain at 130 knots.

  BOGOTA

  3:15 A.M.

  Stevens put down the headset. The helicopters were long gone out of Colombian airspace, heading north over the Pacific Ocean toward Panama. The night's mission was complete. Stevens rolled his head back and let out a deep breath. He was exhausted. The thought of Maria waiting back at the room failed to excite him for the first time. She had worn him out before he'd come on duty tonight. He'd almost been late coming up on the radio net. Stevens had reluctantly pried himself out of her arms in order to get here to monitor Eyes Two's activities only an hour and forty-five minutes prior to the actual attack.

  FORT BELVOIR, VIRGINIA

  5:05 A.M.

  "I don't like it one bit." Riley shook his head. Eyes Two's debriefing had just finished, and Stevens had called up with the latest information from his informants regarding the events of the early morning. Paulson was still on the Raleigh in the ship's infirmary. The rest of Eyes Two had just left to go upstairs and catch some sleep after their long night. Riley and Pike had gotten together with Westland in Pike's office and were now reviewing the information that had come out in the debrief.

  Riley explained his concern. "I don't think Suarez would have tried to move his lab that quickly based on the fact that one of Ramirez's labs had been hit the night before. How the hell did Suarez find out about the first hit? Ramirez has kept it real quiet. Or at least that's what Stevens tells us. And second, why the rush to move it in the middle of the night, almost as if he was expecting to be hit right then?"

  Westland shook her head. "I agree it doesn't make sense. If there's a leak, then why didn't Eyes One's target get warned?"

  General Pike swung his head around. "Let's look at it logically. Let's also worst case it and assume a leak, although most likely it was just a coincidence.

  "The where of Eyes One and Two was known to several people. People here in the Eyes teams, people in the Hammer task forces, those people across the river in Washington whom I had to brief. Also, it was known by the CIA contact who took the information, and, backing up from him, by the person who gave that contact the information in the first place. If there is a leak that's the place I think we should look."

  Westland shook her head. "Even if the source told other people what it told our contact, there's no way the source could know on which nights we were going to hit."

  Pike considered that. "We're also getting extremely paranoid here. The odds are it was just a coincidence. But I don't like coincidences, so from here on out we're going to be more secure. No on
e other than the people in this building will know the exact day or time of the hit."

  Riley concurred. "Sounds good to me, sir."

  They both turned and looked at Westland. The unspoken question was whether she would go against her instructions from the CIA and not report back to her supervisor the timing of the hits. She didn't hesitate. "I agree. The timing stays with us."

  Pike glanced at Riley. Riley nodded to his boss. He felt they could trust her.

  Pike continued. "I'm going to have the Hammer task forces on alert status starting now, and they go only on the radio call from the team on the ground. That way if the leak came out of the Hammer force, we can prevent them knowing which night the hit actually goes down until they're on their way to the target. I'm sure they'll bitch about that at the Pentagon, but I'll brief the chairman personally on why we're doing it. I'm sure he'll agree and support us."

  Riley nodded. "That'll help, sir, but I think the leak, if there is one, is elsewhere." He turned to Westland. "You need to do some hard checking on the contact agent down there and the source. From the beginning I thought it was screwed up getting intelligence from an unknown source. You need to find out as much as you can about the source."

  If Westland resented being told what to do by Riley, she didn't show it. "I'll see what I can find out."

  BOGOTA

  11:00 A.M.

  Alegre watched as the chief of his presidential bodyguard sat down across from him. Pasquel Montez was his closest adviser and friend. They had grown up in the same suburb of Bogota and attended the university together. Montez was the only man in Bogota that Alegre would trust totally. He was also the only man in Bogota who knew the complete extent of the plan Alegre had implemented. "What is the report from Medellin?"

  Montez smiled. "Most interesting. The raid, of course, was a success. There is nothing left up there. The interesting part, my President, is that Suarez was killed in the raid."

  Alegre looked up in surprise. "What was Suarez doing at his laboratory in the middle of the night?"

  "I don't know yet. I have some people making discreet inquiries."

  Alegre digested this new information. "Certainly I am not going to cry over the death of that pig. With Suarez out of the way, the Medellin gang will be out of circulation for a while. I imagine the Ring Man and Ramirez will fight like wolves over what's left."

  Montez seemed noncommittal. "Certainly Suarez's death furthers your cause, but I am worried about why he was there in the middle of the night. Could he have been set up? And if he was set up, by whom? The answer to the last question would seem to be quite obvious. There is only one other man in the country besides you and I who knows about the attacks."

  Alegre shook his head. "The Ring Man may know where, since he was the one feeding the information to us, but he doesn't know when. Even we don't know the when until the DEA man at the embassy calls me after it's already completed. How could the Ring Man know what time the attack would go last night in order to set up Suarez? Besides, it doesn't matter. If they want to kill each other off, then so much the better. Less for us to do."

  Montez appeared disturbed. "I have to again warn you, my President, that this is a dangerous course you are charting. If you fail to completely break the back of the drug cartel, they will come and break your back when they find out what you have done."

  Alegre was bothered by his friend's lack of conviction and sought to reassure him. "We already have won several major victories. The United Nations' vote has gone our way. Suarez is dead and his organization on the verge of destruction. Ramirez has been badly hurt. The power of the cartel has been significantly reduced."

  Montez disagreed. "I don't think so, my friend. Rather I would say that the balance of power has shifted. Ring Man will be moving in to take over the power vacuum these attacks have opened. He is well prepared."

  Alegre held up his hand to forestall the doomsaying. "Then we will have to have the Ring Man taken care of."

  Montez stared at Alegre in disbelief. "We have no one who would be foolish enough to try that."

  "I know we don't." Alegre smiled grimly. "But maybe the Americans do. They are too committed now to back out of the present course of action. We can always claim that we didn't know anything about these attacks and put the heat on Washington by threatening to disclose what has happened. After the Panama invasion they couldn't afford that. It would destroy whatever diplomatic relations they have down here in Latin America."

  FORT BELVOIR, VIRGINIA

  1:45 P.M.

  Riley watched as Pike considered his proposal. The two were seated in the general's office, where Riley had laid out his idea in five minutes. Pike was obviously sorting out the pieces in his mind. When they clicked in place the senior officer looked up. "It's a good idea. Even before you came in, I had decided we weren't going to send both teams concurrently on the next mission. If there is a leak, then I want only one team to be compromised. Your idea does that and also reduces the chance of someone knowing when the mission will go."

  Riley nodded. The proposal to mount Eyes Three the next evening rather than on Monday night made sense to him. Right now, everyone involved believed that the next mission would occur in two nights. If they moved it up and ran it tomorrow night the chances of compromise were greatly reduced. Then they would delay Four until Tuesday night. That would give the other half of the team more time to prepare and also give them an edge if their old date had been compromised.

  Pike considered the ramifications out loud. "I like your idea for infiltration. Should be no problem getting a regular slick UH-60 in Panama. I very much doubt that there's any leak in the Special Ops aircrews or that they are being watched, but if there is, this will circumvent that. I can get everything rolling tonight without tipping off anyone.

  "As far as the Hammer is concerned, we can go either way. The Apaches are on alert status off the coast and in Panama, and I'm going to have 1st SOW forward deploy an AC-130 to Panama for quicker reaction. Whichever one we use won't have to know what's happening until you give the go from on the ground. The only person I have to brief here is the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, and I don't think that will be a problem." Pike paused. "What about Stevens?"

  Riley shook his head. "We don't tell him either until we're on the ground."

  "All right. You brief your people and I'll get a hold of the chairman and get his blessing."

  LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

  4:00 P.M.

  "... and that's why we believe there is a leak." Westland paused and waited for Strom's reaction. The senior agent was dressed in his golfing clothes and did not appear thrilled with being called in on a weekend to meet with her. There were important people out on the course that he needed to rub elbows with.

  Strom shook his head. "That's pretty flimsy. There's a lot of reasons why the camp may have been moving. Hell, they could just have been reacting to the first attack. If there had been a leak, don't you think they would have been better prepared for an attack or have moved earlier? I don't buy it."

  Strom looked at her condescendingly. "My dear girl, you have to understand that sometimes in these field operations the unexpected occurs, and the reason it occurs is not due to some dark, monstrous plot but rather just simply the fates weaving their web."

  Westland tried hard not to roll her eyes or get angry. She didn't need the patronizing bullshit and she also didn't like being treated like an idiot. She felt she had come here with a legitimate concern and she knew she was getting blown off. "Can you at least give me an idea of how the intelligence on the target sites is getting to us?"

  Strom inspected his manicured hands. "My dear girl, you really don't have a need to know that. There's nothing you can do about it anyway. That's my responsibility, and I can assure you there isn't a problem on that end."

  Westland decided to push things. If he called her "my dear girl" one more time she didn't think she could control herself. "How can you be sure there isn't a leak on that end? How can you
be sure the Colombian source is legitimate?"

  He looked up at her in anger, and she was afraid for a second that she'd gone too far. But she really didn't care. She was doing her job, and she had an obligation to the men doing the mission to check on things as much as she could.

  Strom had obviously decided enough was enough. "You can be sure because I'm bloody well sure, that's why!" He took a few seconds to gain visible control of himself. "When you've been in this business as long as I, then you will understand."

  Strom stood up. Discussion over, thought Westland. He escorted her to the door. "I appreciate your concerns, but I really think you and your Special Forces friends are overreacting. The task force has been a success so far. I think it will continue. However, if you do come across any solid evidence you think points to a leak, let me know right away."

  Westland fumed as she watched the door shut in her face. As she walked to her car she considered what she'd just been told. And not told. And where the hell did Strom get that stupid British accent? she wondered illogically to herself.

  Westland shook her head angrily as she drove her white Camaro out the gates and headed toward Fort Belvoir. There were obviously a lot of things going on that she didn't have knowledge of. Games within games. She'd seen it at Langley during the past seven years. She wasn't foolish enough to believe that Task Force Hammer was the only operation going on in Colombia, but she had thought that at least she would be informed of any others that might affect her mission, and that she would have high enough clearance to be told about the source of her intelligence. She slammed her fist into the steering wheel in frustration. Maybe she was just overreacting, but a small knot in the pit of her stomach refused to untie.

  FORT BELVOIR, VIRGINIA

  7:30 P.M.

  There'd been no audience for the Eyes Three briefback other than Westland and General Pike. Apparently the powers-that-be had been satisfied with the results of the first two missions and didn't feel the need to keep a cautious eye on the actual proceedings. Besides, Riley knew, it would be Pike's ass on the line if anything went wrong. Pike would be the one recommending to the chairman that the plan was good and the mission should be approved. By distancing himself, General Macksey was placing the entire responsibility on Pike's shoulders.